#but with place flags anyone who feels strongly enough to have a place flag almost always has a story behind it of some sort

[mantisgodsdomain]

You see, we pay very little attention to queer microlabels (we generally favour using the broadest umbrella terms we possibly can), and we're pants at geography, but we generally know what a city flag looks like, and we also generally know what a pride flag looks like.

That said, it was very funny to open the basic quiz and immediately be met with our own damn flag.

Pride vs Place!

Introducing the hot new quiz show: Pride vs Place!

It's simple: you just have to identify whether the flag belongs to a place or is a pride flag.

Easy Mode

Hard Mode

[hyperlexichypatia]

One manifestation of the oppression of disabled people and young people is the collectivization of what should be purely individual decisions.

This is also why I identify so strongly as a liberal individualist, and why I believe that disability liberation requires a liberal individualist ethic.

I got into an argument with some people about parents "sending" their adult children to college (in the context of the spate of articles/discourse about "Don't send your daughter to college in an anti-abortion state") and, frustratingly enough, I didn't even get a chance to talk about what I actually wanted to talk about, which was educational coercion as a red flag for reproductive coercion (because if parents are sufficiently controlling of their adult daughter's life that they feel comfortable dictating where she's allowed to go to college, it seems probable that their support for abortion rights is motivated less by a commitment to reproductive autonomy and more by wanting the option to coerce their daughter into an abortion whether or not that's what she wants).

But I didn't even get to make that secondary point, because people kept insisting that parents controlling/restricting where their adult daughters can go to college isn't even a thing. I was completely imagining it! Or misunderstanding it! That's not a real thing!

They seemed to think that I seemed to think that parents were hog-tying their daughters and dragging them kicking and screaming off to university -- and that any coercion just short of that is "her choice" and not coercion at all.

And that's not what most forms of familial coercion look like at all -- at least not familial coercion of legal adults who theoretically (but not in practice) have legal autonomy.

Familial coercion of theoretically legally autonomous adults more often takes the form of collectivizing what should be a purely individual decision. Along with financial abuse, it's the go-to tactic of controlling families. Sometimes it's a last resort before pulling the trigger of institutionalization, and sometimes it's just the default way of interacting. Just explain to the person you're trying to control what We As A Family have decided is best. Or maybe you ask her thoughts, make her feel included in the process. She should have a say. You're taking her wishes into account.

It's always a huge red flag when someone "has a say" or is "included in the process" of a decision that should be solely xyrs in the first place.

See, I almost said "that should solely be theirs," because I usually use singular "they" as the gender-neutral pronoun to refer to a general person like "someone" or "anyone." But I avoid it when I'm writing about autonomy issues, because people are so eager to interpret "they" as collective. I have so many conversations like: "Every disabled person should have the right to choose where they live." "Yes, every Special Needs Family should decide what's best for them as a family." or "Everyone should have the right to make their own medical decisions about their own body." "Yes, every care team should decide for each patient as an individual, on a case-by-case basis."

So in those contexts, I choose my words more carefully.

Sometimes this is framed as some kind of "fairness," and people who want complete autonomy are framed as "unfair" or "unwilling to compromise" or "wanting everything your own way" -- which is also framed as "immaturity," and obviously, if you're too immature to just be reasonable about other people trying to control your life, then surely you're too immature to make your own decisions!

But if the topic is your own body and your own life, you should want everything your own way, actually. You shouldn't have to compromise, actually. It's yours. It doesn't get put to a vote! It doesn't get referred to a committee! It's yours.

[machinicspecters]

I've posted a new piece. Here's a fragment:

The heated concrete greedily absorbs the tremor of the steps placed on it. It seems to swell from the sun. Light penetrates it, filling it and feeding it with heat like a monstrous child stretched across the visible world. Its body covers almost every nook and cranny, stretching within a small horizon bounded by buildings. It grows like a sprawl that can't stop expanding. It draws energy directly from the sky, from the incessant summer heat, while the creatures it carries on its surface pray for rain - pray for it to wash them off the surface of the earth; to take away the heat that penetrates their skin, seeps into their muscles and bones, making their bodies slowly boil, dripping with the sweat that constantly pours from them, which, steaming, fills closed spaces with its sour smell. This is what I associate summer bus trips with. The smell has become almost synonymous with a journey to nowhere, with strange faces whose features seem to blur when they are at the periphery of my vision - when I watch them through the window as blurry reflections, having no idea that I am poking my gaze into their bodies, piercing their flesh like solar heat. Is the sun watching us, too? Is its gaze burning, searching among the small creatures scurrying across the flat concrete surfaces for something it could call mutual? Perhaps it is looking for a likeness to itself; the embers flowing from cyclical self-immolation. It looks for the seeds of self-destruction in everyday movements, in the friction of bodies against bodies, in the rustling of feet on concrete as I walk out of my neighborhood, feeling the world open up in front of me - just a little, just enough for me to feel that I can choose to walk in it.

I pass a power transformer located at the end of the parking lot next to my block. Someone has drawn a big blue penis on it (circumcised; they always draw them circumcised, although hardly anyone in Poland practices this custom). Next to it are the words: "gdzie wy?". A simple equivalent of a sentence. We can translate it as "where you?". The question is crowned with a smiling face: ":D". I wonder who could have written it - and why. I look around, looking for someone whose absence I can feel; whose absence is so strongly imprinted in the space that the buildings themselves have begun to call out to them, longing for them to return. Maybe the people addressed by the small concrete building, buzzing with electricity, used to meet by its side, looking together into the unshielded sun that burns every bit of the neighborhood's concrete body, made up of overlapping accretions, from which emerge caricatured limbs, random faces of buildings - glimpses of smiling cracks in old facades.

I think back to when, as a child, I sat on the small wall surrounding the transformer. Back then, the writing on its wall expressed affiliation with one of two rival sports clubs. I remember the flag with red and white stripes and the scribbled insults when the other side discovered the new painting. Deleted words, altered words, distorted echoes as someone's hands, armed with spray, tried to change the meaning of what they found; in an interpretive act extract from the mangled letters something they had not seen before. An ontological discussion formed on the wall, commented on live - who is a dog and who is a Jew? Walking past the transformer and seeing the inscription calling out to someone in the neighborhood void, I recall how older boys climbed over the protruding parts of the building to its slightly sloping roof. They grabbed the concrete fragments with all their might and piled up. I wanted to join them, but my small hands could not support the weight of my body. I felt pinned to the ground. Like a flightless creature. I watched them disappear on the roof and wondered if I would ever get to the top to show myself to the sun, as if I wanted to ask - can you see me now? Are we alike?

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

When she wakes, she momentarily can’t place where she is. The room is dim and there’s a soft whirring sound, a warm body tucked close against her back. Mulder’s apartment, she remembers. They’d decided to make it a double feature, collecting their clothes and switching out Mars Attacks for Twister. She must have drifted off at some point, with Mulder spooning her on the narrow couch, and the automatic rewind on the VCR kicked on when the movie ended. She pulls in a deep breath and his arm around her waist tightens momentarily.

“Stay,” he croaks from behind her, sounding as though he had also fallen asleep.

“I can’t, Mulder,” she replies, twisting her body around to face him, her nose pressed into his chest.

“Why?” he asks, brushing his palm up and down over her back.

“Because, I shouldn’t.” She knows her tone isn’t all that convincing.

“Says who?” he asks, though not indignantly.

“Says…I don’t know. Me, I guess,” she replies in a defeated tone.

He sighs, then pauses to consider his words.

“I don’t want to pressure you. But the idea of not seeing you again for a week kind of makes me want to die.” His words are soft and measured, communicating honesty, not frustration.

“That’s very dramatic,” she answers with a teasing lilt.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic.”

She worms up until she’s close enough to kiss him, pressing her lips to his cheek and then his mouth.

“You’re not pathetic,” she says tenderly, “you’re actually very sweet. I’ll make you a deal; I’m not going to stay the night,” she quirks a smile at his dramatic frown, “but we can get dinner tomorrow, and if you want to have coffee one day this week, you can come down.” She gives him a hopeful smile.

“That seems like a fair deal,” he says, kissing her forehead. “But if you get home, or wake up in the middle of the night, and realize you’ve made a horrible mistake, just call me. I’ll come right over.”

“I promise I will,” she says, then disentangles herself from his arms and collects her purse and shoes. She says goodbye to Priscilla, then bids a very long and very kiss-filled goodbye to Mulder before he finally releases his grip on her. As she waits for the elevator she hears the patter of his bare feet on the hallway floor and turns to see him skittering towards her, pulling her into one last kiss before he runs back to his apartment door, waving at her with a coy little smile.

Once she’s buckled into her car, she lets out a deep breath. She’d barely made it out of there; if Mulder had asked one more time, kissed her once more on the couch, she might have caved. Might have stayed the night, and might have done who knows what else. She can easily see the strong potential for this budding relationship to fast track to being more serious than she feels ready for, and it scares her. She’s never felt this strongly about anyone so soon after becoming involved with them. Clearly he has a strong pull on her, given that she cheated on Ethan with him, it’s just a lot, and she’s a person who likes to think clearly and make rational decisions. When she’s with Mulder, she loses the ability to think rationally.

When she’s home and tucked into bed, she does wish he were there, curled up behind her. Knowing she could call him and he’d be here in fifteen minutes is tempting, but she talks herself out of it. Not yet, not until she’s sure that this is more than just animal attraction. More than wanting to prove she didn’t destroy her relationship with Ethan over nothing.

It has to be more. And she suspects that it will be.

———

“Okay, spill it,” Missy says, and Dana looks at her with a mildly shocked expression, not even having fully taken her seat at the cafe with a mocha in hand before Missy gets down to business.

“Hello to you, too, Missy. How was your evening?” she asks her sister with a facetious tone.

“I hung around by myself and wondered what kind of action my little sister was getting that I wasn’t, so please, indulge me.”

Dana laughs and shakes her head, debating how much detail to give.

“It was nice, we just watched a couple movies, ate pizza, drank beer.”

“...and?” Missy asks expectantly.

“...and, we watched Mars Attacks and Twister,” Dana answers, knowing that this is not the information Missy is asking for.

Missy drops her head to the side with a frustrated glare. “Dana, quit being a prude, or I’ll just make up my own story and tell it to you right here in the coffee shop, I know you’d love that.”

Dana makes a face. “Okay, fine. Yes, we...fooled around. But we didn’t have sex.”

“Really, why not?” Missy questions incredulously.

“Missy, it’s not that abnormal not to sleep with someone on the second date,” Dana retorts with an annoyed tone.

“It is if they’ve already gone down on you and you’ve been obsessing over them for almost a year,” Missy shoots back.

“Well, regardless of your unsolicited opinion,” Dana replies, “emphasis on unsolicited, I’m choosing to wait a bit, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Fine, whatever floats your boat, Sis. Please elaborate on ‘fooled around’.”

Dana scoffs. “We...kissed, and some other things. Why are you asking for all this detail, Missy? I don’t recall you ever asking me to be this explicit regarding my sex life with Ethan.”

Missy rolls her eyes. “I’m willing to bet Ethan was into missionary with the lights off. This Mulder guy has serious sexual energy, he seems like the kind of man who knows what he’s doing. When’s his birthday?”

Scully frowns at the memory. “October 13th,” she answers flatly.

Missy shoots her a surprised expression, but suppresses it quickly. “Oh, wow, okay. Um, so he’s a libra. That’s a good thing, libras are very generous lovers.”

“I have seen evidence of that, however my pants stayed on last night so nothing to report in that respect,” Dana answers, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid looking at her sister.

“But his didn’t?” Missy asks with a smirk, and Dana purses her lips but doesn’t respond. It’s as good as saying yes.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” Missy teases with a knowing smile. “Some things never change.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dana asks defensively.

“Oh please, Dana, we went to the same school, you don’t think I heard the story about you and Marcus behind the gymnasium?”

Dana’s mouth hangs open in shock.

“Well, I hope he enjoyed his favor being reciprocated nine months later,” Missy continues, then adds “did you swallow?”

Her mouth drops open wider and she slaps Missy gently on the upper arm. “Melissa, don’t be gross!”

Missy is giggling and swatting her away. “You know what Dad always said, Dana, ‘a Scully sees it through to the end!’” She crosses her arms over her face in self-defense as Dana peppers her with little slaps, though they’re both laughing.

Finally, the tittering subsides and they are both back in their respective seats, catching their breath.

“So when are you seeing him again?” Missy asks, tucking her feet underneath her legs.

“Tonight, actually.” Dana answers self-consciously.

“Oh really? So soon?”

“Well he practically begged me to stay the night and said he didn’t want to wait until next weekend, so it was somewhat of a compromise,” Dana answers, the arrangement sounding like a red flag to her own ears.

“Dang, he’s got it bad,” Missy remarks with a little frown. “Is it too much? Are you doing that thing?”

“What thing?” Dana asks defensively.

“That thing where you get overwhelmed when someone is really interested in you and you sabotage it?” Missy ventures.

Dana furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t do that,” she says, but her tone suggests that she may not believe herself. “I just don’t want to get all caught up in the excitement of a new relationship and not look at things objectively,” she finishes.

“You know,” Missy says helpfully, “that exciting new relationship, not thinking clearly, crazy in love feeling is something most people like, Sis.”

Dana shrugs. “You know me,” she says plainly, “I’m not really one for excitement.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Mulder is going to put that to the test,” Missy retorts with a smile, and Dana cringes.

“I think you may be right.”

———

Her demeanor when he picks her up for dinner seems just a bit guarded and is markedly different than it had been when they parted ways last night. He brushes it off, figuring that things between them are still new and awkward, and recognizing that he’s probably coming on just a little too strong.

The day has been grey and cool, and she’s wearing jeans and an oversized blue sweater, her hair pulled half up into a little bun. He smiles warmly at her, but stops short of telling her how amazing she looks, sensing that she might not want to hear it. They make their way to a little Mexican place near her house and she is polite but quiet as they order, munching on chips and salsa with a pensive expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks cautiously, and she nods. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?” he adds, and she shakes her head gently, but looks at him with wide eyes from beneath her lashes, and he knows it’s true.

He sits back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Is it the sex part or the feelings part?” he questions, and when her eyebrows lift in surprise he suggests “Both?”

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s really not you, Mulder, it’s me. I’m just not very comfortable with the whole,” she swirls her wrist around in the air, “whirlwind feeling, when things are new.”

He leans forward on his elbows and looks at her seriously. “Tell me what you need me to do differently, Scully, and I promise I’ll do it.”

“Maybe just...don’t act as though I hung the moon?” she offers with a pained expression. “I’m just a human person like anyone else, faults and all. It makes me worry that when you really get to know me you won’t like what you find.”

He gives her an amused smirk. “At the risk of further idolizing you, what’s not to like?”

“You want me to write a list?” She asks, returning his smirk, and he gives her a half shrug, half nod. “Well, if I’m basing this on what my family, friends, and past partners might say; I’m very rigid in my thinking on most matters, take myself far too seriously, am emotionally distant much of the time, don’t really know how to have fun and...I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Basically I’m a total stick in the mud.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, smiling at her. Her self-consciousness is wildly endearing.

“Okay now you have to go,” she says, picking at her paper napkin.

“Oh, what are my worst qualities?” he clarifies, “Jeez, this could take a while. Um, I’m very singularly focused, as in whatever I’m chasing down at the moment I become completely obsessed with to the detriment of all other things in my life,” he casts her a little glance to confirm that she understands that this is what he’s doing with her, which she does.

“I’m a workaholic, though that’s a lot easier to manage when I’m not all that invested in what I’m working on. I’m terrible with things like birthdays, anniversaries, or generally sentimental things, I just forget them completely. I’m also persistent to a fault, and have a hard time letting things, and people, go, even when I should,” he looks at her again, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. His worst qualities are the ones that are at risk of scaring her off right now.

“Well then, perhaps,” Scully offers, “I’ll work on not trying to shut you out, and you can work on not trying quite so hard to get in.”

“We’re still talking about feelings here, right?” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s another flaw I forgot, making jokes at completely inappropriate times.”

She smiles at him, with teeth, and he knows they’ll be okay. He needs to be mindful, but he hasn’t totally fucked it up yet.

The rest of their meal goes without incident. He talks about spontaneous human combustion while she calmly explains why it’s medically and scientifically impossible. The way she can disagree with him without talking to him like he’s a lunatic endears to him even further, but he works hard not to let it show. When the waiter comes by and asks about dessert, she shakes her head.

“I have ice cream at home,” she says after the waiter leaves, “saves us five bucks.”

He masks the surprise and delight he feels knowing she’s essentially just invited him back to her apartment, and absolutely does not allow himself to hope that she’ll let him stay the night. It’s a work night after all, and she’s just made clear that she has a tendency towards rules and guidelines; sleepovers on a school night seem like something she’d be against.

Back at her apartment, she gives him a quick tour, having neglected to do so when he was here last week, and he’s impressed though not surprised by how grown up and clean her place is. It matches her personality perfectly, and that makes him like the place immediately.

She opens the freezer and pulls out a pint of ice cream, then retrieves two spoons and hops up on to the counter, which brings them just about face to face height-wise. The cold blast from the open freezer has hardened her nipples and he avoids looking as they pass the pint back and forth, taking alternate bites and talking about their favorite and least favorite flavors. Soon enough, the tub is empty, and she sets it and the two spoons to the side, leaning back against the cupboard behind her. He steps closer into the space between her thighs and places his hands gently on her hips.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks in a neutral tone, not wanting to sound like he’s trying to persuade her.

She quirks her mouth to the side in consideration. “Maybe not just yet,” she says, then hooks her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls him closer.

He suppresses a victorious smile and instead leans forward to kiss her, simultaneously slipping his hands under the hem of her sweater. She jumps a little at the contact, and he realizes how cold his fingers must be from the ice cream. He pulls his hands free, rubbing them together briskly in the space between their bodies as he continues to kiss her smiling mouth. When he’s satisfied that they are warm, he returns them to her bare sides and she hums in approval. Her hands find the back of his neck, scratching through his hair as his fingers trail their way up the ladder of her rib cage until they meet with the soft underside of her bare breasts. He wants to make mention of the lack of bra, but isn’t sure if calling attention to it would make her self conscious, so he says nothing and just enjoys it. Brushing his thumbs along the seam where chest becomes breast, he moves to kiss down her neck, teasing at the skin behind her ear with the firm tip of his tongue. Finding the spot she seems to like the best, he then runs his thumbs up until they meet with her hardened nipples and she emits a little moan that goes straight to his dick. He stays on this particular combination of rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while licking and kissing her neck until she’s tightening the grip of her legs around his hips, seeking friction. He pushes the fabric of her sweater up slowly enough that she has plenty of time to tell him if she wants to stop, but once her breasts are exposed and his mouth is wrapped around one of her nipples, he is absolutely sure that she doesn’t. She lets her head fall back against the cupboard, breathing hard through her open mouth. He brings the fingers of one hand to the button on her jeans, then pauses.

“Okay?” he asks around the nipple between his lips, and she hums out an “mmmhmmm.”

Flicking the button open and easing the fly down, he slips his hand palm-up under her panties, drifting down through her neatly trimmed hair and into the slick heat of her. She’s deliciously wet, and knowing he caused it makes him feel weak in the knees as he rubs his groin against the edge of the counter, even more turned on than he had been before. He slides his fingers up and down over her swollen lips, his tongue still lapping and sucking at her nipples alternately, and she is panting and quaking beneath him, hips writhing and fingers digging into his neck telling him that she wants more. He circles his dampened thumb around her clit and she whimpers, clutching his head to her chest. His middle finger finds her entrance and swirls around it, not quite entering, and she stills, waiting, anticipating. When he continues with his same teasing movements, she lets out a frustrated breath and speaks.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice pained.

He smiles against her breast, slipping his finger inside, and she moans low and long, throbbing once around him. He experiments with different ways of touching her, inside and out, and soon she’s gasping and breathing raggedly, flexing her hips into his hand, nearly suffocating him with her breast in his mouth and he feels like he’s in heaven.

“Oh god,” she moans, then goes still for a long moment as he feels her walls clench tight around his finger. Then she’s coming, throbbing rhythmically and pulling his face up to kiss her, pouring her blissful moans right into his open mouth and clutching him as close as he can get with one hand in her pants. Finally, she touches his wrist gently and he pulls his hand free, enveloping her fully in his arms as they kiss with just as much passion as they started with.

“That really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested ice cream,” she says against his mouth, and he smiles, breaking the kiss.

“So that wasn’t some kind of ‘dessert’ double entendre?” he asks, pulling back slightly and looking at her flushed cheeks and still-dilated pupils.

“No, but I’m not exactly devastated that you interpreted it that way,” she replies with a playful lilt.

“So...what now?” he asks cautiously, neither wanting to overstay his welcome nor do what Frohike delicately calls ‘hit it and quit it.’

She bites her lip and considers the question. “You wanna hang out for a bit and watch TV? I’ll have to kick you out at 9:00, it being a school night and all.”

He feels his mouth stretch into a broad smile at the confirmation of his suspicion that she calls it early on work nights.

“Sounds perfect,” he replies, then steps back so she can jump down from the counter, re-fastening her jeans while casting him a mirthful glance.

They snuggle up on the couch and half-watch whatever is on, but mostly they talk, and kiss, and laugh. He finally asks her about the little gold cross necklace she’s always wearing, and he finds himself further enamored with how complex she is; a woman of science and religion, beautiful and strong, smart and fun. He’s working hard to temper his expression of it, but if he was only ninety-five percent sure he was in love with her when he said it back in August, he is one-hundred-twenty percent sure now.

True to her word, she kicks him out at 9:00 and promises that they will get together for coffee this week once she takes a look at her autopsy schedule and knows which days she’s free.

Once in his car, he drops his head against the back of the seat with a satisfied sigh. All week at work, his colleagues will ask him what he’s smiling about, and he’ll tell them truthfully that he’s just really, really happy.

[mayraki]

jj‘s jealousy

read their story here

masterlist

>>> the troublemakers face their first fight when max’s little prank at school turned jj’s jealousy to a whole other level.

“I can’t believe that we actually won.” John B said with his backpack hanging from one side once he walked into school with his two best friends by his side, Pope and JJ.

“Our team sucks,” JJ said, looking at the group of people with shirts of the colors of the school on, with smiles on their faces and waving their hands like they just won the Olympics “so it’s actually surprising that we won.” He took the chance to look at the grand hallway that was in front of him. It was fuller than JJ had ever seen it, and it wasn’t filled with bored and unmotivated teenagers, the opposite, everyone had so much energy it looked like they all drank five cups of coffee like they do with beer at parties. The colors of their school was plastered all over the walls, even the floor with confetti and flags. Hearing some girls laughing, he turned around and immediately started looking for his girlfriend. He got surprised when he didn’t find her right away, since Max wouldn’t miss a chance to make something crazy when the school was surrounded by chaos. But she was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey have you guys seen Max?” JJ asked, taking the chance that maybe his friends knew where she was, but they both shook their heads.

“No, I haven’t.” Pope responded but then shut his mouth when another group of screaming teenage girls walked into the school. “Seems like the school has the spirit to the roof.”

He turned to where his best friend was looking at and noticed a big group of people surrounding the wall that the school stuff would usually hang pictures of a prior event. Some seemed to be surprised and others laughing at the strange thing they were staring at. They were whispering to each other and that got JJ even more intrigued.

“What are they talking about?” He asked the moment his two best friends started to walk towards it.

“I don’t know.” Pope said once JJ arrived next to him.

He tried to make his way closer to whatever everyone was looking at and as soon as he had no people longer in front of him, his eyes wondered around the pictures to see what the big deal was. And there it was. Or there they were. He squinted his eyes to see them more clearly, even though his mind already knew what they were. Two asses where in the picture that was in the middle of the entire wall, the big group of people on it were celebrating just winning the game and nobody seemed to noticed the two asses showing behind them. He tried to recognised who they were, but nothing more than their asses were showing in the picture. No back, no hair, nothing that would set them apart from any other ass at the school. Expect for one thing. A single dark brown dot on the side of one cheek.

It can’t be.

“Is that..?” He asked but Pope cut him off.

“Oh my god!” He and John B were laughing so loudly that it took a second for JJ to fully recognised one of the asses on the picture again. Noticing that his friends weren’t calming down, he pulled them closer to him so nobody could listen to what he was going to say. John B and Pope looked at him confused while waiting for their friend to talk.

“It’s Max and Sam!” JJ said finally, in a loud whisper.

“How do you know?” Pope asked looking back at the picture.

“I’ve seen that ass enough to recognise it! And who is the girl that’s always with Max doing this kind of stuff, Sam!” He pointed at it and then punched John B’s arm when he got closer to the picture to stare a it more clearly. “Damn, that’s my girl.” Those words were said a mix proudness and jealousy. JJ didn’t know how to feel, the fact that his girlfriend had the balls to do something like that made his insides go wild, that was his girl. But at the same time, the hundred of eyes seeing her girlfriend’s ass wasn’t something that JJ would ever want to experience.

“I have to send this to Kie.” John B said while laughing after taking a picture with his phone.

“Damn.” JJ heard behind him and immediately felt his chest feel with a burning sensation when the voice came from a boy. “They got an ass.” As soon as he said that, JJ turned around ready to put the guy on his place, but his words were cut off when he heard some whistling coming from the entrance of the school. He immediately noticed Max and Sam walking into school with their backpacks hanging from one shoulder, a girl that was walking towards them checked if no adults were there, and because they weren’t around, she turned back to the girls and gave each one of them a high five. The smiles of the girls were bigger than the picture itself, they were clearly proud. And so was JJ.

The jealousy that he was feeling before completely disappeared when he looked at all the victory Max was feeling around school. High fives all over the place and everyone congratulating them, it was a prank well made and JJ couldn’t deny feeling proud at his girlfriend for that. After all, it was their thing.

“Hey you two. Nice trick.” He said as soon as he and his friends were close enough to the girls.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Max said shaking her head, but then let out a little smile when JJ got closer to her to leave a little kiss on her lips.

“We did nothing.” Sam lifted her hands into the air.

“I sent the picture to Kie.” John B said showing his phone to Sam, which she nodded proudly.

“Thanks.”

“How come everyone knows it was you two?” Pope asked looking around at the people staring.

“Because we’re the only two girls that have the balls to do it.” Max said shrugging her shoulders. “But don’t tell anyone.” She winked at Pope and everyone nodded proudly when Sam and Max did a high five. Sam, Pope and John B went to look at the picture on John B’s phone and Max was about to do the same, but when JJ grabbed her waist she stayed put and stared at the grin on his face.

“I don’t know if I should be jealous of those guys looking at your ass or be really proud of you right now.” He said and Max let out a smile and pretended to think about it.

“Why not both?”

Another whistle was heard for the girls and Max let out a laugh while shaking her head.

“Should I kill those guys?” JJ asked after looking back hoping to see the guys who just whistled at his girlfriend.

“JJ, it’s just a joke. Don’t worry about it.” Max said, but all that was going around JJ’s head right on that moment was jealousy. Like it went away, it came back. All those eyes on Max was making his insides burn, he wanted to grab Max and tell all those guys that she was his, and nobody else’s.

“Do you think the principal knows about it?” Pope asked when Max turned to him.

“Probably.” She nodded.

“What are you gonna do if they caught you?” John B asked this time, leaving his phone on his back pocket.

“They won’t.” The moment Sam and Max said those words at the same time they looked at each other with a smile and fists bumped each other.

“What? What is that?” The voice of the principal hit their ears and they all turned to it. Principal Johnson was looking at the picture and then tried to take it down, but it was so strongly gripped into the wall that not even with his whole strength he was able to take it down. The whole group of people at the hallway was trying so hard not to laugh and make the situation worst. “Who did this?!” He yelled angrily. “I’ll caught whoever did it!” He started walking closer to where JJ and his friend were and then locked eyes with him and then with Max. “They won’t get away with it!” He pointed at them and then disappeared from their sights.

“Oh, we will.” Max said almost in a whisper when the entire hallway bursted out in laughter.

The moment that they all stepped in the tiny backyard behind school after their morning classes, they all headed to an empty table to start with their favorite part of high school, lunch. JJ was following Max up close, with his feet right behind her trying to listen to her conversation with the guys and Sam, but he couldn’t seem to focus on their words since he first noticed all the eyes on Max. He never minded Max having eyes on her since she always had, she wasn’t somebody that would pass unnoticed, she was Max Belinsky, everyone knew her. But for some reason, this time JJ wasn’t brushing it off. The feeling in his stomach wasn’t going away the moment he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer like it would usually go, this time, no matter what he did, that annoying feeling was still inside of him, making him burn every second that was passing.

“I heard the took the picture down.” He heard John B saying once they were all sitting down with their lunches in front of them.

“Bummer.” Sam said shaking her head but not giving much thought into it.

“Did the principal talked to you guys?” Pope asked intrigued.

“Nope.” Sam said after giving a big bite to her sandwich.

“There’s no evidence we did it.” Max said like nothing. “No cameras, no pictures, nothing. As far as they know, we the didn’t even show up at the game last weekend.”

“We were working at my dad’s shop.”

“How did you guys even got the picture there?” John B asked.

Max and Sam didn’t respond immediately, they looked at each other and let out tiny proud smiles. “We have friends everywhere, dude.” Max said and then turned to her boyfriend, who was being strangely quiet.

He wasn’t looking at his friends or even at his lunch. He was looking everywhere expect in front of him, he seemed uncomfortable and that made Max raised her eyebrows confused.

“Hey, you alright?” She asked when he finallt turned to her.

“Yeah, yeah.” He quickly nodded, not wanting to alert Max by facing his lunch and focusing his eyes on it. But his mind wasn’t there at all. He couldn’t stop thinking about all those eyes on her. Yes, some of them where on Sam too, but his mind didn’t seem to care about that. His mind was focusing on torturing him with the fact that she had the attention of guys, guys that were thinking about her in ways that made JJ’s body fill with anger. He wanted to think so hard that Max wasn’t going to do anything with their attention, she didn’t give a fuck at all. JJ knew that. JJ knew that Max loved him, like he loved her. But he was used to being left behind, being forgotten, he spent his entire life feeling that and being left by people he cared deeply. What made Max different?

“Guys.” Sam said when the bell rang and they all were heading outside the school to start their day. “Kie just texted me, she says she’s at the Wreck, do you guys wanna go?”

“Sure!” Pope said with a smile.

As soon as the wind hit JJ’s face he looked up while his hands were inside his pocket to look at his girlfriend. Max had a little smile on her face when Sam showed her something funny on her phone. They all stopped when Pope wanted to see it too and that made a group of people starte at them, more specifically, to Max and Sam. Those guys started to stare at them while they were whispering each other. It wasn’t bothering JJ like it was doing it before, but when one of the guys turned his eyes to Max and looked at her up and down, the fire on his stomach felt like a volcano erupting. He clenched his jawline and tried to control the urge of going and punching that guy on the throat. He couldn’t do anything about it, and that was killing him inside.

“Ready to go?” Max asked him making JJ turned to her. He needed to clear his mind, and he knew the perfect place for it.

“I’m not going.” He said softly taking a step back when all of his friends turned to him.

“Where are you going?” Max asked confused.

“Surfing.”

“I’ll go with you then.”

A smile appeared on Max’s face but when JJ shook his head, it disappeared. “No.” He said dryly. He didn’t know why he was being that way towards Max, it wasn’t her fault that she had eyes on her, she couldn’t control that. But the horrible thought of her leaving him for one of those guys-

“What? Are you ok?” Max asked worried. She noticed the sadness on his eyes, something that she hated to see and made her heart shrunk everytime. She waited for him to answer that he was alright like he always did to try to not to worry her, but instead, he turned around ignoring her completely. “JJ! What the fuck?!”

“What’s up with him?” Sam asked next to Max, after JJ was far enough for him not to hear her.

“No fucking clue,” Max shook her head confused “he was fine this morning.”

“Then let him be.” Sam let her arm around Max to push her around and start walking to the Wreck, maybe clear her mind on what just happened, but Max couldn’t do that.

The entire walk to the Wreck Max had JJ on her mind. She tried to join the conversation her friends were having but seconds later she found herself thinking about JJ again. She was worried, there was no doubt on that. But what happened to him? She always had the thought of Luke Maybank on the back of her head even if she didn’t want to, or if she knew that what was happening to JJ had nothing to do with him. But since she knew what he was like, she couldn’t get rid of that horrible thought.

She started playing with her fingers once she saw Kie’s restaurant getting closer. Her friends were laughing next to her but she didn’t care, she wanted to check if he was alright. So when they all arrived at the Wreck, she watched her friends get into the restaurant while she stayed behind.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked since she noticed her best friend wasn’t next to her.

“I have to check on him.”

“Dude, you need to give him time. If he doesn’t want you to fix what’s wrong, then don’t.” Sam said but then sighed when Max didn’t respond. “And I know you can’t do that. Go. Text me later.”

Without giving Sam an answer, she turned around when her mind started thinking of places where JJ could be. The answer was pretty clear, there was only one place where he went when something was wrong. The beach.

She hoped he was there and not somewhere else, and luckily, he was. The moment she saw that blonde hair riding the wave from a far she let out a tiny smile and headed to where he was.

“That was nice, dude.” She said to make him look at her since he didn’t look up since he stepped out of the water. But instead of looking at her, he dropped his board on the floor and started cleaning it. “Maybe I should get some practice otherwise you’ll get better than me.” She said knowing that he would say something back at her, knowing him, but he didn’t. He kept staring at his board and compelty ignoring Max’s words. She bit her lower lip eating her need to tell him to fuck off, like she would usually do. Instead, she took deep sigh and crossed her arms around her chest carefully trying to think her next words. “Alright I just said that you have the chance to be better than me and I got no response? Are you sick or something?” She said in a joking tone but again, no response. Her small patience was coming to an end. “JJ, what the fuck?! Are you ignoring me?” She let out.

“I’m not.” For the first time, JJ talked but without giving her eye contact.

“Oh, the guy decided to talk. It was fucking time! What’s up with you, man? You were fine this morning.”

“Nothing is up with me.” He said normally.

“Are you joking? Did you smoke too much and now you can’t see your actions?”

“I’m perfectly sober.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong?”

JJ let out a tiny fake laugh and after a long time, he locked eyes with Max. “I think you know, Max.”

Max couldn’t really figure out what was going on JJ’s look, they seemed like they were trying to be normal, but some sparkles of saddens and anger where on them as well. Max clearly didn’t know what was that about. “No, I don’t. I can’t read your mind. I won’t know what’s wrong with you until you tell me.” She waited for him to talk but he went back to his board. “Alright! Fuck, JJ, you can be such a hard headed sometimes!” She looked at his arms moving but nothing was there. She would often do that, to check on him silently. But there was nothing there, nothing that would make her believe his dad had something to do with it. But she needed to know anyway. “You won’t tell me what’s wrong? You won’t or you can’t tell me?”

Without waiting a second, JJ locked eyes with Max while getting up. “For the first time, it isn’t about him.”

A sign of relived appeared on Max’s chest once she heard those words, but she still didn’t know what was going with her boyfriend. “So it’s with me. JJ, fuck! Tell me!” He shook his head and looked down to his board. “Ugh, fuck you JJ, you’re acting like such a child right now.” Tired of him, she turned around to leave the beach behind, but then, JJ spoke.

“It’s just a joke, right?”

“What?” She went back to him confused.

“It’s just a joke.” He said softly, but she heard him perfectly. She furrowed her eyebrows confused at his words, but then like a fast truck, the memory of her prior words came into her mind.

“Is this about the picture? Is it?” She asked and him not giving her an answer, was the perfect response. “Oh my god, JJ! You were fine with it this morning, what changed? It’s just a stupid picture!”

“No it’s not Max! Everyone saw you!” JJ elevated his tone but he didn’t want to. He didn’t know why he was angry at her, but at this point, he felt like he couldn’t control his anger.

“So?”

“So?! Everyone was talking about it!”

“What’s your point?! You know that that happens all the time and you never had anything against it! You enjoyed that part!” All of Max’s confusion was turning into anger and annoyance. And that wasn’t a good combination.

“This is different!”

“How is it different?” They were now more more close to each other, but their loud tones didn’t get quieter. JJ was about to open his mouth, but some guy that was walking behind them cut him off.

“Hey, Max! Nice prank man! Maybe we should talk so you can show me your ways!” That was the drop of water that made the glass that was inside JJ fall. Without thinking his actions, he closed his hands into fists and looked at the guy angrily.

“You wanna fight bro!” He took quick steps towards him, making the guy take some back.

“Hey chill man!”

“JJ!” Max yelled, but that didn’t seem to calm him down.

“You better stay away from her!” He was about to grab his shirt but the guy quickly stepped back. JJ wasn’t giving up, but when Max strongly grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, the guy took the chance to give himself more space between him and JJ.

“Alright, alright!” The guy yelled before turning around and leaving an angry and jealous JJ behind.

“JJ! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Max yelled with anger when he turned to her. “Is that it?! Are you jealous? Are you jealous that guys are looking at me?”

“All those guys at school are looking at you!” He got closer to her face. “They were looking at you like they were undressing you with their eyes, like they wanted to fuck you! And I can’t fucking bare it!”

“You know that I don’t give a fuck about those people!”

“Well I give a fuck because those guys are staring at my girl! Nobody gets to look at you like that except me!”

“You’re treating me like a fucking object that you own! I can do whatever the fuck I want!”

“No you can’t!”

Max let out a laugh. “Are you serious right now?” She said more quieter and then let out another laugh while taking a step back. “Call me when you decide to stop treating me like a fucking object, how’s that?” She turned around not wanting to hear his voice anymore, but he yelled again.

“Maybe I won’t!”

“Fine!”

The moment that he saw her leaving his sight, he wanted to punch himself. It was like his mind was just now realising what he just did while his breathing was trying to go back to normal. He dropped his body to the sand and cursed at the wind. His couldn’t control his anger and that made him even more disappointed with himself. That was something he would do. It wasn’t JJ. Or at least, that’s how JJ didn’t want to turn out. He knew that what he said hurt her, and that she didn’t want to talk to him even though she said to call her. He had the feeling that Max was going to kick his ass if she saw him that same night, so fighting his need to talk to her and apologise, he decided to give her some time and head back to the Chateau to call it a night.

The moment his back touched his bed, he felt his body relax, but he couldn’t say the same about his eyes and mind. Max was all over his head while his words were playing on and on. The thought of ruining things with her caught him off guard and that made his heart beat faster and the anger he was already feeling become stronger. He closed his eyes with strength trying to calm himself down. He didn’t want to lose her, he couldn’t, that is what is all about. The feeling of maybe losing her made his heart drop to his stomach, his stupid jealousy made her angry and upset, and his dumb anger made the situation ever worst. It was all him.

He opened his eyes with the intention to get up and get some water, but when a noise came from his window he turned his head towards it to see someone coming through his window into his room. The moment he locked eyes with Max he noticed that she wasn’t as angry as the last time he saw her and he was glad about that, but the guilt he felt didn’t take a step down.

“Hey.” He said while his eyes followed her getting into bed next to him.

“Hey.”

“You know it’s usually the guy who climbs the girl’s window.” He said hoping to see her smile, and luckily, she did.

“I like to switch the gender norms.” She shrugged her shoulders and then locked eyes with him once her body was comfortably next to him. She was on her side while he was on his back, but still staring at each other. “It’s nice to see you aren’t ignoring me right now.” She said rolling her eyes and JJ shook his head while letting out a big sigh.

“I was such an idiot.”

“Yes you were.” She quickly nodded and JJ let let out a tiny laugh. “But so was I.” He stared at her confused but she didn’t answered immediately, she got closer to him to be face to face and get the warmth his body would usually give her. “When I was dating my ex,” she started softly “I... sometimes I felt like I was trapped. Like I couldn’t do some things because he didn’t want me to do them, or he just didn’t like it. I didn’t realize it was bad until we were over. So I made a promise to myself to not let myself feel trapped again, and that- that takes me to do, sometimes, stuff that can have not so great consequences. But I just don’t think about it, if I want to do something I do it. No matter what others think. Now I understand the way you felt, in some way, I mean if I see others girls eating you with their eyes I would want to kick their asses- I know they do, c’mon, you’re hot. But I just pretend not to see because I would probably fight a girl every day.”

“I would fight a guy every minute with you.” JJ said and then grabbed her cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yell at you like that. You’re right, you can do whatever you want. I can’t and I shouldn’t stop you from doing things, it’s your life. It’s just- having so much boys looking at you like that, it made so angry.”

“Jealous.” Max corrected him and JJ nodded with a grin.

“Yes, jealous.” He let out a tiny laugh. “Somehow, my brain decided to start thinking that you-” he was debating if he should tell what went through his mind te entire day, but he couldn’t find the words, instead he just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

Max bit her lower lip and shook her head. “You’re too lucky I love you because you’re being a dumbass right now.” She said and then got closer to his lips. “No matter how many eyes are on me, no matter how many guys want to fuck me or take me to bed and even date me, all my eyes can see is your stupid ass.” As soon as she finished, she did a fake gag, which lead to JJ letting out a big laugh. “Ugh, I hate being this cliche. Don’t make me hurt you for making me say these things.”

“I love you too.” And there it was again. That same good feeling JJ would always have when Max was around appeared again on his chest and stomach. He didn’t know what it was till this day, but what he knew is that the only person that made him feel that way was right next to him.

“Do you realize that this deep conversation happened because my ass was on a picture?” Max asked and they both let out tiny laughs.

“With us, it doesn’t surprise me. I promise I won’t get that jealous next time.” He said and then added: “Is there gonna be a next time?” He waited for Max to shake her head, but instead, a smile appeared on her face. “Oh no.”

“And I promise to tell you next time.” She finished the sentence and without wasting another second, she ended the space between them to unite his lips with hers and enjoy that warmth they both loved so much.

“All those guys were looking at you,” JJ started softly once the kiss was over “were admiring you, wanting to touch you... but only I can do that.”

“Yes, you are the only one.” Max nodded biting her lower lip.

“Fuck yeah. Is that your girlfriend’s ass? Yes, yes it is. And I’m the only one who gets to touch it without receiving a boot in the ass afterwards. That’s me. And that’s my fucking girl.” He said taking his hand to her ass to give it a little squeeze. She smiled and got closer to him, ready to start a makeout session.

“Yes I am.” She said before giving him a more heated kiss then intended. Maybe this wasn’t going to be just a makeout session.

>>> you have love, you have passion, you have desire, but even with that, is it possible to overcome your dark past...?

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[yandere-sins]

Hiya!! Love your work 💕 May I please request 17 and 49 from your supernatural prompts with Diavolo? (Or like, whichever one you prefer!) ✨

How about both! Thank you so much for requesting my favorite character atm ;; I love Diavolo a LOT! Enjoy!

“I left my mark on you, isn’t that enough?”  &  “I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.” 

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««   

Ever since you came to the Devildom, your interactions with Diavolo had been sparse. Of course, you two greeted each other in the hallways, or you saw him around Lucifer a few times. But your overall interactions with the lord had been as little as the activities you were actually doing the first two months living there. Aside from studying and hanging out with the brothers, you hadn’t exactly gone out or gotten in trouble with someone either. You had done nothing to be called into a private audience with Diavolo.

Accordingly nervous, you found yourself sitting on a chair right in front of the big work desk that was Diavolo’s place of command. Neither he nor Barbatos gave you much attention as he had just asked you inside and to take a seat, explaining he had to tend to this report before he had the time for you. You never had witness Diavolo at work, so this was quite new, and a little intimidating, as his expression was way more serious than the usual chipper one he greeted you with.

“[Name],” he called out to you, your mind spacing out as you fiddled with the hem of your uniform, wondering what you did to end up here. Without looking at his butler, Diavolo handed him the paper he had just written, Barbatos taking it and excusing himself with a brief nod in your direction. Immediately, as you met Diavolo’s eyes, his face cheered up, his usual big smile taking over his lips. “Sorry to make you wait, you probably were nervous when I called you here, weren’t you? I don’t plan anything bad, I promise!”

Laughing loudly, he had seen right through you, embarrassingly fast. But his words helped you to relax and take a deep breath, and you quickly replied, “It’s fine!” 

“Good,” he chuckled, nodding knowingly. “I wanted to know if you were able to settle in and get along with everyone well. I hope no one is bothering you?”

Prompted by him to answer his question, you spoke freely about your experience so far. You had no reason to hold back about how well you got along with Mammon and Levi and were slowly warming up with everyone else, happy to tell him about how you spent a lot of time studying and progressing with your tasks. Diavolo made courteous nods and hums next to your tales, though his smile was slowly dwindling the longer you continued talking about other people rather than yourself.

“That sounds like you’ve been having a great time,” he noted, interrupting you and sending a sudden shiver down your spine as you heard an unsuspected chilliness to his voice.

“Ah, yes. It’s been going very well for me.”

“I see.” Standing up from his chair, you were almost urged to do the same, but he stopped you with a wave of his hand, making you sink back while he surrounded his table, leaning against the front. “You’ve been making a few pacts as I heard, I hope those demons have been treating you well too?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of intimidation wave over you. After all, you hadn’t spent time in private with Diavolo before, so you never quite noticed just how piercing his eyes were, especially when he was so close. And with him standing in front of you, for the first time, you really noticed his authority. His whole body language was pushing you down into your place, arms crossed, leaning against the table leisurely. It showed you exactly how little of a threat you were, and considering you two were from different species, this was a situation you subconsciously took as a red flag.

“It certainly has been some time that anyone managed to get more than one pact, especially in such a short time. And from what I heard, you are still going strong, befriending everyone. I haven’t met a human like you in a while... how interesting.”

His praise was rather dull-spoken as Diavolo pushed himself away from his table, rounding you at a leisure pace. His eyes never left you, and you felt them sting even in your back as you tried to remain calm. It would have been foolish to think of yourself as an animal that was being circled by its inevitable demise, the hunter, but it almost seemed the part.

Flinching as you felt his fingers brush over the back of your shoulders, brushing aside some strands of hair and revealing your neck, Diavolo let out a few chuckles. You suddenly felt very aware that HE must be aware, toying with your nervousness. When he finally came back into your field of vision, it was almost a relief, though you still got caught off-guard as he started to speak again, voice booming and imbuing as ever.

“So, I was thinking...” he started, clapping his hands together to cause another scare to your discomfort. By now, your fingers had started clawing into the fabric of your trousers, while your mind was confused about why you’d be so scared of a person who you knew as nothing but kind until now.

“Maybe we should make a pact. How about it? Any wishes?”

Mouth falling open, you were speechless for a second, his words replaying in your head. It was a sudden proposal, and though you should have been overjoyed about it, you felt reluctant, considering who he was. “W-With me, Sir?” you asked, trying to stay polite. “Yes!” he was quick to answer, and it only confused you more as he seemed like he was serious.

“I-I don’t really have a reason to... right now,” you stuttered. You weren’t even sure how to handle pacts, yet, one with a demon like Diavolo. He wasn’t just any demon, he wasn’t even like the brothers. He was the alpha and the omega of the Devildom, and he probably had more power than he knew what to do with.

“I’d like to be in on the fun... Get to know you better, help you out. I am very sure I can be helpful when times get tough, you know?” Diavolo had his arguments, but there was a nagging in the back of your head that it wasn’t right still. You didn’t even deserve a demon like him... right?”

“Do you want to see it?” he whispered into your ear all of a sudden, and you almost jumped off your chair as you hadn’t noticed him move. “What do you mean?” you squeaked as you quickly tried to follow him with your gaze this time, while he passed you again. It somehow scared you to let him out of your eyes by now, never knowing what he was going to do next and what hid behind the obligatory smile on his lips.

“Why, my mark, of course,” he laughed carefreely, smoke rising from his hand before a hand-mirror was revealed from it. “Have a look, it’s right there.” Sliding the mirror into your hand, he tapped above your chest a few times, signaling you where his mark would be. It was almost embarrassing to pull away your coat and shirt to look at the place it appeared, finding it to be right above your heart. But he was right, as his sigil shone right where he promised it was, colorful and strongly. It was a vain thought, but you almost felt a surge of power just by looking at it.

“That’s... I am... I’m not sure, Sir. I don’t think I deserve to make a pact with you.”

Your words weren’t exactly to his liking, but you only caught his disapproving expression for the last second on his reflection in the mirror. Without knowing why, you were puzzled to see him displeased, not knowing the things Diavolo was planning for you once he had you in his strings. “That’s not true, [Name],” he sighed, putting his hands on your shoulders, fingers going down one after the other.

Diavolo opened his mouth, but for a second, he soaked in the warm feeling beneath his palms, dragging his hands down to your arms and up towards your neck again. You were so close. So close to being his, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You deserve my power. An amazing human like you deserves me- my power. We’d be good... partners.”

It was hard to think under the strain of his fingers digging into your shoulder flesh, but the least you could do was consider his words, that much you owed him. “I--” you started, thinking about still telling him ‘no’, when he suddenly seemed to vanish again, your head looking around frantically.

You felt his fingers around your chin before you saw him, Diavolo directing you towards his body squatted down on your right side, next to your chair. He didn’t look all that intimidating anymore when he was crouched next to you, smiling with shining eyes. “Don’t you want to get stronger? Perform your very best this year? You and I can make that true!”

“I... yeah,” you admitted. You did want to do your very best for the time here in Devildom, that’s what had been your ambition in this exchange program. And certainly, no one was better suited to help you then Diavolo was. Sneaking another glance at his mark in the mirror, you again felt the source of power that it emitted, feeling a little smitten by that feeling rushing through you. This realization didn’t go unnoticed by the future ruler of the Devildom, Diavolo’s smile growing a bit wider even. Humans were nothing but easy. The all desired something, and all he had to do was play the right chords for you to fall directly into his trap.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, and he laughed merrily, standing up with ease and pulling you along by the wrist. “Very well, let’s go then!” he announced, starting to march towards the door to the hallway while you stumbled after him. “Where are we going?” you asked, confused.

“To the palace, of course! It’s where we will live, after all.”

“What? But what reason would I have to live there? I got lodged at the House of Lamentation, right?”

At this, Diavolo took another chipper step before halting and promptly turning around to face you with a cheerful, yet, belittling expression. “What reason? I left my mark on you, isn’t that enough? You need to be with me, how else do you think our pact could work?”

“B-But--”

“Oh, [Name]!” he laughed. You were cute, still so clueless about the spark behind his eyes. It was just another trait he looked forward to using for his own gain.

“Just listen to me, and you will be fine,” he ‘calmed’ you, ignoring any further attempts of you not to follow him. Pacts weren’t fair when the power balance was so off. You would have to offer him much to ever repay the debt you put yourself into by agreeing, which wasn’t something you had been made aware of before. But what did you expect? Diavolo was still a demon. He wouldn’t have told you about the things he wanted to do with this delicious, unique soul of yours.

Instead, he rather called it a learning experience. And he'd teach you for a long time.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««   

Feel free to request from the Supernatural Prompts too!

[terry-perry]

A Life Worth Sharing (Ian x Vampire!Reader)

A special request for my good friend @ladyfluff​

Hope you enjoy!​

Set in the Adam’s Family AU

She groaned as she felt herself being shaken awake. Her annoyance soon melted away, however, once her vision became less fuzzy and she caught sight of her boyfriend crouched down beside her and wearing that shy grin she loved so much. 

“Sorry to wake you,” Ian mumbled. “But didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Peering over at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was almost five in the morning. She groaned again; she didn’t like it when he left super late (or super early, to some). His sleep schedule was already off-balanced enough with his job and her brother having him as his personal errand boy.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” She pleaded.

“I wish I could, but my flight leaves very soon. And I have some music people I have to meet with tomorrow night.”

“Okay, but you’ll be back in two weeks right?”

“Definitely,” Ian grinned before leaning forward to give her a good, long kiss goodbye.

This had been their routine for almost two years now. It was a struggle at first with the constant back and forth and then the added revelation of what she and her family were, but they were able to adjust for the most part. They cared for one another too much to let what they had go so easily. 

Even when they had only been on a handful of dates, it was almost unreal how intense their feelings were. Y/N knew this was definitely something she had never felt before. Like many others of her kind, she had her share of casual lovers throughout the centuries she lived -- only giving her heart to one or two souls. 

She made peace long ago with the idea that there might not have been a special someone for her. She had convinced herself that the love she shared with her family was enough to sustain her. She did her best to be happy for her brothers as she’d watch them interact with their loves they had found; laughing at the way Peter would banter with Rowan, be fascinated at how Adam and Eve were able to communicate with one another without words.

She was happy for them, yes. But envious as well. 

None of the others she’d been with made her feel what she did with Ian. Since the night they met, she would think back to the stories she heard long ago about their kind and their version of soulmates. They weren’t known to play around with their feelings. They may give in to carnal urges from time to time, but there’s very few they were willing to place their trust in. 

 And with Y/N and Ian’s relationship being a special case, she was willing to make it work no matter what way they chose to go about it all.

''Listen darling, all you've got to do right? You just take these, put them in some water right? Unless you want to dry them, dried flowers are amazing. You can use them for potpourri and stuff.''

Ian nodded as he continued to listen to what Peter had to say. What luck for him to be in Detroit on business. He was just who he wanted to speak to about what he planned on doing the next time he saw Y/N. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. 

Peter wasn’t exactly his first choice. He could’ve tried talking to one of his human friends that were in serious relationships of their own, his mother or even Eve if he especially wanted an unfiltered, unbiased opinion on the matter. But she was still doing what she did in Tangier. Regardless, Ian knew that if had to choose between Y/N’s two brothers, Peter would be the one to do his best to not judge as he gave his two cents. 

At least then the risk of him being maimed would drop a good amount.

“She’ll really like these,” Peter continued, offering the small bundle of flowers. “They’re just like the ones we had outside our home, growing up. She used to love frolicking in the field and pick as many flowers as she could.”

Just then, Ian thought of his girlfriend. A mini version of her running around so carefree with her sweet smile intact. They had touched upon the subject of children in the past, and while it may have been a giant sacrifice to make when it came to dedicating his life to her, he knew it was worth it. He never even played with the idea of having children of his own until falling in love with Y/N.

“Can I ask you something?” 

As expected, Peter offered him a friendly smile to let him know he was all ears with what he had to say. A nice change from the scary expressions Adam had to offer when it came to stuff like this.

“Yes?”

“How did you know Rowan was the one you wanted to be with?”

He got a bit worried when Peter’s expression went on to be a little more puzzled, as though unsure where this was going. Thankfully, he decided to answer without another second to think about it.

“I guess it was the way we were able to stand together through hard times. As you know, we met each other during a time where a love like ours wasn’t exactly celebrated. Quite the opposite. We had to earn the bliss we have now. That’s how it is with love, I suppose.”

Ian nodded, letting his words sit with him. Love was definitely work. Twice the hard work when it came to unique situations like this one. But it was all about being with someone that makes you want to do it. Someone that doesn’t make it feel like work. 

And Ian did his best when it came to Y/N. The long distance, the different sleeping patterns and, of course, the morbid fact that he would eventually grow old and die. But he did all he could to make it work and be there for her. If he was meant to wither away, he would happily do so if it meant he gave his time to her. 

“I know what you’re up to,”

Ian wasn’t able to escape Adam like he intended to. As harsh as it sounded -- especially since he was someone he genuinely looked up to -- Ian didn’t want to get the third degree from him. Had he contemplated getting his blessing? Sure. But his fear took over, knowing his thoughts on the relationship already. 

So to now hear that Adam knew what he was planning on doing behind his back got him scared shitless. 

“What do you mean?” Ian sputtered, deciding to play dumb.

The vampire could only narrow his eyes in response. He wasn’t in the mood for games. Then again, when was he? Ian grew more fearful as Adam stared him down. He had no choice but to sigh and give in.

“How did you know?”

“Speaking as someone that’s been hiding their true nature for 500 years, I know a bad liar when I see one,”

Ian could get that. Especially, now that he thought about it some more, he wasn’t the best with hiding his intentions the last several weeks. Adam must have spotted the catalogs he saved that had a great selection he could choose. If that didn’t get him to question anything, the way Ian showed interest in Adam’s marriage was definitely a big hint. 

The two of them had a mostly business-like relationship with not a lot of personal information being transferred between themselves. That hardly changed when Ian started seeing Y/N; the two men not wanting this to change the arrangement they had, despite Adam being strongly against their coupling. So when he began to ask about the ways Adam made his marriage work, that was a definite red flag. Why would he be curious about his life and become suddenly bold enough to ask questions if he didn’t have some ulterior motive to his actions.

“Doesn’t help that you kept eyeballing my wedding photos,”

Ian cursed to himself. He was so stupid to think he could get away with how he kept checking out the old pictures Adam had of him and Eve. In his defense, they had been among the many photos Adam had of his heroes. Of those he knew once. He supposed it was because those particular ones were kept close and meant for his eyes only. 

Those moments where Ian would sneak a peek, wondering about the ways he could have something similar with Y/N, he could understand how anyone could’ve caught on to what he was up to.

“Adam, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But you need to know that I love her. She’s it for me. I’ve known that since I first saw her, and that feeling hasn’t changed. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” 

Well that was certainly something that caught him off guard. Adam wasn’t exactly someone that green lit what Ian had with Y/N. So to hear that he seemed to be okay with this next step...

“I may not be 100% okay with what you have with my sister, but I know how much you care about her. However, I can’t let you propose with just any ring.”

Ian wondered what he could mean by that until Adam pulled out something from the pocket of his robe. Revealing what he could describe as the shiniest and most beautiful diamond ring he has ever seen.

“This once belonged to one of the Bronte sisters, I can’t remember which. Either way, they were a couple of the few people Y/N admired and miss dearly. She’ll really appreciate it if you give this to her instead.”

Ian couldn’t help but smile. He may have not known who exactly were the people Adam was talking about, but he knew this was his way of getting his blessing in a way. It may not have been said out loud, but he knew Adam was aware of the feelings he had for Y/N. He wasn’t messing around when it came to her. 

“Thanks Adam,”

The day had finally arrived. Well, the night. Whatever. 

Ian didn’t have a complete plan, more of a hope that she’d say yes. It might have been why he decided to do it after witnessing her staring out the large window she possessed in her apartment when he welcomed himself in. This was it then, especially when Y/N turned to welcome him with a smile before going back to her other view.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this sight,” she reflected, her eyes never leaving the lights the city of New York had to offer for the late night.  She was sitting down on the chaise lounge that was near the window. He stared at her for a brief moment before closing the door and making his way over to her

“I was thinking the same thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off her as he stepped forward.

 He wasn’t much for big gestures but she deserved it, this was the right time. He was sure.

“Y/N...”

She had no choice but to put her attention back to him. She wasn’t all too sure what was going on, but she had a feeling he had plenty to say as he took her hands in his. Needing her to feel the anxiousness he was feeling as he did his best to word all he wanted to tell her that moment.

“You’ve made me feel things that I didn’t know existed outside of movies and the songs we listen to. And I’ve realized that I don’t want to live without you. It doesn’t matter to me if we spend forever or just the rest of my life together. All I care about is that we spend our time protecting each other, taking care of each other and making the most of what we have together. Because you’re it for me baby. You’re the love of my life.”

Y/N reached up to cup his cheek with a warm smile and glassy eyes.

“And you’re mine,” she sighed. 

Ian closed his eyes and succumbed to her touch, turning his head a bit so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. He laced it up with his and brought it down with him as he got down on one knee. He took a deep breath and looked up at her with his own vision starting to blur somewhat with tears. But he could still see the way she placed her free hand over her mouth in an attempt to repress all the emotions that wanted to come out at once.

“Y/N,” he began with an unsteady voice. “Will you marry me?”

With all the enthusiasm she had, she nodded her head. 

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Once he was back on his feet, she jumped into his arms and held on tight. He hugged her back with a similar amount of desperate strength and added in a fierce kiss that gained a bit of saltiness from their tears. With some reluctance, he broke apart from her when he remembered something.

“Fuck. I forgot the ring.” He said, fishing for the small, velvet box in his pocket. He took it out and opened it up to present the ring to her before placing it on her finger.

She marveled at the sparkling beauty of the diamond, tracing the delicate band and cut.

They shared another loving embrace after, as if holding onto one another would keep them safe and sheltered for as long as they lived. 

[allyvampirelass29]

Killing Time

A HEROES Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

He loved that he could touch her, even from across the room, that as long as she was in his sight, she was never gone from the reach, the caresses of his mind. Sylar turned his head towards his shoulder, and felt the weight of hers, the silkiness of her wispy curls, as he grazed the air, yet felt the fluttery sensation of her hair. The soundproof glass between them, kept him from saying what he needed to say, kept him from possessing that flooding power in hearing her breath quicken, and knowing he was the cause. But he could watch his effect on her through the one way glass, her head turning towards his phantom projection, and as she clinged to the air around her, he just knew....... As smoothly as he could turn a phrase with his silken tongue, his talented fingers were far more eloquent.

He smiled as he watched her own delicate hand reach up, search the air, and he felt his whole body seized with chills, that irresistible feel of her thumb stroking his dark brow over and over, and the tension in his back slowly released with his exhale. "God, I love when you do that," he spoke to the glass, and felt her melt against his hand as he placed it gently on her shoulder. To anyone watching, it would look like he was touching his own shoulder, but it was definitely hers, he could feel the feminine curve of it, and he imagined the tiny freckles dotting it like stars.

His heart panged, as he watched her lips move, speaking to the air, and he imagined the music of her laugh, as he watched it soundlessly. He'd give anything to know what she was saying to him. "You're a doll, Ally," He whispered painfully to the glass, releasing his hold, to edge himself closer to it. He watched her eyes shift from happy enchantment, to sudden fear, when she couldn't feel him anymore. "Hey, no, don't be scared I'm right here...…" He whispered, tapping on the glass, like he'd done every day since they'd been captured. If he hadn't been dosed up with enough brain paralysis to kill a baby elephant, he'd have shattered that glass by now. But with his powers leashed, and his body considerably slowed, all he could manage was the tapping, the weak reach, the projected touch. He couldn't save her, but as long as he could feel her, there was hope.

"Don't cry, no, Baby. Stop, you're killing me." The tears stung Sylar's eyes, as he watched her hug her knees, and sob quietly, her hair catching the light and veiling her face. He felt the pain of his own tears stoke the fire, the anger inside him, and using all of his strength he pounded the glass with his fist, harder and harder, over and over, his sadness becoming pure rage. Again and again, he watched his knuckles bruise and then heal, melt back into perfect skin. So he hit harder, the glass shuddering beneath his relentless attacks, and still, Ally could not hear him, and didn't so much as look up from her desolate sorrow.

"You're only making it worse, on the both of you." The Senator's voice was the match thrown into the dangerously full gasoline barrel, and Sylar hurled his whole body against the glass with a seething, animalistic yell.

"That glass, just this one piece, cost 20 million dollars, Buddy. You'd better believe it's bulletproof, blast proof, and 100 percent SYLAR proof. If I'd had the funding, you'd be in a box of the stuff right now. Wasting good drugs on you, makes me sick."

Sylar's eyes smouldered, his dark brow slanted, screaming murder, and his mind burned black with threats, too many to pick just one. Torture beyond anything he'd perpetrated before, horrendously bloody acts that would give even himself, nightmares. But his lips could only utter three words after the energy syphoned off from his intense physical exertion, and he felt his body fading, with the single, desperate plea still on his lips.

"Let. Her. Go."

"Can't do that friend."

It was all Sylar could do to steady his breathing, his heart pounding relentless against his chest with wounded rage, that wild, almost primal hunger to kill, and for the first time in months, he actually felt relieved Ally couldn't see him, blinded from the monster he was about to become. His very soul burned with bloodlust, the sleeping danger awakening. The killer emerges.

"SAVE IT!!!!" He snarled, nostrils flaring as he fended off the invading drugs that chained up his powers, his anger yanking on the mental restraints with an unhinged force. His forehead still rested against the glass, as he turned it slowly, methodically, toward the door, his eyes flashing with obsidian fire.

"Save your damn campaign speech, Senator, I am so not your friend. You play the benevolent leader, Mr. All American with such shocking deception. You put on a tie and a fake smile, and you HIDE behind that door and enact the horrors that you speak out against. As much as I love cruel and unusual punishment, you've just lost my vote. You're a monster, Nathan, you're worse than me, because at least when I kill my own kind, I don't pretend to care. I don't pretend that I'm going to save them."

The silence that followed was deadly in of itself, a cold void spreading through the sparse, empty room but when Nathan finally gave the order, it was edged with a severity that even Sylar had never thought capable of him.

"Open the door."

"Sir, we'd strongly advise against engaging the hostile."

"Oh yes, be a good boy, Nathan, and listen to your pathetic excuses for bodyguards. You've never experienced HOSTILE, until I've got you alone, locked in a room with me. You're going to need more than fancy drugs, and a twenty million dollar piece of glass to save you. You can use all the confiscated narcotics you want, if it'll make you feel safe, but I don't need my powers to kill you."

"You really think I'm scared of you?"

"No, Senator, I KNOW you are. But by all means, open the door...…. Let's play."

"Please, you've been so heavily sedated, hell, you should have OD'd twenty times over by now. You couldn't kill time."

"Haha that's good, I like that...… Killing and Time are my two favourite things. Even high, I can still do more damage than you can ever do to me. Whatcha gonna do, Buddy? Send me to death row, can I request the chair, that might be fun.”

"Don't you get it, Sylar? You're on Death Row."

Sylar froze as a red dot appeared on Ally's bare shoulder, as she sat, hugging her knees, and a low growl escaped from deep within his chest, his fingers starting to tremble.

"Alright, easy, white flag!" He fumed, throwing up his hands. "Fine, I'll play nice, just call off your sniper."

"Back against the glass, hands on your head, you son of a bitch."

"You're making me miss Bennet with that kind of sweet talk. Good times......" He snickered, turning his cheek inward playfully, brow raised, his eyes intensifying.

"Shut up! I'll shoot her, I swear to God. It's amazing, really, how many ways you can shoot a person and still keep them alive, just long enough, so that they feel each agonizing moment."

Sylar wasn't laughing anymore. He tentatively backed into the glass, and interlaced his fingers, as he put them behind his head, taking one last glance over his shoulder, and he didn't start breathing again, until the red dot threatening her pale skin, disappeared.

There was a loud mechanical sound, and the door slowly opened, as Nathan strode in, surprisingly unaccompanied, and it took every bit of Sylar's resolve not to tear into him on sight.

The young, square-jawed Senator regarded the tall, dark, and dangerous man before him, as though he were approaching a rabid animal, looking at him sideways, with great disdain.

"What now, Nathan, come to pat me down? You gonna rough me up a little?" He looked over his shoulder at the brown haired girl, her hands searching the glass in front of her with stricken eyes. He almost reached out to put his hand where hers was, when he remembered she couldn't see him. "You even think of doing that to her, I'll kill you. Nobody touches her, got it? Nobody but me."

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he ventured closer. "I'll do whatever the hell I want with her. She's the property of the United States Government now, you both are."

Sylar smirked at him, flexing his bent arms behind his silken head, his dark eyes dancing. "So, I'm like an acquired weapon of mass destruction?"

"More like Enemy of the State, an apprehended terrorist. Congratulations Gabriel, with a little help from the FBI, you no longer exist. There is no Gabriel Gray, meaning I can do whatever I want to you, hold you without trial, kill you without cause."

"So do it." Sylar snarled, his eyes snapping back to cold and impenetrable. "Kill me, Nathan. End it. Be the hero, everyone thinks you are. What are you waiting for?"

Nathan laughed without feeling, the hatred between him and Sylar rising like a scorched heat. "You think I won't do it? I was an officer of the United States Navy, I know HUNDREDS of ways to kill a man, and I'm pretty sure, you only know, the one." Nathan swiped his finger mockingly in front of Sylar's face, and Sylar smirked back, his gaze deadly.

"Just because I have my favourite weapon, doesn't mean it's the only trick up my sleeve. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. No, I'm going to kill you, Nathan, for doing this to me, to HER. I'm going to kill little brother, and Ma, and only after you're out of your head, seeing their bloody mangled bodies, their heads viciously ripped into, I'm going to make you beg me to kill you, and only then, will your little Superman charade end."

"You dressed up in my brother's face and tried to kill me, you SICK bastard!!! Who does that!? Did you really think I wouldn't retaliate?  You tried, and you failed. You used someone I loved against me, and you still lost. Don't be surprised when I do the same, go dark, and I follow through for the win."

"Look, I get that you're pissed, I know, I ruined your little ball and tricked all your big, fancy Senator friends. You want blood? Take it. Take it all...…. Torture me, kill me, bring me back, just to kill me again, maybe I deserve it, maybe I don't, do whatever the HELL you want, even let Peter get his, but don't punish her for my sins. My blood for hers. You already have me, you don't need her anymore, so, please...… let her go. You do that, and I might just let you live."

"Look at me, Gabriel, look right into my eyes. Never gonna happen."

Sylar could feel his skin prickling with the chills coursing through his body, the coldness of a killer, creeping into his dark features, his voice like ice.

"I said...… Please."

"No deal. You see..... I'm not going to do any of that to you, Gabriel. Because I know that whatever punishment I inflict, government sanctioned or otherwise, nothing is going to hurt you worse, nothing is going to make you behave more than the constant threat of what could happen to her. Why do you think I designed the glass so that you could see her, but she can't see you? Because I want you to see it, what I do to her, every time you get out of line. You so much as look at me a way I don't like, I'll take action, and it won't be me, hurting her, it will be you, your hand. I don't want your worthless blood, hers is so much more valuable. I'm going to take as much as I need to replicate that power, increase it enough to protect entire armies. This is a whole new level for our military, and on behalf of the United States Government, I thank you for your generous contribution."

Sylar's rising anger chilled into paralyzing fear, and he shook his head incredulous. "You're insane. She doesn't have enough electricity for that kind of scale, or enough blood for such rigorous testing...…You'll kill her."

Nathan smiled, his teeth gleaming, looking every bit the congenial politician. "If that's what it takes. I guess, we'd better get started." Nathan made a motion with his hands, and Sylar dropped his arms, failing to hide the abject horror flooding his eyes, feeling sick.

"What did you just do? She's- She's an innocent girl!!!!!"

"Wrong. She WAS an innocent girl. You stole her innocence. YOU ruined her, and got her all mixed up in the MURDER plot of a US Senator!!! She'll PAY for your sins, because they're her sins too, she deserves what's coming."

Sylar shook his head, his brow pulled back, as he sank desperate to his knees. "Nathan, listen to me, she didn't know, I swear!"

"Ever hear of guilty by association?"

Sylar whirled his head around, just as two fully equipped S.W.A.T. members stormed into Ally's side of the room, one of them roughly tackling her to the ground, the other taking a long needle from a cylindrical container.

"NOOOOOOO!!! Nathan, GOD, Nathan, don't do this, I'll do ANYTHING you want, I'll kill whoever you want me to kill, I'll be a damn saint, just don't- Don't hurt my girl." Sylar's tears streamed freely now, his chest so tight, he couldn't get air to his lungs and they burned, as he watched with blurred vision, Ally screaming without a sound, fighting back and sobbing. He bristled as the one holding her down backhanded her across the face, and felt his own jaw sting with the assault.

"Not My Baby...…. Don't hit her, don't hit my baby!!!!" Sylar's voice was hysterical, failing to suppress his sobs, his emotions heightened because of the drugs. Nathan had never seen him like this, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"You want it to stop? Fall at my feet. Beg like the pathetic creature you are."

Sylar started to scowl, his lip quivering with both rage and pain, an emotion swathing him that was more dangerous than anything he'd ever felt before, Self Sacrifice. 

"Never."

"Hey Tom, I'm going to need you to bleed her." Nathan spoke calmly into his earpiece."

"Like HELL you are!!!!!" Sylar's rage burned through the pain, engulfing him and Nathan in the catching flame like wildfire, as he hurled himself at him with murderous intent. But the drugs had dulled his reflexes, and Nathan slammed him hard into the glass, grasping his jet black hair, and holding his forehead against the glass, as Sylar struggled against him, growling.

Ally was still fighting hard against her attackers too, but they overpowered her, one of them returning the needle to the container, retrieving, instead, a scalpel and silicone cup. Sylar released the full force of his scream into the glass, feeling the vibration against his lips, the sound reverberating through the room, echoing through the entire space, as the blade sank into Ally's pale skin, dark red blood trickling down her forearm, into the waiting cup.

His body couldn't take it anymore, between the drugs and the horror he broke...…. Sylar sobbed bitterly, and Nathan loosened his hold on the back of his head, letting him fall, helpless, to the ground, legs crossed, looking like a frightened little boy, instead of a cold blooded killer.

"You really do love her."

"Please," Sylar breathed the single word, his voice frail, his eyes sincere.

"Fall at my feet, and I make it stop."

Sylar gritted his teeth, his cheeks shiny, wet with tears, the image of Ally's silent scream haunting him, begging him. He couldn't take it. He'd been compromised, and it terrified him what he'd do if it meant keeping her alive. Sylar got all the way down on the floor, revolted by the utter degradation, hating Nathan, and even more, hating himself.

"Hey Guys, that's enough for tonight. Get the girl bandaged up, and get the sample to the lab."

Nathan looked down at Sylar like he was a loathsome thing, an insect on the floor, and Sylar held his breath, as Nathan stepped directly onto his fingers, digging his heel in. 

"Look at you, The Big Bad Wolf...…. Now, you're just a whimpering pup. I own you."

Sylar had to bite his tongue to keep his scathing response from escaping his lips, and he seized up, his back arching, as he felt the pin prick in the back of his neck, a new rush of drugs flooding his system, his eyes going blank.

"Sweet Dreams, you Psychopath."

Sylar passed out on the floor, unable to fight off the heaviness of the newly introduced drugs mingling with the lingering effects of the ones previously administered, his mind paralyzed, and his body exhausted. Nathan strode out of the room, and the mechanical sound echoed through the space, as the door locked itself behind him. The lights died, darkness washing over Sylar's still form, his arm outstretched.

Silence.

Then.... the intercom crackled, as someone turned it back on, a bit of feedback, and a voice filled the room.

"Sylar!? Sy? Baby, can you hear me?"

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[fixerupperofarrendelle]

Day 1: “The Wind Blows A Little Bit Colder...”

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first time doing a challenge on tumblr, but I hope I can make some friends within this fandom. ❤️

@vannminner @vuelie

The wind blows a little bit colder in Arendelle as the autumn breeze changes to winter snowfalls.

This period of time has been full of change. Elsa abdicated the throne, placing the kingdom of Arendelle into the hands of Anna, and moved to the Enchanted Forest as protector of the spirits and the Northuldra people living in the Forest. The former queen, now the fifth spirit, truly feels like she is where she belongs.

Anna, on the other hand, has had a tough time transitioning into her new rule. Of course, she had a great role model— Elsa handled her queenly duties with grace after the Great Thaw. But Anna wasn't like Elsa. She always felt more like the spare child, not the other side of a very important bridge as Elsa had told her.

The people of Arendelle was always Anna's main concern. She wanted to make wise decisions with trade agreements and other political changes. Balancing council meetings, paperwork, and foreign dignitary visits, Anna could barely keep her head afloat.

Sure, she had Kristoff who was always ready to listen to her venting sessions. Olaf and Sven would do their best to cheer up the exhausted Queen.

She knew that she could send a note with Gale to tell Elsa she needed her, but Anna did not want to do that. The queen's realization of her struggles with being codependent caused her to try to do it all on her own.

Kristoff saw red flags almost immediately after Anna was coronated. He gave her a few weeks, hoping Anna just needed time to adjust. But with her constant mood swings, her skipping meals, and her staying up way too late to finish paperwork, Anna was struggling.

The only time she seemed to be herself was when Elsa came for family game night. Sometimes, Elsa would stay the whole weekend, which she had been doing more recently because she missed spending time with her little sister.

Today is Friday. Elsa should be arriving shortly after lunch. She always patiently waits for Anna to finish up in her meetings before coming to relax and have fun with the family.

Kristoff decides as soon as Elsa arrives, he will discuss what he's noticed about Anna. Maybe she can provide some comfort.

Anna runs into the dining hall a few minutes after noon. Without a word, she takes her seat.

"Um... hey," Kristoff speaks as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

She avoids eye contact but sighs, "Hey, honey."

"Is... everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Kristoff. I just don't think I'm going to finish my paperwork in time for family game night," Anna folds her arms and lays her head on the table.

"I'm sure Elsa will understand. She will probably stay the whole weekend anyways," Kristoff responds, trying to soothe his fiancé.

"She shouldn't have to do that," Anna grumbles.

"What do mean?" Kristoff gives her a look of confusion.

"She should just come for family game night and then go back to the forest where she belongs-"

"Woah, Anna. Are you sure you're-"

"I'm fine!" Anna yells as she slams her fists against the table.

Kristoff stares at her, his jaws dropped.

Anna cringes with embarrassment from her outburst. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Just... tell Gerda to send my lunch to my room," She speaks choppily.

Before Kristoff can object, Anna runs out of the dining hall and practically flies upstairs, skipping one or two stairs between every step.

Kristoff lets out a sad sigh just as Gerda walks in with the huge meal. "Gerda, would you please take her meal to her room?"

"Yes, my lord," she responds as she sets the plate of food in front of Kristoff. Gerda hastily pushes the tray of food out of the room.

Kristoff hates being call a lord. He's just a mountain man that fell in love with a Queen, but Anna insists that he is spoken to with his formal title.

Interrupting his thoughts, Elsa elegantly walks inside the dining hall.

"Elsa!" Kristoff jumps up and gives her a hug.

"Hey, Kristoff," Elsa smiles at him. She looks around him, expecting a hug from her sister.

Her smile fades, "Where is Anna?"

"She's in her room... um... Elsa? I need to talk to you about her."

A flash of concern washes over Elsa's features. "Please, let's sit down," she leads him back to the dining table. "What's going on?"

"At first, I thought she just needed time to adjust to being Queen, you know? But she is overworking herself. She skips meals and never comes to bed before midnight. Her mood changes constantly, and Anna is only herself when you come to visit," Kristoff informs Elsa.

Elsa's face twists with sadness. Without another thought she stands up, "I need to talk to her-"

"Wait!" Kristoff stops her. "Um... she's upset right now, because she doesn't think she will finish her work in time for game night," he warns.

"Thank you for telling me, Kristoff. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to my sister," Elsa says almost pleading. Kristoff gives a polite nod and decides to walk to the barn to feed Sven.

Elsa softly knocks on the Anna’s door. When she doesn't get a response, Elsa presses her ear against the wood. Sobs escape her sister's mouth on the other side.

"Anna? Please, let me in— it's Elsa."

Another minute passes. Restless, Elsa tries again. "Anna, please! I'm going to open this door."

Instantly, Anna swings the door open and throws herself into Elsa's arms. "E-Els-sa," she sobs loudly.

Elsa holds her steady and gently leads her to the bed in Anna's room. She quickly jumps up to close the door and runs back over to her little sister.

"Anna, breathe. It's okay, dear, I'm here now," Elsa attempts to soothe the wailing queen.

It takes Elsa about thirty minutes to calm Anna well enough to understand Anna when she speaks. "What's been going on?" Elsa strokes her sister's cheek.

Anna turns her face away and remains quiet.

"Anna," Elsa reprimands gently, "Don't shut me out, please."

"I'm not you," Anna chokes out.

"What?" Elsa gasps. Anna looks back at her older sister.

"I'm not you, Elsa," Anna stands up and starts to pace around her room. "I'm not an amazing queen who has magical powers. Like Olaf said, I'm powerless. I was never meant to be the queen— I'm just.... the spare."

In shock, Elsa stares at her sister. She slowly walks toward Anna. Elsa places her hands firmly on Anna's shoulder. "I didn't know you felt that way," Elsa tells her guiltily.

"No, no, it's okay-"

"Anna," Elsa stops her. A single tear falls down the oldest's face. "I want to show you something."

Elsa shuts her eyes and conjures the icy magic. Snowflakes swirl around the room, collecting in the center, a few feet away from the girls. There, ice formations of King Agnarr and Queen Iduna form.

"Darling, I've been thinking," Iduna starts as she looks lovingly at her husband.

Anna gasps and glances at Elsa when she recognizes the icy figures.

"It might be time to tell Anna about Elsa. I can't bear keeping her shut out anymore. She's maturing now, she can be responsible," the Queen reasons.

"It's not Anna I'm worried about. What if we let them get close again and the feelings are too much for Elsa? Joy brings her powers out strongly as fear,” the King reminds his wife.

In shock, Anna takes a small step forward, watching the scene take place in front of her.

"But if anyone can find a way to help her, it's Anna," Queen Iduna smiles.

"She may be right about that. There's not much that girl can't do,” King Agnarr smiles now, thinking about his youngest daughter.

Iduna sighs happily, "Her love could hold up the world."

"Lucky for the world," the King chuckles. "Okay, we'll tell her when we return."

The King and Queen share a sweet hug as Iduna hums in contentment.

Anna turns to Elsa and runs into her sister's arms. She sniffles loudly, "Thank you so much for that."

Elsa pulls away to look Anna in the eyes. "They believed in you, Anna, and so do I," Elsa smiles warmly at Anna.

"Oh, Elsa," Anna wipes the snot of her face with the sleeve of her dress, causing Elsa to giggle.

"And hey, you do not have to be me to rule Arendelle. The people here adore you, Anna. You may not have ice powers, but you have something stronger," says Elsa.

"What's that?" Anna shakes her in disbelief.

Elsa places a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Love!"

[firsthopemedia]

Will The Next Cold War Be An Economic One? FIRST HOPE FINANCIAL Several big stories hit the financial news this past week but the real significance of these stories were not discussed anywhere. Number one, the U.S. Congress pushed to file unfair trade practices against China, stating that the Bush administration’s quiet behind-the-scenes negotiation strategy was unacceptable as a tactic to bring economic reform to China. In another story this week, these words appeared - Rather than serve as "an apologist" for China, "I hope the administration will join this team," Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., told reporters after testifying before the Senate Finance Committee in the second hearing on China's economic and currency policies in two days. This article reported that Congress aimed to pass bi-partisan veto-proof legislation that will force the Chinese Yuan to appreciate against the dollar. American manufacturers have claimed that the Chinese government’s unfair manipulation of their currency has hurt them and their Congressmen are listening. Then finally at the end of the week, this headline appeared in an article: “The U.S. Commerce Department announced sanctions against paper imports from China, the first time in 23 years that U.S. duty law has been applied to imports from that country.” Reporting the above is fine, but what are its implications? Here is my view. For once, I agree that the Bush administration is taking the proper stance and their disapproval of these brash, flag-waving Congressmen is merited. When sending U.S. Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke and the U.S. Secretary of Treasury Paulson to China only resulted in China defiantly stating that they will not allow another nation to dictate to them how they should run their economy, U.S. Congress should have gotten the hint. Instead, they escalated an already potentially volatile situation with their threats and sanctions this week. Stephen Roach, the chief economist at Morgan Stanley warned Congress that currency valuation was far from being the sole component hurting American manufacturers. He stated that China’s cheap labor costs, burgeoning modern infrastructure and technology and growing investment in human capital and research also have greatly contributed to the burgeoning trade imbalance between China and the United States. Mr. Roach commented, "The foreign-exchange rate is not the answer, in my view. You in the Congress need to ask yourselves an important hypothetical question: How would you feel if you got your way on the Chinese currency adjustment but found that after three or four years the pressures bearing down on American workers had only intensified? As I see it, that's a very real risk that should not be taken lightly.” Although I have vehemently disagreed with Mr. Roach’s past views on other subject matters, I believe that he is on the mark 100% this time and I’ll tell you why. U.S. Federal Chairman Bernanke has already publicly stated that everybody knows that the weak dollar is good for the U.S. government because it makes their debt cheaper and also helps to close the trade gap. So if you don’t think that the U.S. is not guilty of manipulating their own currency as well to serve their purposes then you are living in some kind of economic fantasyland. There are a whole lot of American expats living abroad that would like to see their own government do something to protect the value of their own currency instead of lecturing other nations as to how they should be managing theirs. Furthermore, this event is indeed a watershed event in the ongoing re-structuring of the world’s economies. In the past, colonized nations had bitterly complained to Europe and the U.S. about the harm their economic policies inflicted upon their economies. But now we see a 180% reversal, with developed countries complaining to emerging nations about their policies. But this is almost beside the point when it comes to examining much more significant fallout of an open trade war with China. The reason the Bush administration is trying to negotiate quietly with the Chinese rather than take the more hard-line stance assumed by the U.S. Congress is that they know that the Chinese government holds far more important cards than the valuation of the Yuan, namely the more than one trillion dollars of U.S. dollar denominated assets that they currently hold in their reserves. As I stated in a blog I posted about a week ago to The Underground Investor, the U.S. Congress would be foolish to aggressively alienate the Chinese government with so much at stake. The problems with the U.S. economy are much more a product of past U.S. fiscal irresponsibility than the manipulative actions of the Chinese economy and if the U.S. chooses to try to scapegoat an economic giant like China for their current problems, I believe, as Mr. Roach stated, that re-valuation of the Yuan will not be the answer. Furthermore, it is exactly these protectionist measures that the U.S. is seeking to implement that have hindered emerging markets in the past. Instead of addressing the real reasons behind a lagging economy, protectionist measures many times seek to scapegoat another country’s economic policies for far more deep-rooted economic failures at home. Furthermore, protectionist measures often harbor and encourages domestic inefficiencies to persist instead of encouraging proactive solutions that attack the root of the problem. In fact, if the U.S. Congress pushes through their punitive measures, I can tell you right now that revaluation of the Yuan will NOT be the answer to the problems of the American economy. And despite the fact that offloading massive amounts of U.S. dollars will hurt the Chinese economy as well, there will also come a time when the Chinese government, if pushed far enough, will offload massive amounts of U.S. dollars because their strong economy will be able to absorb its negative effects much better than the weak U.S. economy. And if they do so, the U.S. Congress will have given them the perfect excuse to do something that I believe the Chinese government is planning to do anyway. However, they will be able to do it, save face at the same time, and do it earlier than anyone expects, as opposed to having the global community heap loads of criticism upon them for what would otherwise seem to be a sudden decision that came out of nowhere. Instead of such an action being viewed as the selfish actions of a nation, it will instead by viewed as a reaction to U.S. bullying, and U.S. Congress will have given the Chinese government the perfect out. In this case, quiet negotiations is the proper way because any other way is bound to bring harm to not only Americans in the future, but to the global economy as well. When I have blogged about governments being chronic liars in the past, certainly the Chinese government or any world government is not immune. While the Chinese government has publicly stated that they will not take any sudden actions that will greatly hurt the U.S. dollar, do you really believe that they want to hold a trillion dollars of a currency that continues to lose significant value every year? Trust me, they are planning to get rid of these dollars as soon as economically possible and behind the scenes, they have a plan in place to offload them. Again, I can tell you why punitive Congressional U.S. measures will not coax the Chinese to assume policies the U.S. wants but only anger them. To begin, Japan is on the verge of replacing America as China’s number one trading partner. If the Chinese choose to bow down to American pressure, they would undoubtedly anger the Japanese who have heavily invested in China and would be adversely affected by the Chinese government’s decision to appease the U.S. Congress. Angering your number one trading partner would be even worse than angering the U.S. And this just in, even as I write this blog, in a report originating out of New York: Today, China called the first of U.S. protectionist measures, tariffs on their paper imports, “unacceptable.” China strongly demands the United States to reconsider this decision and correct it as soon as possible," China Commerce Ministry spokesman Wang Xinpei said in a statement on a government Web site. Secondly, I believe that the Chinese government, despite what diplomatic statements they release to the financial press about being concerned not to enact any policies that will cause the U.S. dollar to fall quickly, desire to unload a significant portion of their $1 trillion dollar of U.S. dollar-denominated reserves. The Chinese government realizes that offloading significant portions of dollars, whether it is to purchase oil and natural gas for their state reserves, or the purchase of other assets, will automatically cause the Yuan to strengthen. They are not going to appease the U.S. Congress now and watch the Yuan strengthen and then see this effect multiply as they unload U.S. dollars from their reserves. I believe that this is how the Chinese will eventually allow the Yuan to strengthen – by merely cutting back on their dollar-denominated assets, something that they want to do anyhow. With this potential trade war, it is important to ignore the preening of the U.S. Congress but to consider the implications of their potential actions instead. U.S. Congressmen are no doubt influenced a great deal by their most important constituents, in this case, large manufacturers. However, in this case, it is not the concerns of the large manufacturers that are most important. Here they serve merely as a smokescreen. Sure, large manufacturers are being hurt right now by Chinese imports, but rather than considering this part of the equation which the financial media gives much attention to, it is more important to consider the other side of the equation that is never spoken of in the financial media. Rather than listen to the complaints of the hurt, seek out what t

[adhdtoomanycommas]

Emotional Disregulation, Privilege, and White Girl Tears

Hello all, it has been a few months since my last ADHD essay, and what a few months it has been. In case you’re reading this in the future (since tumblr has no date stamps), I am writing this in June 2020 when in the midst of a global pandemic, police are responding to massive protests against police violence with even more police violence, and a lot of white people are thinking more than ever about the privilege we have experienced. I have been thinking about writing about my (cis white female) experience with privilege where neurodivergence, race, and gender intersect for a while, and have hit the point where these ideas have been bouncing around in my head long enough I need to write them down.

Small disclaimer: Right now I'm not sure if I should be writing anything about anything since we all ought to be listening and amplifying black voices --I'm there are much better resources out there about race and neurodivergance especially, and I have no intention of talking over anyone, especially given my limited experience. But given that the audience for my last essay here was in the single digits, I doubt I need to worry too much about talking over people at the moment. Please know that I am writing this now primarily for myself, and if it ever gets an audience later, forgive me for writing it now when there are so many more important things going on and more important people to listen to.

I will do my best to stay in my lane here, so I'm just going to talk about how my privilege has affected the perception of one of my ADHD symptoms If you don't want to read some rambling white/cis anecdotes about how white privilege and gender norms affect the perception of ADHD, by all means skip it. If you're still here, maybe it can be the start of a conversation as I would love to hear some other perspectives and experiences here. And maybe, just maybe by the end of it I will learn to spell privilege right on the first try (I really want there to be an A in there, or maybe a D. Privaledge? Sounds about right.)

As I mentioned in my previous ramble, I’m a cryer. I cry a lot, not just when I’m sad but sometimes when I’m happy, when I feel guilty or ashamed, and especially when I’m angry, or frustrated, or overwhelmed. I learned recently, as I was seeking my diagnosis, that emotional disregulation is a hallmark of ADHD. We feel things strongly, and uncontrollably and have trouble restraining ourselves from expressing those feelings. This is experienced by almost everyone, if not everyone, with ADHD and it’s only not part of the diagnostic criteria because it’s hard to quantify—there are a lot of good general resources out there to learn more about this, I’m not an expert, I’m just here to share my own experience.

Story time. When I was in fourth grade, I punched another girl in the stomach. For what felt like the millionth time, when the teacher told everyone to find a partner for some activity, everyone partnered up and I looked around to find that I was the left-over. I was an outcast for a lot of reasons at that age. I told myself for a long time it was solely because I was the lone atheist (actually agnostic but I didn’t know the term at the time) in a deep south bible-belt school, but with the benefit of hindsight I have also realized that (partially probably due to the ADHD) I was also pretty weird, and probably very annoying. But whatever the reason for my ostracism, it was already weighing heavily on me when the teacher assigned this girl to work with me, and she gave me the biggest exasperated sigh and eyeroll like she would rather do anything else. So I punched her.

I now realize that this is probably a pretty normal response for a kid with untreated ADHD—the combination of emotional disregulation and poor impulse control means we often lash out. But with none of the adults in my life knowing that at the time, surely I was disciplined for my seemingly-random violent action, yes? No. I cried, and I got away with it.

That’s not the whole story, I did get several weeks of sessions with the school counselor, and I was made to write a very thorough apology letter (and made to rewrite it repeatedly as the teacher thought of more things I should add and repeatedly declared my handwriting not good enough, to such an extent the exercise definitely felt more punitive than reconsiliatory), but I ultimately I didn’t get expelled, I didn’t get suspended, I didn’t even get detention.

The girl I punched was black. This wouldn’t be relevant to the story at all, except that in retrospect I have to wonder if the consequences would have been the same if our roles were reversed. If a black girl (even a neurodivergent, ostracized, and frequently bullied one) had lashed out the way I did and punched a white girl, I expect there would have been a lot more consequences for that, even if she cried afterwards. And if a black boy had done the same, he wouldn’t have been perceived as troubled and in need of help, he would have been perceived as dangerous. And as we all (hopefully) know by now, that perception can have life or death consequences.

I’m sure that was neither the first nor the last time that crying, and people’s perception of me crying (as a cute little white girl with freckles and big brown eyes) has gotten me out of trouble, or gotten me what I wanted one way or another, but it is the most dramatic example I can think of. I want to emphasize that I have never cried to get what I wanted on purpose—I have spent way more time trying not to cry than trying to cry, the only time I’ve ever cried on purpose has been in theater exercises. But I’m sure a lot of white girls in the same position I was in (with or without the undiagnosed ADHD and emotional disregulation) have realized the way they could use peoples responses to their tears to their advantage. They probably grow up to be Karens who use their tears to get out of traffic tickets, get free stuff from store managers, and to sic violent police on black people who inconvenience them. (Aside, the only time I have been pulled over as an adult, I was trying so hard not to cry that the cop thought I was acting suspicious and asked a bunch of extra questions. I still got the ticket.

I tell myself that those people use their emotions on purpose to manipulate people, that I'm different, I would never do that. But I have to wonder if some of those same women tell themselves the same thing after the fact. I don't think it's enough to avoid intentional manipulation and intentional harm-- not anymore. We as white women need to do be conscious enough of how our emotions are perceived and prioritized to act proactively to avoid unintentional harm as well. For those of us with ADHD, this may be harder than for neurotypicals, but that makes it all the more important for us to think actively about this. I'm not sure yet what this means for me personally, besides removing myself from a shared space if my emotions threaten to become the focus where they shouldn't be, but I would welcome input on this.

I want to talk about gender more generally here as well. ADHD is dramatically underdiagnosed in women, and I have to wonder if some part of this is because emotional disregulation lines up so nicely with the stereotypes of women’s emotions in the first place. Oh, you cry a lot? Of course you do, you’re a woman. One can only wonder how many oldey-timey diagnoses of “hysteria” were actually ADHD. Even now women with ADHD are usually misdiagnosed several times with things like depression or bipolar disorder before we are tested and diagnosed properly. This wasn’t my experience, but after basically doing a bunch of research and self-diagnosing I was able (thanks to a great deal of economic privilege) to pay to go directly to an ADHD specialist. I also walked into that office with an extremely thorough bullet-point list I had compiled of reasons I suspected I had ADHD—it was probably the easiest diagnosis the doctor ever did. So obviously having ADHD while female isn’t the best combination, but when it comes specifically to crying easily that being treated as relatively normal definitely meant I had an easier time with it than my brother did.

My brother (who is nonbinary and uses a variety of pronouns—I’ll probably alternate between they/them and he/him here because it is important to the story that they were perceived as male at the time) cries just as easily as I do, and just as often. When we were little kids, this didn’t make too much of a difference. They’re a couple years younger than me, and little kids are expected to cry more. They haven’t been diagnosed with ADHD, but they and I both strongly suspect for a variety of reasons, this included, that they have it too—I believe they were flagged for it in school, probably for frequently talking out of turn, but I don’t think they were ever tested formally. He got in trouble in school a lot more than I did, for similar outbursts, and while he got quite a few of those same counseling sessions (white privilege at work again), he got more actual discipline as well. But the perception of our tears landed differently, especially as we got older.

For the most part, the scorn leveled at my brother’s tears didn’t come from our parents. My mom, (who, while also not officially diagnosed, I can almost guarantee is where we got the ADHD genes from) cries as easily as they and I do, so she understands it. My dad would certainly prefer to think of himself as an enlightened modern man who would say it’s ok to cry, but he has his share of ingrained toxic masculinity despite himself. I don’t think I ever saw him tell my brother directly to “suck it up�� or “act like a man,” but I do think after puberty or so he started responding to my brother’s tears with a sort of exasperation that he never directed at me.

The real difference was in how we were treated by our peers. By the time we got to high school, if I would cry at school, my peers (even ones who weren’t necessarily my friends) would probably ask what was wrong and try to help or provide comfort, or at least would leave me alone and give me time to pull myself together. When my brother cried at school, he was mocked. Relentlessly. Once bullies figured out that he cried easily, he was targeted and goaded specifically for it. They would find any little thing they could to get under his skin (right down to the most childish with rhyming nicknames) and troll him for fun. I wish I could say that I stood up for him, but I never did. I can tell myself this was because I didn’t see it happen in person, being two grades ahead, but I could have made an effort. Although, since he was almost certainly targeted at least in part for perceived failure to live up to masculine gender norms, I’m not sure if having an older sister try to come to the rescue would have helped or made things worse. At this point it’s years past, so I suppose speculation on what I could have or should have done is pretty moot at this point. Suffice it to say, this particular symptom which rarely did me any harm made my brother’s life a lot harder.

I may talk more about different perceptions of my brother’s and my ADHD symptoms in a later essay/ramble/entry/whatever, in particular how it affected out academic performances, but that’s for another time.

Again, I’m not sure if there are any greater conclusions here. There are a lot of ways emotional disregulation can present, and I really only addressed this one small aspect of excessive crying, but it is a good example of how even lesser-known ADHD symptoms can affect our lives in cascading ways, and the way people perceive those symptoms (due to various more visible identity factors) affects us as well. If you read all of this, thanks, and if you have any experiences you’d like to share with how your emotional disregulation has been perceived by others, I’d love to hear them. Until next time!

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

The Start of Darkness

Word count: 2223.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally stays in front of her full-length mirror. She looks over herself taking a deep breath while closing her eyes. She only had a few minutes, but it was enough she had to see her one more time. At least before mom burst into the room telling her not to. Wally had to let it go. That was her job to let and forget her older sister. She needed to be kinder and nicer like Ema once was.

Wally didn't want to do that. She wanted her sister here! Back. Telling her stories of fashion shows and companies she intend to work for. She wanted Ema to hug her for goodnight. She wanted her to crash her world. That was what Wally wanted. Ema back. Her life back. Wally open her eyes seeing the left side of her room darken a bit. Her bed half ripped into a jail cell, "Hey there buttercup. Almost worried me you were not going to come", A sweet but joking tone to her voice. Ema still had that fearless look on her features. Wally loves it all to perfection. She wanted to be just like Ema.

"W-what?! I would never! We have a time 7:00 am. On the clock, it's our time", I quickly explain being my freak perfectionist. It's our time. She and I spend minutes together. My abilities make it easy for me to communicate with my sister; however, I have to completely concentrate for it to be happening. I am connecting two places that are billions apart. Ema is so beautiful even now. I turn back glancing at her, but I stop when she hides from my eyes.

"What's wrong?". I question as she sighs. There was no sound coming from her cell. It's usually pumping with life as the other inmates of hers, but they never last a lot of time alive. Ema does not like when people try to grab me. They can't. Ema told me my powers are not as advanced for people to pass through. I am not a portal. It's not possible. Ema did tell me to keep my powers a secret. I am not allowed to tell anyone if I do then they would stop me from speaking to my sister.

There is no way. I am giving up the chance to talk to Ema. I would do everything for her. Everything.

"Nothing, buttercup. It was a raid last night. It will heal up", my feet move before my mind could stop me. Ema glance at me strongly to stop which I did. I stop right where the cell and my room meet, "Show me! I am going to tell mom! They can't hurt you! They promise! You are supposed to stay secluded from everyone", I shouted for answers. Yes, my sister is dangerous. She should not be discriminated. She promises to be to be good, and I heard from mom she has been good.

Well, as good goes being a criminal. She is good. Ema is good. I know it.

I glance at her as she shows me. A cut not deep but still there on the chin, "There was a raid last night, and they manage to make it here. I fought them off ofc. I may be good like you wanted it; however, I don't believe you want me dead", I shake my head continuously at her sarcastic phrase, "No, way! in hell", I quickly respond to her before she continues once again. There is no way I want my sister dead. Nope. Laws could fuck over themselves first before that happens.

A chuckle left Ema's lips before she continues, "Well, I fought them off. It means I kill them. I am certainly sure I massacre an entire lower level inmates. I am sure I did. The good thing is that they now have vacancy". Ema blurts out as I laugh at her words. She and I gave a moment of silence then burst out laughing. I watch her walk around her cell. Ema was rocking the skinny jeans I sent her for Christmas. I had a similar outfit to her. We always wear the same clothes. Even when Ema wasn't so bad. We are like twins or I like to believe that. She is, of course, a few years older than me. Ema is 19 while I am 16. I am her youngster's sister. The one that wants to still know about her, and the one that has not gone crazy like my mom. The one that promises to stay saint if Ema allows me to see her at exactly 7:00 am.

It might be crazy of me, but we are very close. When they took Ema we could not function. One by one started losing our heads. We became bad. Ema was the one that could live without being put into our society our expectations. These just got to proved that no matter how good you are. Everyone fucks you over! Happiness is shattered. Families are broken! They took my sister!

A quick and warm gesture filled me with calmness. I stop my racing thoughts from going crazy. I awoke from my rage of darkness growing within me. Ema had me in a hug, "Hey! Hey! buttercup. Control. I am here. You see me every day at 7:00 am. I still love you. I still care for you. Don't worry, buttercup. I am still your older sister". A smile covers my lips as I hug her back for a short moment. The time around us stop. Ema and I were the only ones in the galaxy. My world felt tons better when she was around.

My life seems to come back to me. Ema is there in it. She is in God knows where. I am not allowed to go or know about it. I am not old enough they told me. Oh, fuck them! She is my sister. I should be allowed to see her. It's my right to know where my sister is at. I am allowed.

Ema softly chuckles on my shoulder blades. I can feel her tremble a bit in a good way. I hold onto her as she pulls back. Her star gazing blue eyes lock with my deep blue ones our eyes linger together, "I love you, buttercup. I am hoping you are having a good life", I nod at her words not waiting for her to finish, "Yeah, I have got a boyfriend believe it or not. Well, he isn't my boyfriend yet. He is a hottie in school. I want him to be my boyfriend".

"Peter? the speedster?", I roll my eyes at her silly questions, "No, of course not! Who would want to date a guy that does not settle down?".

Ema thought on that question then nodded, "That's completely true".

"Plus they hit on every single girl. Speedsters are the worst", I quickly added as Ema smile.

"It's annoying though our grabbed on them. Couldn't dad fix it? How is it that we are the only family that is able to be a magnet for speedsters?", I annoyingly spit out as Ema gives my question a thought. She caresses my cheek so tenderly I almost thought I felt it, "Well, Every family is connected with something. We Blackwells are the kryptonite for speedsters. When I was in school, there was this guy. Pietro. He and I shook personalities. I remember it correctly. He was 15 while I was 17. He did not like it one bit". I chuckle as Ema told me about her life in high school.

"What he had in speed, I had it on everything else. I was his kryptonite. He and Adam didn't like each other after Pietro learn Adam is my boyfriend. He almost left him alive an inch of his life. The authorities left it like that as it was a filled with jealousy something speedsters are good at. I realize on that moment that Pietro was in love with me. He was truly in love with me", I catch a tender look in my sister's eyes. My eyes widely open at the realization, "Were you in love with him, sis? Why didn't you go for him??".

Ema chuckles seating in her cell that was parallel to my room. I sat inches from going into her cell, "He is a speedster. The authorities would stop him first if he knew I was here. He would search to get me out. Speedsters love is hard to get. It's rare, but it's the truth. It's the hardest thing to achieve. It's forever. When a speedster falls in love, they will do everything for that person. Even go against the law and break them out. Pietro made me laugh. He was something I could never grasp. I was 2 years older than him and he was going to be a hero. I...", I understood when she stops talking. I could see the emotion within her words, "You were free to leave if you accepted it. You had to stay, and you wouldn't live a normal life".

"Yeah. Adam was my ticket out. We were both free to leave, and I broke poor Pietro's, heart". Ema replies to me in a monotone, but I could see she was hurting.

"This is why. I want you not to do my mistake because I deeply regret it", A single tear falls down Ema's eye. I blink a bit feeling really shitty, "I was going to school with this plan to tell Peter to stop, but what if he is in love with me?". I ask Ema as she glances at me. Ema gave my question a thought, "What does he do? Exactly. There a few keys to know if speedsters like you".

I nod at Ema before thinking on the recent events, "Well, there is a guy. A new one, Jacob. He comes from the zero zone. The not evil but not good kind of zone. We clicked instantly, and he started to make me laugh. In the fastest blink of an eye, he was pin underwear first onto the flag pole. They had to get heroes to get him out of there. It was so freaking funny", Ema rolls her eyes as I laugh at the event of last week. She waits for me to gather myself together, "Did you by any chance lock eyes with Peter?". I shake my head instantly, "The speedsters weren't in school last week though. They were in the annual global speedsters dimensional Olympic competition".

Ema puts her lips together, "Peter did it", she blurts out as I roll my eyes, "He wasn't there. Anyone would have seen him". Ema shakes her head, "Believe me. A speedster trains to be fast. You place him as the fastest, so I am believing he pin Jacob onto the flag pole to embarrassed him". I roll my eyes as my alarm clock alert both of us of the time change. Ema stands up from the floor as I look up at her, "It's 7:24 am, buttercup. You need to leave".

"We still have time!", I quickly stand up shaking my head, "I don't want too. I have to show this new girl around. She is..." I thought of a good word to explain her, but at the same time linger on because I don't want Ema to leave, "nice. The kind of nice that makes you throw up".

Ema chuckle walking away, "You'll be fine buttercup. I mean, we do wear the family necklace. I am always with you just be rocking", I smile moving back as my power slowly close making Ema's jail cell disappear. I can slowly see her as she smiles at me, "I'll come back tomorrow! I promise", I shouted right before my room came back to normal as normal as it can be. I waited a bit to see if Ema would pop up again. Until the silence that fills my room every time I use my powers goes away. It's like a click comes through, and I could hear my sisters shouting at each other.

"Wally! Did you took my curling iron?", widely opening the door comes my other sister. She looks at my form staring at my wall, "Wally?". She comes into the room leaving my door wide open, "Wally. Stop fucking with me respond", She turns me around noticing fresh tears onto my eyes.

Thank god my make up is water proof.

She stops looking at me. She glances around my room to find the source until she notices Ema's diary and pictures all the way on the desk behind me, "Wally... you know not to keep does around. We are trying to move on.. we can't".

I grabbed onto her crying wanting to wish Ema could come back, "Comet! Ema is gone! She is... wahhh!! I want her back". Comet holds onto me as tears of her own dripped from her eyes, "You are not the only one, buttercup. You are not the only one".

When I get strong enough, I will save her. Ema will be free once again, and I am going to make it happen. No matter what. My life is meaningless without her. They took something so precious to me. I am going to get my payback.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped Part 26

Ao3

Hiccup has had one other psychological evaluation.  It was when he got out of the hospital, and it went about the same as this one. 

In other words, not well. 

It turns out that being a white male with a rough relationship with an impossible to please, now absent father figure who also happens to have a long history of childhood bullying raises some red flags.  At least last time he was fifteen and still theoretically moldable, instead of a twenty-five-year-old serial murder suspect who just happened to spend the last few years giving nightly tours about the very murders he allegedly copied. 

So maybe it went worse this time. 

The one bright point was probably the crack in the psychologist’s clinical veneer when Hiccup assured her that no, in fact, he did not have any history of killing animals and he actually loved his childhood cat very much until it died at the ripe old age of eighteen.  Of natural causes. 

When assuring a mental health professional that he does not now and never has enjoyed torturing animals is a high point, it’s safe to say that this has been a long week.  A long month, really.  A long year. 

Hell, a long life. 

Jail has a way of stretching minutes into hours and squeezing hours into dull, ceaseless blinks of an eye.  He understands now why people used to mark the dungeon walls when they got fed or caught a glimpse of the sun, because the days blurring together is enough to make Hiccup feel as crazy as the psychiatrist assumed he was. 

Not that his version of crazy would ever mean killing cats.  His version of crazy appears to mean long, elaborate daydreams of a private shower with a locking door, and also practically unfettered glee when he sees his lawyer because that means he gets to go to a room with a comfortable chair for a while and talk to someone not assuming his guilt. 

A straight-faced guard in an NWF uniform walks Hiccup down to the long bank of stalls along a plexiglass barrier.  The guard gestures to the last stall and Hiccup sits down in the office chair that might as well be a throne of perfectly fluffed pillows after sitting on his thin mattress all day.  His back relaxes enough to hurt, and he exhales a long, slow breath and focuses on Eretson filling out a form before taking the seat on the other side of the plexiglass and picking up the dingy white plastic phone. 

“How are you?” Eretson asks out of politeness, not expecting a real answer. 

Hiccup almost gives him one anyway, but he doesn’t think it would make him feel any better to say that he’s in jail, it’s miserable, he’s been terrified for so long that he’s mostly just exhausted, and he doesn’t think the psychiatrist liked him very much because she didn’t laugh at any of his jokes. 

He settles instead for, “I’m here.” 

“How is everything going?” Eretson asks, writing on a legal pad in neat, oversized block letters.  Grisly?

They can’t be sure if anything is being recorded on the ancient phone system, but silence is suspicious too. 

“Oh, you know, I’m just being in jail.  It’s pretty lonely not talking to anyone but your lawyer,” Hiccup laughs, not explicitly trying to sound tired but not holding it back either. 

“Any family that you want to visit?  I know your mom has been in contact.” 

Hiccup swallows hard, “it’s a long flight, she doesn’t need to spend the money just to see me make a fashion statement in orange.”  It doesn’t stop him from thinking about her though, how confused she’d be.  How angry she’d be if she knew the truth. 

His mom is the only woman who ever made his dad back down from an argument and for a second, he lets himself imagine that she could save him.  Yell at Grisly, start a picket line, demand reform. 

But Grisly isn’t someone to yell at.  He’d have no issue adding to his body count. 

It makes Hiccup want to scream, and rave, and get a poster-board at a busy intersection to help him spread the truth, and if it were his own life he was risking, he’d do it.  But it’s not. 

“How is everyone?”  He asks, and if Eretson knows who he’s really asking about, he doesn’t show it.  His poker face is exhausting, adding to the dreary blur of days in jail.  If Hiccup had been making marks on the dungeon wall for every time he won a reaction out of someone, he’d have a single mark made immediately after being placed in his cell, awarded for getting under Grisly’s skin during processing. 

“Everything is fine,” Eretson could be lying and Hiccup probably wouldn’t know it, but the thought of something happening to Snotlout or Astrid and not even knowing is too much to even speculate on.  It’s the kind of thought that keeps him up at night, counting dimples in the popcorn ceiling to fill the dead space in his mind.  “I do want to talk about your options moving towards a trial.” 

“Oh God, did the profiler tell you that I’m crazy?”  Hiccup laughs under his breath, “because I think she confused my attempts at humor for debilitating psychological issues.”  He continues babbling when Eretson doesn’t laugh, “not that I know anything about that.  I’m just speaking from what I’ve seen on TV.” 

“The profile is just one piece of the case,” Eretson assures, “and you don’t quite fit the profile of a serial murderer.” 

“What does ‘not quite’ mean?  Is it just the white male, daddy issues thing or did some of my answers partially fit the serial murderer profile?” 

“For future reference, saying that Viggo Grimborn is a ‘hobby’ is a bit suspicious.” 

“I’ll file that away for the next time I get criminally profiled,” Hiccup nods, “with my luck I’ll probably need it.  Should I have said that I actually picked up yoga like my doctor told me to?” 

“I finally got access to Grisly’s evidence file,” Eretson changes the subject and Hiccup bites the inside of his cheek to keep from asking if he’s ever laughed, even once, “and it’s going to take a while to look through it all and compare it to my own, but so far it’s more airtight than I would have expected.” 

Hiccup has never been very good at not saying what he feels, or even delaying saying what he feels, but glancing at the NWF guard out of the corner of his eye helps him shove his rant back down. 

“Oh.” 

“Of course, forensics is still working, but that could take months—”

“Months?”  Hiccup knows the theory of the word, in that the year is broken into twelve more or less even pieces consisting of approximately thirty days each.  There’s something about the moon in there too.  But in practice?  The concept of spending months in this limbo is foreign and impossible, defying some belief held so strongly that it feels like a physical law.  “How long have I been in here?” 

“Five days.” 

“And you’re saying months until a trial.” 

“Under current timelines, yes.”  Eretson goes to make another note but then decides against it, speaking carefully instead.  “And given the unique circumstances of your situation, I don’t believe that waiting months is the best path forward.” 

Hiccup hears the truth between the words:  Leaving Grisly to his own devices for months gives him more time to bulletproof his lies and clean up his evidence.   His throat tightens when he thinks of Astrid and how much danger she’s in. 

“Have you told anyone what I told you about…the case?”  He tries, “you know, about their um, continued involvement in the case as it progresses?”  His eyes scream about Grisly’s threats and Eretson must get the message because he shakes his head. 

“No, I haven’t, I think it’s best to minimize Miss Hofferson’s involvement at this point, given all how many times her name comes up in the file.” 

Hiccup doesn’t know Miss Hofferson.  Miss Hofferson threatened a harassment claim at one point, sure, but she ceased to exist when Astrid came into the picture.  Astrid with her glares and her bony fists and misty eyes when she looks at old books.  Astrid impatient for the truth, impatient for the point of a roundabout story, always moving and trying and inviting him to try too. 

“Don’t you think…I mean, wouldn’t it be better for her to know the situation?”  His throat is dry, and swallowing doesn’t seem to help. 

“I thought of something that could potentially move the process along faster,” Eretson ignores Hiccup’s question, not unkindly just devoted to keeping the meeting on track, and Hiccup presses the phone closer to his face, forcing himself to focus. “We haven’t considered a plea deal.” 

“A plea deal?  Like taking a driving course to knock a few points off of a driving ticket?” 

“In this case, a confession and promise to divulge information about anyone else involved in the case in exchange for a reduced sentence.”  Eretson writes on the pad, Grisly coerced you into the last murder, then turned on you. 

Hiccup’s heart pounds in his ears.  One murder, not four.  It would be a better ratio if they were talking about any other crime.  One car stolen, not four.  One house broken into, not four.  But as someone who has committed zero murders, confessing to one feels monumental and terrifying and stupid. 

While he can’t honestly say he’s spent much time trying to be successful, he has made a conscious effort to not absolutely ruin his life, and confessing to a murder he didn’t commit in order to tell a bunch of lies connecting him to the man who did sounds like a very quick way to undo all of that. 

“Reduced sentence, not no sentence.” 

“It gives us leverage too,” Eretson insists, “we can argue the conditions of you coming forward with information and include minimum sentence before appeal for probation or insist on a certain facility that’s better than here.” 

“So trading months waiting for trial for some as of yet unspecified amount of time in a different cell?”  Hiccup snorts, “is there a catalog?  Do I get to choose my bedsheets and pick out a plant for the window?” 

“The prosecution would no longer have months to prepare for a trial.  As it is, they have plenty of time to build their case.”  The ‘and do other things like horribly murder your remaining loved ones’ is an unspoken addition. 

“Do you think it would work?”  Hiccup lets himself think about it, glazing over the moment he’d have to sit in front of his father’s oldest frenemy and say that he took someone’s life. 

How deep can Grisly’s cover really go?  He thinks of the man’s empty office, his horde of creepy guards seamlessly integrating with multiple levels of law enforcement.  How long would someone have to dig to find something wrong?  Would a name brought up in a plea deal be enough? 

“I have witnesses,” Eretson says, scrawling Jorgenson in purposeful letters on the pad. 

“The benefit then, is that we have a chance to direct the investigation.” 

“Towards the truth, of course.” 

“Right, the truth.”  As much as Hiccup has played fast and loose with the rules, he’s always had a steady commitment to the truth, but telling it didn’t save him.  Hell, telling the truth now would get people killed, and the silence is starting to be so deafening he’s wondering if the affects will be permanent. 

“Think about it,” Eretson starts to stand up and Hiccup fumbles for something else to talk about, anything to get some more time out of character as ‘obedient inmate’, but he’s too slow and Eretson hangs up the phone. 

He almost knocks on the plexiglass to get his attention before remembering that’s strictly against the rules, and his hand freezes mid-air when he looks over Eretson’s shoulder and sees who’s turning away from the front desk after filling out a form. 

It’s Astrid. 

She’s wearing a glare that could melt the barrier between them if she aimed it his direction instead of at Eretson and a jacket she must have borrowed from Hiccup’s coat closet.  Her arms fly out from her sides as she argues then she shoves her hands in her pockets and narrows her eyes, an expression he instantly recognizes as seething doubt.  She was clearly asking for something she thought she wasn’t going to get, and now that she’s won it, she’s unsure if it’s real. 

Then, she looks at him and her eyes widen as her shoulders slump, relief that he can hardly fathom having anything to do with him flooding across her features. 

He smiles the first real smile he’s had since she was tangled in his hoarded sheets and everything seemed like it would be ok and waves and she waves back, one half limp hand raised to shoulder height. 

Eretson crosses his arms, shoulders rigid then relaxing as he points at the chair he just vacated, saying something else that makes Astrid shoot him a sharp look before hurrying to the other side of the glass.  She practically falls into the chair, picking up the phone with shaking fingers and holding it to her ear. 

He loves her.

“Hi,” Hiccup starts, anticlimactic, and Astrid’s mouth splits into a wide, tired smile. 

He loves her and she isn’t safe here.  Not with the NWF guard at the door, not with Grisly just a buzz away. 

“Hi,” she bites her lower lip and leans forward on her elbows on the ledge in front of the window, and if it weren’t for the plexiglass, he could kiss her.  “Eretson isn’t happy that I’m here, he told me not to follow him because visiting hours were over, but I checked online and, well—”

“And you’re here.”  And he loves her, and he doesn’t want to tell her in an itchy jumpsuit over a dirty jail phone, but it’s so true and so much that he’s not sure he’ll have a choice.  “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’ve been told ten minutes and no discussions of ‘substance’,” she air-quotes around the word and his palms itch with how much he wants to touch her. 

Eretson is standing by the door and Hiccup idly wonders if he has his gun or if he had to turn that in to step into his lawyer shoes.  Either way, his presence feels protective, and Hiccup already told Astrid once that she shouldn’t be here, he can’t be expected to do that again.  Not when she’s right across from him, not when it’s been so long since he’s seen a friendly face. 

“That works for me, I don’t have anything of substance to talk about.”  He shrugs and she smiles, soft and fond in a way he definitely doesn’t deserve.  She’s obviously exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes making his chest ache even as the sight of her in his jacket lets him feel like he’s protecting her in some tiny way while he can’t do anything else.  “How are you?” 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m here.”  It hurts more the second time. 

“Yeah,” she looks back at Eretson for a second before scooting her chair closer to the glass, “that was a stupid question.  You look like hell.” 

“Thanks,” he wipes a hand over his stubble and his cheeks heat up. 

“No, not—the beard is fine,” her smile is faint and secret and too far away, “it’s more just…” She waves her hand at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“You just gestured to all of me.” 

“All of you except your beard,” she clarifies before checking on Eretson again.  She’s not built for levity in this kind of situation and he can see a serious depth sneaking back into her eyes.  “Everything’s a mess.” 

“Hey now, that sounds like ‘substance’,” he redirects, “how’s Snotlout?” 

“When his shoulder is better to the point that I won’t literally kill him, I’m going to hit him sixty-seven separate times,” she sets her chin, resolute, “I have a tally.” 

“Are you sure he’s ok?  That sounds a little low.”

She laughs, a tinge of mischief clouding the worry in her expression, “he’s ok.  He made a point yesterday to tell me his favorite story about you.” 

“Oh God,” Hiccup’s stomach falls as his eyes widen, “what favorite story is that?” 

“You know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear but it doesn’t stay, falling back against her flushing cheek, “some girl called you ‘Viggo’ and—”

“Yep, that one.”  If Grisly came in right now and offered to kill him to make this easier, he might just let him.  “Which version was it?” 

“There are different versions?” 

“No,” he drags his palm down his face, “not—I wish there were, every other Snotlout story is blown out of proportion so much it’s easy to call bullshit, but that one…he tells that story with unflinching accuracy and dedication to the truth.”  He shakes is head, wishing he had a bucket of ice to put out the fire on his face, “sometimes there are sound effects, I’m shocked you’re here.” 

“No sound effects,” she shakes her head, “maybe he’ll do those in court though, he seems to think he can prove your innocence.” 

“I think I’d rather plead guilty than listen to Snotlout tell that story in court.”  He laughs, but it brings Eretson’s plea deal back into his conscious mind.  Just as a concept to get used to, as something neutral that takes up space in his brain until he decides what to do about it. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” she whispers, crossing her legs and tapping an anxious foot in the air.  “I’ve been looking at this from every angle and I haven’t found anything yet.” 

“That’s definitely substance—”

“Eretson isn’t listening,” she mutters, “and if I don’t do something useful, I’m going to scream, I—”

“Hey, it’s ok,” he lies, and he can’t help thinking of Grisly’s promise, “you’re safe, that’s what matters—”

“That’s a copout,” she glares, tired and alive and his chest throbs, “there has to be something that we can do.” 

“I can’t do anything,” he hates how bitter he sounds, honest for the first time in days, and something about Astrid’s solid expression is almost shocked, like she expected better or at least different of him.  “I can barely keep the days straight, I—Hell, I told a psychologist that Viggo Grimborn is a hobby and now they think—well, I guess they already thought given that I’m here—”

“Hiccup,” she sighs, palm on the plexiglass, fingertips that he can’t touch smudged with ink and library dust. 

“Eretson said that a trial could take months,” he leans his head on his hand, “and I know that, rationally.  I know that big, newsworthy trials for serial killers take months to put together, but I guess—I don’t want to do this here.” 

“Do what?” 

“Anything.”  Even he thinks he sounds pathetic now and Astrid’s frown turns disappointed, which is worse than just sad.  “I just feel useless.” 

“I can see that.”  If it were pity in her voice, it would shut him down, but it’s not.  It’s something different, something stronger.  Something annoyed, and he realizes for the first time, she’s dragging him along a path of her choice, and him digging in his heel isn’t going to stop her. 

He looks at her hand and his jumpsuit and his blurry reflection that he can see superimposed over her face on the plexiglass if he stares hard enough.  He loves her.  He thinks about that ill-fated breakfast run and what he’d be doing now if things had gone differently. 

“I guess…I spent the last few years in complete stasis, just giving tours and knowing what every day would look like before it began.  And then, well, you.”  Then he fell in love with her.  No, she changed everything before he did that, but that doesn’t make it sound any less corny.  He wouldn’t have thought she was in the mood for corny, but her eyes soften slightly even as she holds her frown in place.  He forces himself to keep talking so that he doesn’t backtrack over anything he hasn’t decided to say yet, “and I think for the first time in a while, I thought these next few months were going to be different.” 

“How?”  Of course she asks the question most likely to make him look like an idiot. 

“Aside from well, you maybe being around I hope, umm,” he clears his throat and presses the phone closer to his ear to continue, “and well, I guess I have to finally figure out what I’m going to do with my life?  Because it isn’t sensationalizing murders that are still destroying everything I love about this city even a hundred years on, and,” he swallows hard and laughs, a sharp, surprised sound, “and I think I was looking forward to it, almost.  But now that’s not happening because my next few months are all booked up.  Literally.” 

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it,” she tries and fails to cushion the statement and it makes him smile even as his heart sinks, heavy and exhausted and desperate. 

What are the chances she’s still going to look at him like that after months? 

“That’s true.” 

“I’ll figure out how to book a conjugal trailer and we can work on your resume,” she offers, evidently satisfied with his suggested path forward.  “

“You shouldn’t,” he tries to swallow against the knot in his throat when he thinks about her on jail property, alone with him, and Grisly’s promised intent rings in his ears.  Months.  What are the chances she can evade Grisly for months if she can’t go five days without ending up here?  “It’s not safe.” 

“I obviously need to, just a few days of this and you sound like Eretson.” 

“Eretson’s right, Astrid.”  He sighs and rubs his hand over his face.  He could tell her.  The NWF guard behind him couldn’t make a move with cameras and Eretson standing right there in the lobby.  If he told her, then she’d know to run far away and—and he doesn’t now how deep Grisly’s cover goes.  

“I can take care of myself.”  Plus, looking at her fierce blue eyes, he knows that she wouldn’t run. 

Months.  Months of chances.  Months of not seeing her every day, or at all, if she’s doing what’s best for herself.  Months of limited information and fear that the next snippet that makes it through the bars on his cell will be bad. 

He’s right, it is time to figure out what he’s going to do with his life, and while he has decidedly fewer choices than he thought he would, the answer is still obvious. 

“Eretson’s right about a lot of things,” he sighs, hoping she’ll go easy on him and knowing that’s impossible, “he thinks I should take a plea deal.” 

“I told you not to joke about that—”

“I’m not joking.”  He shakes his head, taking in her furious expression.  It’s slower blooming than normal, jaw flexing and setting forward before the blue fire is truly lit in her eyes.  She’s tired, after five days, and she doesn’t now half of the truth.  He loves her, and the only draw to finally getting his shit together is that he’d be doing it with her.  He doesn’t get to do that now, but he can do something for her. 

He could tell himself that he’s doing it for Snotlout or for whoever would be unlucky enough to cross Grisly’s path next, but since he’s already planning to lie himself into a prison sentence for a murder he didn’t commit, he should probably stick to the truth, at least internally. 

“That decision is going to last more than months, Hiccup—”

“Yeah, and it’s about more than time.”  He almost tells her then, but he’s not sure what good it would do when she’s staring at him with something like hatred.  Too shocked, too sad, too helpless.  She looks like she wants to smack some sense into him and he’d let her if it meant he could touch her before he takes this step he knows he can’t retreat from. 

He wonders, briefly, if the real Viggo Grimborn ever thought about turning himself in.  When the fervor died down and no one mentioned him in the paper anymore.  Maybe he took a Victorian plea deal and got arrested for something else, something smaller, something forgiveable, but barely.  And only to some. 

If only Astrid didn’t forgive him for harassment, then he might have that ‘get out of trouble free’ card to spend now. 

Except he wouldn’t need it then, because he would have done his community service and gone right back to giving tours, staying across the street to respect a fifty-yard boundary.  No matter what, Astrid was destined to disrupt the monotony of his life, he just hoped one of the roads didn’t lead to a courtroom. 

“Hiccup,” she says his name in a tone he doesn’t recognize, half-pleading and half-insulting, both uncomfortable for her.  She opens her mouth again wordlessly, obviously unsure what to say to bring her pep talk back on track. 

“You were right, there is something I can do.” 

“No—”

“Visiting hours are over,” the NWF guard appears behind Hiccup, heavy hand on his shoulder as he looks at Astrid, recognition flickering in his otherwise brainwashed eyes.  “Time’s up.” 

“I’m not done here,” Astrid stands up, phone still pressed to her ear, glare dialed to the maximum even as Eretson steps into the room behind her and says something to get her attention. 

“Let Eretson give you a ride,” Hiccup says, memorizing how her eyes on him feel, even through plexiglass, even furious and confused, “please.” 

His cell is smaller than before.  The bed is less comfortable, the walls colder, the single light in the ceiling flickering at just the right frequency to prevent him from thinking.  His jumpsuit is itchy and his back is either too tense to hurt, or the sensation is entirely drowned out by the dull throbbing in his chest.  Most of the time, when people sacrifice themselves for the greater good, it’s faster than this.  It’s jumping in front of a bullet, not waiting alone for hours to invoke due process like a spell. 

He can’t say he’s surprised when the door to the hallway opens, and he’s definitely not surprised to see Grisly, monochromatic and rigid, danger stuffed carefully out of sight for the time being.  Hiccup’s relief is palpable and gruesome, he hates knowing what the man looks like after a kill, but he’s glad to know that this sober expression isn’t it. 

“I heard Astrid visited today,” Grisly’s smile blooms slowly as he steps out of range of the hallway cameras and Hiccup rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah?  Did a little birdie tell you?” 

“I trust you didn’t tell her anything sensitive,” he gloats, a cat pinning a mouse’s tail down and watching it struggle. 

But Hiccup isn’t struggling, not anymore.  He’s not trying to escape, he’s steering into the skid.  He’s a mouse full of rat poison, ready to dive into the belly of the beast. 

“Oh, so you can’t get the recordings from those visiting phones?  Eretson was wondering about that, thanks for the tip.”  He jokes, voice even, and Grisly straightens his uniform.  Hiccup wonders if he designed the NWF uniforms himself, and the thought strikes him as kind of pathetic.  Less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of an institutional fanboy, a blatant self-insert too self-conscious to be believable. 

At least when Hiccup puts on an act, he gets real antiques.  He commits.

“I just thought I’d remind you of her…precarious situation.”  It’s bluster, painted on thick and smudged before it could dry into armor. 

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget it if I tried.” 

“Good,” Grisly’s smile is cracked around the edges, veneer wearing thin after a long day at an office job he hates, “you seem to be taking something seriously for once.  You know, maybe all of this has been good for you.” 

“The legal system is supposed to rehabilitate people after all,” Hiccup shrugs, on the weird end of a paternal lecture from someone he respects so little that he feels the need to make it clear.  “Maybe I’ll finally be an upstanding citizen when this is all over.” 

“Upstanding,” Grisly’s lip curls, eyes manic and alive for just a second before he wipes has hands on his pants and selects one key off of his keyring, “if it keeps your spirits up…” 

“Oh yeah, I’m downright chipper,” Hiccup nods, “catching up on my sleep. So, if you don’t mind,” he points at the evening sky outside and fakes a yawn. 

Grisly grits his teeth, feral for a second, canine too sharp, “of course.  Can I get you anything else while I’m being so accommodating?”

“I think I’m good for now,” Hiccup waves him towards the door, “I’ll let you know though.” 

Grisly leaves then, shoulders rigid, and Hiccup hates how the silence makes him wish he’d dragged out the conversation longer.  He tells himself that this will be over soon and tries to think about his new tour, a thrilling, courtroom-based tale of murder and eventual, inevitable betrayal.  

[oveliagirlhaditright]

My dark Kairi story/KHIV story chapter four: “I Do Not Fear Death”. World: PotC’s Dead Men Tell No Tales.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456412/chapters/62293999

Author’s Note: So… I think I decided with the Enchanted chapter—and am carrying it over with the rest of this story—that the Disney worlds aren’t going to be one-to-one what happens in their movies, since KH was at its best when it didn’t do that (like with KH1).

Also… when I was first reading this chapter, I felt like Pip wasn’t in it enough—so I kept adding in scenes—but upon editing it, I realize he’s in it TOO much and it’s kind of annoying… But I felt like I couldn’t really cut the scenes out. Like, I decided right when he was about to meet Riku, that he’d been in it enough and that I wasn’t going to have him in it the rest of the chapter… but then I realized I meant to have an introduction between him and Riku right there—and I didn’t want to risk forgetting to do that later, if I left it out here—so I had to change my mind about that. So… just suffer with it in this chapter, I guess (I’m sorry:(). And hopefully it shouldn’t be this bad in the future ones.

Swallow Chapter Four: I Do Not Fear Death

Sora’s PoV

'Kairi... I can feel that you’re looking for me', Sora thought, alone in his prison in a certain place. 'I'm... somewhat worse off than I even was in that Game now... But I know you'll find me. And thanks for never giving up on me.”

And having thought everything he needed to at the moment, Sora succumbed to the familiar lull of sleep again and dreamed of life…

Kairi’s PoV

In order to be strong, Kairi went to one of the hardest worlds she’d heard of from Sora: the Caribbean/

And while she should have been happy about the connection, she'd perhaps found to Sora in the last world... the Princess of Heart couldn't help looking back at what she’d done in Faith and Angel’s world, and only feeling despair. She felt horrible about how she'd treated Angel—and Kairi feared that she still might be led to do that same sort of thing, and it scared her. And she wanted to apologize—but there was nothing she could do about it now. Especially not when Pip was shivering in Kairi's pocket in discomfort, obviously feeling her intense emotions too strongly. So Kairi decided to instead focus on the matter at hand.

And the moment Kairi did just that, she thought that something was wrong... because there were no pirate flags on the sea at all?

"Do you think this can possibly be the Caribbean then, Pip? Given the story I just gave you about this place?" Kairi asked her new friend, who was stroking his chin thoughtfully at her question.

How Kairi wished that Riku was here with her, to help make sense of things (and Sora)... because despite their somewhat rocky relationship, they were still (sadly) closer now than they had been in years…

And Kairi'd so very nearly called Riku, just before she'd heard from Sora in Giselle’s world... but how could she have, when her lust and jealousy had led to a “Heartless version” of Sora there? Surely Riku would have been disgusted by her actions again…

But Kairi opted to not think of any of that now... Instead, she focused on that she was near a bell, that Sora had perhaps described to her once. So, this was Port Royal, then? And the reason there were no pirate ships nearby was because they would be shot on sight, and the pirates hanged for their crimes?

Before Kairi could think about any of her questions much more, she heard a massive ruckus and turned her attention that way. It seemed that the people here were trying to execute a girl about her age?!

Kairi felt her blood boil for that, as she remembered how women had been treated in some places Sora had told her about: worlds so bad, that he hadn't even wanted to think about them. But with how much Sora loved this place, it couldn't have been one of those. Could it?

"Whoa, Kairi!" said Pip, as he jumped onto her shoulder now. "I can literally feel you getting redder in your anger. Calm down, alright?"

"S-sorry!"

But if Kairi was being honest with herself? She now hated this stammering, uncertain version of herself, too. Perhaps her being anyone was just a lose-lose situation, then…

"Pip, we've got to go save that woman!" Kairi shouted, as she ripped at her dress from New York, so she could better run and fight in it. "Time is of the essence!"

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

And Kairi ran towards the guillotine in the town square. And even from far away, Kairi took in the book the woman was holding—that looked like it had stars on it... stars like the worlds—and prayed that this lady could help her find Sora.

...

The first thing Kairi saw when she was in a sea of people that made her feel very anxious, was that Captain Jack Sparrow was also being tried! It had to be him, based on Sora's descriptions, Kairi thought. The man before her had somewhat dark skin, with eyeliner around his brown eyes and above his mustache and a slight beard? Those were all descriptions that Kairi had heard for Jack. The princess also noticed his dreadlocks, clothes that tried to be fashionable despite being tattered, and his ridiculously large hat.

Kairi ran towards him instantly, and cut off the guillotine that was now mysteriously hanging from his neck. But she knew she wouldn't be thanked for it.

"Come on, Mister Sparrow!" Kairi cried, as she took his hand in hers and began leading him away. "Let us save that woman—and the boy who’s with her?—and be on our way!"

"…That's a fascinating sword you have there, missy. You wouldn’t happen to be a Bonnie Lass of Zola’s, would you? And if you are… by God, you and your lot haven’t aged a day.” Jack spoke to Kairi, as he punched a guard here and ducked under soldiers there, all while apparently examining Destiny’s Embrace.

And while Kairi wanted to be annoyed that he would just assume she was Sora's girlfriend because she had a Keyblade like he did, she was too busy to debate him.

Because a boy who had a light much like Sora's, was about to get a sword through the heart for trying to aid the girl in the blue dress! And Kairi had seen enough pure-hearted boys die, thank you very much... even if she had also been close to killing one herself.

The Light threw herself between the boy and girl, and the ten lances that were coming their way. And she thought that if she died this way, at least she'd go out a hero like Sora had... and maybe she'd even be put out of her misery and get to see him in some sort of afterlife.

But just when Kairi thought it was over for her, because she felt some blades going through her even as she tried to dodge them, she was pulled up and over them... and lived, and joined the ragtag group that had just formed.

And Kairi was eager to follow the older man who had just joined them, telling the group—Captain Jack in particular—that he had the Pearl just before them that they could board, but of course Heartless had to show up at that exact moment... and the nasty Neoshadows, too.

"Oh, fine!" the brunette bellowed as she began to impressively attack the overly-large Shadows with the chains that had bound her—all while Kairi used a quick cure spell on herself, and used aeroga to send some of their enemies flying away from them--"I see you want to grab at me just like men do, and I will give you the award that I do to them."

The boy who was not unlike Sora to Kairi, blushed—as if thinking the woman was talking about him?—and informed her to, "Focus on the fighting right now, Miss Carina," as he kicked at some of the Heartless.

Jack, meanwhile, was stabbing them through their stomachs.

And Mister Gibbs—Kairi was assuming it was Mister Gibbs, anyway—was hitting some over the head with the butt of his sword. But even with all of this, they were getting nowhere fast with the Heartless and the soldiers.

So Kairi put a barrier around herself and her new friends—so nothing could get to them as they ran—and the moment they were aboard the boat, she was instantly demanding answers from Captain Jack. "You- you were right. I am Sora's girlfriend... and he's been lost. Do you think there's anything here that might save him? Especially since he was sort of lost to the sea? Because my name means that... and he died for me."

Jack looked at Kairi with sympathy, she could see, but it was the girl in the blue dress—Carina—who answered Kairi as she seemed to size her up in an excited manner. "The Trident of Poseidon will serve you well, I think, and I'll help you find it. I'm trying to use it to find my father, and Henry is trying to get it to free his own, who is supposedly the Captain of the Flying Dutchman."

Kairi was about to go talk to Henry at this news, but she didn't know if she would've been ecstatic to talk to this son of Will and Elizabeth or not, since those two’s story was so similar to hers and Sora’s, but Kairi didn’t even get the chance to find out how she would have felt, because Mister Gibbs cut off any conversation post-hate, as Jack glared at him. "We will not be going after any legendary artifacts today. It's more than enough that I have Jack here at all, given his bad luck and lack of pulling any weight lately. And I won't be making any of it worse, by repeating the past.”

Almost immediately, Captain Jack Sparrow jumped in to argue, saying, "But we need to, mate, to stop Salazar. You remember his horrendousness from what I've told you, aye? Help me defeat him, and there may be an old magic compass in there for you."

And while those two were fighting over that, Pip jumped onto Kairi’s head and began fighting for her sake, just as it looked like two other male pirates had been about to? "Yo, old man,” said Pip. “Listen to the ladies—and who I'm assuming is your captain—here. For one thing, Kairi's been through enough and deserves her boyfriend back."

But unfortunately, no one was taking Pip seriously... as the captain looked at him with the most displeased look Kairi had ever seen, and deadpanned: "Great. Something else like the monkey Jack."

Kairi sensed that her friend was upset for being so easily dismissed—and she wanted to be there for him, like he just had been for her... but she was too busy making sense of something, that almost had her throwing up over the deck... She'd traveled at least twenty years into this world's future... which shouldn't have been possible, because Henry had just been born when Sora was here a year ago... and now he looked like an adult. That must have been what Jack had been getting at earlier. How had she managed to mess up traveling here so badly... or was this a good thing? Had her heart connecting with Sora's led to this?

Still feeling overheated and like she was going to be sick, Kairi ripped more of her brown dress off with one hand while she held onto the railing of the deck with the other. Near instantly, she felt great about how cool she felt and she breathed a sigh of relief, as Pip went back to hiding behind her hair… and Henry put a hand on her shoulder? "Miss, are you okay?" the young-man questioned. And was it Kairi, or did he sound like he'd gotten used to saying that kind of thing lately, with how easily he could have made her swoon if her heart didn’t already belong to Sora?

"I'm fine... I just noticed something. It's no matter.” And if the look Jack was giving her was any indication, he must have guessed the same thing she had... or just thought Sora was the luckiest man in the world, for having such a young-looking girlfriend.

"Anyway, Henry… out of all of us, I get the sense that Mister Gibbs will only listen to where you want to go. So direct us somewhere ‘nice’, I guess. But once we find the Trident, we’re going for it.”

And then Kairi went over to where the man with the fake eye—and his bigger pal—were stationed, to try to figure out how to help man such a ship.

…

It was when Kairi was being reminded (since she’d known some of this stuff from home) that the left side of the ship was the port and the right was the starboard, that Carina joined Kairi on the deck for fresh fruit and regarded her with a smile.

Meanwhile, the pirates Pintel and Ragetti—who Kairi had recently learned the names of—were kindly trying to fish for her.

"You look like you could use some cheer. Jack Sparrow has convinced Mister Gibbs that we do need the Trident, to defeat some fiend named Salazar, so we're headed in the direction I believe it’s in. And here’s how we're going to find it." And Carina pulled out the starry diary that Kairi had spied earlier, but up close she could tell there seemed to be some ruby encrusted into it.

"What is this, exactly?" Kairi questioned, as she sat up from where she’d been sitting so she could see the book better. "Jewels from the earth here? Do you think the Trident was buried under ground where these ar-" But Carina was already shaking her head “no” before Kairi had completely finished asking that question.

And seeming curious about what Kairi was talking about, Pip came to see what was going on. And Carina shook her head at his appearance, in a sort of bemused manner. “Somehow, I can believe about your talking pet here, but not these monsters Henry is blathering about. Anyway... I was left at an orphanage by my father... and he left me this journal. The cover of it represents constellations, and is said to lead to the Trident of Poseidon, and surely my father. And after studying star charts all my life, I know where this constellation is in the sky… and so we’re heading out that way.”

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kairi queried, as she decided to make herself more useful by swabbing at the deck some. "Wait, actually... what was it you were saying about monsters?"

"She was only speaking of the worst kind," said a voice from beside Kairi's ear. It was Jack... and he seemed grim, as opposed to the usual happy-go-lucky and devil-may-care attitude Kairi had gleaned from him thus far. "Salazar: a ghost who's an enemy of all pirates... including you, lassie."

"A ghost?" Pip asked the question that Kairi had wanted to—and it made her smile--but when she had visions of what this ghost might look like, she definitely didn't smile. He seemed half-human and half-ghost, and parts of his hair and clothes were being torn away from him, into the other realm, as segments of him remained. And that black, villain-type smile from him...

Kairi swallowed, in realizing she felt torn apart like him she was: because didn’t she want to be both a Pure Light and someone who had a cruel heart now?

"You see something, don't you?" Henry asked, as he came up beside Kairi now, clearly having taken in her mystified look. "You see something, the way that I can almost see visions of my parents when I look at you."

Utterly confused, Kairi was about to ask why Henry should see his family when he saw her... but then she thought it must have been because Sora had helped shaped their lives... and she and Sora were very much the same since sharing the paopus. So perhaps that was the reason?

"I-" but just as Kairi began speaking, the nightmare she had just seen came to life as day turned into night: the electrified ghosts appeared out of the ether, and walked through their own ship and onto the Black Pearl. And before Kairi knew it, she was being held captive by Salazar and was the defenseless girl once again.

"You were never the gentleman I was, Sparrow," Salazar drawled in a chilling whisper, that made gooseflesh appear all over Kairi's skin, as she tried to get out of the chokehold he had on her. "So, you surely believed that women on a ship were bad luck. So why do you have two here now? Surely they're liabilities... like this."

"...Please," said Kairi, as a single tear sled from her eyes. "If you really are—or were--just like you say... let me go. I'm not even fifteen yet. And I'm on a mission to save someone..."

And he let her go so fast, that Kairi was first mad she hadn’t tried that same thing on Master Xehanort… But then she was furious that she hadn’t even tried to attack Salazar here, so she charged him now… and swiftly paid the price for it, as Pintel and Ragetti—who had missed everything that was going on, and were happily presenting the fish they’d caught for Kairi—were stabbed through the middle, by Salazar himself and some of his lackeys. And they were coming for the rest of the crew, too, when Jack made the wise decision to careen the ship into an area where you could still see daylight and they were vaporized.

But Salazar, in being far too clever, jumped into the dark ocean with the rest of the crew and disappeared for the time-being, as Kairi ran over to her new friends and tried to heal them again and again and again… but to no avail.

This was what she got for embracing her darkness, wasn’t it? Kairi decided as she cried. Why had she ever thought it was a good idea? And yet… she couldn’t let it go, either. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t fight the type of it that was settling into her veins even now, like a cancer, as it begged her for revenge against that man… and she wanted to comply.

“Salazar won't let such a thing happen again," Jack quietly warned them all, as they already began the horrible price of trying to give the two lost pirates a sea burial… Why did death have to be so final? Kairi pondered whilst she shook all over. "It was an accident on his part. The Pearl's speed—to allow us get close enough to the setting sun, coupled with Salazar's shock… it won’t happen again. When he strikes again, and he will, it’ll be fully at night, and when he feels he’s had enough time to nurse his wounds. So, we must be ready. And I’m sorry that I’ve gotten you all into this.”

There was a side of Kairi that wondered if something else had saved them... Sora had told her that the goddess Calypso had blessed him with the power of the sea always being his—or something like that—and she wondered if Sora had been watching over them, and he’d made the waves carry them away in that moment. But she didn’t say it. Not after her friends Pintel and Ragetti died because of her own stupidity, she certainly didn’t—as she wrapped her arms around her torso and just tried to keep herself together right now.

"We need to get to the Trident of Poseidon now. Forget a day’s rest and all of that," said Henry, with an urgency that Kairi had never seen in him before, but that reminded her again of a certain leader: her Sora. Henry seemed to be speaking when Carina couldn’t here, as she was clearly too shaken to talk of the quest that meant so much to her. Instead, she seemed about to go hide in the captain's cabin… or perhaps in her own head. "It's our only chance against Salazar... because believe you, me, I've faced him before and it will especially be no picnic next time. Perhaps with it, we can free our fathers and they can help.”

In the background, away from all of them now, Mister Gibbs was laughing... but to Kairi, he seemed to be doing so without humor. And as much as it somewhat bothered Kairi that he still clearly didn't want to help out, now that they were in whatever they were in... she also felt bad for him. He hadn't wanted to assist Jack for this very reason, so perhaps he would have been well within his rights to refuse.

"Then get back to following the star charts I gave you,” Carina urged. “I’ll hold lantern light over them, so you can do just that.”

No one objected with what Carina had to say, but rather adhered to her commands… all while Kairi stayed locked in her trauma. It seemed to be the story of her life, and she hated it.

"You should go talk to Carina," Pip tried to persuade Kairi now, as he lovingly braided what was left of her hair. "She seemed spooked."

"I know, I want to," Kairi agreed. "But she's busy helping Jack navigate—because I guess it’s Jack now. Gibbs is too drunk to steer—didn’t you here?"

So Kairi went to speak with Henry instead. Not because she sensed she needed to, or anything like that, but rather because she wanted to. She still felt her furious emotions like a festering disease inside of her—and she thought she might do something stupid, like kill some harmless White Mushrooms if she didn't try to calm herself down.

"Henry," Kairi said, as she got in an assembly line beside him, so they could get done whatever needed to be done while still talking. "Your parents knew my boyfriend Sora... did they ever mention him at all?"

Henry smiled rather bitterly for Kairi's words, and it only took her a moment to realize why. Of course! Will hadn't had a chance to be a large part of Henry's life. How foolish she'd been, to forget that.

"Henry, I'm sorr-"

But he was already lifting a hand up in a sign of peace. "I get it, Kairi. Don't fret. Bad memories just returned to me for a moment there. Forgive me. But, yes: my mother in particular spoke of a strong and kind young-man named Sora who had helped them out. Mother thought he had a true heart... and trusted him much more than she did Jack. "

And if anything could have lifted Kairi’s spirits and made her think she was doing the right thing to try and bring Sora back, it would have been what Henry just said. And so Kairi smiled her own secret grin, and spoke. “…Henry thank you so much for those kind words here. You have no idea what they mean to me. And to return the favor, I’m going to tell you that Sora talked to me about your parents. He said how brave and strong your mother was, and how he was proud of her for that… And he was so sad about what happened to your father, and hated that he had such a fate... hated that your parents did, really. And I know Sora would have loved to meet you like I now am. He probably would have thought that you're a mix of the best parts of both your parents." Kairi knew that she thought that... from what she'd heard about Will and Elizabeth from Sora, anyway.

It was somewhat weird for Kairi to talk about Sora in the past tense in such a way. A few months ago, she would have rebelled against the very idea or it.  But the Princess promised herself that she only spoke in such ways now, because she would bring him back.

"…Thank you for that, Miss Kairi. Thank you." And Kairi thought that Henry might have said more—Pip was cutely motioning with his hands that he should—if a ship hadn't rammed into the Pearl that very moment.

Fear stole its way into Kairi’s heart, as she thought Salazar must have been back already… but it wasn’t him.

And then Kairi was flying backwards—nearly over the edge—from where this boat was still ramming itself into the Black Pearl, but she thankfully regained her bearings… and  not by grabbing onto the railing, like her weak, past self would have, but by summoning her Keyblade and digging it into the deck, until the Black Pearl had righted itself again.

“Oy! You’re wearing a getup similar to that of those Organizers… wonderful,” Jack moaned from beside Kairi, as he surveyed the scene. The person who now seemed to have everyone aboard’s attention, was the man standing on his decent sized, navy blue ship, who wore sky and snow colored robes large, a strange unicorn mask, and had long and silver hair, much like Riku’s old style.

“Who are you?!” Mister Gibbs demanded, as he glowered across the way at the man with the same colored hair as him. Kairi wondered if he was trying to find a camaraderie with the man, since they arguably seemed to be about the same age, to tell him that that he shouldn’t be acting like this… but Kairi couldn’t be sure. “And can you get your stern out of-“

At those words from Gibbs, Kairi noticed Carina laugh for some reason. But then she quickly became unsettled again, though not as much as she had been in having to admit once and for all that ghosts existed.

“I swear if you’re with The Master of Masters—or Organization XIII, like Captain Jack suspected—I’ll-”

But Kairi was cut off when the man literally threw dolphin Heartless her way. One had even smacked into Kairi’s chest, with its razor-sharp fin, and cut a deep gash into her… this day—for it was nearing day again—just kept getting better and better, and Kairi was fairly certain she was just numb at this point. Oh well.

The redhead slashed at every Heartless she could see—and all of her friends were taking a page from her book; Carina was even bravely hitting them with her shoes—but she wasn’t foolish enough to let the man go without answering her.

“Why would you send dolphin Heartless my way?! I’m assuming you know my name means ‘sea’, and so you’re making a reference here… but does that mean you want to hurt me? I thought your ‘Master’ wanted me to use my anger!” Kairi was taking a shot in the dark here, that he was one of the Master of Masters’ pawns, but she thought that he must be. Since the Master of Masters was the only one (until this guy) who was wearing a robe since they’d defeated the Organization in the Keyblade War.

And in another meeting with the Master of Masters that Kairi had had recently, he had told her that he had five followers… all of which who had an animal motif. Why he had told her this crucial information, Kairi wasn’t sure… but she was starting to make some guesses about it all.

“Because my Master isn’t yet sure what he wants to do with you… Kairi, is it? He says that you often cast a great darkness, but also a great light. If it were me, I’d end the threat that you are now… but he’s gentler than I am, so here I test.” The man’s voice was deep and strong, and it reminded Kairi a lot of what Leon had sounded like in the short time he’d helped to take care of her.

And despite how Kairi had been trying so hard not to cry lately (even after others dying because of her, because sadly… what else was new?), she nearly did here… in learning how much she must have fallen to darkness—for this man to be saying this to her—and she wondered what sort of plan of the Master’s she was allowing to fall into place by being this way.

“But why?!” Kairi demanded. “Why be so wishy-washy about me?! What’s-”

But Kairi didn’t get her answer. The Heartless—that were not truly being defeated by her allies, because only Keyblades could do that—were now using their blades to put holes in the ship. Great.

"Miss, Kairi: can you use that special blade of yours to stop this?” Henry asked, as he plunged a sword through a Heartless’ would-be-heart… but only for it to pop up again beside Jack. Kairi dived over the pirate’s head to stab at it—imagining how Jack may have done this to protect Sora in the past, and thus she was paying him back for protecting her boy—and sighed.

More and more Heartless were coming—though Kairi didn’t get it, since the man didn’t seem to be summoning them… odd—and she was trying to destroy them as fast as she could, before they came back (how were they doing so so fast?!) and made more holes appear in the boat.

She used some of her pearl magic to get rid of ten going towards the Crow’s Nest here (well, as best as she could, anyway, since some of them were flopping away from her attacks as if they were break dancing), and used fire to get at some coming for Carina’s hair, and was about to do a third thing… when a mast fell down and landed on the Pearl. And with the massive injuries the Black Pearl had already sustained, it was now being split in two—while everyone screamed—until…

Until that man teleported onto the center of the wreckage and used a force field to keep the Black Pearl from breaking even more, and to even stitch parts of it back together.

“What are you doing?!” both Jack and Gibbs demanded; the words had very nearly been on Kairi’s lips, too, or at least they would have been if she hadn’t seen where Mister Unicorn was going with this.

“You want me to fight you to prove myself, don’t you? Well, here I am!” Kairi exclaimed, as she stood on opposite ends of the man and readied her Keyblade.  “Let’s go!”

But Carina took Kairi by surprise. “No,” she said, as she put a hand on her shoulder and walked past her. “You did enough for us in defeating… those things. Let me do this for you!”

“No!” Kairi protested. But the… the monster—he could be no less to Kairi—had already cast a shield around Carina and himself, so no one could get to them.

Carina was being clever—in trying to find a good place to kick Blue in the shins, it looked like; and was the monster actually giving her a chance to do so?—but it wasn’t enough for Kairi. She summoned Thunder, not even caring that she might strike herself, to try and break the barrier and get Carina out of there.

“Here! Let me at it!” Pip shouted, as he got to the top of said barrier and attempted to clobber it with his paws. “I swear I’m good at things, other than just writing. And I don’t want the lady to get hurt!” And Kairi couldn’t believe that some of what Pip was doing was working… he was creating pressure points on the top of the shield. So, what was this? A power of friendship thing, or-

But Kairi didn’t get to finish that thought—or to warp-strike to the top of it like she would have liked to—because just then the fiend had summoned a Keyblade and stabbed at Carina’s arm. And he severely injured it—blood was sliding down down down her arm, as it seemed about to come off—and Henry was bellowing Carina’s name at this point, as he punched the force over and over again, thus creating more wear in it.

Carina wasn’t one who was helpless, however—not even in situations like this—and Kairi could tell she was going to attempt to press the monster’s eyes back into his skull, as he aimed for her neck, if she didn’t do anything.

And Kairi was sick of this—sick of all of this!—because even though she’d been in and seen horrible wars before, it had never been as brutal as this… the people hadn’t attempted to end each other in such horrible ways. It was so much… too much. And it seemed to Kairi that after Sora had been taken out of the world, all light had died with him.

And so Kairi found herself screaming for unicorn man’s fate—she couldn’t believe it!—just as Jack and Gibbs had decided to try and help Carina, instead of trying to save the sinking Pearl at the moment.

“Carina, no! Stop! Please stop! I don’t- I don’t want this amount of bloodshed, and neither should anyone!” Kairi wailed.

Carina listened to what Kairi had said and stopped—and she wore a look on her face there, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d been about to do, either—and fortunately, Unicorn Man didn’t use Carina’s distractedness as a way to defeat her. Instead, he began to make the barrier dissipate as he bowed to her. “You’ve done well, Princess Kairi. The Master will be most pleased. I’m Ira, by the way.”

But not caring about any of that in the slightest, Kairi found herself leaping into the air so she could get to Carina faster now that she was able to go in that direction… but just as she was, someone was diving down and reaching for Carina, too… and the idiots they were, they couldn’t change their trajectory in time and ended up hitting each other instead of getting to Carina.

And feeling a concussion coming on, as she smashed back down onto the deck—but saw him getting up much easier, and already fixing the sinking boat with his own magic—Kairi couldn’t help feeling irritated with the figure.

“Riku, why are you here?!” she snarled. “Did you not trust me by myself here? I swear I’m fine! You may be messing up our chance to find Sora this way… if he’s sending me to places for me and just me.”

And Kairi felt awful after those words had left her mouth—of course she did; and she thought that if that Ira had still been here, he wouldn’t be giving her his blessing anymore—but she also couldn’t deny it was true. But how horrible had she become, to always be hurting Riku like this (she could see it in his eyes), whilst he only built her up these days?

“Kairi-” Riku began, as he helped Henry get Carina to her feet… and now everyone was staring at her. Great.

Kairi bit her lip, and again resisted the urge to cry… or to punch Riku in the arm like she had used to.

“Kairi, I swear I didn’t come here to spy on you. Master Yen Sid said that he sensed a certain power, and I-”

Except that Kairi didn’t believe him. How could she, when she’d been being babysat since everything had started when she was fourteen? the only time they hadn’t babysat her was during the Keyblade War, but maybe they should have. Maybe if they had then, Sora wouldn’t be- he wouldn’t be.

Now, Kairi had thought she’d gotten better and stronger this past year… but now it was apparent that Riku (and perhaps others?) were scared of her darkness. And so, it was back to being babysat again.

She also honestly felt like he was here to steal her spotlight, like always.

And with the strong array of emotions she’d felt since coming here, Kairi was done with it. She was done with everything.

So, before anyone could say anything more to her, or judge her, Kairi leapt into the air and began gliding away… to some island a ways away from them all. And she heard Riku calling her name as she did so, and Jack saying how she’d suspected that Sora would go for a nicer girl… and now she did let all of her emotions out.

…

On the island—that housed rum for some reason; and how Kairi was tempted to try drinking some now, to drown all her sorrows—Kairi fought back the urge to destroy the White Mushrooms around her, like she’d thought about doing before… since for whatever reason, there just happened to be some on this island who were dancing around her and asking for magic.

She probably would have slaughtered them in her fury, if she wasn’t trying to find her old self again, since everyone apparently hated who she was now… and maybe they were right for it.

“Sora,” Kairi spoke to her boyfriend now, as she clasped her hands together and raised her head towards the sky—hating herself for this, too, because why was she acting like Sora was in heaven? She was going to find him before he got there. She was!—“Part of me wonders why I’m bothering with all of this. I’m so different now… maybe you wouldn’t love me anymore. Not that I only want you back so you can love me. I want you back even if you hate me… but I wish I knew how you’d feel about this, even if I don’t think I’d change who I am now… even if you asked.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kairi thought she could see some ghostly image of Sora nodding his head and smiling at her… thought she knew it was all in her head. But it still made her feel better, so she got off from the log she’d been sitting on and flew back to where the Pearl was.

Well, the Black Pearl wasn’t exactly where it had been—how glad Kairi was, that ships were slow compared to some of the vehicles she’d seen in other worlds now. And when she got there, she saw Barbossa standing beside Jack and among everyone else?! That’s who Kairi assumed it was, anyway, based on Sora’s descriptions of everyone in this world (had she mentioned that this was Sora’s favorite world that he’d been to?)

Kairi landed down in the ship and summoned her Keyblade. She may have been above fighting innocents now, but she also wasn’t going to suffer a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Kairi knew that Sora had said Barbossa had changed for the better the last time he’d been here, but she also didn’t want to risk it.

“It’s okay, Kairi. We’ve got it figured out,” Riku said, as he came up to Kairi and slung an arm over her shoulder. And she appreciated that he wasn’t telling her to dismiss her Keyblade…

"Missy, I'm her' because I promised Salazar Sparra's head. But given that it's still on his shoulders, that there must mean I'm helpin' him with a plan to keep it there, don't it? So, I would quiet yer suspicions if you really want to find the Trident of Poseidon."

Kairi sighed when she’d heard this Barbossa’s explanation of things, but for once it wasn't an aggravated sigh. This captain had rightly pointed out she was too trigger-happy lately, and so she'd calm down.

And Pip, seeming to sense Kairi's resolution, climbed up her arm and patted her shoulder, too, before he went beneath her hair again.

Kairi would have liked to talk to Captain Barbossa more—to try and get them through this little hurtle, as she wished she could have talked to many people on her last adventures. Because maybe that could have helped solve a lot of issues—but before she could, the water below her was literally being ripped in half (so that Kairi was thrown to the other side of the Pearl, as it tried to be torn apart itself… again).

And as it happened, Kairi could see that Barbossa’s eyes were all for Carina. And she had a lot of suspicions there… but she didn’t have time to deal with that right now.

“Kairi!” Riku yelled her name, as she began falling back into the ocean as a part of the ship finally completely broke off and began tipping over. But she refused to be saved by him—or to ever need rescuing again—so she stuck her Keyblade into the part of the boat that was still active and pulled herself back up. And she fell into Riku’s arms as she made her way back towards her friends… but this time, she didn’t care. She’d managed to help herself… and it felt good to be appreciated like this.

But Kairi couldn’t dwell on maybe having fixed her relationship with Riku for too long. Captain Jack and Barbossa had managed to get what was left of the Pearl to a nearby island, and Henry and Carina were getting off there and jumping into the opened-up ocean beneath them, and Kairi meant to do the same.

And before she knew it, she was in that area—with Riku once again shouting her name, as he followed after her—for she had used a variation of Sora’s “quick run” in order to get where she was faster. But though Sora had moved in circles in order to do that, Kairi mostly moved in a straight line… and Riku seemed to be copying Kairi to try and do the same thing. Kairi would have laughed at all of this, if things hadn’t been so sad lately.

Once they were on the ocean floor, Riku asked her the million munny question. “Kairi, what are we doing here?”

Kairi didn’t answer at first. And she could tell by his hurt face, that he at first thought she was doing it out of spite. But as she let Pip climb out onto her arm, she swiftly showed him that wasn’t the case. “Riku, meet my friend Pip. Pip, Riku.”

“Nice to meet you!” Pip exclaimed, as Kairi saw him get into Riku’s face so he could see him better. “Make sure our girl here keeps a good head on her shoulders, okay?”

“…Right,” Riku answered. “Nice to meet you.” And while Riku seemed to do better meeting Pip then Sora had always thought he would with his friends Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet—and whoever else—Kairi could tell he still wasn’t thrilled. And here she did laugh… because that was Riku for you. And she was so glad to have him after losing Sora. She was.

“To answer your question, Riku,” Kairi responded, as she began running after Carina and Henry now—since something seemed to be going on up ahead—“we’re trying to find this Trident that has powers over all sea curses… and I’m wondering if it’ll save Sora, since he gave his life for me. And my name means that.”

While Riku began running with her, Kairi tried to gauge his reaction to her words. How did he feel about Sora having died for her and not him or any of the others? Kairi didn’t know the answer to that… and she selfishly didn’t know if she wanted to. Whatever the answer, it would probably make her hate herself more.

But Riku didn’t really react to her words in the slightest. He simply clenched his fist and muttered, “Let’s go get it, then.” And suddenly he was taking off faster than even she had been.

And up ahead… Kairi saw Salazar—how had he gotten here so fast?! Carina had just figured this all out! Was it because he was a ghost and could teleport?—had seemed to possess Henry and had the Trident, and was attacking Carina with it!

And Kairi understood why Salazar would do this… he knew that if Kairi’s friends got ahold of the Trident, he would be destroyed… so now he was trying to show Carina that if she wanted that weapon, she’d have to kill Henry to get it.

Captain Jack Sparrow darted past Riku and Kairi now, and was fighting against the possessed Henry for his and Carina’s sake. And Kairi had never felt so moved by him.

“Let the boy go, Salazar,” Kairi could make out the captain saying with a calmness that belied the situation. “Your fight is with me… I destroyed you and your men years ago—gave you a fate worse than death, even—and mayhaps I apologize for that. But even so… fight me.”

And Salazar was battling Jack now…. while Carina seemed desperately to reach out to Henry’s heart. “Henry, I know you’re in there…” she cried, while trying to get in edgewise, so she could try and grab the Trident from “him” while Salazar was preoccupied with his number one enemy. “Think of all we shared, and fight back!” Carina pleaded.

“Kairi,” Riku said now, as he spun her away from the scene before her, so she could focus on the matter at hand. “Maybe you should do the same that she’s doing… if you sensed that Sora might be here—and you know how Yen Sid and I think he’s trying to go to worlds you might be in. So, if you came here, he might be—then try contacting him, too.”

And Kairi would’ve—perhaps again becoming the girl who used to try and use light and do support from the side—if she hadn’t just then heard a voice she now somehow knew so well, whispering behind her ear.

“Really, Kairi? Really? You’re so easily going to go back to the delicate girl you were before your beau sacrificed himself for you? I’m disappointed.”

“Leave her alone!” Riku stepped in between the Master of Masters and Kairi, probably so she could continue to try and reach Sora, she thought. “She’s not going to fall into your plan! She’s not going to-”

And Kairi wasn’t going to do that. She was sick of her friends and herself following the Organization’s plan!

So she decided to just completely ignore the Master of Masters for the time being, and instead went to help Jack and Carina against Henry. “I think you were getting through to him, Carina,” Kairi said, as she gave the other girl a one-armed hug before jumping into the fray. “Keep at it… and I’m sure things will work out. But at the same time… you’re a smart girl. If you want to use your head and work something else out, I believe in you there, too.”

“I wouldn’t believe in anything you say, little girl, since I bested you earlier.” And before Kairi could say anything to that—or try to parry his incoming strike—she was stabbed through the stomach by Salazar. (And was Kairi imagining it… or was Riku trying to teleport to her side now, while the Master said an exasperated “Wow”?)

But she’d become too strong to be “bested” so easily… as she was still impaled on the sword, Kairi grabbed a hold of the butt of it and used it as leverage to throw Salazar—who was still holding onto it—hard to the ground. She then did a quick curaza spell to fix the damage. But she still didn’t feel one hundred percent yet.

“Are you okay there, lass? I may have misjudged you,” Captain Jack asked, as he knelt down beside Kairi and put a hand over her wound.

“I don’t think so!” the Master of Masters bellowed towards Riku, as he froze him in place so he couldn’t get to Kairi? What? Did he think the help she was getting from Jack was more than she deserved? Kairi had before thought she didn’t hate anyone more, than those who kept her away from Sora, she now imagined that those who kept her from Riku were just as annoying.

“Hold on, Riku!” Kairi called his way. “I’ll give you a panacea, and-”

But Kairi lost her train of thought, when she saw Carina had again taken a page from her book. She’d jumped towards the possessed Henry, not even caring for the weapon that was in her way, and though it seemed to nearly slice her side to smithereens… but she was able to wrest the Trident out of Salazar’s hands with this motion, and she was using it instantly. “As the one who now has power over all the sea, I command you—gods and goddesses—to release all your curses!”

But perhaps the Trident in and of itself was a curse, because it turned into water… never to be seen again, Kairi presumed.

Then, the sea above them all began to close… and Kairi thought she might faint. She was too injured to make a Corridor of Light to get herself and her friends out of this. And though she supposed Riku could try and use a Corridor of Darkness again—if worst came to worse—she knew the ill effects that it would have on everyone.

And now the Master of Masters was laughing without humor. “I have no desire to have a watery grave. You all work this one out. And Kairi… continue to be strong. Otherwise, I’ll have reason to kill you! And who wants that?!” As soon as he’d said those words, the Master of Masters was gone… but amazingly, he’d let Riku out of the spell he cast on him before he did—maybe he had plans for him, too—and Riku noticed immediately what was happening and muttered a curse.

“We have to get out of here… now,” Kairi stated the obvious. She quickly healed Carina, and then went to Carina’s side to help her pick up an unconscious Henry. What she’d done with the Trident had freed him, so now Salazar was standing in front of everyone again in all of his hideous, undead—yet human—glory.

Captain Jack had just motioned for Gibbs—who was still in the ship above them—to send the anchor down, so they could all ride it to the surface… but now Salazar and his crew were trying to kill all of their enemies, so they couldn’t get to it first.

But there was no guarantee they’d even survive if they made it to the surface, since sooner or later they’d have to face the fate they’d missed out on long ago. And Kairi had to wonder what kind of desperation drove Salazar… was it what existed in her heart now?

And to try and get to her new friends and to save them before it was too late, Kairi warp-striked to try and get back on what was left of the Pearl, so she could then pull them up. And she could tell that Riku was doing the same thing, having been inspired by her to do so. And he was rescuing Jack and Henry before she could blink... Kairi, then, went to rescue Carina... but it was all over.

For just as she had gotten Carina to the surface, Salazar had grabbed ahold of Kairi and was ramming her into the water wall beside her, as the pathway began to close above her. "If it weren't for foolish people like you, no one would have to suffer!" he hisse.

Kairi wanted to argue that—because maybe she was becoming better again—but was unable to, with how much pain she was in and the water filling up in her mouth.

Kairi tried to get her Keyblade into a position where she could use it... but then she accidentally dropped it into the wave and was losing consciousness.

Above her, Kairi could hear Carina screaming for someone to save her... but then Carina starting to change her mind when it became clear that someone was going to have to sacrifice themselves to fulfill her wish.

"What am I to you?!" Carina cried. And Kairi heard the voice of Barbosa answer "Treasure", before he willingly fell on Salazar—and towards his death—to free her from his hold. And then Kairi felt Riku sharply tugging on her arms to bring her to safety, as she sobbed.

…

For the first time in what felt like ages to Kairi, she had chosen to be selfless and stay with her new friends for a few months—foregoing her search for Sora for that long—to help them deal with the aftermath of everything that had happened.

Captain Jack was the easiest. It seemed to Kairi that he was... just lonely, in seeing Will and Elizabeth—and Henry and Carina—together, even if he was secretly happy for them. And once Kairi learned that there was an "Angelica" in his past, she helped chart a path for him to find her on "Rum Runner Island"—the island that maybe she had unwittingly found?—since he still didn't have his magic compass back.

And Jack looked at Kairi with something like warmness in his eyes, when he chose to shake her hand. "Yer a good lass, Kairi. Don't let anyone tell ya different. And you go on and remember it yourself, savvy?"

"Savvy," Kairi replied, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes--since she thought it was proven with Barbossa’s death (and perhaps Pintel and Ragetti’s before that. And- and Sora’s), that she wasn't very good at all.

And it was Mister Gibbs who seemed to notice Kairi was feeling this way. He told her not to feel too bad about Barbossa, since at least she’d tried to help everyone—unlike him, in his eyes. It seemed to Kairi that Gibbs hated his own inaction on this recent quest of his now. Something she could relate to—and since he thought Barbossa had been happy to give up his life for his daughter’s good spirits, anyway. Kairi didn’t have much to say to that, other than trying to put two-and-two together to try and figure out where the compass Jack had lost was at. He’d promised it to Gibbs, hadn’t she? Kairi swore to the man she’d figure it out and come back and get it to him. Someday.

After that, Kairi had gone with Henry, Carina, and Riku to meet Will and Elizabeth. And her heart soared for Henry and Elizabeth being reunited with father and husband respectively... but Kairi wished Sora could have been here, too, with the Trident having been destroyed… but he wasn’t. And Kairi could tell that Riku was just as upset about it.

For days, Kairi trained with Carina—to help her learn how to fight, as Carina now wanted to be a pirate—and while the other lady had informed Kairi that she didn't at all blame her for her father's death, she didn't seem to sense that Kairi thought people around her in general seemed to die, and didn't comfort her about it. But Kairi thought that it was more that Carina just didn’t know how to, since as a scholar… she seemed to spend most of her life in her own head. And that was fine. Kairi got it. Maybe she’d even been the same in the past, somewhat.

Henry, like Gibbs, was there for Kairi, however. One day, when she was jotting down some things she thought Destiny Islands did better in terms of sailing to help the people here, Henry interrupted her.

"You can't blame yourself, you know," he gently reprimanded her, as he laid a hand on her wrist. "I used to blame myself for my parents' situation... and told myself that if I hadn't been born, my mother could have freed my father from his terrible fate long ago, and not be trapped in a life she hated... But I also knew that my parents loved me, and that the lies we tell ourselves can be the deadliest. So you know that, too."

And it was after Henry told Kairi this, and she felt light return to her heart once more, that she finally decided to leave the Caribbean. She'd been dreaming of healing these people, but here they had done that for her.

"You know..." said Will, as Kairi was about to leave alongside Riku, with a knapsack over her shoulder. "Even though I was dying at the time, and it was hard to tell, Sora was very angry about what Davy Jones did to me... and even then, I assumed it was because he didn't want to be taken away from someone, like he didn't want me to have to be taken away from Elizabeth."

"And when Will went missing in searching for the Isla de Muerta, it was Sora, Donald, and Goofy that I trusted to help me find him, not Jack. And I suppose it could be because Sora reminded me of Will—of us—if he had someone like you waiting for him at home,” Elizabeth added on to her husband’s claims, as she winked at Kairi.

"Thank you," Kairi said shyly, before making the rash decision to hug the spouses. And though it clearly shocked them both, they swiftly hugged her back. They were parents, after all.

And to partly thank Will and Elizabeth for that and so much more, when Kairi just happened to see barnacles under their bed, she took them outside and burnt them... so the memory of this Davy Jones would hopefully leave them alone forever.

And it was when Kairi was outside on Elizabeth’s (and now her family’s) beautiful green island, that she found Riku sitting there as he let the wind dance over him.

Pip bound up to Kairi then, as it looked like he'd just been on the gummi ship with Riku, and he excitedly told her, "Kairi! What happened with the Trident seemed to give Riku a vision! He says Sora's in a world of... data?  Though apparently, it's not the Tron world or Datascape, whatever that means. Isn't that good news?!"

And trying to hide the fact that she was sad Riku had seen this and not her, too—because hadn't Riku and Master Yen Sid and Riku theorized Sora was trying to get to worlds she'd like?—Kairi sat down beside him and said, "Then I guess we should see if Cid can get our phones to search for worlds with data."

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 8: Stab Wound

(But hold on a little while longer.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 8: Stab Wound

Word Count: 2054

Relationships: familial Creativitwins, platonic/familial dlamptr

Warnings: Stab wound (obviously), other minor injuries, blood, minor dissociation, lots and lots of cursing

A/N: yes, i know this is late! it’s only by 30 minutes though D: hopefully my characterization of the trash man is alright! this was fun to write hehe

Well. That wasn’t a very fun camping trip!

Remus has always been one for surprise. He likes the excitement, the variety, the fun! It’s healthy to keep a little bit of spice in your life. He’s not afraid to live by this sort of motto, because life is about the little things. Although, he isn’t sure that getting stabbed in the middle of the woods at three a.m. necessarily counts as little, but he’ll take what he can get.

So sue him! Maybe he likes to have a little fun sometimes. Routine is boring! Fuck patterns! Fuck authority! Cause anarchy!

And, uh, yeah. He’s pretty chill with living on the edge like that. But maybe… maybe just a bit further from the edge? He means, like, the edge of harmful societal expectations and complacency, or whatever dumb shit Dee and Lo-Lo rant about to each other at one in the morning. Remus loves his roommates, and would totally rip out a bitch’s spine for them, but they’re fucking nerds. Speak ENGLISH.

Yeah, the edge of “normal”. Not the edge of death.

He’s not gonna die out here, no siree. If he believes he’s immortal strongly enough, he will be. That’s what Barbie movies teach you, right? In any case, even though he refuses to die, getting stabbed hurts like a motherfucker, and it doesn’t help that it’s also storming. He just wanted a nice, fun camping trip, but nooo, some shitty-ass god out there decided “Oh! Time to turn Remus into a shitty cliche horror movie protagonist!”. Why can’t he be the antagonist? Or… wait, what’s the one in the middle of the two? The side character? He wants to be the one guy who is in the midst of all the action with the protag, but seemingly dies halfway through the movie, and then comes back at the end to be like, ”Haha, surprise, bitch! I’m not dead!”.

Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t make all of his life choices based on movie stereotypes.

Anyway, he wishes that at the very least it’d stop fucking raining, because it makes it seriously hard to crawl through the underbrush while slipping in mud and falling flat on his face every two seconds. The stab wound is painful, sure, but as long as he can keep pressure on it and not lose too much blood before he gets to the main road, he should be fine. But having to deal with the downpour hindering his movement and blinding most of his senses sucks ass. How the hell is he supposed to utilize his tracking skills and make sure he’s going the right way without being able to see, hear, or smell a single goddamn thing? He might like making other people wet, but that doesn’t mean he likes being wet himself.

So, he thinks he’s going the right direction. Trying to escape a batshit crazy murderer in the middle of the woods doesn’t leave you a lot of time to casually sit down at a table with a cup of tea and pull out your faded, burnt treasure map, but if he had a table and a cup of tea and a partially burnt map, he would totally do that. Maybe the killer would be so confused, he’d have time to run away.

The thought causes Remus to bark out a laugh into the white noise of the storm, which is a VBI (Very Bad Idea), because it goes straight to his stomach. The pain that radiates out from the wound is like, actually excruciating, hahaha! But... Remus is supposed to be the one who actually survives to the end. He-- he has to be. Who else is gonna fill Roman’s socks with wet concrete?

Oh, Roman. His brother would probably be crying like a little bitch if he were here. Now he’d be the protagonist, the one who’d make so many stupid decisions and somehow come out of it alive anyway. He’s like those teenage girls in horror movies who make you scream at the screen “Don’t go in the dark scary basement, you fucking idiot!” but for some reason, never have a single repercussion for any of their terrible choices. (Remus would be the one who would sacrifice himself for the main character near the end of the movie at the dramatic climax, but Roman can never know that.)

Maybe he wishes Roman was here so that he didn’t have to crawl all this way on his own, but whatever. His brother would probably be too busy whining about his ruined hair to help much, anyway. Not-- Not that Remus needs help! He is having a blast slipping and sliding through the sticks and mud and bushes, thank you very much!

“C’mon out, dude! Don’t draw out the inevitable!” a voice echoes from the trees, a yell that’s far too familiar for Remus’ liking. God, can this guy just give it up already? Go find some other helpless damsel to terrorize! He does not wanna try Remus right now. This may all be fun and games, but Remus is starting to get pissed off, and he is unafraid to take out the stress on this crazy dumbfuck.

Somehow, Remus is able to hear the guy’s footsteps come closer through the sound of the rain splashing all around him, and he speeds up. Probably better to just avoid the guy. Although Remus’d totally win in a fight, the dude does have a knife, and Remus would really prefer to not get stabbed a second time. There’s a drop ahead, a place where it looks like the floor disappears, so Remus shuffles over to it and peers over. It’s a small cliff, with maybe fifteen or so feet to the bottom, and Remus curses under his breath. Fuck, he’s gonna have to do it, isn’t he? And now that he’s looking, he can just barely make out some headlights flit through the trees and disappear, so he knows that he’s close to the main road.

With a grimace, Remus steels himself, then slides off the edge feet-first, trying to use his shoes as a brace against the incline. Of course, because his life fucking sucks, he somehow manages to hit a rock embedded in the side in the wrong crevice, and it pitches him forward off the wall to tumble to the ground below. He smacks into the wet dirt, is just barely able to bite his tongue hard enough to stop the scream from ripping from his throat, and he lands at the bottom harshly. 

His stomach is on fire. It fucking hurts, feels like he’s being stabbed all over again a thousand times over. Bruises are definitely going to start forming all over his body from that fall, and coupled with the fact that his leg hit the ground at a weird angle, walking is going to be even worse than before. Fuck! Why can’t he just catch a fucking break?!

Remus pants hard, trying to work himself up to resuming his trek, when he hears his attacker’s voice calling out from above again. It sounds like he’s coming to the edge, so Remus just swallows hard and scoots himself over through the agonizing aches in his body to lay flat against the cliff wall. He just has to hope the dude doesn’t see him. He can’t really see very well through the storm, but Remus thinks he sees the guy look over the edge. Silence is key, and that’s pretty damn hard considering the absolute torture that is his wounds, but he has to. To survive.

He can’t die today.

And then the guy’s yelling for him again, and his voice is getting further away, and Remus waits in the mud until he can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Vigour and adrenaline now fully renewed, Remus bolts into the trees again, crawl morphing into a crouched run when he’s finally in cover. He clutches at his stomach to try to lessen the pain, which of course doesn’t help, but maybe it’ll keep some blood inside of him or something. Probably not best to bleed out right before he can get help. That’d be a shitty movie ending, if he’s being honest. Absolutely uncreative and unsatisfying. -11/10. 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Is Remus delirious right now?

Despite all that, the sight of the road through a break in the trees is like a blissful breath of fresh air, a shining light of hope in the darkness. He’ll get to see Roman again, and prank Patton with bugs, and absolutely destroy Virge at video games, and listen to Dee and Lo-Lo’s stupid philosophy talks, and give his adoptive uncle Thomas a heart attack every time he does something stupid, and holy fuck maybe Remus is dying because when did he become sentimental? Ew.

A car finally comes along right as Remus manages to drag himself up onto the shoulder, and he waves frantically from where he’s kneeled on the ground in an effort to flag it down. Thank fuck, the car actually slows to a stop, and the window rolls down almost immediately. The face that pokes out is cute, and innocent-looking, and Remus prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that this person will actually help.

“Oh, jeez, are you okay? Why are you out on the road like this? Is-- Is that blood?!” the driver asks, horrified, and Remus tries to stumble closer. He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but it’s probably horrifying, and he wouldn’t really blame this stranger if he drove away immediately. Maybe Remus will become like those ghost stories, the spooky legends about ghost hitchhikers. Ooh, maybe he’ll become a local cryptid! They can tell stories about him, and sell merch with his face on it, and he’ll be famous, and he can rub all of his sweet, sweet royalties in Roman’s face.

“Got-- I got stabbed. Crazy fucker got me while I was asleep. Help,” Remus manages to force out through his grit teeth, voice hoarse under the weight of the pain he’s in, and the driver looks extremely worried. For whose well-being, Remus has no clue.

“Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital. I couldn’t live with a guilty conscience if I left you out here. I’m Emile, by the way-- please don’t murder me, okay?” the stranger, Emile, says, and Remus chokes out a laugh despite himself. Emile gets out of his car and rushes through the drizzle without any hesitation, and Remus can already see that this is a genuinely good person. Anyone else would leave him here to die. He knows that. Even he’d leave himself here. But here this guy is, the kindest anyone has ever been to Remus, and it makes him wonder if he’ll still be as nice when he realizes that Remus’ personality is awful and the polar opposite of good and kind. (He knows he’ll never be good enough. He knows. He’s heard it enough, and he doesn’t need to be told again.)

“Not g’nna murder you. I can’t-- can’t even walk on my own, so,” Remus mumbles once he’s sure Emile is close enough to hear, and the latter just clicks his tongue with hands that frantically wave all around as if they don’t know where to go. Luckily enough for Remus, Emile pulls himself together quickly, slings an arm underneath his shoulder to help support his weight, and they limp back to the guy’s car together. As they do, Remus realizes the rain has stopped outright, and, well, isn’t that poetic?

Once he’s inside, dripping all over this stranger’s seats (okay, maybe he feels a little bad about that. When he’s a famous cryptid, he can pay for Emile to get his upholstery fixed), Remus starts to fade in and out. Not like the dying kind of “fading”, because he knows from multiple personal experiences what dying feels like, but more like he’s losing time as an effect of a literal stab wound. Oh, what did Lo-Lo call it? Desecrating? Dissipating? No, dissociating. Yeah, that’s the bitch. Yeah. Yeah...

He gets flashes now and again. Streetlamps outside, a tall building, hands underneath him, bright lights, rapid conversation. It smells like an E.R. It feels like home. He’s not gonna die today. Not yet.

[sketchy-saram]

Just some very personal thoughts I had yesterday, thinking about all the small ways that society--and my mother--taught me not to love myself when I was younger, and how long it has taken to claw myself out of that pit. And that was in a LOVING home. How some people ever manage self-love despite the negativity, I have no idea. But I love all of you, and just know that it might take a while--it may take a LONG while--but you can learn to love yourself, and let yourself be. <3

As I was sitting having lunch yesterday, listening to the cafeteria ladies chat about my new haircut, I thought: is it really so revolutionary, in 2020, for a girl to have short hair? But of course it is. It may be something we're more used to seeing than, say, men with long hair, but it defies traditional gender nonetheless. Yet the older I get, the more I wonder why we feel the need to cling to gender and propriety and tradition so strongly that we will limit ourselves and others. But we do, and we begin so early that it is scary.

 I thought about my hair. I thought about the reasons I had for keeping it long, when it was long, and I thought about how I felt now that it was shorter. The truth is, I never liked having long hair. It takes so long to shampoo and condition...it clings to your neck in the summer, and gets in your eyes...I never knew what to do with it or how to style it, and from the ages of 12-18 I almost exclusively wore it in a clam-style clip, twisted back and out of sight, out of mind. Why then? Why didn't I get it cut? Because girls are supposed to have long hair. Because when older women have longer hair, they're weird hippies, so if you want to have long hair, you have to do it while you're young. But at the same time, if you have short hair while you're young, it means that you're a lesbian, which of course IS FINE, but yet not at the same time, because you can tell by the way it’s said that it isn’t something you’re supposed to want to look like. 

I used to think that I had to grow my hair out so that it could be styled when I got married, because of course only long hairstyles look good on brides for wedding photos, and at that time so long ago I figured that a wedding would be in my cards soon enough. Except that I still hated my long hair. It was frizzy and thick, but nobody would let me get it thinned--for reasons I still have yet to decipher to this day--so it had no shape and no body, it just...existed. The first time I got a major haircut as an adult was the first time I really felt freedom. It wasn’t even that short...just shoulder-length...but I already felt an inkling of what it was that I wanted, which was to take back my appearance and make it my own. My long hair, to me, said that I was trying to fit in but would always be found wanting, because I wasn’t like everyone else. Short hair said yes, I’m not meant to fit into the box of normal things, so please don’t put your expectations on me--I don’t want them. I hate expectations.

 It was, more or less, the same for clothes. I am stocky at best, fat at also-best, because neither of those are evil and are only descriptions. But just like ‘lesbian’, ‘fat’ has connotations for normalcy that are stigmatized; while nobody will come right out and say it (unless you happen to be on an internet forum,) being fat is not the IDEAL description you want to be using for yourself. And so it goes. But it made what was already a fraught experience of existing as a girl even more exhausting, because I wasn’t allowed to look fat. The first time I felt that, in my bones, was when I was still fairly young. Maybe eight? I was bathing suit shopping with my mom, and tried on a two-piece that was very 4th-of-July, American-flag themed. I can still see the white stars and blue-and-red stripes on the top in my mind’s eye. She looked at me troubled for a minute before saying, I guess in the nicest way possible to give your child lifelong body issues, that perhaps we should try the one piece. That day, the way the world would look at me suddenly came into sharp relief; all the parts of myself I should be trying to hide popped out like a hidden picture book in that shopping mall fitting-room mirror. I saw my round belly, poking out from between the two separate pieces of fabric, and realized it was not right. I hadn’t even learned to suck in yet, a subconscious action which I now do as thoughtlessly as breathing because of the off-handed comments my mother would make about girls I saw as skinny who ‘would look much better if they just learned to suck in that little bit of stomach’. This is a game with no winners, I realized so early, but I guess I still have to play. Now I have to consciously try not to suck in, and it is so hard to unlearn. 

We, mom and I, talked at first about how I would get thinner because ‘it was just baby fat’; and then, when it didn’t go away, how ‘we can diet together. You’re still young. Your skin will bounce back.’ Shopping at the one cheap store in the mall that sold plus-sizes--on the other side from the straight-size section, and with much uglier options--I learned that plaid ‘will make you look like a lesbian’--seems like that was a theme--so I didn’t get the plaid button-up that I really liked. But now I am almost thirty, and I look back with so much anger and sadness and confusion and regret. Why? WHY did it have to be like that? My mom wasn’t a spiteful or a hateful woman. I know that if she read this, it would break her heart into a million pieces to think that all these things have affected me so much for so long. She didn’t do or say anything that a million other parents haven’t told their kids off-handedly before her, or since. But still, I have to ask the question: why? What is the point?

 I don’t want to have children. I’ve given the issue a lot of thought, and it just isn’t for me. But I still feel, strongly, that parents need to put more effort into not saying things that their kids will remember long after they’re said. Let your kids do what they want with their appearance. It truly, truly doesn’t matter. Let them have their hair how they want it--it will grow back. Let them wear whatever fashion they like, and refrain from stepping in with your outside opinions about how the world will perceive those choices. Your children desperately need you to be in their corner; not their first bullies, and not the first words of doubt in their mind. Don’t let your voice be their voice of inner-doubt. Kids are cruel, but they don’t have to be. It is just as learned as using a fork, or going to the bathroom, or turning off the lights. When you say things that you think will help your child not be made fun of, you are teaching them a few things; one, that fitting in is the most important thing a person can do, and it is something to strive for. Two, that you are judging them, and that you are part of the society of which they should be worried about pleasing. Why would you want that? If you support their choices, then sure, maybe you’ll have to console a few tears--but in doing so, you put yourself firmly in your child’s corner, and it becomes the two of you versus the world. They will see you as an ally they can confide in, instead of worrying about talking to you because they’ll only get a ‘told you so’. And in the end, isn’t that what you want to be for your children? Otherwise, why did you have them in the first place? 

It has taken me the better part of 29 years to learn to, at long last, finally start to quell the voices of inner doubt that plague my every decision, and even now there are days which are a real struggle. I read an article about an 80-year-old woman who was finally comfortable enough with herself to dress the way she wanted. Take that in. Eighty years. Why has society warped us so much that it takes someone eighty YEARS to do what they want to do, when it isn’t hurting anyone? The way you dress, the way you look; as long as you are legal, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s concern. So the next time you see someone who looks a way you don’t agree with, shut yourself down before you think anything unkind. Change starts there. It gets easier to look at yourself kindly when you don’t keep a judgemental running dialogue about other people in your mind. And learn to let yourself be. We all have those moments that we realized the world would not be kind. Maybe, someday, other people won’t have to have those moments. And wouldn’t that be lovely? 

So I keep sliding my hands over my shaved head, enjoying the feeling of the buzzed bits, more authentically me than I ever have been, and I smile when people look at me with confusion. Because at last I look the way I want to look, holding nothing back...and that is so wonderfully freeing.