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kumkaniudaku · 1 month ago

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Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.”

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member.

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter.

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl.

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time.

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows.

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.”

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes.

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide.

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause.

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth.

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?”

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!”

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.”

“You got a picture?”

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face.

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.”

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away.

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.”

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?”

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit.

“And what, TJ! C’mon!”

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.”

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face.

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.”

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.”

“Yeah? Why?”

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic.

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers.

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up.

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in.

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection.

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly.

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed.

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him.

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed.

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.”

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze.

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.”

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty.

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides.

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.”

“I was gonna say the same to you.”

“You have no idea how happy you make me.”

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside.

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention.

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact.

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible.

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.”

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table.

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms.

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor.

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip.

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay.

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize.

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most.

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?”

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face.

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head.

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages.

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill.

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.”

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal.

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some.

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust.

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted.

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying.

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish.

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar.

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin.

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!”

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it.

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy.

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms.

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing.

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result.

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body.

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.”

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket.

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision.

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm.

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses.

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind.

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity.

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before.

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?”

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke.

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention.

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers.

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him.

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace.

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line.

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over.

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.”

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone.

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss.

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.”

“Fuck, Treece.”

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.”

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere.

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together.

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest.

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?”

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?”

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?”

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.”

“10-4.”

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?”

“Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!”

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.”

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time.

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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mypimpademia · 1 year ago

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— The Teacher (pt. 2)

Single dad! Gojo x Fem! Preschool teacher! Reader

Synopsis: Little Megumi wonders if you’re his new mom, and Gojo finds himself wondering the same thing.

TW: None

Note: click/tap here for part 1! or Click/tap here for part 3! I forgot to mention it in the first part, but ig it was kinda implied, Gojo is 29 in this not a teen like he was in canon. Gojo is also very briefly implied to get around

⇶ Satoru stuck to his promise of taking you out

⇶ He left Megumi with Utahime for the night, and made sure that everything was perfect for you

⇶ Truthfully, he went a little overboard out of his own anxiety

⇶ Booked reservations for one of the nicest restaurants in town, deep cleaned his house (just in case), got his already clean car detailed, bought a new suit despite having many hardly-worn ones in his closet, stalked your socials for hints at what you might like, and more that he’d be far too embarrassed to ever admit to

⇶ Satoru picked you up from your house at 6 pm, knocking on your door with a giant bouquet of flowers in hand

“You look incredible.”

Those were the only words Satoru could come up with when he saw you.

He always thinks you look incredible, but seeing you all dressed up outside of your usual work attire was a nice change of pace, and you looked effortlessly beautiful.

“Thank you, Toru,” you beamed. “You look pretty,” you told him, scanning over his tall figure, clad in a deep blue suit.

‘Toru’, ‘pretty’. He nearly passed out on your porch.

Satoru smiled, clearing his throat in an effort to gather his bearings as he fought back the deep blush that was crawling up his face.

“For you, mon chéri,” he said, in a corny fake French accent, presenting the large bouquet of flowers to you.

They were neatly wrapped in a brown paper, and tied off with a white bow. From just the look of it, you could tell they were expensive.

“These are my favorite,” you gasped, taking them from him. “How’d you know?”

He stalked your instagram and found a post from a year ago where you said you loved them.

“Lucky guess,” Satoru smiled. “Y’ready to go?”

⇶ He led you to his shiny black sports car, opening up the door for you to get in

⇶ It even smelled expensive, and the fresh scent of car shampoo was still lingering. You could tell he had it cleaned just for this, but didn’t say anything

⇶ When you got to the restaurant, out of place was an understatement for how you felt

⇶ You were just happy you decided to dress nicer than you had originally planned

⇶ Looking around, the restaurant was beautifully decorated, and the people dining were dressed just as beautiful

⇶ The more time you spent with Satoru, the more that you realized you knew next to nothing about him

⇶ Where does he get all this money from? What does he do for a living? Who is he, really? And what’s up with the sunglasses?

⇶ You will admit, the mystery only made him all the more attractive, but you had a newfound determination to peel back his layers

⇶ But your first date might not be the best time for that, so you were willing to let things unfold naturally for now

⇶ Satoru insisted that you ordered whatever you want off the menu because he was paying, and ignored your protests

⇶ You hopped around different topics of conversation throughout dinner, and you did eventually make it to the subject of work

⇶ Satoru asked you what exactly made you want to teach preschool, or teach at all, and watched your eyes light up

⇶ Teaching was undoubtably a job you need to have a passion for, and you had more than enough passion for it

⇶ You told him that you’ve always had an interest in teaching, and loved kids and thought they were precious, sacred even, and that their early years are the best part to watch and be a part of

⇶ Satoru’s heart was getting ready to leap out of his chest just watching you talk about something you love so much

‘She’d make a great mom for Megs…’

⇶ The thought surprised even him, Satoru wasn’t sure if it was genuine or intrusive, but it had him glancing at your features and around him to make sure he hadn’t accidentally said it aloud

⇶ He told you that all the kids were lucky to have you, and that seeing you take care of Megumi and all those kids with ease made him feel like his worries from adopting were pointless

⇶ He glazed over the adoption part so easily, you almost missed it

⇶ Sure, you were more than well aware that Satoru was a single father, and when you saw that his last name was different from Megumi’s, you just assumed it was his mothers last name

“It is his mothers last name, but he’s not at all my biological kid. I adopted him from… a friend.”

⇶ You had removed a layer from Satoru, only to find how thin it was in comparison to the amount he had left

⇶ The revelation answered some of the questions you had, and left you with even more at the same time

⇶ Just based on the hesitation he showed, you knew better than to press any further, and changed the subject

⇶ The rest of dinner went smoothly, and you and Satoru once again went back and forth about the bill before he was calling the waiter back to take his card

⇶ On the drive back, Satoru asked if you wanted to see Megumi since Utahime’s house was in the same direction as yours

⇶ You said yes, because of course you wanted to see Megumi, and because it was getting harder and harder for you to say no to Satoru

⇶ When you arrived at Utahime’s, Megumi lept at you before he even said hello to Satoru

⇶ Satoru feigned being hurt by the action, but Megumi still payed him no mind, directing all his attention to you

⇶ Satoru thanked Utahime for watching Megumi, and you overheard her saying something about not dumping his kid on her again

⇶ Megumi had you sit in the backseat with him, and told you about all the stuff he did at Utahime’s

⇶ All the sudden, he asked why you and Satoru were all dressed up

“Did you guys go on a date?”

You and Satoru shared a questioning look through the rear view mirror, one that asked ‘Should we tell him?’.

“Sure did little man!” Satoru told him, but Megumi didn’t seem too surprised by his answer.

“Oh, Dad goes on a lot of those,” Megumi said, before going back to playing with the plastic dinosaur in his lap.

Satoru was rethinking all his life choices in that moment. He gulped back the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, already going over how exactly he could explain that to you later on.

To his surprise, he heard you laugh at Megumi’s comment.

“But I’m your favorite, right?” You asked the boy, playfully nudging him. He turned to you with big wide eyes and smiled.

“Yup!”

⇶ Dropping you off at your house, Satoru thanked you for letting him take you out, and haphazardly tried to apologize for Megumi’s little comment and explain himself

⇶ You told him it was fine, and thanked him for the night, hugging him and planting a kiss on his cheek

⇶ Satoru froze up at the action, but managed to say bye to you as he collected himself and you disappeared into your house

⇶ When he and Megumi got back home, Satoru made a point to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t just throw out information like that to people, especially you

⇶ While putting on the boys pajamas in the dimly lit dinosaur themed room, Megumi yawned out a question

“Hey, dad,”

He spoke through a yawn while rubbing his eye with his fist. Satoru hummed back in acknowledgment, straining out the bottom of the little boy’s pajama shirt

“Is Ms. L/n gonna be my mom?” Megumi asked, looking at Satoru with low, sleepy eyes.

Satoru thought back to the statement that popped into his head during dinner. You would make a great mom for him.

“Um,” Satoru started, tucking Megumi underneath his comforter. “I dunno yet.”

He was honest. He didn’t know if what he was feeling for you was real or if he was just in over his head.

“I hope she is,” Megumi muttered, huffing out as his breathing turned into soft snores.

“Me too, Megs.”

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @kazuminari @goldenglow149 + @torusmochi

Send in a ask or DM me to be added to all taglists, or fill out my form to be added to select ones.

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Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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athena-studios · 6 months ago

Text

ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.

treasure.

Simon Riley + preteen!daughter

tw: none(?)

a/n: im basically writing what i wanna read. honorary mention to @chaosandmarigolds for giving a bit o' help:) pretty long, don't know how many words but probably around 1k?

this idea has been in my head for AGES now, so glad i finally wrote it💗

Simon's girlfriend died. the 141 knew that. his girlfriend died that night along with the rest of his family. except for his one singular gem that he treasures the most. you, his daughter that the killers that night did not see nor hear because you were at the neighbor's house. that was when you were 5 years old, since then, Simon has done everything in his power to protect you. even as far as not telling anyone but Laswell about you.

you're now 12 years old. having gone through alot already, you're more mature and sassy than most of your peers. which leads you to this situation...

you were on the couch with your laptop open when you hear a knock. you walk to the door and open it to be greeted with three bulky men, one looking seemingly older than the other two.

the one on the middle has a...Fishers hat? he also has a beard, which is, what you assume, makes him appear older. "this dude could be a grandpa..." you thought.

the one to your left has a weird mohawk. yeah, thats all you can say about him. the one on the other side looks more tolerable, but his cap does wanna make you laugh your ass in front of him for it.

"Hi, who are you?" the grandp— the one in the middle asks. "I'm sorry, shouldn't i be asking you that? there are three, large, bulky men on my doorstep. none of which who are familiar to me." you replied, in your sassy voice, ofcourse.

your dad told you not to talk to strangers, they're strangers, aren't they?

"sorry—I'm Johnny, but i prefer to be called soap. this is John and Kyle. now can we know what yer name is, bonnie?" Johnny speaks up. you scoff. "fine. its y/n. y/n riley. that's all I'm telling you. and what the hell kinda name is soap?"

at that, the three of them glance at eachother in both shock and confusion. "what?" you ask. "your last name's Riley?" Gaz asks. "yeah, what about it?" you cross your arms, getting slightly defensive.

behind their back, you see your dad's truck pull up the driveway, the three men in front of you also noticing. you speed-walk to your dad and point to the three men. "Dad, these guys are tryin' to kidnap me." you say nonchalantly. he looks behind you and sees his captain and his two sergeants. "honey, they weren't tryna kidnap you. those guys are my teammates." he says as he walks to the trunk of the car and hands you two grocery bags. "now, bring these inside and I'll talk to 'em. 'kay?" he pats you head as you nod, walking back to the house.

"so, simon. when were ya gon' tell us ye got a daughter?" soap's scottish accent rings out. they glance at simon's balaclava-less face, because they don't usually see him without that damn balaclava, but also because they await a response from him. "to keep her safe...only Laswell knows abou' her. she's the only thing i have left. my treasure." simon clears his throat to ease the silence. "so, why are you guys 'ere anyway?" simon asks.

"i actually came here to ask for advice, and then i saw soap already standing at your door, saying something about a teatime catch-up? but anyway, he called price over, faking that your pipe was broken. and when he came up, we knocked on your door and y/n answered it." as gaz finishes his explanation, you walk back out the door. "so...are you all gonna come in or not? because i didn't stop binge watching heartstopper on netflix for nothing." you say as you chew on a french fry Simon had got for you, per your request.

they all walk in, and take a seat on the couch, Simon quickly preparing drinks for them. as Simon takes a seat next to you, Price speaks up. "so y/n, how old are you?"

"I'm 12." you answer blatantly. "y/n, be nice." your dad whispers to you. "you got any hobbies?" Soap tries to make conversation.

you playfully glare at your dad before answering soap. "i like to play the guitar, i like to paint, and crochet sometimes." you answer again, trying to put a less boring tone to your voice.

it goes like this for a few minutes, everyone just exchanging laughs and conversation. maybe they're not so bad after all...

#athena writes #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john captain price #john price #cod john price #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap cod #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod kyle gaz garrick

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jazziejax · 6 months ago

Text

𝐈. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Pairings- Priest!Art Donaldson x Reader, Priest!Patrick Zwieg x Reader

Summary- Odessa and Antoinette get a creepy letter in the mail

Warnings- religious talk, swearing, inside thoughts, not well written…

Jazzie’s Notes!- I just wanna preface this with saying that I don’t really know how to write this style of writing. I have to learn to write well in first person, but then if I do that, I would have to switch person to person all the time. Let if know if this is good or not, don’t be afraid to give feedback. Also, this isn’t meant to offensive to a religious group, I am religious myself. Sorry for any spelling errors!!!

Word Count- 5,313

Antoinette’s life was far from perfect. She lived in a crappy apartment in a sketchy part of New York with barely any money to afford to live. But she tended to find the bright side of most things. She shared said apartment with her best friend, and she always dreamed of living in New York. Plus, her job was a cute diner with a surprisingly stylish apron. She felt like one of those girls in the rom-com movies. Life could be worse.

“Hi, what can I help you guys with today?” The chipper voice of the young lady said as she pulled the notepad out of her blue apron pocket. She looked expectedly around the group that sat at the diner booth.

“Uh, can we get two French toast meals with the strawberry and whipped cream on them, no bacon or eggs on one of them? And two chocolate chip pancake meals with no whipped cream, just the bananas and blueberries. Four milkshakes, one chocolate with no cherry no whipped cream, one strawberry with the cherry and whipped cream, one vanilla with just the whipped cream, and another chocolate with the cherry and the whipped cream.” Said a blonde woman in one go, before looking up to smile at the waiter.

What a…hearty breakfast. Is it even breakfast time?

The girl squinted, caught off guard by everything that was thrown at her so fast, and didn’t write anything down past the ‘no eggs no bacon’ part. “Um, okay, yeah. I totally have all of that. I’m just gonna repeat it back to make sure it’s correct.” The curly-haired waiter smiled, looking down at the small amount of words scribbled on the yellow paper. Before she could even start talking, the blonde girl spoke up again.

“Oh, no need.” She smiled sweetly, which was obviously fake and condescending by the way she then waved the girl off before continuing the conversation she was in with her friends. Antoinette's eyes darted from one person to the next, utter shock but not surprised at how they all just continued to ignore her presence. She offered a small smile, whispering a small “Okay.” Before walking off to tell Lonny what she remembered of the order.

Which also didn’t go in her favor.

“Why the hell didn’t you write it down?” The older man asked, his New York accent thick on his tongue as she looked down at the small piece of paper the girl handed him.

I totally didn’t even think of that.

“I tried, she was going too fast and wouldn’t let me stay any longer to get it correct.” The girl whined. “I can tell you what I remember from my brain.”

My brain, what am I, seven years old? I need to expand my vocabulary.

“I don’t need what you have in your brain, I need the order on paper! I’m running a restaurant here, curly fry, not a school!” The grump yelled, before moving around the kitchen to continue to cook. Antoinette just stood there, arms stiff at her sides as her eyes drifted towards the open box where the orders got dropped off to see the more than half-empty restaurant. Her brows furrowed inwards only a smidge as she looked back over at her boss.

“Lonny, they’re the only people here.” She stated. All she got in response was the slam of the man’s fist against the metal table out of frustration. Not caring, or rather not paying attention, Antoinette continued. “I mean, them and the homeless guy that sleeps in the booth at the very back. And the occasional person with a laptop to charge.” She shrugged.

Lonny then turned, glaring from afar at the girl who was at least a foot taller than him. Granted, he was a short man.

“You’re lucky I like you curlyfry.” The man grumbled. “Now write down what you can remember then get back to work.” He hissed, turning to the batter he had before him. Antoinette was almost tempted to ask, what work? but refrained from making the situation worse. “Okay.” Was all she said before starting to scribble what she caught of the order on the paper.

My handwriting is atrocious, I need to work on that. Ooh, that’s a big word. Maybe my vocabulary isn’t so terrible. Hey, they do say bad handwriting is a sign of intelligence.

“Also, can you go kick out that homeless guy?” Lonny started, talking to the girl over his shoulder.

“Why can’t you?” She immediately asked, not even thinking over the statement. The older man threw his head back, letting out a deep sigh. “Because I’m working. Ya know, the thing you don’t do.”

Antoinette softly gasped in offense, placing a hand over her heart. “I work. I’m getting this order to you right now.” She said, tripping g the paper from the bit pad and sliding it over to the order station. “Plus, Joey’s gonna be here any second for my shift to end. Although a little late. He can handle it though.”

“Yeah, but I asked you, and I want it done now.” The man spat, never once looking back at the girl as he continued to make the dough for his bread at the cooking station.

“Well, I can’t because I have to wait.” She said, starting to take off her apron. Lonny screamed in annoyance, turning to face his employee. “What did I tell you about that word?!” He screamed desperation and anger in his tone.

“That it’s only used by stinky European teenage boys.” Antoinette related like a mantra at this point. “So stop it!” He yelled as she then tried to walk out of the kitchen, actually having to pee. “And what did I tell you about telling me when you have to pee.”

“I just thought you should know!” Antoinette yelled back through the closing kitchen door. She sighed, starting to continue her way to the bathroom before briefly pausing when she realized the table from earlier was now looking at her in irritation and confusion.

Great, they probably heard me talking about having to pee.

She smiled at them, her dimples being the cherry on top of her adorable face. “Your food will be out shortly.” She said as she encapsulated one hand in the other, voice now calm in contrast to her previous yelling. She went to walk about before stopping once more. “Hopefully.” She said before continuing, taking her apron off in the process and laying it on a hook in the back where her bag and coat were.

She wakes in the dingey bathroom, pulling down her pants and squatting over the bowl. Finally, in some semblance of peace, she had the same thoughts she had every time she used the bathroom at the diner.

My calves have to be extremely strong after doing this for four years. Can they hear me? Gosh, I hope they can’t hear me. I think I’d kill myself. Well no, I wouldn’t because that’s a sin.

Finished, the file looked over next to her for the toilet paper, seeing the roll bare but the sake of two thin sheets stuck to the adhesive. “Aw, man. No paper.” She said to herself. She then tried forward, scouring her mind for a solution to such a predicament. Here she was, leaning forward with her rosary handing in her face, squatted over the toilet seat with urine dripping from her privates.

Today couldn’t be any worse.

Just then, the door shot open and slammed into the girl's head. Antoinette yelped at the harsh contact, not even paying attention to the scream let out by the man above her as she focused on her now throbbing head and tried not to fall into the toilet bowl. “Dammit, Antoinette, lock the door next time.” The man groaned. Antoinette held her head as if her hand would bring some sort of red to the area.

“Ok, Joey can you go grab me some toilet paper? We’re out.” She said, trying to focus on how embarrassing this whole ordeal was.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” He said through the door before drifting away.

Antoinette sighed, her head flopping down as she was once again left in that weird position, now even more embarrassed that someone saw her and that she was hit in the head. And it was her coworker.

Lord. I’m sorry but I must die today.

Joey then came back with a new roll of tissue, handing it to the girl through a crack in the bathroom door, even though he could see the girl in the small bathroom mirror. A few seconds after a flush and the sink running, Antoinette emerged with an awkward smile on her face to see Joey standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Hi.” Was all she said, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Hey.” The taller olive-skinned man said back. They stood in front of each other for a few moments in silence.

“You should go—“

“Sorry about—“

They stared at the same time, pausing before awkwardly laughing.

“I was gonna say sorry about your head. I kinda just barged in.” Joey continued, smiling down at the girl in front of him.

“It’s fine, I was sitting there very awkwardly. Squatting rather.” She stared, brushing it off. “I was saying that you should head on in there and…do whatever you were going to do.” She shrugged. She could feel her heatwave pick up just being in his presence. And the longer she looked at him in those sultry brown eyes, the feeling of a hot pool started to rumble in her lower stomach. She might’ve been a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid.

Well, not entirely.

She knew she found Joey attractive, but the feeling she got when she stood too close to him was not okay in her book. It triggered her fight or flight, but instead of running away or throwing fists at him, she wanted to jump into his arms.

Yeah, I can’t do this. It’s time to leave.

“Well, it was nice speaking to you Joey, have a nice day. Oh, and Lonny wants you to remove the homeless guy from the booth in the back.” She spat out in a hurry as she grabbed her bag from the hook, along with her coat, and walked back to the front. She passed the table on her way out, seeing that they were now eating. “Oh, you guys got your food. Great.” She said with a small customer service smile as she continued walking.

“Yeah, our order is actually wrong—.” The woman from before couldn’t get out much more before Antoinette was cutting her off.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock. Bye.” She cheesed on her last words and walked out of the door, a bell ringing above her head. She scurried to the alley on the side of the building, to see her bike still double-chained to a random pipe in the next building over. It was basically a little game at this point to come around the corner and see if her bike was still there. Sighing in relief, she rushed over to the baby blue bike with a wicker basket in the front. She unclasped her key from her wrist and unlocked the heavy-duty chains she bought with her last few dollars when she moved to New York. This elderly couple had given her the bike when they saw the girl walking in the rain, saying it was their daughter’s old bike. But since the girl was lost and confused in a very nice neighborhood, she had to buy some chains so she didn’t get jacked before she could get to enjoy its labor.

The girl opened the basket in the front of her bike to place her chains into when she paused at the sight of something wrapped in the large bin. The thing was moving underneath the black cloth and Antoinette was just frozen. She glanced around at the alley to see if anyone was watching her but spotted not a single soul. Sighing, the girl reached out and pulled back the back fabric, being sure to keep her head as far away as she could whilst also being able to see within the basket. Seeing that whatever it was didn’t violently react to her movements, she eased forward to see a tuft of sandy white hair.

What in tarnation is this?

Now confused, the girl leaned forward and pulled the cloth back more to see two small kittens in her backseat, one was this sanely blonde color, the darker part of its body being its nose area and its tail. The other kitten was a mix of colors, mainly orange and black with white spots here and there. Antoinette’s heart immediately melted at the sight of the two kittens.

“Awww!” The girl said, pouting at the creatures who lay in her basket. Well, one creature lay while the other moved around in the basket as best as it could. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” The girl gushed as she lifted the blanket with them two in it to place the chains at the bottom of the basket. Once placing them back down, she looked at the cats, who eventually acknowledged the woman above them with tiny meows, as if they were speaking to her speaking voice. Antoinette nearly cried as she continued to fawn over the cute little animals.

“Yeah, you two are coming home with me.” She said as she mounted her bike and washed her way out of the alley. “Des is just gonna love you two!” She said excitedly, closing the top of her basket and riding off into the New York City streets.

“Why the hell are there kittens in the kitchen?” The light skin girl said as she walked into the small flat and hung her keys and coat near the door before turning to her right to see two kittens in the kitchen licking at a bowl of milk on the corner. Antoinette smiled at the girl as the light from her laptop reflected off her large glasses.

“Hello, Odessa.” The girl said formally laying one hand on top of another as she sat straighter in her seat. The lighter girl furrowed her brows, eyeing her friend across from her in the small kitchen.

“What do you have to say?” The girl demanded out of her rather than asked, already tired from a long work day and knowing Antoinette had something up her sleeve.

She’s sneaky for a catholic…Well, aren’t they all? According to history.

“Well, to answer your previous question, these cats are here because some holy being left them in my basket on my bike.” She started. She could see Odessa was about to speak again but she interrupted before she could. “And before you say anything discouraging, I’d just like to say I did some extensive research. The multicolored one is a calico kitten, and did you know that approximately one calico in 3,000 is male? And guess what? He’s male!” The girl with glasses said, faking her shock again to add to the dramatic value in front of Odessa. The leather-clad girl just leaned against the kitchen archway with her arms folded, face stoic. Seeing that Antoinette was waiting for some sort of reaction before she continued, the woman slightly opened her mouth to let out a small gasp, glancing over at the kitten near her feet.

Antoinette smiled before continuing. “And that quiet and mysterious beauty is a ragdoll kitten. They have an above-average life span, fully grown at 4 years old, quiet by nature, as you can tell. And they are one of the largest cat breeds out there, which is also kind of confusing because you’re supposed to mix other breeds to get a ragdoll cat.” She said, trailing off at the end as she looked at her laptop in confusion, those two facts not making much sense in her mind. Shaking off the thought, the spec-wearing girl looked over at her cooler friend, who just stared at her. Antoinette put on her best smile.

Well, not her best. She was sort of anxious about the whole situation so the smile was kind of awkward, the girl showing all of her adult teeth while her eyes waited on an answer, her brows giving away her concern.

After a moment of silence, the two just looking at one another, Odessa cracked first.

“We can’t keep the cats.” That was all she said before all hell broke loose.

“But, I did so much research on them! I could probably work as a veterinarian with all the knowledge I know now.” The girl in pink whined.

Odessa just started, moving to put her hands in the pockets of her leather pants, the tattoos on her arms showing.

“It was basically a sign from God- well the universe that I’m meant to keep them. They just appeared in my basket, begging for my care.” She continued, changing her words when she saw the girl's brow spike at the mention of the guy up above. That still didn’t get a reaction out of the girl, Odessa just moved across the small kitchen and past the tiny table to the fridge. Antoinette followed her moments within her seat, desperation etched into her face.

“I mean, it won’t cost us much. I can use the bin we use for our socks as their litter box and just use sand from the cigarette pot downstairs.” I’m grasping at freaking straws here.

Odessa turned around once she had the beer in her hands and used the counter to pop the lid off. “And for now we can just give them milk, ya know since we always have some that go bad and we’re lactose intolerant anyway.” She continued, taking her glasses off her face to look at her friend.

Odessa cringed at her words, and leaned against the counter now, which was only about three feet away from the other girl. “That sounds like a terrible life for these poor kittens, Antoinette. And us.” She said before taking a swig of her beer. “We can’t afford them.”

“I mean, it's not like we’re poor. We can take care of them.”

“We have a box television in the year 2023…” Odessa started, “And it’s not even in our living room, it’s in the kitchen and it’s the size of a basketball.” She finished, pointing over to the small television on the corner of the table that softly played reruns of old television shows with the antenna that aimed at the small kitchen window. “We don’t even have fucking cable.”

“Language,” Antoinette muttered. “I mean, at least we get to watch Sex & The City and Living Single for free.” She smiled over at Odessa, who gave her a simple stare. “We can’t afford them, Bennie.” She said softly.

Antoinette then deflated, shoulders sagging as she leaned back in the old wooden chair. She had lost all hope as soon as the girl said that name, Odessa only calling her that when she was serious about something. Mainly because Odessa hated nicknames. “Okay, I’ll find them somewhere tomorrow.” She softly whined before putting her head in her hands. Odessa pursed her lips in sadness, patting the girl on the shoulder for comfort before making her way out of the kitchen. It only took her about three steps before she was in what most would call a living room, but Odessa liked to call it her room. Since it essentially was her room.

The far wall was made of brick, with a green couch in front of it that let out into her bed and a small back circle table in the middle, on top of an ugly carpet.

The girl sighed as she turned and dropped down onto the couch, letting her back hit the seat cushions. The old ceiling light hurt her eyes and made her already terrible hangover headache worse, so she threw her arms over her eye, placing her face in her elbow. Getting home late last night from one of her small concerts, she liked to call them, at the bar she worked at, she got a little too wasted. It was a recurring theme for her honestly.

Get up, go to work at the bar, wait till 10 to start performing, do that until about 2 am, get drunk afterward and either go home with whoever she decides to lay with that night or go to her humble abode. She didn’t perform every night, but when she did, that was usually the routine. And now she was suffering the consequences of getting drunk and staying up until 5 am when she had to work only hours later. At least she didn’t perform tonight, now she could stay in longer since it was only 6.

Her head becoming too much, the girl sat up from the couch to head to the bathroom to see if she could salvage some pain pills. But before she could, the sight of a pile of letters caught her eye. Reaching over, she grabbed the small pile to sort through.

Bill, bill, bill, creepy letter, postcards, bill, rent, perfume samples…What the hell?…

Odessa paused at the sight of the letter, the off-white paper wax-sealed with a red stamp. She squinted, looking at the seal to see if she knew the symbol from somewhere. Looking at it in just the wax form, she couldn’t quite make it out but she knew it looked familiar. Standing up, she kept her eyes on the letter as she walked back to the kitchen.

“Did you see this creepy ass letter in the mail?” She asked, standing the the archway and turning the letter to face Antoinette, who had her head propped on her chin as she sadly looked at places where she could drop the kittens off. Speaking of kittens, they now lay in the girls’ lap, curled into one another in almost a yin and yang symbol.

Antoinette looked up, squinting at the girl who was blurry since she didn’t have on her glasses. Odessa walked forward, placing the letter in front of her roommate.

Placing her spec on, Antoinette inspected the letter more, immediately recognizing the symbol. She furrowed her brows, glancing up at the even more confused Odessa. Gliding her long bare nails under the wax seal, she popped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. “Ohh, handwritten.” She said to herself as she looked at the unfolded paper.

She was silent as she read through the letter, causing Odessa to just stand before her and wait for the girl to speak. She watched Antoinette read the letter, her face going through a mix of emotions. First, her brows raised in surprise in the beginning as she hummed in contempt. Then her eyes widened as she continued before she got to the end of the letter and gasped.

“What is it?! You’re making my blood pressure rise.” Odessa said, watching the girl intensely.

“It’s from Saint Mary’s.” She started, not looking up to see Odessa cringe at the words. “They said a lot has changed in the last four years. Mother Agnes died, and they refurbished the church and built it. And they even have new staff, but the community is failing. They sent letters to all the kids that grew up in the foster home to see if they’d come to work there to improve their quality of life. Pay and free housing included.” She finished, looking up at the girl before her.

Neither of them could look each other in the eyes at the news, both of them still processing everything. Mainly the information about Mother Agnes dying. There was a sense of relief as if the girls had been haunted by everything that woman did to them. And in a sense, they were. They’ve endured too much pain at the hands of Mother Agnes. So much pain that they had to live with their whole lives, and leaving there didn’t help as much as they thought it would. They just now had a place to express such feelings out loud. Although they never did. Conditioning at its finest. Just thinking about their youth made Odessa want to break down and cry after so many years of pushing those memories away. And Antoinette…she could have a panic attack just being back at such a place.

After a moment of silence, Antoinette read over the letter again and again while Odessa just started in thought, someone finally spoke.

“We should do it.” She said softly, not looking up in fear of Odessa’s reaction.

“And why the hell would we do that?” The other girl asked harshly, offended that Antoinette even thought of such a possibility.

“Because it could help.” She answered softly. “We could use the money.”

“We have money. You and I both work.”

“You said it yourself, Des,” Antoinette said looking up, her hands slightly shaking as she played with the letter in her hands. The thought of going back wasn’t doing her psyche any good, but she felt as if this was a good opportunity. Maybe this could be good for us. “We don’t have the money.”

“I said that about your cats. Me and you are living just fine.” Odessa spat, her words harsh as she looked down at the darker-skinned girl. Antoinette subtly flinched at her tone, looking back down at the letter in her hands. Odessa saw her small movements and immediately felt bad, she wasn’t making the situation any better.

“It could be good for us.” Antoinette started again, not looking up this time. “We could go there and help out. Make it a better place than it was when we were there. Be nicer to the children so they…don’t end up like us.” She said. Her words hung in the air for a moment. “I mean, what other place is gonna offer us free housing and a job?”

“We go back just so we can be in debt to those people?” Odessa stated, ignoring what the girl previously said about helping the children. “So they can treat us like some charity case? Like they did when we were foster children?” She continued to ask, staring at the top of Antoinette’s head since she refused to lift her eyes from the wax she was ripping off the paper envelope. “I’m not going through that again, not for some people who didn’t give a damn about us then.”

“There’s new people.”

“Yeah, and who do you think taught them what they know?” She asked, folding her arms. There was a thick silence between them.

Antoinette nodded, never looking up. “You're right.” She closed her old laptop and adjusted the kittens into her arms. She then tucked her laptop under her arm and stood up. “I’m gonna go to bed now, good night.” She said softly, walking past Odessa and into the small room on the other side of the living room. Odessa sighed, placing her head into her head as she heard the girl's door softly close from her place in the kitchen.

Antoinette didn’t come out of her room after that, but Odessa could hear her shuffling around in the very small space. She now lay on her bed couch, looking over at the skinny door every time she heard the slightest moment from the room. She would wait to see if the girl would come out in the middle of the night like she always did to ask her random questions, say a random fact, or go to the kitchen to get some water and get caught up in the small television. But none of that ever came.

As soon as Odessa thought sleep was about to finally meet her halfway, she got caught in the words Antoinette said earlier. About helping the children.

Now, Odessa was far from a children's type of person. She was far from a people person, honestly, but she had to make a living somehow. So, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was so affected by the girl's words as soon as they left her mouth. But deep down, she knew why. And so did Antoinette.

Even in the foster home, Odessa would always protect the younger kids from punishment. Taking all their lashing so she didn’t have to hear the cries of children being hurt. Antoinette is one of those kids when the others would blame things on her. And she would take their pain with no words since the age of fourteen. She never vocally expressed the pain she felt emotionally, mentally, and definitely not physically. That mentality infuriated Mother Agnes to the point she would single the girl out and beat the girl harder to see if she could make her break. But Odessa only let tears slip when she was alone.

Now Antoinette didn’t know the severity her words would have on Odessa’s mind, so she couldn’t blame the girl. But she knew that the girl was right. Odessa would do anything in her power to make sure no other kids ended up like her. She would do anything to not hear the cries of pain from children who busted and wanted to be accepted and loved.

And with that thought, she got up from the bed and walked over to Antoinette’s room. She opened the small door that led to the tiny room to see the girl’s back facing the door, looking out the window at the city as she lay in bed and petted the two cats.

“I changed my mind.” She said softly.

Antoinette glanced over her shoulder. “About the cats?” She started. “Nah, I think you’re right. I don’t think I can care for them properly.” She said sadly, turning to look back out of the window.

“No, not about the cats,” Odessa stated.

There was a pause between the two, Antoinette processing the girl's words. She then sat up in her bed and turned to face the girl at her door, five feet away from her. “What made you change your mind?” She asked softly.

“You were right. About everything.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She was anxious about the whole situation. Coming to such a conclusion about her feelings and the thought of going back to the town brought more bad memories than good. But also to how her best friend would react. But that was all washed away when she saw the girl smile.

“Can I bring the cats?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping kittens in her bed. Odessa giggled, looking at the pleading smile on her friend's face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, they’ll have more space to grow. Its a better life than here.” She said shrugging.

Antoinette then gasped. “Oh! Now I can get one of those cute wax melt sets so I can’t write back to them.” She smiled excitedly. “Oh, this is gonna be so great!”

Odessa smiled at the girl's excitement. “Now get some sleep, we have some things to sort out before we head up.” That was all she said before she closed the door behind her and made her way back to bed. She let out one final sigh before closing her eyes and letting sleep take her away.

Antoinette smiled at the door as it closed before looking down at the animals at her side. “Ya see, prayers do get answered, guys.” She said, holding up her right hand that was wrapped in her rosary, showing it to the sleeping cats. “Oh, you guys can’t hear me. Or understand me. Or understand religion. I need to go to bed.” She hugged before plopping down onto her pillow with an anxious smile and closing her eyes.

Let me know if you guys like the story and if you’d liked to be added to the taglist!!!

#challengersmovie #challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #mike faist #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #josh o connor #josh o’connor x reader #josh o'connor #priest kink #fleabag #jazziejaxchallengers #jazziejaxwriting #jazziejaxllb

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somethingsomethingwords · 7 months ago

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Hello everybody. Long time no see, but it's been one of those months, you know. This was something I've been thinking about for a while, but I only finished it because of @nico-di-genova. So this is for you honey.

As always thanks to everyone for reading. Enjoy 💜

Everything was going great. Fernando was at a party, where people were drinking and having fun. All around him, the younger drivers were finally decompressing, enjoying the alcohol, the food and the company.

At the center of the sea of people, there was the brightest star of the night.

Lance had finally won a race, and he was celebrating as loudly as he could, sandwiched between Esteban and Mick.

He envied the joy written all over their faces, and how close they were.

He loved the sport, even after his fake retirement, even after all those years, but there was something about maiden wins that still no other win could recreate.

Jóder, soy tan viejo was thinking Nando, when someone tapped his shoulder.

"I think it's late enough, no?" asked Pierre, and it really was getting late, and the trio seemed to be losing energy.

"Yeah, sounds about right. How about we split them? I'm taking Mick, and you take your teammates?" said Lewis, already stepping towards the boys.

Pierre started following him, muttering some curses that would have made blush a sailor. Nando snorted at the scene, and looked as the Brit took the German, while the French men started bickering.

The Canadian was looking around, confused after losing his partners in crime, but then he turned towards Fernando and smiled, slowly making his way towards the Spanish.

"Hola Lancito. Want to go?" asked Nando, seeing the younger man swinging slightly on his feet.

"I lost Estie and Mickie. Où sont-ils?"

Half drunk out of his mind, and he was still worried about his friends. Lance's loyalty really knew no bounds.

"They're ok, with Lewis and Pierre. I will take you home." and with that, he placed his hand on the younger's lower back.

The reaction was immediate. Lance's whole body shivered and pressed against his side, lowering his head on the shorter man's shoulder.

"Too loud. Je veux du silence"

"Oui mon amour. Let's go somewhere quiet" his French was heavily accented, but Lance seemed satisfied enough.

Nando guided the other man to his car, and drove them to their shared hotel, while Lance napped with his face against the window and his neck in a weird position.

When they arrived, Fernando struggled a little to wake the other enough to put him vertically in the elevator and walk to his room. At the door, Lance refused to lean against the doorframe, and settled only when he was hugging Fernando. "Warm" was the only word he said.

"Lance, I need the key" Fernando spoke softly.

"Poche" just answered the taller man, with no visible intention to loosen the embrace.

Fernando tried to be respectful, and to not feel the solid curve pressed against his hand. He soon found the key in his back pocket, and opened the door.

Once they were both in, he quickly realised that Lance would not move further, so he just put him on the bed, and went to take a glass and fill it with water.

Returning to the bedroom, he found Lance half naked.

"Where are your pants?" he asked, voice an octave too high, almost dropping the glass, before setting it on a nightstand.

"Lost them. Too hot" he shrugged.

Then, even more bafflingly, he started giggling.

"What is now?" he asked, fondly looking as Lance tried to take off his shirt without opening a single button. He succeeded, but his hair was now a fluffy mess.

"You remind me of Nano"

The use of his nickname surprised Fernando. The younger man refused using it, always sticking with his full name. Then the absurdity of it all hit him, and he started giggling as well.

"Ah, sì? How so?"

He was getting curious, sue him.

"It's your voice. It's soft and warm. Would listen for hours"

Fernando wasn't expecting this answer, but it melted his heart anyway.

"Mhhh. Then want a bedtime story?"

Any more time spent with Lance was a gift and a surprise wrapped in wonder. He was not going to deny himself this experience, even only for blackmail reasons. Jokingly, he was done with mind games and tricks. He would never do them again, especially not against Lance.

"Nah. A secret"

"A secret, mh? Let's trade. You tell me, I tell you" if Fernando was going to indulge him, at least it was going to be funny.

"Ça va...Ah, oui, daccord, j'en ai un. I like him so much" and then started giggling again.

Fernando felt like all of his body had gone stone cold, and couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't believe what the other told him. But before he could say anything, Lance nestled in the sheets, and softly said while closing his eyes:

"I like him soooooo much, even if he doesn't feel the same. It's ok, don't think I'd deserve him. What we have, it's special. It is enough"

And with this, he was done for the day.

And he wasn't the only one. Fernando felt like he was going to explode, too many thoughts in his head and words on his tongue, with no one to talk to. He could feel his hair turning gray.

But a single look to that peaceful face, and his heart stopped beating erratically. Everything was going to be alright. They could face this together.

This and more, hopefully.

They were going to solve this tangled mess, but first they both needed to rest.

So he left a note for Lance, simply writing "Call me in the morning. -FA" on a piece of paper and leaving it on top of Lance's phone, where he was sure the other man would see it, and then he left the room, dreaming of his own bed and a restful night of sleep.

---

He was never going to win another GP ever again, if the results were the pounding headache and the rancid taste in his mouth.

He slowly opened his eyes, careful of the half opened blinds, and looked around.

Thanks to some sort of divine intervention, he had made it to the hotel safe and sound.

He got up and went to the bathroom, peeing, washing his face and brushing his teeth.

When he came back to the bedroom, he started looking for his phone. He almost missed it, but then noticed it was just half covered by a yellow post-it. It simply said "Call me in the morning. -FA".

Ok, so he probably would have to thank Fernando for making it to his bed unscathed. He tried to think about the night before, especially trying to remember his interaction with the Spanish driver.

At first, he couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary, then it hit him.

An echo of his own giggle, soft brown eyes, the whisper of a "like him so much".

Oh, no.

Oh no.

He had done it. He confessed, and now Fernando was going to be overly amused about it. Or overly nice, and Lance didn't know what was worse.

Rejection was always a bitch, but basically having to live with your unrequited crush for 24 week-ends? That was going to be a nightmare to go through for all parts involved.

Or maybe just for Lance, with his stupid feelings and his too-hopeful heart.

Ugh, Lance just didn't know what to do.

On one hand, he wanted to call Fernando and be done with all of this. On the other, he wanted to pretend nothing happened, and everything was fine and normal and good.

He sighed, because deep down he knew he was going to have to talk with Fernando, if he liked it or not.

Ok, let's analyze. He knows I like him, and still wants to talk to me. So, he is going to reject me kindly, at least. Ok, we can totally take it like champs. Basic rule still applied: no tears in front of him. It should be quick and painless. Ok, we can do this.

So he took his time in the shower, and ordered a healthy if slightly generous breakfast.

When he was done, he brushed his teeth, wore his comfort hoodie and left his room in a controlled chaos.

One mess at a time: first his love life, then his room.

He knew that Fernando's room was the one across from his, so he didn't even bother calling. He simply knocked.

When the door opened, Lance was sure he had hit his head badly the night before. Maybe the possible concussion and heavy hepatic failure led him to an early grave.

But if death meant he could get to see a still semi-wet Nando, covered just by a tiny towel low on his hips, well, he lived a rich and full life, if a little short.

He could feel himself staring, but also couldn't take his eyes off the view.

He just waited for the self-combustion to take him.

Then he heard a light chuckle, and a hand gently gripped his sleeve, pulling him inside.

When the subject of his awe turned his back on him, walking to the adjacent kitchenette, his brain seemed to be back online.

He shook his head and closed the door behind himself like a particularly stupid rabbit that voluntarily enters the den of a particularly fascinating fox.

Fernando must have known how nervous he was feeling, because he gave him a glass of water and led him to the couch.

"Wait here, I'll be right back" said the Spanish man, leaving Lance alone, stunned and with the glass still in his hand.

You're being ridiculous, grow a pair and just talk like the adult you supposedly are, a voice in his head that sounded like his sister's gently scolded him.

He drank the water while waiting, and felt slightly better.

When Fernando re-entered the room, calm and collected and clothed, Lance waited until he was seated before looking him in the eyes and starting speaking.

"Thank you for last night. For bringing me here safely, I mean"

Not the smoother transition ever, but Fernando had to be used to how stilted he sounded, and would appreciate it anyway.

"No need to. We are friends, no?" he asked with something in his eyes that Lance couldn't describe, but that made him want to talk more.

"About that... I also wanted to say sorry if I said something weird yesterday"

See Chloe? He was actually talking about things that embarrassed him instead of forever avoiding them. Well, not really being super specific, but small progress was still progress.

"Hmm... And what are you referring to?"

The bastard was actually going to make him say the words. Well, in for a penny...

"That I like you"

Lance could feel his cheeks heating up and could no longer stand Fernando's gaze, so he moved his eyes until he was watching a particularly boring patch of carpet.

"Lance, look at me"

It only took those four words, spoken in a tone so gentle and warm to bring Lance's eyes back to Fernando's.

"Why are you apologizing? Did you lie?" he asked softly.

"No" he half shouted, and then flinched because of the reaction. "No, I do like you" he said, exhaling.

"Then what are you apologizing for?"

Fernando could be soft when he wanted, but that didn't stop him from being stubborn.

"I didn't want to offend you" and also didn't want you to really know, because it's embarrassing and you deserve better and I can't be normal about this nor you.

He didn't say the words, but Fernando must have been able to hear them anyway, because he responded firmly.

"You didn't"

That lifted a huge weight from Lance's shoulders. Maybe this partnership could still be saved.

"Ok. Good, I'm glad" he was being awkward and subtly twisting his fingers. But nothing escaped Fernando's attention.

Seeing how the younger man was spiralling in his own thoughts, he didn't hesitate, reaching out to him and taking a hold of his hands.

"There is no need to be nervous. Just tell me again, tell me properly"

Lance could see in his eyes the want and the patience and something else.

They were in this together, he suddenly realised.

You are not alone anymore, said his mental Chloe.

He inhaled as much air as he could, held it and then exhaled. He found the strength he needed in a pair of brown eyes that were already looking in his own.

"I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I like you. I like how you drive, how you give feedback on the car and how you are always, no matter what, the best. But that's just racing stuff. I like how you compliment me, how you never made me feel less than, or just a spoiled kid, how you make me feel. But those are selfish reasons. I like how kind you are with kids, how ready you are to help any of the other drivers. But most importantly, I like you, Fernando Alonso, two times world champion, menace on and off track, mentor and teammate and friend and so much more. I like you, Nando"

He barely finished talking that there was a pair of lips on his own, soft and warm and gentle.

He realised he closed his eyes only when he opened them, and in front was Fernando, bright and shining and perfect in every way that mattered. To Lance, at least.

"You made me wait a long time, no? Let's not waste anymore" he said before diving in a second kiss that was hot and passionate and demanding.

Fernando broke the kiss and stood up, starting to walk, and Lance could only follow the man leading him towards his bed, and towards a life together.

#strollonso #fernando alonso #lance stroll #grumpy cat boy x besotted old man #some love for lance #because he deserves it #insecure lance is insecure but nando gets him so...

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incandesang · 2 years ago

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i wrote an (incomplete) list of everything wrong with lestat de lioncourt. take this knowing it is a work in progress.

- mommy issues

- daddy issues

- 18th century aristocrat

- religion hops like trisha paytas (thank u anne. i will not become catholic u will not defeat me)

- french

- was a misogynist until the 20th century

- wanted to be a priest

- theatre kid

- cries to get attention

- won’t shut the fuck up about the fact he killed a whole pack of wolves when he was in his teens. that was 200 years ago please try to accomplish something else cool

- his accent is fake. he just puts on a parisian french accent. he’s from the fucking sticks he did not speak parisian french until he was 19 and then only lived in paris for like 2 years max. his accent is FAKE.

- doesn’t stick to his own morals and then makes excuses abt it

- once ate an old lady and had a crisis so bad that he almost died

- canonically op bc anne wanted him to be her mary sue babygirl

- blond cis man

- SERIOUS self esteem issues that he has to get everyone involved with

- has an existential crisis that nearly kills him at least once a decade

- rock star outfits weren’t slutty enough (thanks ANNE.)

- hasn’t had a sense of identity since 1780!!

- too committed to the bit actually

- absolutely fucking delusional (so i can fuck whoever i want 🤨 of COURSE 🤡 of course. 😤of course. 😨as long as you come home to me 😃 of COURSE 🥲)

- got murdered by a five year old at one point

- sees any hot miserable guy and thinks that’s his soulmate INSTANTLY

- had two glasses of wine on a date and then proceeded to scream cry about the inevitable heat death of the universe

- doesn’t know what a fork is???

- canonically into public humiliation and degradation. u cannot bully lestat at all it will just turn him on

- drank the blood of christ

- went down on his girlfriend on her period (hysterically crying the whole time he did it) while his friends watched (she didn’t orgasm. he was having too much of a crisis to actually give her a good time)

- ate a used pad.

- i JuSt LoVe BeiNg caLLeD A sLuT i DoN’t KnOw whY i JuSt dO

- set louis’ house on fire (all these people do is burn each other’s shit please just talk like adults)

- has no hobbies other than ‘get into dumb trouble��

- dated the world’s first terf

- is, according to the world’s first terf, a culmination of everything that is wrong with men

- described his dick with ‘priapus at a gate’ when he wanted to subtly brag abt how big his dick was. right after being told he was the culmination of everything wrong with men

- was confused when human dicks weren’t always erect (are vampires ALWAYS hard?? if anne wasn’t dead i’d ask her but alas)

#it’s also a joke && not that deep #most of the time the call is coming from INSIDE the house #lestat de lioncourt #vampire chronicles

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crazyufokid · 11 months ago

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Invader Zim Headcanons (will add to this in rbs like i did with my episode ideas post)

- Gaz is a video game streamer and Gir loves watching her.

- Speaking of which, he goes by GIR-IZ-DA-DOOMYEST online and has a channel where he uploads,, strange,, videos. They were mistaken for an arg at one point by the internet and Dib almost got invested in it until realizing it's just Gir being weird.

- After his old man disguise was compromised after Attack of the Saucer Morons, Zim's new human adult disguise for far earth travel is that of a stylish woman with a big hat (he does a fake french accent for it too).

- Although Zim is VERY envious of Skoodge being the first to conquer a planet, he also secretly admires him for it a little. But he'd never admit it tho, not even to himself.

- Sometimes when Dib can't sleep he bounces/flails in his bed (just like meeeee <3).

- Skoodge also has a french person disguise to match Zim's, he's got a mustache and everything.

- Dib likes making lengthy video essays but they get like, 15 views tops. And that's being generous.

#invader zim #gaz #gaz membrane #gir #dib #zim #skoodge #invader skoodge #invader zim headcanons

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valcubust-writes · 2 years ago

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Read the Demo here! / art account is @valcubust / Da Spotify

...

2027, A voice transcript found on a recording device:

"...can be killed with fire, testing done in..." A french accent. "September of 2025. If I am counting correct."

. . .

"Now, with more testing I can hopefully learn more about them. Learn advantages. Sending someone out to rile them up. Will check in later."

...End transcript.

You're alive.

One survivor amongst thousands of dead. The actual death toll (if there was ever a record of it) is unavailable now. The world ended in 2026.

Now, four-hundred and twenty-three days later, you're here. In the outskirts of Scarswater, Ohio; you live in what used to be a small farming community. Once full of life and a bustling economy, but even before The End, the area had been steadily gentrified. Dead fields, closed businesses, and now, a beautiful wasteland of parking lots and unused plazas.

Whatever caused it is unknown. Of course, you could ask everyone you know and they would all have their own ideas about what happened.

All that you know for certain is that in January of 2026, everything stopped working. Cellphones, computers, televisions... all electronics went on the fritz before shutting down entirely. After that, people started disappearing. Animals, too. And then went the crops, mass death of acres and acres of valuable foods and materials. All gone within six months. Mass hysteria ensued, people got scared, started hoarding goods. Everyone and their mother had a gun pointed right at the road, just in case anyone got any funny ideas.

And all of that was before the bizarre sightings.

The... things. Gooey, tar-like. They absorb, and absorb, and absorb.

You wondered, for a bit, how they could eat so much. But that thought has long passed. They have no limits, no voices, no care in the world except consume. How long until they finally consume you, too?

FEATURES

Play as a nonbinary, male, or female character; straight, bisexual, or gay.

Custom Pronouns (I'm considering adding duo pronouns as well. like, she/they etc.).

Choice for a ‘common’ name or something bizarre. In which characters will definitely recognize that you have named yourself something batshit.

Asexual routes (this is very important to me)!

A mildly customizable backstory

Several love interests

LOVE INTERESTS

Miles/Mindy (He/they, She/they): A surprisingly bashful stranger with a farmer's tan, M has the means to keep to themself alive and safe, so why are they bothering to make sure you make it, too? Circumstances have thrown the two of you together, whether or not they stick around is up to you.

Audria (They/them): Goofy and a little out of touch, Audria is a certified genius, not that it matters anymore. The key to your protection — and your group's — is them. They often head out of the camp to scavenge, and know how to keep a car running. Audria is one of the few people still around who knows anything about electronics. They often seem preoccupied with something important, but Audria always makes time for you.

Calvin/Carissa (He/him, She/her): The unofficial leader of your group — not that they'd want to claim the title — C is in charge of food collection, distribution, and growing. They have a chill attitude about life, and a whole mess of conspiracies. Still, you wonder what's hidden behind all of the easy smiles.

Lola (She/her): Lola is an unfriendly, hot mess. You've never met someone so flighty in your life. She is distrustful and stubborn, and you suspect even the name she told you might be fake. It might be hard to get to know her.

Sandy (She/her, He/him, They/them (genderfluid)): Sandy is a transfer from the West Coast. during a yearly visit to family, they got caught up in an unfamiliar setting. Sandy floats about life, taking very little seriously. They remain fickle in just about every category in their life; they have an easygoing attitude and a tendency to make everything into a joke.

OTHER CHARACTERS

Bea, Preston, Courtney

Bea (She/her): Bea is soft and caring. Not just to you, but the other people in your group as well. Being the only person around with any knowledge about healthcare, she is charge of medical.

Preston (He/him): Preston is a proper hill-billy, not the most likeable of people, but you can't deny he's a good shot. Preston keeps watch and hunts for the group.

Courtney (She/her): The younger sister to C, Courtney juggles many tasks, usually helping out with what others are doing. She always wants to go with you when you leave.

The rest will join later!:)

WARNINGS

Definitely some bad language, and slang that might not immediately understood by everyone. I’ll most likely include a glossary if it is too ‘Ohio’ of me.

A warning that there is definitely going to be reference to death and hardship (often), as well as active death among background/side characters.

I’m still waffling over a couple of the names I’ve chosen, but for now I think I’m satisfied with them. We shall see!

General warning for horror elements, there’s for sure going to be body horror in the future, and as well as I can write grotesque imagery.

Mentions/explicit depictions of drugs/alcohol/addictions/guns

content/trigger warnings for gender and body dysphoria, plus mild transphobia ( NOT EXPLICIT, it is implied, referencing a point in time in the past )

This setting is (obviously) very specific to me, as I’ve always wanted to tell a story about the type of scenery I see often. I’ve gotten to see a fun mix of rural yet urban in the area I live in that I haven’t seen someone really tackle before.

I’m also super busy, so writing will come pretty slow for me.

Important note: This story may be enjoyed by people who have the same tastes as me, but it’s mostly being written for myself! I love my characters dearly and it absolutely tickles me to see them finally coming to life in text. But it’s very sculpted to my preferences. This story is for me, and it is about my experiences and those I know closely. Give or take a few monsters.

#split if #valcubust #choice of games #interactive books #interactive fiction #split intro sheet #no one has ever been this nervous #as i am right now

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getlancered · 6 months ago

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welcome to my 1 million turnabout bigtop headcanons

russell berry:

actual personality description because in the game he just kind of dies. stoic, generally serious man. bit of a blank slate to talk to. secretly TERRIFIED of confrontation, will do just about anything he can to avoid every problem in his life. this is not to be confused with avoiding responsibility, because he is the bossiest motherfucker around besides maybe trilo. runs the circus with an iron fist. no problems to fix if you never let them happen in the first place!

AUTISM

british weirdo

actually pretty connected in the entertainment industry

when he’s not wearing a suit he usually wears sweaters

takes first impressions so so seriously

DEAD wife that hes still not over

her death is unrelated to the circus because i think he wouldve shut that down in one singular second if it was

the circus was a passion project of her and moe’s, but russell was the only one competent enough with money and people that he ended up basically running it. neither of them wanted to do the technicalities

he wont consider his sexuality because he only loves his dead wife

moe:

nickname comes from highschool and the shit he used to get into, fabricated an identity to some stranger after vandalizing their house and it just stuck

took “class clown” a little too seriously

used to be an actual stand up comedian but being a party clown is just wayyyy easier

manchild. very silly and not serious all the time. completely aware of it by the way and encourages whimsy in the world

most insufferable case of hyperactive ADHD in the world

cannot sit normally anywhere ever

has many little odd hobbies

owns a bunch of really stupid graphic/text tshirts that do not apply to him in the slightest

likes to carry around those little plastic toys with the metal ball and a maze that u tilt around to solve. also those little water games where u push the button to try and get the rings on the hook. do u guys know what im talking about

can and will juggle any 3 items he can get his hands on

clings to russell all the time. follows him around. absolutely hates being alone so russell is his solution

gay as fuck for russell berry. this is not a secret. at all.

helped russell out with regina quite a bit, esp after his wife died

fine at confrontation unless it is of his own emotional issues

max galactia’s #1 hater

regina berry:

AUTISM

british loser too but fakes a french accent because it’s cuter and more posh

very good at imitating accents!

absolutely not mentally 16. very ditzy and carefree and childish

is not at all prepared for genuine reality because she was raised and surrounded her entire life by the members of the circus

very athletic!

has personalities for each of her animals and talks to/treats them like people

her mom died when she was 6, this is where her belief of dead people being stars comes from because russell genuinely could not tell her the truth

also why she wasn’t that upset about her lion or bat

closest to acro in the circus and still considers them to be best friends despite acro genuinely despising her

automatically assumes everyone is her friend unless they do or say something that shows otherwise

moe calls her “tiger” because she got facepaint as a kid and kept it on for days while acting like a tiger

amazing gift-giver

crow girl. drawn to anything and everything sparkly

enjoys those really elaborate lego sets

ben/trilo:

ft my backstory headcanon for how he entered the circus because its never established

AUTISM

trilo is ben’s non-loser persona essentially

ben has had severe social anxiety since childhood

^ where the stutter comes from

met moe as a teenager at his little sisters birthday party, was genuinely curious about how he can just go up on a stage in such a ridiculous get-up. talk to people. be social. he did not get it

when russell started the circus, he wanted to join and gtfo from his house

probably the neglected child to his little sister i think

joined the circus shortly after regina was born and was kind of the de facto babysitter so he considers regina his actual little sister (LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.)

trilo was created for regina when she was born. ben was kind of like a babysitter to her and made up a gag with this puppet and slapstick comedy to keep baby regina entertained. the whole circus loved it and trilo stuck!

what was once a coping mechanism became a depedancy. the only people he can speak to without trilo are the circus members

because he and the circus treats trilo like a completely separate being for his act and for regina, he never worked up the nerve to talk to people. there was no practice there because trilo isn’t him

doesn’t absolutely despise max because max is essentially like if moe was less obnoxious. flamboyant and outgoing and actually helpful!

great impressionist

max galactica:

entered the entertainment industry as a teenager after being scouted in high-school

genuinely does not give two shits about what other people think about him because he knows theyre all wrong. self-centered asshole

BAAAD anger issues. frequently smashes plates over dinner arguments. raises his voice quickly

only person spared from his eternal rage is regina berry

not getting his way makes him like genuinely upset

loves to threaten to quit to make everyone do what he wants

probably some sort of personality disorder

in a beautiful world he goes to therapy

he does actually genuinely want them to all be better performers but he’s literally terrible at showing it LMAO

lover of really obnoxious and clearly fabricated reality TV

massive drama whore. gossiper like no other.

the worst cook you’ve ever met in your life

drag queen!

into loser men (benjamin woodman)

acro/ken:

AUTISM

would both kill and die for every single member of the circus

including regina. not the kind of person to ever hold such a deep grudge so this is a first for him and he has very mixed feelings about it all

he gets physical therapy and his life is better ♥️

very emotional but great at regulating his feelings and self reflection. also great poker face!

terrible at accepting anyones act of kindness no matter how big or small. feels like he always has to pay everything back

tends to hide himself away if he is genuinely upset enough to the point of not being able to hide it

extremely observant person. in both behaviors and physical settings. always knows what to look for and what is out of place

very blunt but not. rude. just sort of speaks his thoughts and feelings. either honest about what he feels or dead silent

terrible liar

“will listen to anything” music kind of guy

actually quite prideful but like. in a healthy way.

tanktop wearer duh this we know but just generally a hater towards long sleeved shirts

decent artist! fun little hobby for him

#spade rambles #ace attorney #russell berry #moe curls #regina berry #benjamin woodman #max galactica #ken dingling #10 points to whoever can guess my fav character (hard edition)

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secretmellowblog · 2 years ago

Text

The wild thing about the Fantine/Tholomyes chapters is that —they’re sort of an allegory for the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy?

Fantine is the child of the French Revolution, born during the reign of the Directory. She doesn’t even have a legal name— she’s an “anonymous” Jane Doe stand-in for all the common people who were born during the Revolution and relying on it to improve their future.

Though she had emerged from the most unfathomable depths of social shadow, she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. She was born at M. sur M. Of what parents? Who can say? She had never known father or mother. She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed.

Tholomyes, meanwhile, is compared to the restored monarchy. He’s described as the group’s leader,

one felt the force of government in him; there was dictation in his joviality; his principal ornament was a pair of trousers of elephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps of braided copper wire; he carried a stout rattan worth two hundred francs in his hand, and, as he treated himself to everything

and is once described as speaking with

with the accent of a man who had recovered his empire….

I feel like Tholomyès’s descriptions might also echo contemporary parodies of Louis XVIII? He looks old/ugly but is dressed in clothes so lavish they make him appear ridiculous. In his incoherent speeches to the group, he encourages “moderation.” Being too moderate/not extreme enough was a common criticism of King Louis XVIII, who was too conservative to be supported by liberals/republicans but also wasn’t conservative enough to appease ultra-royalists.

Tholomyès is also a law student, and will later become a court Justice known for being “rigid”/severe— making him an active enforcer of the King’s laws.

Throughout the chapters the effects of the Bourbon restoration are even talked about explicitly in ways that parallel the description of the couples.

We get all these rosy descriptions of how the couples are In Love and everything is Wonderful and Nothing is Wrong and everyone is Happy and Everything is Fine… but there’s something wrong about it. Something feels off. The “love” feels hollow and fake, like a shallow facade. It feels like something bad is about to happen. Things are clearly not fine. And that feeling of wrongness only builds and becomes more obvious as the story continues.

Then, juxtaposed with the descriptions of the lovers, the story is interrupted by similarly rosy descriptions of the Restoration. The opening chapter (“the Year 1817”) lists all the things happening during the Restoration in the way Hugo later lists all the amusements the lovers entertain themselves with. Then we get a chapter interrupting the flow of the story to address the monarchy specifically. The chapter begins by saying Everything is fine. Everyone is happy. Everyone loves the monarchy. Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect under the Bourbons. Parisians don’t want to rebel anymore, they just want to laze around amusing themselves like bored cats.

Everything was radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound royalist security; it was the epoch when a special and private report of Chief of Police Anglès to the King, on the subject of the suburbs of Paris, terminated with these lines:—

“Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing to be feared from these people. They are as heedless and as indolent as cats. The populace is restless in the provinces; it is not in Paris. These are very pretty men, Sire. It would take all of two of them to make one of your grenadiers. There is nothing to be feared on the part of the populace of Paris the capital. It is remarkable that the stature of this population should have diminished in the last fifty years; and the populace of the suburbs is still more puny than at the time of the Revolution. It is not dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble.”

But Hugo can’t keep that pretense up for long and it becomes a tirade about how Things Are Not Fine, lots of people hate the Bourbons, and people will be rioting in the streets soon.

Prefects of the police do not deem it possible that a cat can transform itself into a lion; that does happen, however, and in that lies the miracle wrought by the populace of Paris. Moreover, the cat so despised by Count Anglès possessed the esteem of the republics of old. In their eyes it was liberty incarnate; and as though to serve as pendant to the Minerva Aptera of the Piræus, there stood on the public square in Corinth the colossal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of the Restoration beheld the populace of Paris in too “rose-colored” a light; it is not so much of “an amiable rabble” as it is thought. The Parisian is to the Frenchman what the Athenian was to the Greek: no one sleeps more soundly than he, no one is more frankly frivolous and lazy than he, no one can better assume the air of forgetfulness; let him not be trusted nevertheless; he is ready for any sort of cool deed; but when there is glory at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in every sort of fury. Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; give him a gun, you will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon’s stay and Danton’s resource. Is it a question of country, he enlists; is it a question of liberty, he tears up the pavements. Beware! his hair filled with wrath, is epic; his blouse drapes itself like the folds of a chlamys. Take care! he will make of the first Rue Grenétat which comes to hand Caudine Forks. When the hour strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow in stature; this little man will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, and his breath will become a tempest, and there will issue forth from that slender chest enough wind to disarrange the folds of the Alps. It is, thanks to the suburban man of Paris, that the Revolution, mixed with arms, conquers Europe. He sings; it is his delight. Proportion his song to his nature, and you will see! As long as he has for refrain nothing but la Carmagnole, he only overthrows Louis XVI.; make him sing the Marseillaise, and he will free the world.

It’s clear from the beginning that Tholomyes will betray and abandon Fantine, in the same way the return of the monarchy betrayed and abandoned the poor and vulnerable people who were born into the world of the Revolution.

#Les mis #Les mis letters #Fantine #Tholomyes #lm 1.3.7

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allsassnoclass · 6 months ago

Note

HELL YEAH!!! can i get uhhhh #9, an I'm so proud of you kiss? pairing, fandom, etc is all up to you :) ill read it even if im not in the fandom go fkn crazy ily xoxo

hi @clumsyclifford!!! alrighty let's throw some fake college sports players in here.

jerejean: I'm so proud of you kiss

Jeremy goes to find Jean after a few minutes, weaving through the crowd of his teammates and the Foxes until he reaches the edge of their party's sphere, out in the sand where the light from the bonfire has no hope of reaching. He stumbles over Neil and Andrew, drawn hypnotically to the bright cherry of the cigarette they're sharing, but neither of them question where he's going or make any attempt at conversation. Neil simply tilts his head to the left with a knowing look, and Jeremy nods in thanks once he spots the shadowy figure sitting yards away in the darkness, looking out at the waves.

Jean doesn't look up as Jeremy approaches, chin resting on his knees as he looks distantly out at the ocean, where the horizon line blends too deep in the darkness to discern what is sea and what is sky anymore. Jeremy flops gracelessly down next to him, kicking up sand and checking to be sure Jean isn't shying away. He relaxes when he doesn't. Jean still doesn't do well with isolation, but he's an introvert at heart and needs his space. After the events of today, Jeremy isn't surprised that he retreated down the beach to be alone, but he also knows that it's the kind of alone that Jeremy is welcome to interrupt.

It makes his chest fill with warmth, being one of the people that Jean doesn't need energy to be around. It's a privilege that he doesn't take lightly, especially when so few people in Jean's life have been safe. For him to have found a group of people to love and be loved by in return is no small feat, and it's something that they've gradually cultivated together in the past year.

For a moment, Jeremy thinks about the first time he saw Jean in person outside of a court, watching the shell of a man cautiously approach him at LAX with only a few t-shirts, a tattoo, and years of abuse to his name. He would never have predicted that they'd be here now, only a few weeks shy of a year later. Jean has grown in ways too numerous to list, but Jeremy has changed, too. It's a mutual metamorphosis, made more important for the way that they've grown in harmony with each other, filling in each other's gaps while leaving room for the other person to stretch and flourish.

Of course, one other difference is that they're NCAA champions now. It isn't a new title for Jean, but Jeremy suspects that this one feels sweeter, more earned.

This is a win that Jean should feel proud of, one untainted by the shadow of black wings and bruises. A championship that has nothing to do with the number that used to be tattooed on his face and everything to do with the person he has decided to become.

"What are you thinking about?"

Jeremy tilts his head towards the quiet, lilting sound of Jean's words. His accent has lessened slightly over the year, either due to less necessity to use his French without Kevin around or being surrounded by people who never stop talking in loud California drawls, but it still colors his words like a swash of blue in a sunrise.

Jean never wants to return to France, but sometimes Jeremy wonders if he would enjoy visiting Canada or Haiti, somewhere that he could use a version of his native language without ghosts following him.

"Jeremy?"

Jeremy blinks, bringing himself back to the present rather than some unnamed future with the two of them wandering around Montreal.

"I was thinking about our win," he says when he can remember what Jean's original question was. Jean huffs, but the sound is fond. Jeremy can't see much in the darkness, but he can picture Jean's expression perfectly. He's not smiling, but he's softer, relaxed and open enough that Jeremy can read his intention.

"How does it feel to be a champion?" Jean asks.

"Amazing," Jeremy sighs, tipping his head back and remembering every hour of practice and hard-fought game that brought them here. Despite the backlash from his decision to cut down the line last year and all of the negative press surrounding Jean's transfer, they made it all the way to the championships and came out on top. It was a battle in more ways than one, but it was absolutely worth it for the look on Kevin Day's face when Cat stole the ball from him using a technique that Jean taught her, then slammed the ball down the court for Jeremy to catch and score.

The team as a whole has grown exponentially. Jeremy has never pushed himself harder, and it wasn't all sunshine and smiles on the court this year. Still, they held it together, and as turbulent throwing a former Raven into their midst was, Jeremy has never regretted the decision to bring Jean to them.

"It's sweeter because I could do it with you," Jeremy says.

He glances at Jean out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't duck his head bashfully, and he doesn't freeze awkwardly the way he used to when Jeremy would drop a sappy but sincere compliment months ago. He simply lets the sentiment wash over him, keeping his focus on Jeremy.

"I'm glad you are happy," he says. Jeremy reaches for his hand, fingertips dragging along his forearm and wrist until Jean turns to thread their fingers together.

"What about you?" Jeremy asks. "How does it feel to be a champion this time?"

Jean takes time to consider his answer. Jeremy listens to the distant sounds of their teammates and friends over by the fire and the gentle sounds of waves hitting the shore while he waits. A breeze gently shifts his hair, light and crisp enough that he nearly shivers.

"I didn't think it would mean this much to me," Jean says quietly. Jeremy squeezes his hand once, then relaxes, giving Jean the space he needs. "I knew that winning with the Trojans would feel different, but the Ravens won because we were expected to. You and I won because we deserved to this time. Because we fought harder and wanted it more."

"And you did it all without a red card, even though Neil was being annoying," Jeremy says.

"It felt good to beat him," Jean grins. "That was very satisfying."

No one felt like it would be a good idea to make Jean block Kevin, not with everything he's told them about scrimmages in the Nest. While he played with Neil at Evermore as well, it was never while Neil was playing striker, and Neil only features in a fraction of the traumatic memories that Jean has recounted. Jean has been doing great in his sessions with Betsy and has grown a lot in his recovery over the past year, but no one wanted to risk prompting a flashback during the championship game, when the eyes of the entire public and Ichirou Moriyama would be on him.

Jean seemed to enjoy playing against Neil, anyway. Jeremy still doesn't understand their relationship and probably never will, but it was one of Jean's best games. Neil ran him ragged, but both of them seemed satisfied with their individual performances, and Jeremy overheard Jean tell him to have a winning day while stealing the ball at one point.

It's taken a long time for Jean to be able to have fun on the court. Healing is slow and non-linear, Jeremy knows that better than most. The progress that is visible, though, is much more gratifying because of it.

Jeremy looks at Jean, tracing his outline in the blue shadows. He takes in the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the enticing tilt of his head, the self-satisfied smile that Jeremy can barely see gracing his lips in this light. He looks like he belongs on this beach, relishing in his win with dozens of people who love him only a few yards away, holding hands with someone who adores him.

It's amazing, what a difference one year can make. Jeremy's chest feels warm and full, ready to burst.

"Hey," he says, squeezing Jean's hand. Jean turns towards him with a questioning noise. Jeremy tugs on his t-shirt, coaxing him forward until he can lean up to press their lips together. Jean responds once he catches on to Jeremy's intention, relaxing against him and sliding his free hand around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy presses forward, trying to transfer as much of the feeling in his chest to Jean as he can. He curls his hand around Jean's shoulder, partially to draw him closer and partially for his own stability. Jean sighs against him, and Jeremy can't help but smile into the kiss.

When they part a few moments later, Jeremy watches the way that Jean's eyes take a moment to flutter open.

"What was that for?" Jean asks. Jeremy smiles and brushes his thumb against Jean's cheek, right over the small heart tattooed there.

"I'm really proud of you," he smiles. Jean ducks his head, leaning into Jeremy's palm. "You've come a long way."

Jean wraps his hand around Jeremy's, pressing it against his chest.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Jeremy."

Jeremy doesn't think he'll ever get used to the way his name sounds in Jean's mouth, his accent curving around it and voice soft as music.

"Still," Jeremy says. "I'm really proud of you, Jean-Yves."

Jean ducks his head again, but Jeremy can't have that. He reaches for Jean's jaw again. Jean knows him well enough to evade and kiss him instead, the perfect distraction. Jeremy is happy to let him get away with it, because that was his end goal anyway.

They stay on the beach together for a long time. When their friends eventually find them, Jeremy watches the way that Jean lights up as Cat tackles him in a hug and he playfully banters with Kevin, two things that would've been impossible a year ago. Jeremy keeps hold of his hand, both of them on top of the world with no plans on coming down.

#my writing #ask box prompt #jerejean #tsc #the sunshine court #aftg #will anything of mine ever beat the ''i'm so proud of you'' kiss in pas de deux? no it won't #so this is a different take on that type of kiss!#bella for context this is from the fake college sport/mafia book series #jean is owned by the mafia at this point but he's not in the directly abusive situation he used to be in #jeremy is sunshine personified. we're not touching his trauma right now #in my mind after the trojans win the championship against the foxes in jean's first year with them both teams hang out and celebrate #because jean and kevin and neil have that whole inseparable bond thing going on and it was a good game #also kevin wants to hang out with jeremy and renee wants to check on jean #jean got his tattoo covered with a heart because idk what else he would get but he needs it covered #anyway! there's some context #i'm going to need to add a section to my masterlist for non-rpf prompts #also i might try to write all of the kiss prompts on that list and stick them on ao3 eventually so we'll see if that happens with this one

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

Who Made Me a Villain (6)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)(Part 5) This is a Halloween special as a treat. ------

Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter, was drinking his coffee. Just like any other average Joe while editing Lois Lane’s latest scoop so there were no spelling mistakes and grammar errors.

Then, his super hearing picked up Lois’s heartbeat speedup. There was an ear-piercing scream that had him jumping out of his seat.

“Woah, Kent, what’s wrong?” A concerned colleague asked.

“Indigestion. Bathroom. Real quick.” Clark threw out the first excuse that came to mind before speeding down to the nearest bathroom. Being careful to keep it to human speed.

He had just finished changing into Superman when his phone rang, the caller ID showing Lois’s name.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Superman demanded.

“Name’s Rebel. And don’t worry your darling, I need her alive to do something I want.”

The voice sounded young and female. Superman went through his mental list of supervillains, trying to figure out who took Lois.

“Rebel…” Superman repeated, trying to put a face to the name. Then, he remembered Batman grumbling about Robin sending a picture of him covered in neon green paint and feathers to the Young Justice unofficial group chat who all were happy to show their mentors. It took everything for Superman not to burst out laughing when Kon had shown him the picture. The one responsible for Batman’s misfortune had been no other than Rebel.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Gotham, Rebel?” Superman asked as he flew towards where he knew Lois was.

“Ah. So the great Captain America has heard of me.”

Superman stopped in mid-air, purely due to confusion because Rebel sounded so confident that it was his name.

“Excuse me what?”

The French accent didn’t really help but make Clark think of those terrible Hollywood bad guys.

“You are excused. As I was saying, Captain, your beloved love is fine. I just need her to do this one little thing for me. Then, she’ll be free to go.”

“What do you want from me?” Superman asked again.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Captain America, the world does not revolve around you. You aren’t the high and mighty god everyone thinks you are. I just need Mrs. Lane’s help in releasing a certain truth.”

“You will let her go right now!” Superman said.

He was narrowing on his wife’s location.

“I just told you that I will do that after I am done.” Rebel replied.

Superman arrived at the location but,

“This can’t be right.”

Rebel giggled over the phone. “Plot twist! Gotta love them.”

Superman was currently floating above Stryker's Island Penitentiary where the worst offenders of Metropolis were kept.

He scanned the buildings but couldn’t locate Lois.

“What did you do to her?”

“Chill, Captain. She’s fine. I just did something so you went after a fake heartbeat while I hid Lois.”

The fact that she tricked him using a complicated method that sounded like something Bruce would come up with had Superman raising his guard up. She was not an opponent to be underestimated.

“I am not going to repeat myself. What did you do to her?”

“Urgh. Can’t you overlook this little thing just this once?” Rebel complained, not concerned about the fact that she was provoking a man who could bend metal like it was rubber. “I am just stealing her for a few hours and then you can have her back. I even swear that she will be in the condition you last saw her in.”

“No. Give Lois back. Now.”

Rebel huffed. “You aren’t going to make this easy, huh? Then… beep.”

Superman was confused for a second when she made that sound with her voice.

Then, an explosion rocked the island below Superman. Instantly, the place was swarming with freed prisoners and guards trying to put them back.

“That should keep you busy. After all, the people of Metropolis need to be kept safe from the vicious criminals. Lois and I would probably be done with our girls’ day out by the time you are done. Au revoir.”

The phone hung up.

Trapped between the decision to save his wife and his city, Superman went to save the day.

—

“Man, your husband was a pain to deal with.” Rebel said after she hung up on Superman.

She turned back to Lois who was sitting unbound on a sofa with her recorder, notepad and pencil out. In front of her was a delicious spread of cakes, pastries and cookies with a mouth-watering scent which Lois tried her best to ignore.

“You kidnapped me and blew up a prison. I don’t think he would be happy to see you.” Lois pointed out. “This isn’t about him.” Rebel dismissed. “This is about you, helping me expose one of the biggest cover ups in history.”

“What makes you think I would help you?”

“What if I told you that four years ago. There was a supervillain in Paris that used negative emotions to turn people into monsters and the mayor had made sure news of it never got out.”

Lois snorted. “I don’t write fantasy, kid. I only write the truth.”

Rebel slapped down a bunch of newspapers dated from four years ago to the most recent one and a lot of documents.

“Here’s evidence. I promise that they aren’t faked. You can even use your phone to search all of this up if you still don’t believe me.”

Lois grabbed the one that was oldest and the front page talked about some stone golems wrecking the city. She read through it. Then, she looked at another paper dated a week later and read the front page talking about evil butterflies.

Fifteen minutes later and some google searches, Lois put down her phone and the newspapers.

She gave Rebel a professional smile. “Now… about that scoop you were going to give me.”

She watched Rebel’s eyes lit up.

—

Hours later…

Superman landed on the roof of the Daily Planet where Lois stood safe and sound. He scanned her with his x-ray vision and felt relieved to see that she was fine.

“Lois, are you okay?” Clark asked with worry as he hugged her.

“I’m fine. Honestly, it was the best kidnapping I've ever been in.” Lois replied, hugging back.

“Thanks for the compliment, Ms. Lane.” The unwanted spectator to their reunion said.

Rebel cheerfully waved from where she was on her bike as Superman glared at her.

“I am going to-”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Rebel cut off his threat as she took out a lead box. “Really lucky I stole this off the Big Bat the other day.”

Superman immediately backed away when the box was opened, revealing a glowing green rock.

“Bye, Captain America.”

Rebel tossed it onto the ground and sped off on her bike.

It took a moment for Superman to remember that they were on a roof and that Rebel was insane.

He watched Rebel drop down as gravity took hold. Superman immediately flew after her, only to find that she had disappeared in between the seconds his eyes were off her.

His brain finally caught up and Superman realised that he wasn’t feeling any effect of Kryptonite.

He turned around to see that the box was still open. Cautiously, Lois picked it up and closed it.

“You okay, Clark?” She asked.

“Can you give me the box, Lois?”

She nodded with confusion and slowly handed it over.

Clark slowly opened the lead box and laughed in disbelief. Inside was just some clear plastic crystals with a glowing green light underneath.

—

“Batman.”

“Superman.” Batman nodded in acknowledgement. “Why are you here?”

“I need you to run some tests on Lois’s blood. She had a run in with one of your Rogues. She said that she feels fine. But I want to be sure.” Superman answered. He handed Batman the vial of blood. He accepted it and put it in his pocket.

“I will do that as soon as I get back to the Cave. Who was it that she encountered?”

“Rebel.”

Batman stiffened at the mention of her name. “I see. What did she do to Lois?”

“Gave an interview I suppose. Lois was immediately on research binge about something that happened in France afterwards. She also had a few of the food Rebel laid out because she was hungry and I quote ‘they were the most delicious pastries ever’. She insisted that she was fine but I wanted to be sure.”

Batman’s frown deepened at that answer.

“Is something wrong?” Superman asked anxiously. This was the mother of his child and the love of his life that was in danger here.

“Lois is most probably fine but I will still run the test to ease your mind. I know Rebel won’t do something to the food unless it was for a prank. Even then, it’s nothing toxic or lethal.” Batman answered.

The answer didn’t reassure Superman.

“She blew up Stryker's Island, Batman.”

He couldn’t understand why Batman seemed so unbothered that such a dangerous villain was running around freely and causing chaos wherever she went.

“She regularly does it to Arkham.”

“Bruce. She lured me into a trap with a fake heartbeat of Lois. She fooled me into thinking she had kryptonite. She rode off the roof of the Daily Planet on her bike and disappeared into thin air. And Rao knows why she keeps calling me Captain America!” Superman ranted.

He took a deep breath to calm down before asking his question. “Rebel is clearly dangerous so why aren’t you taking her as a serious threat?”

Batman stared at him. Clark knew that this was his decision making face.

“You said that Lois was looking into something that happened in France.”

Superman nodded. “Yeah. Is Rebel related to it?”

Batman sighed. It was filled with regret and shame.

Superman knew that this was not good news.

“I was going to bring this up at the next League meeting but Rebel appeared to be getting impatient.” Batman started.

“What happened in France?”

“We, as the League, had made a huge oversight. There was a major problem in Paris for many years. A villain who could turn people into monsters had the city hostage. Rebel intends on making sure that we rectify our mistake.” Batman started.

He told Superman everything. About how Rebel brought the issue to his attention. What her plans were. Her past.

“Bruce, are you sure? She could be lying.” Superman said.

“I did my research. It’s all true. There is too much evidence to be faked. Some parts are still being investigated but it is largely the truth.”

Superman looked solemn. He couldn’t understand how something like this never fell on his radar. Batman had to rely on reports and technology to get his information. He was just a man after all. It would be easy for something like this to slip past his radar, especially how tightly controlled the information was.

Clark had super-hearing and this news about Paris had completely blindsided him.

“How could we have missed something so big for so long?” He muttered.

“Too many factors prevented news about it from reaching us. The past is done. What we can do is prepare so nothing like won’t ever happen again.” Batman said firmly.

Superman agreed. They had to do better.

“First, we have to catch a moth.”

It wasn’t the threat of Rebel unleashing her plans on the world that had him motivated to capture Hawkmoth. It was the determination to atone for his ignorance while a city suffered hell on a daily basis.

—

October 30th, Halloween Eve…

Spoiler looked through the binoculars to spy on the group of men moving a crate gently into a warehouse. Plastered in stickers that said ‘Fragile’, the crate was an object of interest for the vigilantes.

“I got eyes on the target, O.” Spoiler reported. “They are moving it into warehouse number 32. East side of the Gotham Docks.”

“Hear that, Robin?” Oracle asked.

“Got it.” Robin replied as he ran towards the location.

“Oh. I see you, Robin.” Spoiler said.

“Eyes on the target, Spoiler.” Oracle admonished her.

“Sorry, O.”

“Hey. Can you tell me what you Bats are doing here?” A mechanical voice came from Spoiler’s left.

It was lucky that Spoiler didn’t immediately scream and instead tried to punch the new arrival. He caught her attack easily with his one hand.

“Red Hood.” Spoiler greeted once she recognised who it was.

“I am asking again. What are you Bats doing here?”

“Spoiler, you okay?” Robin’s worried voice came over the comms.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just Red Hood.” Spoiler replied.

Looking back at Red Hood, she said, “I will tell you if you tell me what you are doing here.”

“I think we are both after the same thing.” Red Hood said, tilting his head in the direction of the warehouse.

“Black Mask’s mysterious package.” Spoiler nodded.

“It’s actually Rebel’s.” Red Hood explained. “Black Mask’s men intercepted the delivery and she asked for my help to get it back.”

“Do you know what’s inside?”

“She said it was supposed to be a fun Halloween surprise.”

“So it’s harmless.”

Red Hood shrugged. “All I know is that I should not be within a mile of it when the clock strikes midnight tonight.”

“We have five hours then.” Oracle’s voice came through Spoiler’s comms and inside Red Hood’s helmet.

“Jesus, don’t just hack into people’s helmets.” Jason complained.

“Well, we don’t have extra comms on hand.” she retorted.

“Hood, did Rebel tell you anything else about the package?” Robin asked.

“Just that it’s set to be unleashed the minute it is Halloween. Oh and don’t open it. I think it’s some kind of special bomb.”

“You didn’t ask?” “It’s Rebel. What harm can she do? It’s probably some kind of high quality glitter bomb.” Red Hood replied casually.

“You have no idea how destructive she has gotten lately.” Oracle said. “Last month, she blew up Stryker's Island. That was after she had kidnapped Lois.”

“Is she trying to go after Superman?”

“She wanted Lois to spread her ‘take down Hawkmoth’ agenda.”

“Hawkmoth? Never heard of him. Who the hell is that?” Red Hood asked.

“Rebel’s personal vendetta.” Spoiler answered.

“Sorry to cut this short, guys but Black Mask is coming.” Robin said. “We can fill you in on what happened later”

“Truce?” Red Hood offered. “I still owe Roman a beating.”

“No killing, Hood.” Oracle set as her condition.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Red Hood loaded his guns and jumped into the fray with Spoiler in her purple glory following.

—

“Crap.”

Robin spotted Black Mask running into the warehouse. He slammed the goon he was fighting against the ground as hard as he could.

“Somebody go and stop Black Mask! He’s going into the warehouse.” Robin said to everyone before he picked up his dropped staff and went back to fighting.

They were outnumbered and a few of the goons were trained from what Robin could tell.

“Oracle, what’s the ETA on back up?”

“Hang in there, Robin. Batman and Batgirl’s ETA is under one minute.”

“Good. Let’s hope that someone can stop Black Mask before we find out what Rebel’s Pandora box holds.”

—

Red Hood ran towards the warehouse as soon as he heard the report from Robin.

He had a score to settle with the other crime lord.

“Sionis, where are you?” Red Hood bellowed into the warehouse.

His helmet picked up the sound of someone running and Red Hood sprinted in the direction of the sound.

It became a chase and a gunfight with the two crime lords exchanging gunfire and one trying to lose the other in the maze that was the warehouse. Black Mask used every trick he had to throw Red Hood off his track.

However, it was fruitless as Red Hood continued to chase him like a bloodhound.

As desperation seized him, Black Mask picked up a crowbar that was lying around and ran towards the box he had stolen from that upstart Rebel.

Rumour has it that it is a weapon she had made for the Bats. Intended to drive them mad.

Red Hood rounded around the corner, just in time to see Black Mask pry the box open.

“NO!”

The lid was off.

—

Last Month in Metropolis. A day before Lois’s kidnapping…

A young woman sauntered through the hallways of Stryker's Island Penitentiary. Then, she stopped in front of the cell she was looking for.

“Hello, Toyman.”

“Rebel.” Toyman greeted back. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“I would like to contract you to make a few things for me.” Rebel went straight to the point.

Toyman gave her an interested look. “What would be in it for me?”

“Would getting you out of this place give me a discount?” Rebel asked.

Toyman smiled. “I suppose that might be possible. I’m a generous man after all. But that still doesn’t answer what you want me to make.”

Rebel chuckled. “It’s September. It’s practically nearly Halloween. And I really really want to make it a memorable one. Especially for the heroes in my city. I would like to commission a few toys. Here’s a list.”

She handed it to him.

Toyman hummed as he read it over. This could be a good deal. He would get his freedom and just make a few dolls with a bit of profit.

“How many would you like to make?”

“As much as you can before the deadline which is a few days before Halloween. Say the twenty-eight? Would that be possible? I would pay a set price for each one you can finish.” Rebel said.

“Can you back it up? I am not saying that you are not trustworthy but...” Toyman didn’t manage to finish before Rebel took out a wad of cash, all in hundred dollar bills.

She took half of it and handed it to Toyman through the bars.

“This is for the materials. Once I get you out of here, we are going to make a legal contract to discuss the finer details.”

“It is going to be an honour to work with you.” Toyman said.

Rebel grinned under her mask. “It’s nice doing business with you, Toyman.”

“So when do I get started?”

“Tomorrow afternoon-ish. That’s when something would happen and you escape in the chaos.”

“How would I know it happened?”

“You will know. And try not to get caught by the guy who wears the ‘S’. A second breakout might not be easy to plan.”

After she left, Toyman felt giddy at the taste of freedom and to make so many new toys.

—

“WHAT?!”

Black Mask reached into the box and took its content out.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Black Mask said in angry disbelief as he held a doll in his hands.

Red Hood took that opportunity to tackle the man and handcuff him.

In his curiosity, Red Hood glanced into the box and saw that the box just contained dolls.

There was your typical Raggedy Ann, clowns, ventriloquist dummies, string puppets, those collector’s dolls with the pretty frilled dresses, a few Barbie dolls and some plushies that resembled some of the Bat vigilantes.

“Hood. Come in, Hood.” Batman’s voice came from his comms.

“Cool your jets, Batman. I got Black Mask. He managed to open the box but it’s just dolls inside. Rebel probably tried to scare us into not opening the box because they’re for a prank and it would ruin the surprise.”

“Good to hear.” Batman said with a hint of relief.

—

Tim curiously picked up the Robin plushie and inspected it.

The Bats had taken the box of dolls with them to the Batcave to later give back to Rebel.

“The quality is so good. The details are amazing and so accurate. Wonder who made it.” Tim wondered curiously before he discovered initials stitched in the inner lining of the cape of the toy.

“W.S.J” Tim read out as he traced the letters. There was a niggling thought at the back of his head that he should look into who the mysterious toymaker was.

Meanwhile, Steph was tentatively holding the Raggedy Ann doll and telling Jason about the true story behind the Annabelle movies.

“Did you know that the real Annabelle doesn’t actually look like the doll in the movies?” Steph said as she held up the Raggedy Ann to Jason, “It was actually a Raggedy Ann doll that looked just like this one.”

Jason frowned as he gave the doll a slightly wary look. “It doesn’t look creepy at all.”

“That’s what makes it so unsettling. Something innocent hiding its sinister nature.” Steph explained.

Damain frowned as he picked up one of the collector’s dolls. “I don’t see what is creepy about some toys.”

“It’s the terror of something that should be lifeless moving around. Something that should be harmless becomes something dangerous.” Jason mused.

“But why dolls? I don’t think a piece of porcelain dressed in lace could scare anyone. I would be sc…alarmed if Father’s dinosaur came to life but not these.” Damian said as he held up one of the dolls.

“You should try watching some horror movies.” Jason told Damian.

Cass picked up a ballerina string puppet she had found and showed it to Bruce with a questioning look.

“It’s a string puppet. Have you seen Pinocchio yet?”

“No.” Cass replied as she shook her head.

“Remind me at our next movie night. So the strings make the puppet move. Here look.” Bruce took the puppet from Cass and expertly manipulated the strings so the ballerina waved and walked a bit before breaking out a few ballet moves. Cass clapped with wonder at the end of his performance.

“Teach me?” Cass asked.

“Sure.” Bruce promised.

Next, Cass took out the ventriloquist dummy and inspected it.

“Scarface?” She asked.

“Yes. It’s a ventriloquist dummy just like Scarface. How it works is that the ventriloquist holds the dummy and throws his voice so it looks like it is the dummy that’s talking instead of the ventriloquist.”

“Show me.”

Bruce obliged as he slipped his hand into the dummy and the dummy started to move its mouth.

“Hello, Cass, nice to meet you.” said the Dummy as it held out its hand.

Cass shook its hand. “Hello.”

She asked Bruce, “Can I try?”

“Of course.” Bruce said as he gave her back the dummy.

Cass breathed in and out a few times and then raised the dummy up.

“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Cass’s voice came from the dummy this time.

Bruce smiled as he ruffled her hair. “You’re good at this.”

“Thank you.” said the Dummy.

“If you are all done playing, it’s time you all went to bed.” Alfred said as he brought in his famous after patrol snacks; cucumber sandwiches. “After a shower.”

Jason put the Raggedy Ann doll back into the box.

“Well, it’s late and I need to get back home.” Jason said as he walked towards his bike.

“You can stay the night, Master Jason.” Alfred said. “I have taken the liberty of cleaning your room.”

“Thank you, Alfred but…” Jason trailed off, not knowing how to convey that he didn’t want to stay in the Manor despite his truce tonight with Bruce but also not wanting to offend the butler/grandfather-figure.

“I understand, Master Jason. Perhaps another time.” Alfred said in his wise way.

“Thank you, Alfred.” This time, there was a look of gratitude in Jason’s eyes.

—-

The morning after was a busy and bustling day but there was something not right in the Wayne Manor.

Tim woke up from having fallen asleep while working on trying to find the maker of the dolls. His laptop had turned itself off sometime during the night. He stretched and yawned.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied the Robin plushie sitting on his bed.

“That’s strange. I could have sworn that I left you in the box last night.” Tim said, scratching his head. He picked the plushie up and examined it again in the morning light.

It was more accurate than Tim had initially found. In fact, it was like it was an exact likeness of him. Which was a very scary thought. He wondered how Toyman knew that he had a mole on his arm near his elbow and the birthmark on the side of his hips. Tim theorised that Rebel must be a very good stalker.

He put the plushie back on bed and headed down for breakfast. Tim didn’t see the plushie morphed its uniform into the outfit that Tim was wearing.

—-

Tim walked down to the kitchen and sat down.

He thanked Alfred who set down a delicious plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Morning, Steph.” Tim said to the blonde who was dressed in a purple cowgirl outfit and a white Stetson hat.

“Morning, Tim.”

“Who are you supposed to be anyways?” He asked.

“Barbie but with the Stephanie twist.” She replied.

“Ah. Gotcha.” Tim said after he finished his mouthful of pancake. “You look so realistic by the way.”

Bruce entered the kitchen and sat down with a groan, his hand massaging his neck.

“You okay, B?” “Just feeling a bit stiff. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Bruce replied with a grimace.

Slowly, the other occupants of the house trickled in and the kitchen was filled with the Waynes and Steph dug into their breakfast.

Dick came all the way from Bludhaven to help out on what is annually one of the worst nights of the year in Gotham. At least one Rouge would have plans for Halloween.

To break this peaceful moment would be one Jason Tood who angrily stomped into the kitchen, clutching a Raggedy Ann doll.

“Didn’t we agree on leaving me alone? That includes not finding out where my safehouses are.” Jason said.

He held up the doll and asked, “Which one of you left this at my place this morning as a prank?”

Several confused faces stared back at him.

“Was it you?” Jason pointed at Steph and demanded.

She put her hands up in surrender. “It wasn’t me. I was busy studying for the test I have today. Ask Bruce. He can tell you that he helped me with flashcards.”

“Then, was it you, Tim?”

Tim blinked at Jason. His mind took a few seconds to answer because Tim was not a morning person.

He shook his head.

“No. I was looking into who made these dolls.” Tim answered.

“Why?”

“The dolls all have the initial W.S.J. and they were all incredibly detailed. I also wanted to know why Rebel would need them. The maker turned out to be no one other than…” Tim dramatically paused: “Toyman.”

“Suddenly, I feel like we should have burned that box when we could.” Steph said to break the silence.

They should have.

—

“So how bad is it?” Dick asked Zatanna, anxious about what curse had befallen his family.

They had gone down to the Batcave to get rid of the box. Only to find it empty. It led to hours of searching for them. Except Tim never came back from his room to retrieve the Robin plushie.

Dick went to check on Tim only to find that he had turned into the plushie.

Imagine finding your brother missing and suddenly the mini plushie replica of your brother started moving and talking. It immediately went onto the top ten weirdest and scariest list of things Dick had experienced.

Then, the next to go was Steph who slowly became plastic. Her face was stuck in a smile while her skin hardened into shiny plastic. She was in class when it happened and they had to go pick her up.

Cass found the dummy but it got attached to her hand and started to speak on its own in Cass’s voice. Cass herself was unable to utter a word.

The stiffness that Bruce had complained about was the fact that he was slowly turning into wood and almost invisible strings controlling his every move.

The final terror was the Raggedy Ann doll that suddenly gained life and proceeded to hunt Jason down for sport. No matter how far Jason managed to get away from the doll and Dick’s best efforts to keep the doll contained, it still managed to escape to go after Jason.

Somehow, Dick, Alfred and Damian were the only ones unaffected by the ‘curse’. They managed to figure out why when Babara told them that Black Mask and his men were attacked by the missing dolls and some of them were experiencing the same things as the Bats and about Jason’s warning from Rebel before everything went down.

Desperate, Dick asked Superman to track down Toyman and asked him how to reverse the effect only to find out that he only made the dolls. The curse was someone else's doing.

Which was why they had called Zatanna to see if she could reverse it.

“Well, there’s the good news and the bad news.” she announced. “Good news is that it is reversible and the curse only lasts for a day. I recommend to just wait it out because the reversing would take longer than the deadline. The curse is too complicated to simply undo.”

“So that’s the bad news?” “No. The bad news is that I recognised a bit of the spellwork. It is a bit similar to how my father would do it so chances are that whoever did this is a student of my father. The thing is I know most of my father’s students and what is bad is that I don’t recognise the magical signature of who put this curse on the dolls.”

Puppet Bruce jerked his head at the information that Zatanna had given them. Dick noticed.

“B?”

“Paris.” Bruce managed to get past with his wooden lips.

“Paris? Are you talking about the Miraculous?”

“Hero.”

“Wait, you think one of the Miraculous heroes is involved in this?”

Zatanna gasped. “I remember Batman telling me that Ladybug was a student of my father. I looked into his old journals and he mentioned a student named Marinette during his stay in Paris.”

“Marinette. Marinette. Why does it sound so familiar?” Dick tried to recall where he had heard that name before.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Damian answered for him. “It’s Rebel’s legal name.”

Just like that, pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Rebel used to be Ladybug.”

The revelation felt bitter on Dick’s tongue. He had seen the videos of Ladybug in action. He would say that she was inexperienced but she was compassionate and willing to lend a hand to anyone in need. He thought that it was nice of her to forgive her enemy instead of causing pain on the man who had caused her so much grief.

He couldn’t believe he saw the similarities between the two girls sooner.

Rebel was cunning and sharp enough to always stay a step ahead of them. Her planning and paranoia on par with the Batman himself. Useful skills to have as a hero.

Then again, Rebel couldn’t be more different from Ladybug. She was more cynical and petty. Rebel caused chaos wherever she goes instead of cleaning up the mess. She saw everything as a game and never took anything seriously.

Dick wondered what it was that pushed Rebel over the edge. The line drawn between heroism and villainy. Then he remembered how Rebel was sent to Gotham in the first place.

“Damn. Rebel has really good valid reason to fuck that Hawkmoth guy up.” Jason said. “In fact, I am surprised she hasn’t razed Paris to ashes yet.”

“Can you imagine?” Zatanna said, having been briefed a bit on the Paris situation and had heard about Rebel’s kidnapping of Lois, “The city you gave so much to save, branding you as a criminal and sending you to one of the worst places on Earth.”

“People have turned to crime for less.” Damian pointed out.

“But Rebel used to be a hero. One of us essentially. It’s just sad that we had to meet her as people on opposite sides.” Dick said.

“It only shows her lack of will.” Damian said.

“I think Rebel had reached her breaking point and honestly, I might too if I face it all alone like she did.”

The Cave was in a sombre silence for the hero that once was Ladybug. Dick remembered something Bruce once said about Two-Face and Harvey Dent.

‘You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain.’

—

The next day, just as Zatanna said, the spell wore off and everyone was human again and able to freely talk again. Other than some nightmares about the experience for a month or so, they were fine.

The Batfamily had a meeting about the new revelation that they had discovered last night.

“Bruce, tell us the truth. Did you know from the beginning?” Tim asked. “I only had suspicions but Zatanna confirmed them with her father’s journal.” Bruce answered. “This changes nothing.”

“It does, Bruce. You failed another young hero.” Jason said, his tone sharp and accusing. “Not even one of the ‘sidekicks’. You turned your back on the One Main Hero who had been there since the beginning and saw through it to the end. She didn’t get the happy ending she deserved. Instead, she was rewarded for her sacrifices by being sent to fucking Arkam Asylum in one of the most dangerous city in the world.”

“Todd, stop projecting. The way I see it, Rebel had seen the errors of her way and intended to fix her mistake regarding Hawkmoth. She should have locked him up when she had her chance.” Damian shot back.

“Boys, settle down. The fact of the matter is that whether Rebel used to be Ladybug or not, Hawkmoth needs to be arrested before Rebel does something more sinister than what she did yesterday.”

“Wasn’t it an accident?” Steph asked.

“According to Toyman, we had always been the intended recipients of that particular gift.” Dick answered. “It was dumb luck that Black Mask opened it while most of you were in the area.”

“After this latest incident, the League and I have decided that Rebel must be contained.” Bruce announced.

Jason jumped out of his seat. “Bruce, she’s just a kid!”

“But she’s a formidable threat. Who knows what else she might do if she is left unchecked and she doesn’t like the progress on the Hawkmoth investigation.”

Jason growled and then left.

Bruce told everyone that they should catch Rebel if they saw her before he ended the meeting.

—

Rebel stood in front of a half-finished mural, a spray can in hand.

“So we finally met, my dear daughter.” The voice belonged to the man who starred in Gotham’s nightmare.

Rebel didn’t bother to turn around and simply looked at him from over her shoulder.

“Which one are you?” She asked.

“I’m sorry?”

Rebel went back to spray-painting as she explained, “I know that there are at least three of you running around Gotham. I want to know which one you are.”

Joker laughed. A genuine laugh instead of the mad one he usually makes.

“You really do live up to your reputation, Rebel. I can tell that you are a real wildcard.” Joker said excitedly.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Very well then. I am the Joker. The original one. Not the copycats I made because I was bored. And Rebel, I am your father.”

----- (Part 7)

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls, @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime, @maddiesupdates, @the-dumber-scaramouche,

#who made me a villain #biodad! joker #halloween special fic #maribat #ml x dc #superman makes an appearance #i have never watched the conjuring movies so don't come at me #would have tried to write it more scary if I had time #and descriptive skills

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wolflover2426 · 1 year ago

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The Illusion Of Disguises

AN: This was inspired by this thread. Hope you enjoy this short crack fic I wrote on a whim!

Lila smirked, she had truly perfected her disguise and was ready to go back to Collège Françoise Dupont. Her new identity is Cerise and has transferred from another school that she will not get into details about.

Cerise enters the classroom and is about to say her greeting but stopped when everyone stared at her with scrutiny in their eyes.

“Oh, look who decided to show up.” Alya hissed. “Never thought I’d see you again, Lila the liar.”

Cerise’s jaw dropped. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, I’m Cerise and I’m new—“

“Oh cut the bullshit, we all know it’s you, Lila!” Alix slammed her hands down on the desk. “You had the gall to disappear after your lies got exposed and now you came back after everything you’ve done.”

Everyone continued to jeer at her and then they started throwing stuff at her which caused her to leave the room. How the heck did this happen? She spent so much time with her disguise that she was sure she’d never be recognized.

“Cht! At least it’s only this class who recognizes me.” Cerise muttered.

Then, two random students gaped and pointed at her, “Oh, it’s you Lila! Like the new look, trying out for the school play?”

“I’m sorry but I think you got the wrong person.” Cerise chuckled and for once, her voice held a tinge of nervousness.

“No way, I recognize that face and I think you’ll definitely get a part in the school play.” The student smiled. “Gotta go, bye.”

Word spread quickly and soon enough, everyone in school is aware that Lila Rossi is back and she isn’t amused at this kind of attention because it seems like her every move is being monitored.

Hiding behind a hallway, Lila took a deep breath and muttered. “Nooroo, dark—“

“What are you doing here?” A voice she recognized caused her to yelp and jump away.

“Ah, nothing!” Lila hastily replied. She inwardly groaned as she recognized the familiar face of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. “I’m sure we haven’t met but I’m-“

“Lila Rossi, didn’t expect to see your face again.” Marinette interrupted, her eyes glinted with suspicion.

“Ugh, why does everyone recognize me?!” Lila shrieked, giving up the illusion of pretending. “I worked for weeks on this disguise and it’s all for nothing!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I’m leaving.” She walked away before Lila could react.

Then, she proceeded to throw a goddamn tantrum because how did her carefully arranged disguise fall apart on her?

Some time later:

Lila was busy walking through Paris and having an overall bad day considering she hadn’t transformed since everyone kept recognizing her and asking for pictures which she’d refused.

Then, she saw that the Grand hotel is hosting a party and she’d sneak past security just because she managed to catch a glimpse of Adrien.

Smirking, she walked towards him but didn’t get the chance as someone knocked into her and she fell into the table that had food which ruined her clothes.

“Ugh, look at what you did!” Lila screeched.

“I’m s-sorry Mademoiselle, I’m a very clumsy waiter, are you hurt?” The waiter said, in a very exaggerated french accent.

Lila blinked as she realized who she’s looking at. “Marinette?!”

“What? No! I’m Marino and I work here!” Marino replied, sweat dripping from her forehead.

“Uh-huh, you're just Marinette with a fake mustache and I’m gonna expose you!” Lila reached over to grab the fake mustache but her wrist was caught by none other than Adrien.

“Lila, it’s rude to try and grab someone’s mustache. And this isn’t Marinette but Marino, I’ve met him before.” Adrien says.

“What are you saying, that’s Marinette!” Lila exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “She shouldn’t be here and she’s not a waiter!”

“Lila, you may be a liar but I will not tolerate you making false accusations like that.” Adrien grumbled, his eyes glinted dangerously. “Marino is a very professional waiter and has done his job for years and you should leave before security comes here and escorts you out.”

Lila managed to hear the other guests murmuring to themselves and they were not in favor of this crazy girl who showed up out of nowhere to harass the waiter.

Lila felt her eyes twitch at the situation and she didn’t have time to expose Marinette as Gorilla, who she remembers was Adrien's bodyguard, dragged her out of the party while she kept screaming bloody murder at Marino.

Adrien reached his hand towards Marino, “Sorry about that. Lila is a real piece of work.”

“It’s no problem, I’ve had my fair share of people like her!” Marino replied. “I think I’ve gotta leave because my shift is almost finished.”

“That’s cool, you know. My girlfriend actually cosplayed as you once during a party my friends held. It’s nice to meet the real deal.” Adrien smiled. “I can’t wait to see her later.”

“Right, I’m Marino and no one else!” Marino chuckled nervously.

Meanwhile, Alya and Tikki who had been listening to the whole convo just facepalmed and wondered about the world’s sense of irony.

#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #mlb fic #mlb fanfic #ml crack #ml season 5 spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #adrien agreste #ml recreation spoilers #class sugar #ml class sugar

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inevitably-johnlocked · 11 months ago

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Christmas and New Year's Eve 2023 Pt 1: New Bookmarks and WiPs

Happy holidays everyone! Let's get into the holiday spirit with some new Christmas fics I've recently added to my Bookmarks and MFL lists! LOTS of stories, so this list is split up into two lists! PLEASE check out the lists below for past bookmarks and MFLs! If you have a WORK IN PROGRESS that you'd like added to this list, PLEASE add them in the replies/reblogs and I'll add them to subsequent posts of this list!

The second list posting shortly is my MFL list, so if you have a finished fic you'd like me to add to the lists, please add them to the next post!

Thank you so much!! <3 Merry Christmas!!

[PART TWO]