#ghostly older makeup AND the hair

[tuupii]

The one thing that actually bothers me about the finale (in a media analytical non-lesbian way) is that Agatha now looks like her mom.

[kissingghouls]

SOFT PROMPTS ok ok...how about "you're shivering. here, take my jacket" with Mary x Reader ORRrrrr Secondo x Reader?? I can't decide

beloved anon. you were so right about this 💖✨

Winter Chill - Mary Goore x Reader

no warnings, relatively fluffy, kinda soft Mary, he/they Mary, first kiss, 2300 words

-x-

“He’s a dick,” a familiar voice states behind you. It’s followed by the tell-tale sound of spit hitting the pavement.

You’re not exactly surprised to find the silhouette of Mary Goore appearing like a ghostly apparition in the dim light of the porch. It was in their nature to just show up like that—especially when there was something to be said about your ex—but you were surprised by the lack of singsong taunting in their tone. Mary didn’t usually hold back when it came to voicing their distaste for him.

It’s obvious from their presence that they’d seen the confrontation inside—a fact that makes you feel slightly embarrassed as he shuffles around in the dark. The rotting wood of the aptly named Chaos House creaks under his boots, the thick soles landing with a thunk! thunk! thunk! as he stomps down a few steps and drops next to you. They shoot you a crooked, toothy smile and gently nudge you with an elbow.  “But you knew that already.”

“You’re a little late for an ‘I told you so,’ Goore,” you warn with a sigh. The breakup between you and that asshole was well beyond old news. There was next to no way Mary hadn’t heard and probably celebrated by now. Gossip travels fast in small towns, even faster in small social circles like yours.

“Aw c’mon,” he groans, arching his back to stretch his long legs like a cat. He pats down the pockets of his tight jeans and produces a pack of smokes and an old lighter. With a cigarette tucked between his teeth, he draws his knees back up before turning to you. “I’m not here for that.”

“Why are you here, Mary?” you ask softly.

Inside, the party swells with sound. A cluster of people all shouting to be heard while a metal band starts their set in the basement. It’s a mix of rumbling bass and the crack of drums with the occasional scream. The noise is just as normal as the hint of stale beer and body odor that permeates the old house. It’s as natural as the stains and cigarette burns on the weirdly orange tinted carpet that covers the stairs. Neither of you bat an eye as cymbals crash under your feet.

Mary flicks the lighter over their thigh, sparking it to life and drawing the flame toward their lips. They breathe deep, inhaling the toxic burn before leaning back on their elbows and letting out a puff of smoke. “To offer you a ride home.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to the metalhead sprawled on the porch next to you. Pale, bony knees jut out from the holes in his jeans. The trademark leather jacket covered in bright patches and studs hangs loose around his skinny frame as he reclines against the steps. Underneath their battle jacket the faded, well-loved t-shirt older than either of you is barely held together by more than a few threads. A shock of dark hair styled haphazardly hangs over those pretty green eyes that hadn’t moved from your face since he sat down.

It was a well-known fact that Mary couldn’t be trusted to operate a vehicle. Every time they’d tried had ended in varying degrees of disaster—one of which included a cliff.

“You can’t drive,” you remind him through a laugh.

“No, but I got you to smile.” He sounds triumphant, proud almost. “You got a good one, you know?”

“What?”

“Your smile. It’s…I dunno.” He shrugs and waves his hand through the air. “It’s…nice.”

“Goore,” you level. “Are you drunk?”

They shake their head and take a long drag. The orange glow of the embers hits just right, illuminating the places on his face painted white. The shadows are darker, the blurry edges of makeup smeared into the hollow of his cheeks look more intense in the dark like this. It’s a look you’ve appreciated once or twice before at other house parties or in the dim light of the local dive bar while you pretend not to notice how they only charge you for every other drink they slide your way.

Your heart skips as he grins up at you, dried fake blood cracking on his face.

“I’m sober as a judge, sweetheart,” they tell you as they sit up, a well-practiced smirk playing on their lips.

There’s a tightness in your chest again, a feeling so familiar around Mary. While this thing between you started a long time ago, you never took it too seriously. After all, you couldn’t take Mary seriously half the time. So, the teasing and light flirting never really meant anything and that was how the two of you had operated for as long as you could remember. It never went further than that because neither of you ever seemed to be single at the same time.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t found yourself a little curious from time to time.

The rumor mill spun both ways when it came to Mary Goore. Some days the story was they were some delinquent hellbent on burning the entire town to the ground. Other days there were tales of kindness that extended as far as feeding the feral street cats that lived in the alley behind their apartment. He was a loyal friend to the point of violence on more than one occasion, but everyone who dated them considered them a caring partner despite their apparent fear of commitment.

In your estimation, Mary was no different than anyone else—not all good or all bad, just another human trying to get by. When it came down to it, you’d rather have Mary in your corner than not. The fact that they were out here with you now, well, that just meant they already were.

“As a judge, huh?” you ask and lean forward to pluck the burning cigarette from his fingers. His eyes follow your movements as you set the filter between your lips and take an easy drag before offering the thing right back to him.

“Careful darlin’,” he warns, fingers brushing yours as he accepts. “These things are worse for you than I am.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

They raise an eyebrow, half-expecting you to follow up with a “just kidding” or a “not like that.” When you don’t their composure slips, and they struggle to hide a look of surprise mixed with a little bit of excitement. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, soft as the stubble poking through his makeup.

Those green eyes sparkle in the moonlight, watching as you stand and stretch your arms over your head. The wind picks up, carrying the undercurrent of much colder weather slowly moving in. It should be snowing by now, but the air is just a mist of wet fog soaking into everything without the beauty or smell of rain. The lawn is soft under your feet, little more than an oversaturated lump of clover and weeds that fails to connect the muddy patches from one end of the yard to the other. It’s all still as green as Mary’s eyes somehow, still thriving and you’re standing outside in a t-shirt next to Mary Goore in December.

The end of the cigarette whips past you and lands in a shower of orange sparks near the driveway. Mary leans up, the last little bit of smoke curling from their lips as the hole in the left knee of their jeans rips loudly.

“Aw, fuck,” Mary whines helplessly, leg now exposed halfway to the calf.

“C’mon,” you offer with a soft smile and hold your hand out to a guy who might or might not be trouble.

“Where are we going?” they ask, wiping their hands on their jeans as they stand.

“No idea,” you admit with a shrug. “Somewhere else.”

“Alright then,” Mary agrees with a grin and takes your hand.

You make it to the end of the block before you realize neither of you have let go. Their hand is warm and much larger than yours, their palm an odd mix of soft in places and calloused in others. For every step he takes, you take two to keep up though there’s no real destination in sight. Maybe you should have thought it through a little better, but being around Mary always made your brain a little fuzzy. And maybe that was why you’d avoided situations like this before—because the fear of something was too great. The risk of Mary was like jumping into a body of water completely blind. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Thrilling. Incredible.

The two of you walk east toward the river, passing patrons on the main drag crawling from one bar to another. A few toss looks your way, judgements whispered under their breath as they hurry by. If Mary notices, they hide it well. Their shoulders never seem to sag with the weight of what everyone else thinks you and him should be.

At the crosswalk you wait to pass and he rather impressively digs out another cigarette, lighting it one-handed. You’re unsure of how many cars pass under the stoplight or how many times the two of you miss your chance to cross, but you’re acutely aware of the way Mary looks wrapped in a haze of smoke and the city lights.

It’s not bad.

“Do I have something on my face?” they ask with an eyebrow raised, using the hand holding yours to pull you closer.

“Yeah, actually,” you respond playfully.

He frowns and pretends to swipe at his face. “Better?”

“Eh, your face is still there,” you tease with a shrug.

He tugs you even closer. “Don’t act like you don’t like my face, sweetheart.”

“It’s ok. I guess.”

“Just ok?”

It’s a question you barely hear. It’s not the rush of traffic or the random people walking past, but your heart hammering away in your ears that nearly deafens you. Warmth radiates off Mary like he’s the fucking sun. You know because he’s so close, close enough that you catch a hint of cologne under the nicotine and leather. And god those eyes, with them fixed on you like this you spot the soft flecks of gold they hide from everyone else.

You nod carefully. “It’s a good face. Ten out of ten. Would look again.”

He breaks first, averting his eyes as he struggles not to laugh. “I guess I better stick around so you can keep looking.”

“I appreciate the effort, Goore.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

You shake your head and let the moment fade as you pull them across the street.

Mary leads now, their other hand placed carefully at your hip as they guide you down the wet stairs. It’s dead quiet by the water. There’s never much of a crowd on the riverfront but this time of night it’s completely deserted. Traffic roars across the bridge overhead, a stream of bright red brake lights stretching across the river. You feel like you’re in another world entirely, tucked against Mary Goore of all people. You stand still, watching the gentle current roll over the rocky shore and pretend not to notice the way he moves closer and closer.

Winter arrives and surrounds the two of you within seconds as the wind picks up again. A blast of frigid, arctic air that smells like snow bites at the exposed skin of your arms. It’s cliche but as tears sting your eyes, you can’t help the chill that seeps into your bones.

“Huh. I think it’s gonna snow.”

Mary’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, barely more than a whisper. It’s a sharp contrast to all those times you’d seen them growl their way through songs about blood and corpses, but it makes the butterflies stir in your stomach all the same. Maybe there was something behind all those free drinks and flirty words. Something different.

The thought sends a shock through your body, the electric hum of realization. You like Mary.

He shifts slightly, turning his body toward yours. “Shit, you’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.”

Before you can say anything, they’ve shrugged out of the thing and wrapped you in soft, worn leather. You hide your hands in the sleeves, but they itch to reach out, to pull him in. The lining is still warm and it’s heavier than you expect, but none of it matters as Mary’s gaze falls to your lips.

But they don’t kiss you. At least, not in the way you thought they might.

“Goore?” you ask as they pull away slightly.

“Uh-huh?”

“Did…did you just…kiss my forehead?”

“Yep.”

“Instead of like…actually kissing me. You kissed my forehead?”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not just gonna put out for you because you expect me to.”

“Oh my god,” you huff with an annoyed roll of your eyes. “You—hmph!”

Mary cuts off your complaints by grabbing the lapels of the jacket and smashing his lips against yours. Your arms loop around their neck, pulling them as close as you can. There’s a warm hand pressed to the small of your back, under the jacket and under your t-shirt. Mary’s other hand tangles in your hair as they break the kiss to speak.

“Sorry darlin’,” they whisper. “You’re just so fuckin’ cute when you’re annoyed. I can’t help it.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Goore.”

It’s rough and brash when his mouth claims yours, and you think Mary kisses like he plays guitar—aggressive with a practiced ease. He nips at your bottom lip, practically melting against you when you let out a little whine in response. His tongue brushes yours and he tastes of smoke and something sugary you can’t quite place. It doesn’t matter anyway because your senses are filled with all things Mary and you’re content to keep them that way.

“Mm, I always knew you’d be trouble, sweetheart,” they groan as you press your body against theirs.

“Aw Goore, do you have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, actually. For so fucking long,” he admits freely.

You grin and lean up to kiss him again as tiny snowflakes begin to collect in his hair.

[onebillionghosts]

@originalcharactersexyman

okay so adonis propaganda time. here's some more info on him

-he's an extremely powerful, human-eating, wyrm-like being doomed to one day cause the apocalypse, he rules his own underground city as the self-proclaimed "god" of wraiths (that is, ghostly undead creatures).

-although he was once a friendly, playful, and even kind person (though he always struggled with a quick temper, impulsitivity, and a tendency to run his mouth). however, the abuse he suffered growing up as a human (if he ever truly *was* one), the death of the only person who ever cared for him, centuries of isolation, and his own existence as a being called a "dire" corrupted him into a terrible, resentful, and sadistic person.

-despite his tendency to kill, eat, and torture humans, he still holds a playful, curious, easily excitable, flirty, and romantic streak (especially in his affection towards his late friend and lover, nacio). he is very eccentric, chaotic, expressive, dramatic, overdramatic, and easily angered. due to his own hidden insecurities and trauma, he hates feeling powerless or worthless or inferior to others, and will go out of his way to one-up or subjugate others.

-despite trying to put on the air of a seductive, cool all-powerful overlord, he's really at heart just an eccentric and emotional romantic who's a little too into violence and biting things. 

fun facts:

-he was born in the late 15th century. he's mixed irish and norwegian, and was born in ireland, but spent most of his childhood in south england. as a result, he has a strong accent that's a bizarre mix between west country, limerick, and medieval english. that and the fact that he's a rambling chatterbox with no inside voice means that he's nigh-incomprehensible when he talks, unless you know him well

-he was 19 when he became a fully-fledged dire, and he's stopped ageing since then… and he definitely acts that age lmao. that being said, he can shapeshift his body if he wants to

-his human form has wavy titian/copper hair (he's constantly changing up his hairstyle), droopy/downturned amber-brown eyes with golden sclera/pupils and long eyelashes, light warm-toned skin, a roman/aquiline nose, a beauty mark next to his mouth, and a very lanky body type. he also has a pretty high (almost kind of cute) voice, which is a strange contrast with his intimidating demeanor. don't make fun of it, he'll get mad

-he's an ExFP and 4w3/8w7

-his true form has snake, hookworm, and centipede traits. it can range anywhere from the size of a small garden snake to the size of mountains; whichever one he feels like at the moment. this is his actual real form; his human form is actually just a fleshy "shell" of sorts that contains his true form inside. 

-he has autism, adhd, bipolar-I, and pica. he will infodump to you for hours about flowers and snakes and nacio if you let him… and also whatever random things he's thinking about at the moment

-he has an older sibling named achlys, but that's a whole other can of worms. they completely despise each other, for complicated reasons

-he's a weird little freak <3 okay, well, not little, because he's actually 6'7 in his humanoid form… but you get the idea

-doesn't really give a shit about labels, but he's probably somewhere along the lines of homoflexible, and some kind of genderqueer that's vaguely along the lines of "fem-presenting dude". what gender is he exactly? fuck if i know. fuck if he knows either. he's his own thing. ultimate schrodinger's gender type character. he just defaults to male pronouns because that's what he's used to, but honestly he couldn't care less what you call him. (he *does* like it when people call him pretty though :] )

-he likes flowers, snakes, nacio, chewing/eating/licking random things, pretty things (like makeup/dresses/shiny stuff), warmth (he's cold-blooded), violence, blood, food (especially humans), cuddles, attention, talking, and being in charge.

-he dislikes boring things, the cold, being insulted, feeling bad about himself, feeling powerless, people who are better at something then him, people who get more attention or praise then him.

why you should vote him:

-to feed his ego

-he may try to eat the competition otherwise

-he will throw a tantrum if he loses and go melodramatically pout somewhere because he's a sore loser... though he is also a sore winner. 

-too many stereotypical "soft and sweet" autistic/adhd characters in the world, and not enough evil sexy bastardous ones that get bitches. i want to see more auDHD characters violently murder ableists. god bless

-because i love/hate him

-just look at him. weird evil sexy snake-worm-tipede twink. my beloved/beloathed unredeemable bastard freak who causes problems <3 there is something very wrong with him

-shitty one-minute doodle of him eating a flower. because i wanted to draw something new for this, but im too lazy so this is the best ive got:

[conceiteddemon]

People started calling it Commuter Syndrome, which sounded a lot better than ‘what-the-fuck-is-happening’ disease. Normal people, with no history of health issues, started checking into Amity General with a host of symptoms including nausea, vomiting, temperature fluctuations that spiked into febrile seizures and dropped into hypothermia, and the degradation of tissues scarily similar to acute radiation poisoning. Half of the hospital was pulling their hair out over the stress, and the other half had it falling out in clumps. The whole system was already overwhelmed by rolling blackouts the previous week, and the influx of people coming unstitched at the seams was definitely a cause for some good old ‘what-the-FUCK-is-happening???’.

The similarities to radiation poisoning caused a mass panic both within the halls of the hospital and in the greater Amity population, until men in crisply pressed HAZMAT suits and wielding Geiger counters arrived and were able to conclusively say that there was nothing radioactive in the area. That didn’t stop the panic, and in fact just seemed to open the floodgates to a horde of conspiracy nuts chiming in with what was really happening. The two people in the parking lot, wearing rumpled, brightly-stained HAZMAT suits and shouting about ghostly interference were customarily ignored, as they always were. Of course, finding out that radiation definitely wasn’t causing the deaths numbering in the hundreds by the second week of the crisis is a poor substitute for actually preventing them.

So far, all that was known about the illness was that it was definitely killing people who did not live in the greater Amity area or parts of West Elmerton, maybe killing people who had moved to Amity instead of being born there, and so far, was not fatal for anyone under the age of twenty. The severity of symptoms seemed to vary wildly, from a mild case no greater than an upset stomach and a persistent chill from a fourteen-year-old (who came in for an unrelated accident) to a thirty-year-old whose bone and tissue density declined rapidly to the point of almost…melting.

The one thing that was consistent across all cases was the presence of an unidentifiable, green, phlegmy substance. It was leaked out of mucous membranes, traces of it were diffused in every part of the patient, it gathered in dermal and subdermal cysts across the face, chest and back. At first, doctors thought that it was a chemical irritant or a reaction to one, slowly dissolving living tissues, that was the cause of the disease. The range of reactions made it seem more like an eldritch allergen than a poison, and no one on staff could even identify the chemical makeup of the substance as samples sublimated within seconds of being taken.

By the fourth day, the government men returned in the form of a frazzled looking older man, flanked by an honor guard in white suits. They practically quarantined the hospital and started trying a variety of aggressive treatments, breaking down the contaminate with little regard for the people contaminated. By the third week, there were no new cases of Commuter Syndrome, gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. Quite a few survivors were also gone just as suddenly as the disease appeared as well.

The rest were released back into the general population, nothing to officially show for their ordeal other than thousands in debt and significant nerve damage. There was talk of a preventative medication being prescribed to residents by the government, but the funding fell short and became nothing more than a rumor. A few crackpots sold ‘cures’ or preventions to Commuter Syndrome such as tinctures, teas, and something that glowed an ominous red color (courtesy of the Drs. Fenton), but the rash of unexplainable deaths at the end of the summer in a modest midwestern city was quickly phased out of the national news cycle and was forgotten about by the public at large. In total, 1,236 deaths were attributed to Commuter Syndrome, and a few thousand more moved away from the area at their earliest convivence.

And that, it seemed, was that. Until about a month later, when the ghosts started showing up.

[sumire-bride]

𖧷ɤ—CHARACTER BIO—ɤ𖧷

𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂��⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

𖧷ɤ—FULL NAME—ɤ𖧷

SUMIRE KANASHI

IN KATAKANA- スミレ - かなしい

IN KANJI- 純麗 - 非心

Sumire can be written using different kanji characters and can mean: 菫, "violet" as a name 紫花, "purple, flower"純麗, "purity, lovely"澄玲, "lucidity, sound of jewels"澄麗, lucidity, lovely". Her last name is split into two "非" meaning "un" "non" or "lacking" and "心" means "heaer. So it literally means "lacking a heart" Her father Kyuufu uses spells her first name name in Kanji this way 澄玲 however Karl spells in kanji like 菫 非心. Her name is meant to symbolize a violet flower so pure she has no choice but to break.

ALSO KNOWN AS:

Ran-chan (Laito) Ko-suika, Midori gakatta (Ayato) Rapunzal (Shuu) Livestock, ghost/Sadako (Ruki) Stray cat (Ruki, Yuma) Sow (Yuma), M-neko-chan (Kou) My orian (Shin) Eve (Karl n Azusa)

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

GENERAL INFO

AGE- 18(Beginning), 19 (End)

BIRTHDAY- September 25th.

SIGN- Libra.

ETHNICITY- Japanese, Chinese.

RACE- Human (beginning) Immortal human (End)

GENDER/PRONOUNS- Female, she/her/hers

HEIGHT- 5'6 (168)

BLOOD TYPE- O.

HOBBIES- Sewing, reading, Piano.

OCCUPATION- Third year high school student.

A flower pot (in VC)

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

-FAMILY MEMBERS-

Kyuufu Kanashi (FATHER)

Xaing Kanashi (MOTHER)

Chousoka Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Oroshi Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Ena Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Kai Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Sing Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Takashi Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Tadashi Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Ame Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Chen Kanashi (HALF OLDER BROTHER)

Shoji Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Keiji Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Anzu Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

Koukai Kanashi (OLDER BROTHER)

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

-VOICE ACTOR (headcannon)-

SUB: YUI ISHIKAWA

DUB: MIRANDA PARKIN

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

-APPEARANCE-

𖧷ɤ— Sumire is a tall young women, with long raven black hair reaching the back of her knees. Her hair starts off straight but ends with curls. She has ghostly like skin with emerald eyes. She also wears makeup. Consisting of red lipstick, red eye liner and pink blush.

𖧷ɤ—In HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL and MORE BLOOD she wears a light blue dress that reaches only just above her knees, with a tight at the top turtle neck dress underneath. And a black ribbon that holds her green brooch around her neck, white tights and brown dress shoes with a corset. She also wears jade earrings.

𖧷ɤ—In VANDEAD CARNIVAL she wears neck silky flowy blue dress that fades out into white at the bottom it reveals her whole collar bone. She wears a bit of a darker blue lace shrug that covers her neck that also has long flowy sleeves, as well as a black ribbon around her waist that holds her emerald brooch. With black flats that has a little white bow on the tips of them.

𖧷ɤ—In DARK FATE she wears a shoulder white dress with long tight sleeves. With a black choker, a dress that reaches her knees she wears black flats. She abandons her emerald brooch.

𖧷ɤ— Her FORMAL WEAR is a red and white hanfu that drags on the floor. The cloak falling off her shoulders half way, it also consists of three violet flowers. One on her white belt and two in her hair, she also wears a red see through veil that covers her face.

𖧷ɤ—Her SCHOOL UNIFORM consists of a white button up, a black vest with a red bow. She also wears a really big black coat with white ends and a long skirt that sits just above her knees, blsck tights and black boots.

AS A CHILD she wears a white dress with a black collar, a black ribbon/belt around her waist that holds her see through part of her dress that's on the bottom.

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

𖧷ɤ—PERSONALITY—ɤ𖧷

𖧷ɤ— Sumire is a soft spoken and humble women. She has a tendency to put others before herself no matter the situation, though this is said because of her 'instincts' she is plenty more then just obidient. She's incredibly tense and anxious which is very well displayed on her face.

Sumire can be seen as a bit expressionless and lacks the ability to show empathy to others when they are upset, fearful, angry. As her home environment raised her to think unnecessary emotions are bad and 'useless' and so she assumes most people think the same. While she does have emotions herself she won't show the 'bad' ones making her seem cold and stand offish. She tends to never act out without being given an order from someone, and no matter what the order is she will do it without much remorse even if it causes harm to the other person or herself. 'I am willing to kill myself or others for you.'

Sumire is told she has the look/presence/attitude of a doll, she's elegant and is very well mannered.

Despite these however, Sumire is a very determined, loyal, dedicated and gentle person. She can even be seen as quite stubborn or very sassy and can be a bit of tease sometimes unhinged. Though later on she begins to learn how to be more considerate of peoples emotions despite herself being driven to the edge of insanity.

[⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁𓇬⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠁⠁⠂]

𖧷ɤ—HISTORY—ɤ𖧷

(MINOR SPOILERS FOR SUMIRE'S ROUTE, ABUSE (PHYSICAL EMOTIONAL), ISOLATION, NEGLECT, SMALL MENTION OF SEXUAL THEMES READ AT CAUTION.}

𖧷ɤ—Sumire is the youngest and only daughter of her family. Making her the youngest as well as the last living Kanashi member of the Kanashi (also known as personage clan).

THE KANASHI family in the beginning of time were made to be slaves to the demon clans [food source, sexual desire, assassins, etc.) All of them taken out of the human world and put into the demon world and were auctioned/sold to rich and royal families some sold as young as 10 years old. When they are put into the homes of demons they we're meant to be there to satisfy their needs and literally ANY needs. They were known for their pale skin, jet black hair, beauty and especially their emerald eyes. Over time with spending time with demon clans, while somehow stayed human they developed some characteristics (quick movement, enhanced eyesight, enhanced sense of smell.) Given the name Kanashi was meant to insult them as humans and also because they acted on orders with a 'lack of heart'. Years of inspecting Makai people the clan come up with a plan to take leadership to end the loop of curse using the tactics demons use to kill almost half of wolf, vibora, bat, alder clans sticking a war for both Kanashi's and all of Makai. To show dominance after killing a demon they'd take their teeth, eyes or bones and turn them into jewelry or yoyo's sometimes putting them into glass boxes keeping them as 'treasures'. However the war would come to a end when Karl was more popular as the Vampire king he places a peace between all clans but only because of his admiration/interest of the Kanashi's, making it where the can not be owned at all letting them live 'freely'. Despite him owning Sumire's father Kyuufu after the ban. However they are forced to attend a annual ceremony when they turn 18 named 'awakening of a Kanashi' where they choose to be bitten by different demon clans or kill them. Most have been killed off or died, and Sumire's family are the only remaining ones they plan to kill all demons across the world.

𖧷ɤ—After years pass however, Karlheinze went to Sumire's father Kyuufu, asking him to be apart of the 'Adam and Eve plan' so she can marry one of his 6 sons. Sending him out to quickly find a wife and give him a beautiful Eve so he can create a new race. So Kyuufu went to buy Sumire's mother a Nobel 14yr old girl from China Xaing when he was 50. He would then abuse her and make her his wife and do his best to get a girl, however for 13 tries he only got sons. Until the 14th try finally led to Sumire being born the day the Violets died on a full moon. When Sumire was born, Kyuufu sent Xaing's sons and her to a different house allowing them to see Sumire only a few times a year.

𖧷ɤ—Karlheinz's younger brother Richter would learn her existence believing she'd be the perfect substitute as Cordelia's new vessel, he would go to Kyuufu begging him to let her take Cordelia's heart lying to him 'it's apart of the plan'. He eagerly agrees but only if he waited till she was 18 to take on the adult heart. Both Richter and Kyuufu keeping it in a glass box to prevent it from decomposing.

𖧷ɤ— To keep Sumire from falling in love with another person growing up, or to get plans of running away she was kept inside in a very big mansion told the world was a very 'dirty place'. If it wasn't for Richter, he wouldn't have forced her to be 'clean' and keep her from expressing herself, as she needed to be clean n pure before the heart could be placed in her.

𖧷ɤ— In her childhood, Kyuufu would begin to manipulate her into believing she has no one else but him, he was her 'god' she didn't need anything else but him. Only scaring her into keeping inside the house. Making her brothers do the same, however most of them showing displeasure and hate for the young girl some smothering her, neglecting her existence, insulting her.

𖧷ɤ— Her mother was in fact no help, while she did show to be loving at times the sexual, mental and physical abuse Kyuufu showed her caused her to despise Sumire's existence, she had a hard time dealing with Sumire deciding she was going to break the child within in Sumire as it wasn't fair that she could be child when Xaing couldn't. Whenever she'd see Sumire act out, crying and such she'd call her a disgusting child and lock her in a small dark cubby. But another half of it was so she could protect her from Kyuufu as she was that scared of him.

𖧷ɤ— So throughout her childhood she became a very anxious child insecure completely isolated from the outside. However despite the terrible treatment and such from her family, she explains to people that she had a wonderful childhood and a even more loving family.

𖧷ɤ— At age 17, Sumire decided to escape but before she could Kyuufu found her and brought her to a old church, and there Richter would rip her heart out placing Cordelia's in it and hers being placed in the same glass box Cordelia's originally was in.

𖧷ɤ— Sumire at age 18 was then sent to live with the Sakamaki's, learning to live with the outside world and learn to deal with her awakening instincts and haunted by Cordelia.

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𖧷ɤ—RELATIONSHIPS—ɤ𖧷

{Family}

𖧷ɤ— KYUUFU is Sumire's god. She loves her father so much and feels nothing will come between the two ever. Talking about her father she always seems in pure glee. She will talk about the experiences that seem horrible to others but to her it was just her fault for acting as such, she'll talk about them like they were the best things to happen to her and was just proof of there love.

She will grow incredibly defensive when others call her father out, or insult him in front of her. This is the only time she is seen to be incredibly angry. She feels her father is always with her, and whenever she is crying or is seeing someone else crying or afraid she'd say "Shh we must not cry, father might see us."

Sumire says she wants to be like XAING. Her mother is her idol and she just yearns to be as beautiful like her, everything her mother has done to her is seen as more then a blessing and that she's so very glad she taught her 'hard lessons' on how to be a true women. She would always jump up and down when she saw her as younger girl, having to hold her containment for her when she saw her in her teens.

Sumire disliked seeing Xaing cry or have her breakdowns that she'd have. Doing her best to settle her down even though she'd fail horribly making the situation worse blaming her birth for her suffering. However, the two had their moments of genuine mother daughter love but that was when she was much younger, as Sumire aged she especially into her teen years Xaing did not want anything to do with her.

CHOUSOKA adores Sumire, stating she is his reason for living and has told her since she was a child that she is his reason for living and that if Sumire ever left he'd die. Koukai mentions that Chousoka gets even more mean and rough when he is forced to leave Sumire. Due to what Kyuufu told him and the admiration he had for him, he always feels a desperate need to keep Sumire with him all the time, constantly smothering her. He once rocked Sumire in his arms so hard he almost broke her back when she was young when he couldn't find her.

Sumire loves her brother dearly, as he was the one she would spend the most time with, though she does not enjoy playing favourite brothers Chousoka is her favourite however she fears him the most. When she is sent to live with the Sakamaki's and Chousoka found out he ran to look for her.

OROSHI and Sumire have a very complicated relationship. But not in the way you'd think, growing up Oroshi was always nothing but gentle and sweet with he certainly wasn't as obsessive of her as Chousoka was, however he was incredibly controlling. He could go sweet and nice to mean and cruel, despite having plenty of patience. Sumire views Oroshi as a angle she trusts him the most.

ENA was nothing but mean to Sumire, insulting her any chance he had even now sometimes resulting into throwing things at the young girl she was when she'd go for hugs. But Sumire on the other hand favourites him as a brother next to Chousoka, she thinks she's being complimented by him hence why it bothers Ena so much. She believes just like the rest he can simply do no wrong to her.

ANZU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Updated information in need.

KOUKAI . . . . . . . . . .. Updated information in need.

-Chousoka, Oroshi, Ena, Anzu, Koukai are the for the most part the only ones she you see here with in the route. Sumire's relationships with all her BROTHERS is different depending on how they view her as a person. Some are mean to her, ignore her, smother her. But they all share keeping her inside the house/keep her from running away in common.. For the most part. But nonetheless she loves each and every one of her brothers.-

𖧷ɤ—SAKAMAKI'S—ɤ𖧷

SHUU is very princely to Sumire she finds herself trying to take care of him and keep him out of danger even though he tells her to go away all the time. And when time goes on she's ruining his naps to show him stupid things or to get him to kill a rat for her. He refers to her as 'dense' 'stupid' 'average looking women.' Sumire's very infatuated by Shuu, as he looks like her 'dream boy' and like the men in all the books she read as a kid. He does his best to push her away but Sumire will not budge.

REIJI makes Sumire do many tasks for him. He's so interested in her abilities and how far she'll go for him and his brothers because of her "instincts". She went as far as pouring hot tea on herself for him. He uses her for research purposes because he's that interested in them. Sumire seems to adore his praise, following his orders with glee just to be told she did a good job that she's a 'good girl'. She is enchanted by him because he's tall with black hair and it makes her think of 'home.' Later on in the route, he is shown getting annoyed when she's with or helping Shuu even trying to push her away from doing his brothers bittings.

Sumire is seen teasing AYATO. Calling him out on his lies, or stupidity. When she's with Ayato you can see more of her sassy, cocky, even at points annoyance side of her. Ayato becomes obsessed with her blood. At first Ayato thought of her as a 'annoying piece of food, but my prey regardless." Loving her taste. But later in Sumire's route in ecstasy he grows fond even a little attached to her. In his own route with her however, he vows to protect her from her brothers even his own mothers possession of her. He states "As your owners, I'll make it my end goal to make sure you are completely owned by me." At the end of HDB the good ending (true ending).

KANATO is often mentally abusing Sumire like he would with others. Often showing annoyance to her, however Sumire on the other hand is scared of him and worried about his well being since he's smaller then her. Even though she doesn't avoid most of the brothers most of the time she does her best to avoid him the most after he makes her wear a dress similar to Cordelia's. Later on he shows genuine jealousy even annoyance when she uses "sama" at the end of his name.

LAITO will always be a wonder to Sumire. She struggles to view his ideas on 'love' and 'lust'. As she was raised with nothing involving sex preventing her from becoming dirty so when he's acting perverted around her she doesn't understand him. When he finds this out it only gives him more of a reason to tease and get different reactions out of her that she normally wouldn't express even using uncanny ways to get them out of her.

He showed no genuine 'interest' until he had a conversation with her on a balcony. Sumire grows confused by his ability to switch personalities to easily, noticing he's a different person when he's in public with her rather then when it's just the two of them.

Sumire adores SUBARU'S white hair. The white colour reminding her of snow, but during DF she grows to mistake him for her father when she grows to understand life more. However in the beginning she is shown to be giddy, follow him, talk to him with much happiness when he's around causing Subaru to get flustered when she's around and before any of the brothers, he develops feelings for her.

Disliking her love for her father even the rest of her family. Some of her mood swings remind him of his mother causing him to get uncomfortable with her at points. But the two feel empathy for each other due to their 'similar experiences.'

𖧷ɤ—Mukami's—ɤ𖧷

Like Reiji Sumire is seen following RUKI'S word, she seems to submit to him more easily then she does with the other Mukami brothers. Although Ruki deems her as "fussy" "like a stray cat" when he tries to get her to do things, or even when he's trying to help her. Showing that she doesn't trust him at all. Ruki is even slightly startled by her when she's popping up out of the blue, as her appearances is close to a ghost he said.

It takes her a while to warm up to him, and the two constantly bicker about the Sakamaki's being her 'owners'. But later on, she begins to ease up to him even beginning to like his company. And like Ruki, he becomes more adamant on making himself her 'owner' but not for the same reason as he originally wanted to.

Sumire thinks KOU'S loud, not exactly understanding him when she first met him at all. When he's talking to her or someone else she covers her ears, as she thinks he's overwhelming even a little draining. Like Laito, Sumire notices how easy it is for him to switch his personality to personality. Sumire is normally trying to give him 'life lessons' even seen mothering him a lot.

She can not stand YUMA. Sumire is known for adressing everyone as "Sama" at the end of there name or "mr, mrs" to show plenty of respect, to let them know she is less then them. However Sumire will not even say his name as she believes she'll curse herself. She becomes sassy and very aggravated when he's around her, hissing or trying to make herself appear "bigger". She once put a lamp to cover her head when he walked into the room.

His size and loud deep voice, scare her to her core. She's never met someone of his size, height sure but no one buff. Even if Yuma tries to help her at moments, she refuses him harshly wanting him to go away, hence he started calling her "the stray cat". But when she goes outside in daylight for the first time with him, she views him in a kind light and then doesn't treat him so harshly.

AZUSA unlike the others, treats Sumire more decently. Not calling her anything other then Eve. Sumire while not trusting the other Mukami's seems to open up to Azusa more often. Letting him cut her however stating she does not like doing it to him which confuses him. Even if not in a relationship or dating during this time, the two like holding hands even Azusa defending Sumire from most threats she faces. Even raising his voice at Ruki for her.

𖧷ɤ—Tsukinami's—ɤ𖧷

CARLA seems to cause Sumire's break downs and outbursts. As in DF she seems to lose form of sense after the good ending in MB (information will not be stated as it is big spoilers). And Carla's long white hair, old deep voice trigger her quite a bit. Making her follow his every word in fear.

He's shown no remorse for her. Even during his brother Shin's actions to her only caring that she holds the heart of a first blood. Stating he has no issue harming her.

Sumire and SHIN end up having a romantic relationship through out most of DF. Though the 'love' is one sided. Sumire does not love Shin, nor have any romantic attraction to him. It was more out of instinct and impulse she agreed to date him. And because he threated her.

She shows to be awkward around him and simply only doing things to please him. Like saying "I love you." While not meaning it. She more pities him if anything. She said "I've been tricked" tiredly and jokingly whenever Shin pranks her.

She feels sorry that she can not remember him, and believes if she helps him with his plan to over throw his brother it'll make it up to him.

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𖧷ɤ—ABILITIES—ɤ𖧷

𖧷ɤ—While being human, she still was able to inherit Kanashi abilities but through her route they slowly come in before becoming unbearable. One of them was unbeatable instincts to submit.

𖧷ɤ—Increased hearing.

𖧷ɤ—Increased sense of smell

𖧷ɤ—increased sight

𖧷ɤ—Increased strength (only when she is ordered to do something. Besides that Sumire is fairly physically weak and her 'strength' is very limited.)

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𖧷ɤ—TRIVA—ɤ𖧷

-Sumire is very claustrophobic, any tight spaces even when it comes with human contact makes her upset.

-Sumire has musophobia (fear of rats)

-Sumire is left handed.

-Sumire plays the koto.

-One time Sumire chased Laito around the manner with a bug she found.

-She does not have a sweet tooth. In fact they make her gag.

-Sumire knows Chinese fluently.

-When Sumire is angry but not angry in a aggressive way. She'll puff and stomp her foot.

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𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷

{ THIS IS GOING TO BE UPDATED AS MORE OF SUMIRE'S ROUTES ARE POSTED. }

[hanasnx]

when i was a senior in hs we had to do this massive project at the the end of the year that was worth like 70% of our grade but we had total creative liberty over it.

i ended up making jewelry inspired by covers of albums i really loved and one of them was fallen by evanescence. took inspo from the blue filter filter that’s over the entire album cover and how it made amy lees face super pale but her hair and makeup suuuuuper black. was so beyond obsessed with the contrast and the ghostliness of it all.

anyway, got an A+ and i keep the necklace on display in my room.

basically what i’m saying is evanescence 🔛🔝

i love that :) fallen is my favorite album by them. one of my favorite albums of all time tbh. it’s what i grew up with, it was one of the cds one of my older sisters had and she’d bring it to play in the car. she also had that cover art pinned up so i saw it a lot in the room we shared. i had a really active imagination as a kid and still kinda do, but i remember a lot of the scenes i use to imagine when i’d listen to those songs. it just opens up a door into my childhood

[imsparky2002]

Batraculous: Macabre Bat

Character Name: Eri Tanaka

Miraculous Hero Name: Macabre Bat

Appearance: Eri, known as Macabre Bat, carries a striking and dramatic appearance. Her waist-length, straight black hair flows with an air of elegance. She has moderately pale skin that contrasts beautifully with her almond-shaped brown eyes, although she often wears violet-colored contacts to add a dramatic touch. Eri possesses a petite and slender build that complements her gothic style. She dresses in full gothic lolita attire, adorned with black and lace, and she's rarely seen without her signature parasol.

Bio: Eri prefers she/her pronouns and proudly embraces the label of "gothic lolita." Despite her gothic appearance, she is incredibly perky and energetic, exuding a loud and friendly demeanor. Her manner of speaking is dramatic, which suits her well for theater but can sometimes make social interactions challenging. Eri serves as Juleka's motivator alongside Rose, encouraging Juleka to embrace her gothic self and affectionately referring to her as the "Queen of Darkness." She also has a passion for special effects and dreams of working in CGI when she's older.

Batsuit Description: Macabre Bat's batsuit is a dramatic and gothic masterpiece, reflecting Eri's love for the dark and theatrical.

Cowl: Eri's cowl is designed to resemble a porcelain doll's face, complete with intricate gothic makeup and violet contact lenses. It adds to her theatrical persona and contains a built-in voice modulation system, allowing her to project her voice dramatically and command attention. The cowl also has high-tech optics that enhance her night vision.

Cape: Her cape is a flowing black garment with lace trim and intricate patterns reminiscent of Victorian-era fashion. It billows dramatically as she moves, adding a touch of eerie elegance to her presence. The cape can transform into shadowy tendrils that grant her limited teleportation abilities, allowing her to navigate through shadows with ease.

Armor: Macabre Bat's armor is form-fitting and adorned with gothic motifs, such as bats, skulls, and roses. It's made from lightweight yet durable materials, providing protection from physical and akuma threats while allowing for flexibility and agility. The armor includes retractable bat-shaped blades on her forearms for close combat.

Gadgets: Her utility belt contains gadgets suited for her gothic style and love for special effects. Eri carries dark smoke capsules that release an eerie, black mist to obscure vision and create a foreboding atmosphere. She also has a specialized holographic projector that can create ghostly illusions to confuse and deter akumas.

Macabre Bat's batsuit is a work of art that embodies Eri's gothic style and dramatic personality. With her passion for theater and special effects, she brings a unique flair to the Miraculous heroes of Paris, adding a touch of darkness and mystique to their ranks.

Thanks to ChatGPT for assistance. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask for more. @artzychic27 @msweebyness

[lady-assnali]

A day late Rosenali birthday fic, because I’m in a bit of a Rosenali era atm. And for her birthday, Denali finally gets her happy ending.

            “Happy birthday.” Rose stands in her doorway, a smirk begrudgingly described as cute playing on her lips. She’s holding a rather large cookie cake and two forks, and the look of it all leaves Denali shaking her head, sighing playfully as she pushes her work aside and gestures for her friend to come in. Rose crosses the room quickly, sets the cookie down and engulfs the blonde in a tight hug, a knee propped next to Denali’s thigh on her chair. She kisses her forehead, pats her hair before taking a seat on the edge of her desk and pulling the cookie into her lap.

            “Got you a present,” Rose mutters through her concentration, struggling with the container before it opens with a satisfying pop. She holds it out to Denali, who raises an eyebrow.

            “Got me a present? We both know you’re eating half of this right now.”

            “Not this, something else! But it’s a surprise and it’s for later, and it you’re not going to be nice to me then maybe I’ll just keep it instead.”

            “Yeah, we both know that’s not happening.” The blonde ignores the offer of a fork and rips off a piece with her hands instead, sighing as the cookie melts in her mouth. 

            “You’re still going to let me take you out tonight, right?”

            “Of course! Where else am I going to be, alone on my couch?”

            “You know I wouldn’t let that happen.”

            “Yeah, because I don’t have a roommate.”

            “That seals the deal, I’ll be honest.”

…

            Rose’s a mess.

            She’s certifiably insane, a tornado in her own right. She flies around the apartment on her toes, muttering to herself while trying to set her makeup and throw things in her bag at the same time. Jan and Jackie watch from the couch where some Netflix show they’re bingeing loses their attention. It’s endearing, the older girl fluffing up her hair and (thank goodness) remembering to brush away the powder that’d made her look far too ghostly. 

            “You’re going to be fine,” Jackie reassures her. The comfort of her voice slows Rose down a bit, has her stopped in front of the couch. She’s frozen, and Jackie takes this as a sign to find some more to say. “She really likes you. I would know, I’m the person sitting next to her at all your shows.”

            “She likes the bar.”

            “She likes you.”

            Jan holds up a hand, rolling her eyes in a way that’s both teasing and completely serious and 100% Jan. The young, bubbly blonde could bottle her advice and sell it if only she could balance it with her insatiable instinct to meddle whenever the chance arises.

            “I mean, you’ve been sleeping together for months now. She basically told you she wants to marry you. Yeah, she was drunk but come on, Rose. You’re the one holding everything back.”

            “Gee, thanks Jan.”

            “I’m just telling you to get your head out of your ass, that’s all. You wouldn’t be acting like a nervous wreck if it didn’t mean anything. And you definitely haven’t done all of this for any of your hookups before.”

            “Well, it’s just dinner.”

            “Just dinner just the two of you at a pretty upscale place. On her birthday.”

            “Whatever comes out of this, just try to live in it. Tell your head to be quiet for once…you’re not a fuck up.”

            Rose nods, makes an excuse to head for the bathroom while emotion wells up in her chest. Staring at herself in the mirror, she lets Jackie’s repeat themselves over in her head. Whatever this is, she’s not a fuck up. She won’t be a fuck up anymore.

…

            She picks Denali up ten minutes earlier than anticipated, too anxious to wait any longer. They chat idly on the way to the restaurant, agreeing on this window of time being the only time that kid talk is allowed. Sure, there’s catching up to do with the end of the school year looming before them, art shows and concerts and showcases and finals rearing their ugly heads. But the school talk boundary is sacred, something that’s helped their friendship survive outside of school. It’s nice to have teacher friends, but it’s also nice to have teacher friends who can clock out with you and show their other side.

            The place Rose has chosen is slightly more upscale than their usual haunts-well, a lot of things are more upscale than Thai food and Netflix on the couch. She’s glad that they’re been put at a window seat, because it’s become increasingly difficult not to stare at her companion in the ambient lighting of the restaurant. She’s wearing a lavender dress that hugs her curves, stopping mid-thigh. As she settles in and takes off her jacket, the dress has thin straps that has Rose’s attention drawn to her collarbones, which she’s dusted with a subtle amount of highlight. 

            She’s sure Denali was put on this earth to drive her crazy.

            There’s a polite silence as the waitress brings them their menus, promising to be back with water. Rose thumbs the menu open and shut, looking around the room. There are mostly tables for two and four, and everyone seems to be on a date. She feels stupid-stupid for taking Denali here without mentioning it’d be less laid back…she even feels stupid in her favorite dress, a velvety emerald off one shoulder number that she’d thought made her hair look even more orange.

            She’s out of her element, and it shows in the tightness of her chest.

“I’m sorry this isn’t like…it’s not some big crazy party or anything..”

            “Sorry?” Denali reaches across the table, links their fingers together for a moment. Their pinkies are the last to go, the touch lingering like the buzzing warmth between them.  “Rosie, there’s nothing to be sorry about. This is really, really nice.”

            “Okay-okay, good. Good. Do you want…?” She gestures to a tiny bucket on the edge of their table, where a bottle of champagne sits in a bath of ice. The blonde nods, humming in appreciation at the luxury of it all. Rose fills each of their flutes and they clink their glasses together, Denali grinning teasingly.

            “Okay, the cheers was kind of cheesy. I can’t exactly let you live that one down.” Looking across the table, Rose is struck by the same magnetism that hits her each time she’s in the blonde’s presence. Her mind always has a place for her, some little reserved spot that’s memorized the shape of her smile or the sound of her voice calling her name. 

            This has been more than she’d anticipated from the first day they met, and then again from the first time they’d slept together. Rose doesn’t fall in love-she doesn’t have the time, the emotional bandwidth, the schedule. But she’d been making exceptions for Denali for more than a year and a half in their friendship, and within whatever amount of that time they’d been sleeping together she hasn’t even looked at another girl. She hasn’t wanted to. And she hadn’t even noticed.

            Because why would she want anybody else when Denali is right in front of her-has been right in front of her for so long? What could compare to the spark of mischief in her smile, the way her eyes shift to an even deeper brown when she’s saying Rose’s name over and over? There is nobody like her. Nobody has that competitive streak, the one that makes Rose want to be the most elevated version of herself simply to keep up with Denali’s brilliance. 

            She’s one of a kind, and Rose is an idiot.

            Denali’s also staring back at her quizzically, the hint of a smile on her lips.

            “Did you hear one word I just said?”

            “If we’re being honest? Nope.” She’s sheepish, shrugging her shoulders apologetically and taking a small sip of champagne.

            “Where’d you go? 

            “I don’t want to ruin your birthday…”

“Oh god, here we go…”

“I’m serious, hear me out.” Rose repeats Jackie’s words in her head. She lets them echo, drown out any last inkling of the self-doubt that’s been plaguing her for so long. She looks at Denali from across the table; Denali, who’s exquisite and smart and challenging and sweet. It’s Denali who looks back at her with warmth and patience, who holds her hand across the table again. Rose takes a deep breath. It’s time. 

 “I want to ask if maybe we can talk about where we stand. Like…if you’d want to make things exclusive. I’m done fucking around. I feel like my behavior hasn’t been the best with you-I know it hasn’t been the best. You’re worth more than that and I’m not good at all of this but I swear I’ll be the best at it for you. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time being an idiot and I don’t really deserve the chance, but I want to be more than whatever it is we are right now. I’m ready.”

The blonde’s expression is unreadable at first, her eyes searching Rose with a shielded wanting,  hope.

“And this….isn’t an April Fools joke. You’re serious about being serious?”

“I know I’ve been an ass but I wouldn’t go that far! I want this. I don’t really think I’ve ever been in love like this in my entire life.”

“And when you turned me down the first time?”

“That was unfair to you. It was rude and uncalled for and I’ll probably regret that for the rest of my life.” It’s an immediate response, the self-inflicted insult flying from her lips in the way she’d been thinking about her own actions for weeks. “I really don’t even deserve to be your friend still. I may have been drunk, but that’s no excuse for walking away like that. I was scared. I am scared. But I can’t lose you. I’m going to put in the work. I finally did what I should’ve done all along and I’ve been in therapy for a few weeks now. I need you to know how serious I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay..?”

“Okay, I’ll give you a chance.” 

“We can start over, if that’s what you want. We can go by first date rules.”

Denali’s jaw drops open and she crosses her arms over her chest, exasperated.

            “All I was waiting for was to be on the same page as you. Do you really think I’m going to let you kiss me on the cheek and send me home alone? Come on, it’s my birthday. I’ve missed you.”

            She brushes her foot along Rose’s leg underneath the table, runs a hand through her hair. She smirks at the same time the ginger’s breath hitches. When their waitress comes over again she tilts her head and asks politely for the check, feigning innocence.

            “We have dessert waiting at home, thank you.” 

            Denali winks at the unsuspecting waitress and reaches for her jacket, shrugs it on while waiting for Rose to pay the check. When everything’s settled she springs up from her seat, holding her hand out to the ginger with wiggling fingers.

            “What about your present?” Rose fumbles with her bag, making a move to open it before Denali wraps both her hands around Rose’s arm, leaning foreword to brush her lips against her ear.

            “I’m sure it’s great and I’d love it later, but we’ve never had sex as girlfriends before and I’m dying to change that.”

[rainbow-filmnerd]

TMNT 2012 characters in Halloween costumes

Happy Halloween everyone! To celebrate, I decided to share my vision of what costumes some of the TMNT 2012 characters would wear for Halloween. This would also be set after Trick or Treat Tussle, the Halloween themed video game that had Leo as Captain Ryan, Donnie as what I believe is a troubadour (Mickey Mouse Three Musketeers reference anyone), Mikey as SpongeBob, April as a ninja turtle, and Raph as the famous fairy princess.

So, this is what I got!

Leonardo as a masked warrior/swordsman (inspired by our lovely blue dragon warrior here)

This was one costume idea I struggled with the most, but I ultimately decided on this remembering Shin-Ah from Yona of the Dawn. I just think it'd be cool to see Leo dress up in something related to his combat skills while still looking like a badass/dork. Complete with a bathrobe, some of his usual gear, and a paper mache mask, Leo is ready for Halloween.

Donatello as a scientist

This was one of the first ideas I had for Donnie, and I feel as though it's perfect. The overall inspiration is from Donnie's design in tigerfog's 2003 fan comic, NMT Gaiden. I just really liked the eyepiece Don wore, complete with a lab coat. Add in some protect gloves and liquid filled bombs (filled with dyed water and soda!) to the equation, and you get Donnie's costume.

Raphael as a body builder (inspired by Doug from 50 First Dates)

What's funnier than Raph deciding to dress as a strongman? Raph dressing up like Sean Astin from 50 First Dates. The outfit itself is RIDICULOUS, but I do see Raph wearing that mesh shirt. 🤣 Add shorts, gloves, the red baseball cap, and yes, even sunglasses, and you get Raph as Doug Whitmore. Oh, and make sure he gets some Reese's in his treat or treat bag.

Michaelangelo as Ice Cream Kitty

For quite a while, I've been stuck on what costume Mikey would wear. Like... there are SO MANY GOOD IDEAS. I turned to Instagram and asked peeps for suggestions. I chose his favorite ice cream cat, because he'd go all out with face/body paint, the classic cat ears, and even make a bowl to wear. I just think that's overall, a very Mikey costume that isn't a character from another existing franchise.

April as a simulacrum news reporter

The overall inspiration comes from BOTH a judge's costume I saw in Halloween Baking Championship (a ghostly news reporter) and that April in the 1987 series is a news reporter! I didn't want to go with the jumpsuit, so April would be wearing something a bit dressier like what female news reporters typically wear. I then thought she'd be a different creature as opposed to being a human news reporter. I settled with a simulacrum, or "frankenmonster", because the thought of April having the same mint green skin with scars like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas is a good Halloween look (especially with her naturally gorgeous red hair),

Casey as a serial killer

Like in the Halloween arc, this is just an excuse for Casey to dress up in his usual vigilante gear. However, it's Halloween, so he has to be a bit more creative. So, Jones would whip out some older, dirtier, and wrecked gear like a broken mask, a baseball bat (taking a bit of inspo from Negan from Walking Dead), and red paint. Lots and LOTS of red paint.

Karai as a masked vampiress

I remembered a long time ago, someone compared Karai with her snake eyes/fangs to a vampire when her mutation first happened, and honestly, I can see it! That brought me to come up with this idea for Karai's costume. Imagine it being an old European/gothic look on her with a black dress with frills, a beautifully decorated black mask, and gloves. Safe to say that Shini has likely helped Karai pick out the right clothes for the look, and even do her hair and makeup.

Shinigami as a cat witch (inspired by Blair from Soul Eater)

This is one I just thought of as a fun idea. In Soul Eater, Blair is a recurring character who appears to be a witch girl with cat ears, but she's actually a real cat! Because Shini is a witch and cats are basically her spirit animal, it just makes sense for our underrated Foot Clan witch to go that costume route. Shini might as well be capable of casting a spell to give herself cat ears underneath a witch hat.

Slash as Raphael

This was just a cute idea that came to me. Slash wouldn't do much, but since he was Raph's owner before his mutation, I just thought it'd be sweet if Slash went as him for Halloween. All he really needs is a red mask and a giant pair of Sai.

Leatherhead as Frankenstein's monster

This one was from a suggestion by @fabuloustrash05 (out of a few options), but I think this one was the best fit for Leatherhead, because of the similarities between the two. He probably wouldn't be able to dress in costume, but that's why doing makeup is an option. I can see Mikey giving his gator friend some fake stitches/scars and neck bolts to make him the coolest franken-gator ever!

Mondo Gecko as an 80s rock star

The amount of times our skater gecko has this rocker guy personality, from using his skateboard as an air guitar and even his speech pattern, I just think this would be a fun costume idea for Mondo. Also would mentioning that his voice actor Robbie Rist is a musician.

Mona Lisa as Morticia Addams

This is something I borrowed from FabTrash, but for those who don't know, Sean Astin's father was Gomez in the live action Addams Family show from the mid 1960s. Since I didn't think to have Raph dress as Gomez, I'm making up for it by having his girlfriend Mona dress as the beautiful hag Morticia! Well, with just the iconic black dress and a bit of dark makeup. But just because Raph isn't Gomez in this list of characters in Halloween costumes doesn't mean he won't wear a Gomez costume for Mona.

Renet Tilley as Michelangelo

I always saw Renet as a big Ninja Turtles fanatic, and because her close bond with Mikey, it's beyond safe to say she likes him the most. I just think it's cute that Renet would wear a ninja turtle costume like April did in the Trick or Treat Tussle game, and she'd choose Mikey of course.

BONUS: Alex as a Dragon

I didn't want to leave out my Ally-boy on this. The idea was suggested by @xartisticmdx, so a dragon is the best one for Alex. He'd wear one of those pull-over masks with the mouth open that looks like a dragon's head and a tail to match. I would also think Mikey uses darker green body paint to give Alex scales, and even tape the wings and spine spikes onto his shell.

[sunjaesol]

THE MANY CRUSHES OF LUKE PATTERSON... AND THE ONE THAT STUCK

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

1982

Luke Patterson's first crush ever was Haley Martin. He adored the colour of her hair — like the clementines his mom bought — and the way she finger-painted, enough for his four year old eyes to stare at her in awe.

He watched her make mud pies in the sandbox from the monkey bars, only to ruin them to get a rise out of her. He couldn't understand why she didn't like him the way he did, so he nagged his mom to explain.

"Teasing girls should be fun for them too, sweetheart," she soothed. "This Haley clearly didn't like it."

He blinked. "Huh?"

Her smile stayed warm, similar to hot chocolate and whenever grandpa conjured candies from behind his ear. "Why don't you share your grapes with her tomorrow? I'm sure she'll like that."

His nose scrunched up. "Why?"

"Because it's sweet, Luke."

"I don't get that," he shrugged. "But I'll try."

The next day, he sat beside her during storybook time and that seemed to help a little already. By the time it was lunch, her mood was lifted, which excited him too, and urged him to offer the grapes.

It earned him a featherlight kiss on the cheek.

Luke squeaked in surprise, flushing a firetruck red, to which she giggled and plopped another grape in her mouth.

Three days later, his crush was gone from his mind and he began sharing his grapes with his new friend Reginald instead.

1986

"Can you ask Jessica what she thinks of me?" Luke hurriedly whispered, eyes flickering between Reggie and the girl from across the courtyard.

Normally, Luke Patterson exuded confidence. The resident class clown, always opening his jaw to react to the teacher without raising his hand, catching fights with stupid classmates, sneaking into dad's stationwagon to create mixtapes.

Fearlessness was his freaking middle name. (It was actually Beck, but whatever. He wished it was something cool like Duran Duran though.)

But when it came to girls... he got so nervous. Because they were girls! He didn't understand them! They hated rambunctious boys and only listened to stupid pop music and blabbered about how they stole makeup from their sisters.

Jessica, however, somehow made his heart flutter and his stomach twist up. She just looked cool in her dungarees and she had a pretty smile and she didn't wear that overwhelming, sugary perfume that was now popular.

Reggie snickered, in the way only eight year old boys could. "You liiiiiiike her!"

"No!" He scowled. "I–I'm just curious."

"Sure," he drawled, but then shrugged in agreement, the oversized leather jacket rustling on his shoulders. He stole it from his older brother after he saw him kissing (!!!) some girl and figured it held some magic to impress the ladies with.

"Just do it!"

With a dramatic flourish, the boy left their hiding spot, Luke lurking around the corner of the alcove to watch. Jessica looked up from her hard work of creating friendship bracelets and smiled at Reggie.

Oh, gosh. She was pretty.

A minute later, a sheepish Reg slowly crawled back to him, cheeks red and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

Luke grabbed his shoulders, urgent. "What did she say?"

"Uh... well..."

"C'mon, dude!"

Reggie sighed. "She... likes me, buddy. Sorry."

His hopeful face crashed into one of devestation, quickly covering it up with a laugh and a squeeze of the shoulder. Oh, man, what would Steven Tyler do?

"That– that's dope!"

In the end, Reggie and Jessica were boyfriend and girlfriend for a week while he wrote an angry poem about how stupid dungarees were.

Huh... it was surprisingly good.

1988

"Hey, Luke," Gwenn greeted, shy, tucking her hands in her Camp Wacky Rocka hoodie. "I really liked that song you made about your guitar."

Jumping from the tree branch to the ground, Luke dazzled her with an appreciative smile. From above, Reggie and their new friend Alex watched on curiously.

"Thanks!"

Who would've thought that summer camp would be the first time he made a real, girl friend! Gwenn was super cool and she played the saxophone and she liked Joan Jett and her hair was all curly and big and it reminded him of pretty clouds.

Looking over her shoulder, he noticed a gaggle of girls staring at them. Like they were waiting.

Gwenn stared at him. "Can you close your eyes?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Just 'cause."

Whatever. Maybe she wanted to show him something cool and would stick it in his hand. Complying, he closed his eyes and impatiently waited, bouncing on his heels.

"So?"

Suddenly, he felt a light, warm touch on his mouth and — oh! She was kissing him!

Luke staggered back in surprise, gawking at a blushing Gwenn as she squeaked a sorry and ran back to the now giggling and screeching girls. They ran away like a flock of birds.

It was a dare! His first kiss, stolen by a dare!

His boys jumped down beside him, awed.

Reggie hollered. "You kissed Gwenn!"

"I don't get it," Alex muttered.

Luke's face twisted up in a sour expression. Camp Wacky Rocka should be all about the music and becoming legends and Gwenn ruined it!

He stuck his tongue out. "Whatever. Let's go to the mess hall!"

1989

When Luke turned eleven, he kissed someone for real.

His birthday party was at the arcade, loud chatter and robotic sounds clashing together in an amazing cacophony. His parents hated the place, which is why Luke loved it.

Of the twenty guests, Yasmine clapped the loudest after he finished his song with the boys — Math Is For Losers! — and grabbed his hand as they walked to a duel game.

Luke felt fuckin' giddy the entire time. (Freakin' in front of his parents, fuckin' with friends.) The swoop in his stomach, his cheeks stretched into a wide beam.

Freshly eleven and the king of the arcade, he boldly asked if he could kiss her.

She smiled, her purple headband glittering in the neon lights, and nodded.

It was short and warm and her lips tasted like pink lemonade and sour gummies and it gave him an entirely new buzz. It was exciting.

He kissed her a couple more times the days after, eager and curious, until she claimed she was now only interested in twelve year old boys.

Since Luke now held the record of most kisses between him, Alex and Reggie, he wasn't too bothered by it. They shook hands, complimented each other on the kissing, and that was that.

1992

"Are you or are you not my boyfriend?" Olivia bit, crossing her arms.

Luke sighed, lazy gaze drifting from her to his band waiting by their bikes. Damn, he thought having a girlfriend would be way easier. Why was she so tense?

"I am," he said. "Why do you think I'm not?"

"Because you ignore me, like, all the time!" Pouting, she fiddled with the hem of her tartan skirt. "And now you're going to be with your band!"

He shrugged. "You can come with us and listen, if you want."

Luke met Olivia this year as deskmates in French class. Her raven hair was long and thick and her lips were all shiny from lip gloss and maybe he got a little cocky, thinking he could be dating the hottest girl of freshman year, so he naturally asked her out.

Maybe he should've considered beforehand whether they had anything in common, but he'd always been the overzealous type. And besides... she was a good kisser.

She scoffed. "That's not any better. Whatever. I'll just hang with Tina and Priscilla then. Laters!"

Plopping a kiss on his lips, she turned around and stalked to her whispering friends. Luke puffed, adjusted the beanie and made his way to the boys.

Girls were confusing.

"I bet dating boys is easier," Alex mused. "Like, equally terrifying, but also... easier. I think. Maybe."

Bobby laughed. "How's the girlfriend, Luke?"

"Ha ha," he deadpanned. "Let's go. I got this new song, Crooked Teeth, and it's a fucking banger!"

Olivia broke up with him after Sunset Curve's first, official gig at the arcade with the explanation that he loved music more than her. He never loved her to begin with, so maybe that was the problem.

She made out with Bobby that same night.

Holy shit, man. He supposed that bitter feeling at the sight of them tasted like rock 'n roll, the one thing he actually craved.

What a funny, funny feeling. (He wrote a hell of a lot of songs about it after. He never quite looked at Bobby the same way either.)

1995

"Hey, Maisie." Leaning against the locker beside the girl, he shot her a million dollar smile. "You comin' to our gig tonight? It's at The Orpheum."

Maisie was fucking awesome. Always in short, flowery dresses and fishnet tights and thick eyeliner like a rockstar, always listening to something new on her walkman. She came from a rich family, but that didn't hinder them from becoming friends.

Her jaw fell slack in awe, him instantly gaining more confidence. Ducking his head to meet her eye, he leaned a little closer. He knew damn well what he was doing, and he got a thrill every time it worked.

"Really?" She gasped. "That's awesome! I'll so be there!"

"Sweet," he grinned. "And stay after too."

A brow quirked up, intrigued. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just 'cause."

"Right," she drawled. "Nothing is 'just because' with you, Luke."

"And that's why you gotta stay," he teased, nudging her shoe with his. "To find out."

If they rocked that gig and he felt like a fucking legend, he hoped it would end with the two of them hooking up. He wasn't interested in dating — having learned his lesson after Olivia — and he knew she wasn't either, but she was fun.

And that was the most important to him: to have fucking fun. Luke Patterson was here for a good time, not a long time.

And if nothing happened between him and Maisie, then he'd still feel like a legend. In a couple of hours, he was going to play at The Orpheum! How gnarly was that?!

2022

Twenty-seven years later, Luke was still seventeen years old. While he preferred to not question the science behind ghostly activities — he flunked physics anyway — he was happy that he froze at this age.

Because Julie was seventeen, too.

And, man. He was madly in love with her.

He loved everything, from the babyhairs curling around her ears, to her voice and compassionate soul, to her beautiful smile, all the way to her cute, doodled sneakers.

Her epic music taste, her snark, the way she always found his gaze, the way she finished his lyrics, the way she always knew what to say to make him feel better.

His heart melted to a flickering candle whenever she hugged him, a raging wildfire erupting between every kiss. He was a fool for her.

"Stop moving," she giggled, one hand coming up to hold his chin.

He grinned, "Sorry, Jules."

Shifting closer, she dabbled more glitter on his cheeks. They were playing at a black-light club tonight, so Julie and Flynn bought all the glow in the dark makeup available at the store for the occasion.

They looked ridiculous in daylight, Julie's weirdly pink lipstick claiming all his attention, but he knew they'd look fucking cool once the lights went down.

"You want to watch a movie after the gig?" she whispered.

Luke rolled his eyes, playful. "You're gonna fall asleep."

"Yeah." With a bashful tilt of the shoulder, she leaned in closer. "But then you'll be with me."

"Julie! How scandalous," he teased, though his chest swelled at the thought of having some alone time, some cuddle time, with Julie.

"So?"

Murmuring a yes, he closed the little distance to kiss her, sealing the deal, only for her to chase after him — an attempt to wipe the lipstick stain off his lips.

"Nah, keep it." A smirk grew. "So the people know."

She tsked. "Idiot."

"You like it."

"I'm still taking it off though, seeing as you're supposed to be a hologram," she pointed out. "But... you can kiss my lipstick away after the show."

He sighed, dreamy. "I love you."

Finishing his glitter and removing the stain, she dazzled him with a satisfied smile. "Love you too."

She rose up from the couch and went to search for Reggie, the boy likely with Carlos. For a moment, Luke was alone in the studio, allowing himself to sink into that warm, fuzzy feeling.

No matter how many blunders he went through with girls — Haley, Jessica, Gwenn, Yasmine, Olivia, Maisie — they all prepared him, in one way or the other, for Julie.

To not only recognise when an awesome girl was standing right in front of him, but also how to treat her — because Julie Molina deserved the fucking world.

Even if that world now included the supernatural.

Whatever. They were all a little crazy.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

@bluefirewrites @blush-and-books @pink-flame @ourstarscollided @constantly-singing @unsaid-emily @willexx

[h2bakugou]

hiya!! i love your writing <3

is it possible to request a bakugo x aizawa! reader (adopted) who has a love themed quirk, can control light and produce hardened light but it gets stronger when she loves somebody.

aizawa notices shes been getting stronger recently and he asks the staff for help, they realise she has her eyes on somebody and he tries to find out who it is. he finds out its bakugo, but bakugo didnt know she was his adopted daughter and its just a cute little mess 🥺

please take your time and stay well 💗

a/n: hiii! thank you so much <3 of course! i love the dadzawa troupe, whether it be with eri, the students of class 1-a, or written where he has a child, it’s so cute and fluffy and sfdkjgds this request is really cute and wholesome thank you so much <3!!

summary: love, it has powerful properties, and even more so with your quirk. when aizawa, your adoptive father finds out that you’ve been getting stronger, it can only mean one thing. you’ve fallen in love.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / light manipulation; love influenced - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

wordcount: 1.2k

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

Having heart eyes for Class 1-A’s quote on quote ‘nuisance’ was a bit of a challenge. Especially when your adoptive father was the homeroom teacher. Mr. Aizawa had adopted you when you were a little older than seven, and you’d been with him ever since.

Having shown to him that you wanted to be a hero just like him, he enrolled you into U.A. through recommendation, and you got in. That was how you met Bakugou.

He was loud, abrasive, strong, driven, and so much more. But to you, he was almost sweet. He wouldn’t call you his friend out loud, even when Kirishima teased him for it, but he did consider you at least an acquaintance.

That was until the night of the school festival, when he kissed you. It was simple and sweet. Under the star-filled sky, his lips on yours, tasting vaguely of cinnamon from the sweet roll he’d had earlier.

When he pulled away, he tucked his hands back into his pockets, removing them from cupping your face. You smiled at him, your eyes lit up by the fireworks being shot into the sky.

The week after, training was much different. Even just seeing Bakugou sent your heart running a mile a minute. It was pounding out of your chest, the ghostly feeling of his lips still lingering on your own.

During the week of training, Aizawa had picked up that you had gotten noticeably stronger. Which could only mean one thing. You were falling in love. It wasn’t a bad thing, but as a father, he was concerned.

Who had you been talking with? Did any of your classmates know? His dad instincts were really kicking in. He didn’t want to intrude and overstep his boundaries, but he was ultimately curious. Who had captured your heart?

At first thought, he might’ve picked Kaminari, the two of you were close, but through further inspection, Kaminari didn’t act any differently around you. There was no evidence of the two of you even being a couple. So he quickly stepped away from that theory.

“What’cha doin’ Sho?” Present Mic’s naturally loud voice scared Aizawa. He whipped his head around and sighed.

“I think (Y/n)’s found a boyfriend. She’s gotten stronger, and since her quirk is love influenced-”

“You wanna know who’s got the heart of your little girl?” Mic teased. Aizawa just turned back around, watching as his students trained, keeping an eye on you in particular. 

Your control of light had gotten much better, being able to pinpoint locations and send your hardened rays out like missiles, you were definitely much stronger than before.

“You know, she could’ve just trained a little better, you sure it’s love?” Mic asked, curious if Aizawa was just overthinking, perhaps letting his own worries about seeing you grow up and fall in love get the best of him.

“I’m almost positive. I’m just trying to figure out who it is.” Aizawa knew it wasn’t the best idea to snoop around in your business, but he was just curious. And as your father, he wanted good things for you.

“I’ll keep an eye out for ya.” 

And by the end of the week, almost the entire staff had been watching out for you. Reporting back to Aizawa about who you’d been hanging out with. And with every report, almost every staff member saw you and Bakugou together, at the same time each day.

You’d been in Bakugou’s dorm, studying with him, going over math for Ectoplasm. Of course, Bakugou was focused on his work, but you were a bit worried.

Bakugou had asked you out, and you’d said yes of course. That was two days ago.

“Hey, Bakugou?” You paused, getting his attention.

“Yeah?” He questioned, setting his pen down to look at you. His crimson eyes were filled with intrigue as he looked at you with a gentle expression.

“I’ve been needing to tell you something.” You begin to wonder if you should tell the truth or makeup something. You figured the sooner the better.

Leaning in to kiss him once more before letting him know the truth, you’re interrupted as soon as your lips land on his.

Knocking on the door startles the both of you. You give Bakugou a confused look as he jumps up to answer it.

Mr. Aizawa is standing in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What do you need?” Bakugou asked, confused as to why his homeroom teacher was standing at his door.

Giving you a soft expression, Mr. Aizawa glanced at Bakugou. You swallowed a lump in your throat and stood up.

“Bakugou...” You spoke softly, walking over toward them.

“Yeah, babe?” Bakugou smirked, using the term ‘babe’ as if your dad wasn’t standing in the doorway.

“Bakugou meet my dad, dad meet Bakugou.” You blurted, introducing the two. Bakugou’s eyes slowly widened, his head turning back to look at Mr. Aizawa.

“Dad? Like he’s your-”

“Adoptive father, but father nonetheless.” You cut Bakugou off before he can make the situation worse.

“I was going to tell you but we just started dating and-”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Keep him in line.” Mr. Aizawa nodded toward Bakugou with a smile, patting your head before giving a few more words.

“And you.” Bakugou was ready to buck up to the elder, defending his love for you.

“If she’s truly happy with you, then I’m happy with you.” Bakugou’s heart warmed at the man’s words. Glancing at you, he really saw so much in you. Love and kindness, power, and strength, someone he wanted to spend so much time with.

He was really in love with you, and he couldn’t imagine falling for anyone else. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, old man.” Bakugou huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist. You giggled and shook your head.

“Get back to your dorm soon.” Aizawa spoke to you, knowing that curfew was coming soon.

“I will! Love you, dad!” You called to him, teasing him just a little as he walked down the hall.

“Love you too.” He mumbled quietly.

Closing the door, Bakugou pressed his lips onto yours, no longer wanting to wait. You kissed him back and smiled.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make him regret letting you go without having to clean the entire dormitory.” You paused, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Oh, I’m going too.” Bakugou smirked.

Bakugou was an amazing boyfriend. And when the time came for him to come to one of your little family dinners, where you and Mr. Aizawa sat and ate, talking about what happened, Bakugou was thoroughly satisfied.

You made sure that they both weren’t butting heads the entire time, but at the end of it, when you were waiting for Bakugou to be finished clearing the table, you overheard him talking to your dad.

“I really like her.” Bakugou mumbled. You peeked your head around the corner and watched your dad smile.

“She really likes you too.” Aizawa glanced back, spotting you. You let out a small laugh, watching as Bakugou’s cheeks flushed red.

“H-hey! Dumbass are you eavesdropping?!” Bakugou paid no mind to his soapy hands as he charged at you but not before getting caught by Aizawa’s scarf.

“No running inside.” Mr. Aizawa’s hair flared up, his eyes glowing red.

There was a feeling of warmth deep down into your heart, one that you would cherish forever.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[creativeashproductions]

Permanence // Luke Patterson

Summary: On the run for most of her life the reader had been accustomed to being a lone wolf in world with eyes everywhere. Living in the age of technology and life online makes it hard for a girl stuck in a permanent state at nineteen physically. All things change when the reader moves next door to a healing teenager and her ghostly band.

Warning: Swearing, loss of death, talk of injuries/hospital,  angst, and fluff

Words: 5.1k (yikes)

A/N: Loosely based on the film Age of Adaline. Also includes a scene using the BBC show Call the Midwife as well. I’ve been MIA due to this fic. I love it.

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Masterlist

The love tingled in your lips as the taxi pulled away from the curb leaving behind the white-haired woman. Your hand raised to wave as the woman turned into a speck in the review mirror but never far from your heart and thoughts.

“Going on a trip?” The taxi driver questioned taking a right turn with a jarring sensation. His brown eyes speedily meeting yours, “Does your mom grandma live in San Francisco?”

A mournful smile appeared on the wrinkle-free complexion, “Something like that.”

The reply didn’t faze the driver in a big city he had chosen to make his living with for his family, he had heard worse. The airport reared its head with the big heavily populated by tourists and loud machinery of transport.

The royal blue wool jacket concealed the black blouse tucked into the grey, and black tartan fitted trousers. Paired with the black velvet kitten heels that had been in your possession for a very long time. Hair left down in the soft waves and makeup natural for the plane right.

The flight was over quickly for the young woman with her carry on, and purse collected you immediately headed to baggage claim. The suitcase was easy found and lifted off the conveyor belt with little trouble. Your expressive eyes finding the taxi, some may call you old fashioned for not ‘ubering’, but it was a nostalgic action.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked with pretty blue eyes shadowed by the crows’ feet at the corner’s of her eyes. Swiftly you listed off the address to the house you had bought with your vast savings, “Half hour ride.”

You settled back into the leather seat as the city passed by with the memories staunchly kept in a locked box escaping. Los Angeles had been the location of the only family trip you had had in your late teens.

Los Angeles, 1936

“Darling! This Samuel, he owns the restaurant up the beach.” Theodore’s bright white smile gleamed as he returned to your side, “He’s personally invited us to celebrate the first night of our life together.

The pleated cark charcoal pants held up with black suspenders snuggle atop the button-down shirt of denim blue colour. The shirt left with the top two buttons undone revealing the white undershirt. Shiny polished black shoes on Theodore’s feet he was dressed as perfect as the day he caught your runaway hat.

“Oh, thank you.” You told the shy man as he led you up to the well-known restaurant with the gorgeous view of the water.

Samuel went further by providing his best table in the house, leaving the host annoyed at the interruption. The dinner was spent with Theodore listing off the itinerary for the week in the city. From visiting the museums to watching a film at the Los Angeles Theatre recommended by Theodore’s connection from work.

“You like to share a dessert Darling?” Theodore asked tenderly holding your soft hand in his smooth one. His smile never faded as you declined his offer satisfied with the large meal from the five-course dinner.

“I’d much prefer the comfort of our hotel room.” Your lips ended the words with a smile that paired well with the glittering eyes. Theodore’s heart expanded as his wife’s smile, he had fallen in love with first.

“The hotel placed a nice bottle of champagne in our room,” Theodore spoke once the bill was taken care of. He pulled your chair out to help you slip on the navy blue wool jacket on from the back of your chair, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Still as charming as ever.” You whispered gazing up at him with such love. 

You had loved Theodore from the first chaperoned date at sixteen with the handsome eighteen-year-old that had saved your hat. The wind that day had been unbearable as you walked the beach of San Francisco with your mother. At seventeen, you wed; a mere few days previous. Theodore came from a well-off family but worked as an engineer for the city.

“We’re here.” The taxi driver spoke as the car pulled to a stop at a pretty house painted a blue with white accents.

Mumbling a thank you the driver took off once your belongings found ground on the sidewalk and the fare paid. The house door unlocked with a click revealing the furnishing you had sent and hired a company to build. The boxes of personal belongings had arrived in boxes the previous day and awaited unpacking.

The first order of business on your to-do list was changing the locks as well as testing the safety alarm. The next few hours you unpacked your kitchen and clothing as the locksmith took his time finishing up previous appointments.

Your hand hovered over the oval golden framed photo of your wedding day with Theodore with a smile on both your faces. You didn’t look a day older than the day you married Theodore even if it had been so long. The familiar clench at the sight of the man happened every time you saw the photo.

“You’d be so proud of Rosie.” Your index finger caressed the elegant picture of your first love with a mournful emotion.

Pulled from the sad memories as the doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the locksmith. The appointment was swift before you finished unpacking the living room from the bookcase to the picture frames. As the minute handle circled the clock face, you settled in for the simple meal.

“Tea on the porch.” You sighed curling into the cherry red Adirondack chair in the front porch watching as children went inside their houses.

It wasn’t how you had anticipated your life dreaming of a life with a family in a lovely home. You never expected to live in fear for your life, and your child’s as the second World War reared its ugly head. You never envisioned having to move every few years to keep safe. Lastly, you had never foreseen watching Rosie’s hair turn white before your own. You thought you’d be buried beside your husband after a long life. So far, it had been too long at this point with your childhood friends all dead.

 “Hi.” The voice of a teenage girl spoke. Your gaze left your lukewarm tea for the girl at the bottom of your porch.

Strands of her curly textured hair pulled away from her face it revealed her clear tawney complexion. The most expressive brown eyes framed with thick lashes that took your breath away with the kindness in them.

“You just moved in right?” The girl asked as you climbed down the steps to the younger teenager, “I’m Julie Molina, I live next door.”

 “Hello Julie, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke, shaking the extended hand of the young girl inspecting her.

Her fashion was obviously of the current time whereas your own style was a mixture of different eras. The style fits in but touches to bring in the past decades you had lived through.

“Where are your parents?” Julie asked with a furrowed brow.

“I live alone.” You replied sighing as the confusion flashed in the younger teen’s eyes before you elaborated, “I’m nineteen. I bought the house, my parents live in my home state.”

They weren’t living, but they were buried in the cemetery with the other family members that had since passed. Unless a freak accident happened, your plot near your husband wouldn’t be filled. The only person who knew the truth was Rosie, she was your daughter.

“Wow! That’s cool.” Julie beamed glancing over her shoulder as her phantom friends poofed in behind her.

The sudden appearance startled you and while it was confusing you had become well acquainted with weird. You hadn’t aged a day since a stormy night on the country roads in 1938 heading to pick up Rosie. You barely flinched at the appearance.

“Oh damn, Julie’s neighbour is hot.” The leather jacket one spoke scanning the newcomer with an awed expression.

The boy with the sleeveless top sharing the same awed expression. Whereas the blonde in pink’s breath released in an exasperated sigh. Only a corner of your lips twitched up at realization this must happen quite a bit.

“I should head back inside. I have a few more boxes to unpack. It was lovely to meet you, Julie.” Your eloquent words taking the boys by surprise from the lack of modern language and slang. You didn’t use any of the terms that Julie and Flynn spoke in.

Luke followed Julie with glances over his shoulder to the back of the mysterious girl closing her front door. It wasn’t often Luke was intrigued by anything other than his music. Still, something about you was the most interesting thing. Not even touring some of his favourite bands’ personal homes was as interesting.

“C’mon Luke!” Reggie called out to the lingering teenage ghost. Unbeknownst to the retreating guitarist, your curtain had been pulled away as you peeked at him.

Over the next few weeks, you had become acquainted with Julie, even admitting to seeing the boys. It was a mess of Reggie blushing at your revelation of hearing his comments on your beauty. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was a friend group.

Two months later, over the course of a week, you withdrew from the group for the comfort of your living room. A garbage bin for used tissues as it sank in once more that the anniversary of Theodore’s death rolled around. 82 years since he was tragically killed.

You looked a mess and barely reacted when the four friends to it upon themselves to enter your home. Your hazy mind barely caught onto the arrival as Julie ushered your saddened form to the bathroom.

As Julie helped dress you, taking it from the extensive closet, the boys cleaned up the living room, and Alex poofed out. He returned with a pizza he began cooking coming to a stop at Luke’s gaping gaze at the mantel above the fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” Alex demanded rushing to the guitarist side equally shocked. Perfect timing as you came back into the living room with Julie.

“That’s Theodore.” The words came out gravely from the lack of use for the past few days. Your feet brought you to the side of the three boys, “It was raining the day. The sky broke when we left the church.”

“That’s you?” Reggie inquired frantically glancing between the old photo and your exact replica of the picture.

Julie gasped at the sight picking out the scar on the edge of your forehead barely seen in the photo but the matching appearance remarkable. The soft smile appeared as your hand came to grab the frame remembering the lovely day—the beautiful ceremony and the small reception before heading out for the honeymoon.

“Theodore Prescott was eighteen when I first saw him on the beach in San Francisco. Mother and I chose a windy for a walk; my hat blew away. Straight into the trousers of a young man that I would fall in love with instantly.” Your smile grew as your form settled back on the couch, having traded the frame for an old album. The four people were quiet.

“We married a year later in 1937, I was seventeen years old. Theodore whisked me off to Los Angeles for our honeymoon. We dined at fancy establishments, caught a film at the Los Angeles Theatre.” Your smile faded, leading Julie’s heart to clench as she knew that expression from seeing it in the mirror, “He was an engineer.”

“What happened?” Julie questioned grasping your soft hand in her own hand, focusing her eyes on your face. Your face remembering one of the most challenging times.

“Theodore was an engineer for the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge. A section of the bridge collapsed taking three men down. Theodore was one of them.” A lone tear travelled down your cheek, “It was difficult grieving my husband and caring for our daughter.”

Luke’s gasp was audible, “Are you a ghost?”

“No.” You told the seventeen-year-old guitarist, “I’ve been nineteen for the last 83 years.”

“Eighty-three years?!” Reggie exclaimed completely taken aback blinking fast to take it in, “Did you find a fountain of youth? Some special French creams?”

“Reg, shut up.” Alex elbowed the raven-haired teenager in the side with an apologetic smile, “I’d apologize and say he isn’t normally like this…but you know us too well.”

“It’s alright Alex,” You told the drummer fiddling with his ring as you returned back to Reggie, “It was storming in 1938, but I had promised to meet my parents and Rosie at the cabin. Visibility got worse, and I fishtailed right off the road into the ravine. I’m not sure the science but I know I died, and then I woke up.”

“This so weird,” Luke mumbled listening intently to the story with wide eyes that quickly matched his friends.

“Believe it’s shocking when your daughter graduates from college with her mother looking younger than her.” The bitter chuckle couldn’t be held back, remembering it as the first time you were retitled as Rosie’s sister.

“I just got used to being a ghost.” Alex sighed, settling into the armchair to the left of the couch. Luke sat on the couch next to you while Reggie took the armchair across from Alex.

As the sun rose higher and began to set, you enthralled the teenagers with stories of your long life. Luke was the most interested in the music you have seen evolve over the course of time, and the musicians you had met. In telling them stories, it allowed you to step out of the dark abyss of your mind.

“Freddie Mercury?” Luke asked from the other cherry red Adirondack chair turned to see you in the matching one.

“I had coffee with him in a little hole in the wall coffee shop in New York. He loved whip cream, but he didn’t like the dairy they used. The shop is now a Starbucks.”

The giggle escaped at Luke’s look of absolute awe, “That’s so rad.”

“Rad. Haven’t heard that in a long time.” The sparkle for sure would have sent Luke’s heart thudding like Alex’s drumming in Now or Never; if it still beat that is.

“…so do you think people can fall in love more than once?” Luke had been very undecided in asking the question. Everyone around could tell he felt something for you so unlike any other relationship.

You kissed your teeth, thinking about how to properly articulate your thoughts on such a heavy subject. It was clear that you felt something for the teenage ghost even if you had lived far longer than Luke had.

“I think it’s possible. Luke, I’ve lived a long time and while I’ll love Theodore for as long as I live that doesn’t mean I have been alone.” You revealed to the ghostly guitarist stepping back in a part of your history buried incredibly deep.

“The way you were torn up made me think-“

“I’ll always mourn Theodore, I had a year, and that was never enough. I worked as a midwife in England in the late 1960s.”

Poplar, London, England circa 1960s

The blonde-haired bombshell marched her way through the crowded Poplar district in London scanning the late-night Christmas shoppers. Beatrix, Trixie to her friends, had a young mother a mere street away. The only available midwife to help her happened to be off duty shopping for gifts. 

Trixie was thankful for the American accent that distinguished the midwife from the crowd, pointing her towards a store window. Your eyes dragged away from the lovely young mother giving her thanks for delivering her baby a few months prior.

“Trixie!” You beamed, revealing a white smile that lit up your pretty eye colour. Trixie’s anxious expression dropped the smile, however, “Is something wrong?”

“Jenny Turner is in labour. Tom is with her right now, but I need help. Everyone is further away.”

In seconds you had pulled the charcoal cape secured by the bands crisscrossing your shoulders to properly rest. The cloak had armholes with material covering the holes, no sleeves seen. The cape covered the plain light blue nurse uniform with the white-collar and the maroon red cardigan.

Trixie led you to the small apartment housing twenty-one-year-old, Jenny, with Reverend Tom Hereward waiting. This would be Jenny’s second child with her husband Roger leaving the midwife’s nervous after her first pregnancy.

“Hello, Jenny.” You spoke stepping closer to the woman, “Trixie said you requested my presence.”

“You delivered my first baby. I want you here, Roger a county away for work.” Jenny heavily spoke as a contraction ended, “I’m not due for two weeks.”

“Baby Turner is too excited to meet their big brother.” You soothed settling beside the young mother, “You’re in great hands with Trixie. You are close to the hospital and the clinic if you’d prefer to move.”

“No. I want to stay.” Jenny was sure of that, at least. Her hand left yours to clench the white bedsheets as a contraction clenched her midsection.

“Then I’ll be right here with you.” 

It was a promise you kept as Trixie delivered a healthy baby girl appreciating your help when you cleaned the baby. Trixie helped Jenny deliver the afterbirth and clean up the room just in time for Jenny’s mother to enter the room.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jenny spoke with a small tired smile. The smile that made the job worth watching babies being born, of family’s growing.

Tom was waiting outside in the living room as you exited the bathroom. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the Reverend Hereward waiting for you with his patient smile and a tender look in his blue gaze.

“How is Jenny?” Tom asked, holding the door to the street open.

“Tired after delivering Cynthia. Cynthia is an eight-pound baby with no complications. Thank you for praying Tom.”

“Trixie informed me of Jenny’s first pregnancy, and I felt like I was needed. Do you happen to be free tomorrow night?” Tom asked, linking his fingers in yours with a smile that almost looked nervous.

“I am.” You responded as Tom walked you to Nonnatus House where the unmarried midwives resided. You stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Good night Tom.”

“I’ll meet you at the park,” Tom responded, waiting patiently as you entered the building before he turned on his heel to head to his residence. Unknown to him, you peered down from your bedroom window as he pulled something out of his pocket.

A small box housing a ring he would propose with the very next night. A ring that broke your heart. A ring that you’d never see up close as you handed in your resignation and left England as quickly as possible.

Luke’s invested gaze shuttered as you revealed you had run away before Tom could propose because it could never happen.

“He was going to propose, and you didn’t say goodbye?”

“I don’t know if I could have said no when he asked. I wish I knew what I would have said, but it was unfair. How could Tom, as a Reverend, accept that his fiancée or wife would never grow old? It went against everything he believed in.” You countered with a raised eyebrow, “He married the midwife that was hired a year after I left. Barbara Gilbert. Trixie sent me the letter.”

Luke’s perceptive eyes caught the tinge of sadness in your gaze recalling the second man you had loved. You loved with your whole heart and with that came a lot of heartbreak.

“Do you keep in contact with them?”

“I send a letter to Trixie every once in a while, to check up on her. She married a few years after I left and had a few children. I believe she had a step-daughter.”

Luke’s mouth went to open before a flash of light, and a slight gasp was heard from the blonde drummer. His eyebrows raised as the close proximity between his best friend and his new friend. He shook it off as he turned to face Luke fully.

“Did you forget? We have a gig.” Alex spoke amused as Luke’s eyes widened theatrically vividly recalling the excitement in Julie’s eyes.

You waved the duo off to disappear in a ball of light to the gig they had for the night while you entered your home. You didn’t hear Alex make a comment that Luke couldn’t deny.

“You’ve fallen for her,” Alex spoke just outside the coffee shop that housed the record execs with the power to change their afterlife. The quirk of a smile sealed Alex’s opinion of the girl.

Content to spend your time in the house you retreated to the kitchen. Your hand slipped into your pocket for the phone that had few contacts such as Rosie and Julie’s along with the number of Rosie’s doctor. Mostly pictures of Rosie and landscapes but never your face, not after the 1953 incident.

Living next door to the Molina’s you often shared recipes with Ray, he had taken you under his wing. He felt empathetic with the young neighbour he saw you as a daughter almost, unaware that it would the other way around. You had years on the widowed father.

The wooden spoon stirred the sizzling stir-fry that had been a fixture in raising a rambunctious little girl interested in skinny her knees. The stir-fry was the quickest meal while Rosie played outside or in the little play corner with her dolls. It seemed like the world knew when your phone rang.

“Hello, darling.” You spoke securing the phone between your neck and shoulder, “Did you teach Gladys poker?”

The silence was stifling, “Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

A cold sweat broke out as the unfamiliar voice came from Rosie’s cell phone roused the deep-seated fear of loss. The wooden spoon in your hand clattered on the tile flooring of the modest-sized kitchen.

“Your grandmother Rosemary Prescott tripped over a cane. You’re her emergency contact.”

“Has she been admitted to the hospital? How extensive are her injuries? Let me get a pen and grab the address.” You rambled frantically scouring the kitchen for the notepad, “Was she alone?”

“She’s still being seen by the doctor, and I’m unable to reveal the details over the phone. Her friend Gladys was there, and she hasn’t left your grandma’s side.” The person responded in an even tone with the failed intention of soothing you.

“What’s the address?”

“I’m a nurse at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital and Trauma Center.” The nurse prattled off, providing the address and visiting hours. 

As soon as the call ended, you had quickly grabbed a quick bite from the meal before packaging it up. Next, you dug out the small suitcase to pack the essentials with the mental capacity of a zombie. The bag was stowed in the backseat of the car while you kept your purse on your shoulder.

You barely comprehended knocking on the Molina door or Ray opening it, “Hello Y/N.”

“Ray. Tonight, I made stir-fry, I’ll be out of town for a few days.” You told the man catching sight of both Carlos and Julie in the background.

“Are you okay?” Ray questioned taking the container from your shaking hands, “Do you need us to do anything?”

“Could I have a h-hug?” You stuttered feeling a smidge better than the older man tugged you in for a hug. Two pairs of arms joined with the Molina kids ambushing you.

“You’re coming back, right?” The question came from the concerned hazel-eyed guitarist watching the interaction with a particular look. A look he knew came from not being able to comfort you.

“I’ll be back once I know Rosie is okay.” You replied, locking eyes with Luke over Ray’s shoulder earning a tender smile from the male.

“I’ll pray for your Grandma,” Ray spoke, stepping back to let both Julie and Carlos say their goodbyes to their neighbour. Everyone but Carlos and Ray half-heartedly smirking at Ray’s belief that Rosie was older than you.

Unlike typical times you didn’t linger in the Molina home with the distracted thoughts of Rosie injured with her mother with her. Rosie is the only thing you would drop anything for, the love of a mother and her child. So distracted by your thoughts you didn’t notice Luke had appeared right beside you.

“Are you driving?” Luke asked, tapping his shoe on the porch step, bringing your sad eyes to meet his, “Or are you taking a plane?”

“A plane. It’s a five-hour drive to San Francisco from here not taking in traffic time. I bought a last-minute ticket.” You replied, heading straight for the car with Luke hot on your heels to the vintage car.

Half of you wanted to refuse his evident intention to join you, but a part of you yearned for the comfort. A stroke of luck had a plane seat beside yours empty, time didn’t exist, but it dragged on at the same time. So lost in thoughts you never noticed the brush on a pinkie on your skin.

While you stared off in the distance, Luke’s jaw was dropped at the silky feel of your skin. Words bubbled up his throat just before he knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up. Instead, he chose different words to regale you with stories of his childhood.

“I begged for a dog when I was eight years old. Reggie had this golden retriever his family had before he was born. My dad was allergic in the end, so I was content with Reggie’s dog.” Luke spoke, “That didn’t mean I didn’t sneak in this stray one night. We kept him in the garage while we found him a forever home.”

“What was his name?”

“Fender.” Luke sheepishly spoke, catching the tweak of your smile as the clouds in your eyes cleared for a few minutes. Luke loved being able to ease your mind through the flight, not holding back on the embarrassing stories either.

“Thank you.” You told the easy natured teenager with a familiar flutter in your chest that terrified you.

You could name only one other time you had felt that flutter when everything was easy. 1936 with a man you thought would be your one and only. Feeling something that strong for a ghost was incredibly scary.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Luke asked just outside the closed hospital door, separating you from your daughter. Your lips parted to deny his question but you couldn’t so you simply shook your head.

“Come in!” The voice was prompt after knocking on the door. Opening the door, you found Rosie’s grinning in her bed with Gladys at her side, scolding her.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Gladys spoke shuffling by you out of the door with a quick hug. The second Gladys closed the door, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Rosemary Elspath Prescott. What were you thinking?” You crossed your arms walking closer to Rosie, “You know your ankle hasn’t been the same-“

“-since I shattered during a cheer comp in college. Mama, I know. It was an accident.” Rosie softly spoke just before her gaze met Luke’s with fear planted squaring in her blue gaze. Luke’s lips parted, “He knows?”

“Oh.” Luke blinked at the sudden new change in his afterlife with Rosie actually seeing him, “I’m Luke.”

“This is going to sound craz-“

“Mama, you’ve been nineteen for over eight decades. I think we’ve hit the crazy already, tell me. Before I get a bad heart.” Rosie joked with that twinkle you saw countless times over the years.

The first time you saw it was when you found her on the counter at age two when she learned how to climb. Other times included her sneaking out to a senior party with her friends and the teasing she started when she got her first grey hair.

“You better have taken our discussion about your salt intake serious young lady.” You pointed at her mere seconds before your shoulders dropped. You leaned down to kiss the crown of her head, “Luke’s a ghost.”

Rosie’s lips parted, staring down the boy before whispering very softly in your ear, “Well. At least he doesn’t age. You look happy with him Mama, I’m not getting any younger, and he’s really cute.”

“Don’t talk like that.” The low response came out broken at the horrible future where you would bury Rosie. 

A cold hand landed on your waist as you stretched to place an ornament on the tree you chose with Luke. The wire hugged the branch a ghost of a kiss pressed against your cheek, a moment of quiet in the loud house. Reggie and Alex had been baking cookies with Rosie for the last two hours. Julie was finishing her family dinner at her home before she would come over.

“Merry Christmas,” Luke murmured tugging you in his chest. A flutter of butterflies moving in your tummy.

Once Rosie had been discharged from the hospital, she had been convinced to temporarily move to Los Angeles. For the first time since Rosie’s senior year in high school, you got to live with her. Subtlety had never been her strong suit with nagging you and Luke about getting together.

“Merry Christmas.” You replied, stretching to peck his lips once before cuddling into his chest with the thick sweater.

“Would you like a cookie…Dad.” Rosie teased, bringing a tray into the living room with the gooey chocolate chips.

Another revelation other than being able to touch the boys was that once Julie saved them from Caleb, they could eat small quantities. They couldn’t eat a lot, and they didn’t need it, but it was a comfort to the group.

 “That’s so weird.” Alex chortled, taking in the shocked and uncomfortable expression Luke had. Reggie beamed with a mouthful of cookie. This was the first Christmas the boys had surrounded by only acceptance, love, and untainted happiness.

“How about we stick to Luke?” Rosie chuckled just as weirded out by the odd age gap and the forever youth the couple displayed. 

While Rosie interacted with the arrival of both Flynn and Julie, you curled into Luke’s embrace taking in the room. Julie and Flynn listened to the rebellious stories Rosie carried. Alex had retreated to the kitchen with a guy with shoulder-length brunette hair. Reggie was involved in a conversation with Ray; another unexplained phenomenon after the Orpheum.

Your eyes found the mantle with the picture of Theodore and you. Right beside it a lovely photo with Luke dipping you in a kiss and besides that picture was the very last picture of Luke with his parents. How lucky you had been in the years you had lived to end up with a chosen family.

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[lotorsshoulderpads]

Merla HCs for the soul

General Culture HCs ⭐ Her home planet is called Orulla ⭐ Ever seen that part where Zarkon says “no one knows where she’s from”? That’s because her and her people are from a place akin to VLD’s quantum abyss in terms of how the place functions. Trying to get in is a death wish so the place has yet to be discovered. ⭐ Her race is all one sex, and their secondary sex characteristics are more inline with that of a human female ⭐ But if you went there you might not notice bc gender expression is all over the place ⭐ Gendered pronouns are a wild concept to her bc “why is the gender of the person in question at all relevant, that’s like having a different pronoun for each hair color” ⭐ They do, however, use different pronouns depending on what they’re talking about. They have pronouns used for people, a word similar to “it” for inanimate objects, and another pronoun used for animals. ⭐ Like in Spanish, their language has formal and informal versions of the word “you” ⭐ The only reason they design their armor to overly highlight their bodies is because they realized it freaks other people out to fight an “all female” army and they get embarrassed as fuck when they get their asses beat by a bunch of ladies ⭐ Way more lax about nudity than a lot of other planets. The idea of modesty is more applied to one’s behavior, like their humility, rather than their clothes. ⭐ The most popular colors/materials for clothing is dark green and purple, red, silver, and gold. ⭐ Most of her people have darker hair, ranging from a black or purple color through magenta and dark pink to red. Eyes are typically the same color as the hair, and skin ranges from gray to a desaturated dark blue color. Most have a gray-blue complexion ⭐ Popular makeup trends are lipstick a similar shade to the skin, but darker or more vibrant, and killer eyeliner. ⭐ Her species is actually incapable of blushing, but after discovering it in other species they found it absolutely adorable and now blush is a popular makeup product. ⭐ Body mods are also very much A Thing in her culture. Piercings, tattoos, scarification, tongue splitting, all sorts of things, and they’re very popular. It’s sort of a right of passage, if an unofficial one. Once someone becomes an adult it’s sort of expected to get something done. ⭐ On that note, getting body mods are also seen as highly inappropriate if the individual who has them isn’t an adult. Something as simple as piercing your ears is jaw dropping to them if you’re a kid. ⭐ On her home planet, people aren’t considered adults until age 20 ⭐ Her people’s life expectancy is around 100-110 ⭐ Her people are also known for doing some funky fun hair stuff. Lots of elaborate braids, curling, and such. Shaving down parts of the head and even the whole head used to be really popular, and is now making a comeback in their mainstream culture. Shaving the entire head is seen as a sign of rebellion or mourning, depending on the context. ⭐ Animal motifs are The Thing in their fashion, particularly birds atm, as they are associated with power and royalty thanks to Merla’s affinity for them. So feathers, things shaped like wings, things with wing patterns on them, etc, are in. ⭐ The average adult of their species is about 6′1.5

Merla HCs ⭐ Age 23 at debut ⭐ 6′0 ⭐ Call her vulture ugly and she will fight you ⭐ Her bird is named Onyx ⭐ She raised that bird from the minute he hatched ⭐ Her telepathic abilities only extend to making people want to do things and getting a vague idea of what someone is thinking about at any given moment. She can’t truly force someone to do something and if she uses too much power she gets migraines. ⭐ She gets along better with animals than with people ⭐ Big Lesbian ⭐ Kala from Voltron Force is her older sister but Merla thinks she died a long time ago ⭐ Merla also has a sister 8 years younger than her named Dyla ⭐ Merla herself actually has a rare pigmentation issue. Her whole color palette is much paler than normal. She’s like an albino of her species in a way. ⭐ Merla has multiple piercings, including several in either ear, a septum piercing, and snake bites. She used to have a tongue piercing but then she got her tongue split and it’s kinda hard to have both ⭐ As for tattoos, she also has more than one, but some are more important than others. On her chest she has vulture wings around an “angel eater,” a flower that, in her culture, means “don’t get too cocky, ya lil shit, you’re still mortal.” On the inside of her right bicep she has an old proverb, “the river goes, and with it the stones.” It means that, yeah, people can make you promises, but ultimately as life goes on things could change and the only person you can really count on is yourself. ⭐ Heart breaker. She doesn’t like getting into actual relationships, she finds them... messy. So when she finds someone she actually likes she dips. And as a Queen needing to one day provide an heir, this is troublesome. ⭐ Merla had a good relationship with one mother and a bad relationship with the other. One, Arella, was a kind hearted woman, who died due to complications having her 3rd child. Merla calls her “mother.” Her other parent was a cold woman who was only interested in herself. Merla simply refers to her as “that woman” or by her first name, Zenaran. ⭐ Dyla was born prematurely, but even if she was carried to term she still would have been a sickly child. To this day she is a very delicate girl, who Merla will protect at all costs. She stands at 5′5, four inches shorter than what’s average for her age. ⭐ Merla herself had complications relating to her birth, but Dyla got everything she had, then some, and dialed up. ⭐ Unlike Dyla and Merla, Kala had no issues in regards to her health and birth. Not only that, but she hardly resembles her other two sisters. This has led to rumors that perhaps the three sisters don’t all share the same two parents, but that Kala is actually a half sibling to Dyla and Merla. ⭐ For several reasons, Merla refuses to acknowledge these rumors and has made no effort to look into them. ⭐ Dyla has not left the safety of their home palace in many years, and hasn’t been off-planet since her toddler years. ⭐ Kala and Merla were close. Kala expected the very best of her little sister, and always pushed her to succeed. ⭐ Mama Arella was a usually kind woman who lacked a backbone, but it’s rumored that she slept around outside her marriage and Merla, despite not really wanting to think about it, also has suspicions in regards to her mother’s faithfulness. ⭐ Arella was monochromatic, having black hair and grey skin. She looked like an old school cartoon character come to life. ⭐ Zenaran, much like her wife, wasn’t very faithful. However, she didn’t bother to hide it. As the one of royal blood, she was the one of higher status and could pretty much get away with whatever she wanted. Plus being an execution happy tyrant also helped. ⭐ Zenaran had long, dark red hair and blue-grey skin. ⭐ Kala is 2 years older than Merla and bore a striking resemblance to Zenaran, with dark red hair and blue-grey skin. ⭐ Dyla, age 15, is a bright and kind girl, despite her rough start to life. She has white hair and dark grey skin. ⭐ Dyla and Merla have an odd relationship. Merla is, on one hand, very much devoted to her little sister, but on the other, dismissive of the younger girl’s thoughts and wishes. She sees Dyla as fragile and incapable of taking care of herself, thus needing constant supervision and someone to make decisions for her. Dyla, though she understands where her sister is coming from, grows increasingly frustrated. ⭐ There is only one person alive who knows the origin of Merla’s powers, and it’s the woman who Arella had an affair with. ⭐ Dyla also has powers like Merla’s, but aside from the Muses teaching her how to rein them in, she doesn’t really know how to use them.

Muses HCs ⭐ The Muses of Norn weren’t kidnapped, they came with Merla willingly ⭐ She sought them out in hopes of learning to control her telepathy ⭐ Now it’s just. Merla and her squad of pretty girls. Sappho and her gal pals. ⭐ The Muses of Norn are named Thetis, Sura, Ceralean, Penelope, Era, Josephine, and Melody. ⭐ Thetis is 22 and the leader of the muses. She stands at 5′5 with blue hair and eyes, and a light brown complexion. She is associated with leadership and honorable conduct. ⭐ Sura is Thetis’s younger sister, age 21. She has redish-pink hair and blue eyes and is 5′6. Her complexion, like her sister’s, is light brown but dotted with freckles. She’s the muscle in their team. She is associated with sportsmanship, combat, and strength. ⭐ Ceralean, age 21, functions as second in command. She’s the analytical type. She’s ghostly pale, with dark blue eyes and hair, standing at 5′4. She is associated with academia. ⭐ Penelope is the oldest at 25 and is the mother hen of the team. Blonde, brown eyes, stands at 5′11, and has a lightly tanned complexion. She is associated with domestically, crops, and the changing of seasons. ⭐ Era, age 23. She has red-brown hair, dark pink eyes, dark brown skin, and stands at 5′7. She is associated with liberation, freewill, and is considered the protector of young women. ⭐ Josephine is the youngest at 17. She’s a little bratty, but they love her anyway. She has black hair, brown eyes, light brown skin, and stands at 5′2. She is associated with childhood, rebirth, joy, and is considered the protector of children. ⭐ Melody, age 19, is the quiet, soft one. Stands at 5′5 with blonde hair and green eyes, and a fair complexion. She is associated with the fine arts and humility. ⭐ Note that they haven’t aged since the became muses, so they’re all technically much older than their physical age. ⭐ The Muses were once mortal women, who ascended to a sort of deity-type status. ⭐ Although the Muses cannot age or die of old age, they can still be killed. ⭐ Thetis, Sura, and Ceralean have a strong, familial type bond, despite the fact that the 3rd isn’t actually blood related to the first two. Sura and Ceralean butt heads often, and Thetis has to play mediator. ⭐ Sura and Era tend to be a bit more loose canon than the other muses. They get into all kinds of trouble together. ⭐ Ceralean is rather protective of Melody and in turn, Melody has a bit of a crush on her.

[twisted-leader-of-something]

Week 5 - Bonus Story! - One Halloween Night, in Andalasia.

Author's Note: I have another wholesome story! Here! Have Quentin as a child! And, well, her family!

Trigger Warning: Um, there’s a crying Quentin? And ghosts? I guess?

A little girl with brown hair tied with white bows in hairlike-drills walked alone, deep within the corridors of the castle of the royal family of Andalasia. She wore an off shoulder black to grey gradient ballgown bejeweled with various gemstones with a see-through white shawl that seemed to have blue and pink flowers sewn into the fabric seemed to extend to the floor that wrapped around the girl’s elbows. The little girl seemed to be wearing some makeup and some jewelry, notably a necklace with a symbol of a Qilin, and was wearing a pair of white evening gloves, and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. Despite her fancy outfit, the girl seemed used to it, and seemed to have little to no trouble walking. . . But, despite that. . . The little girl looked. . . Lost.

The little girl wandered from room to room with a worried look on her face, opening doors in hopes and seeming to find something. When the girl opened a door and was only met with an empty room, she seemed to get more and more distressed. 

Until eventually, the little girl spun around a few times in the deserted area, kneeled down to the ground, and started to cry. 

After the girl cried for a few moments, a ghostly figures started to appear around the crying little girl. 

They came in all shapes and sizes- Some seemed old, some seemed Quentin’s age, if not younger. Different hairs colors, different skin colors- Each person seemed different in their own way. And yet, they seemed they connected, as they all spoke with one another casually until eventually, a few of the ghosts came up to the crying little girl.

“Quentin?” One of the ghosts spoke. The ghost seemed about Quentin’s age, with brown hair tied in a side 5 strand braid, making the girl’s girl look almost like a pie.  “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” The little girl, named Quentin from what the ghost said. “Adelaide?”

The ghost nodded, and serval others ghosts that looked about Quentin’s age seemed to appear around Quentin, holding the girl softy. “Hi.” The little girl smiled, giving a dorky smile to the living child. 

“B-But. . .I-I thought. . .h-h-how. . . w-w-w-why-?” The little girl questioned, but quickly felt something cold against her lips, silencing the living child.

“It’s complicated.” Adelaide smiled. “But that’s no matter! Let’s go dance!”

“Dance? But-” Quentin tried to protest, but the ghosts around her did not seem  quite willing to listen to her protests, as the ghosts pulled the living child deeper and deeper into the castle, some older ghosts passed the little girl and seemed to get ahead of the group that Quentin was walking with, but Quentin didn’t seem to move that fast and there was a small tribe around her, eventually leading the noblewoman to a ballroom she had never been to before. 

“Huh? A ballroom?” Quentin looked around. “Hey, isn’t this area off-limits?”

“For the living!” Another ghost chimed in. “It’s not us?”

“But, then shouldn’t I not be here?” Quentin asked. “Won’t I get in trouble?”

“Bleeeh. Don’t be a spoil sport, Quarry.” A black haired ghost boy with green eyes chimed in, hugging Quentin from behind. “It’s Halloween. We can bend the rules a little.”

“Besides, you’re totally lost.” A blond haired boy ghost boy with red eyes chimed, giggling a little.

“I am not, Presley!” Quentin’s cheeks puffed up, with the little girl even stomping one of her feet. 

“Then why where you crying?” Presley giggled. 

Quentin blushed. “I! I-I! I was just upset Narcissa stole Hartwin again!”

“Pffffft. Since when did Hartwin became the main boy everyone falls for?” 

“Since recently!”

“Now, now.” Another ghost stepped in, this time, a red headed boy wearing glasses, with another red headed girl with bright green eyes behind him, looking the two fighting with curious eyes. “No need to fight you two. I know it’s been months since you last fought, but the Halloween celebration is going to start soon.”

“What? Aw man! I gotta go to! My old man will kill me again if I’m late! Come on Quarry!” Presley said, as he floated away, several other ghosts following suit, leaving Quentin with Adelaine and a few other ghosts about their age. 

“Should I? Quentin asked the ghosts that where with here.

“It’ll be fine!” A ghost boy with messy black hair and blue eyes smiled.

“What’ll the royals do when they find out? You think they supervise this area?” Another ghost laughed. They had white hair, with red eyes. 

“Come on already!” A blonde haired ghost boy with blue eyes said, pulling Quentin along. “We can’t be here all night!”

“If you don’t want to do anything, you can just watch us.” A brown haired blue eyed ghost said, pushing Quentin as well.

Leading Quentin to sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.”

And the ghosts huddled around the little girl cheered, a quickly pushed into deeper and deeper into the castle. 

The ghosts eventually opened the huge double doors to the room, and Quentin was lead into. . . a lavish and huge ballroom. 

It was huge. Even compared to the ballrooms Quentin had seen, this was huge.

It was covered in well-craved statues of both humans, fae, beastman, monsters and animals mingling with each other happily, some with instruments and dancing. There was a painting on the ceiling, that seemed to depict the races of Twisted Wonderland all together with the gods watching over them with all the statues covered in various stone types and gemstones, despite the room being painted a cream white color. There was a huge crystal chandelier that seemed to light the whole room, and a balcony where some instruments played music that Quentin didn’t recognize. Around the room where various tables with ghosts sitting around them. The room was decorated and everything! There was banners around the room, the tables had clean clothes and decorations on them, and the big ballroom seemed cared for, despite the ghosts. And then Quentin smelled. . . Food. Like, a feast of food nearby, and soon enough she saw a table filled with what looked like fresh foods! It looked like they just came out of the kitchen too!

“Quarry~ You’re staring~” Adelaine teased.

“The royal family. . . Did they do this?” Quentin asked, which earned a few nods from the ghosts around her.

“Yes.” A ghost piped up. 

“They normally do for Halloween.” Another ghost pipped up, as they floated in front of Quentin. “It’s one of the best times of the year!”

“Really?” Quentin asked, which earned her another few nods. 

“They give us tributes! They even give us incense for the whole day!” A ghosts said. “It’s great! It’s much more fun than normal!” 

“But now’s not the time to gawk!” Another ghost piped up, pulling Quentin in the middle of the ballroom. “Let’s introduce you!”

“What?! But, won’t-” Quentin said, as she was being dragged to the center of the room.

“It’ll be fine! Stop being a worrywart! Just say Happy Halloween!” 

“Gah?!” Quentin said, as she was pushed into the middle of the room, where everything seemed to stop and stare at Quentin. 

“A-A-Ah. Happy Hallow’s Eve, everyone.” Quentin said nervously, and now that some ghosts where staring, she became even more nervous, but then she remembered something Mrs. Honey taught her. “U-Um, I’m Quentin Desmona, the youngest child of Quillon and Millie Desmona, and the Diplomat and Librarian of the 50th Generation, on behalf of the royal family, I would like to thank you for attending this party that they prepared for you with their blood, sweat, and tears. Thank you for coming to the palace this year, and I hope you enjoy your Hallow’s Eve this year.” Quentin even curtseyed a little bit, in hopes it would help. 

After a few seconds, there was some clapping from the crowd, causing all of the ghosts to start to clap. 

Which, based on the blush on the little girl’s face, Quentin wasn’t sure how to respond to it. 

“Ah! Wonderful speech!” Some ghosts praised. 

“She’ll make a great diplomat!” Other ghosts praised.

“You hear that?! She’s my descendent!”

“She’s technically a descendent of all of us, you know.” 

“Ah! How wonderful! A living child this year!”

“How fun! And a Diplomat too! Better than a few years ago!”

“You did wonderful Quentin!” Adelaline praised. “Now, now let’s get unto the party!”

“Ah, alright.” Quentin said, nervously. 

The party of ghosts was actually quite fun for the little Quentin. She was allowed to eat any food she wanted, and she danced and talked and met with her relatives. She finally met her grandparents and got to meet some of her cousins that died when she was young! Her parents, her siblings and her other family never really talked about Quentin’s family, but now that Quentin had met them, she’d felt more of a connection with them.

Dancing with her deceased family members, chatting with them as she does with the living. . . Quentin for the first time felt connected to those who’d died beside people she knew when they where alive.

Quentin could say for sure, that she had fun that Halloween evening.

“She’s fallen asleep.” Adeline smiled, as the girl looked at the sleeping Quentin, who’d fallen asleep on a table. The little girl was even drooling a little, which looked quite cute on the little girl.

“Well, she did party til dawn.” Another ghost, named Sebastian. 

“I’m glad though.” Another ghost, named Hazel spoke up. “She seems to have had fun tonight.”

“We need to go back, though.” Presley said. “Or. . .”

“Let’s take her back to her home.” Sebastian said. “It won’t take too long.”

And, so, Quentin, being carried by a posse of ghosts, where outside on the porch, waited Rasul Desmona, Quentin’s older brother. 

“Rasul!” Hazel smiled, and she ran up to the boy, and Rasul hugged her back. 

“Hello, you all.” Rasul smiled, as he put aside his sleeping sister in a blanket and embrace to ghost children, who seemed happy to be hugged by the boy. “It’s wonderful to see all of you again.”

“We missed you this year!” Presley said. “Why didn’t you stop by?”

“Sorry about that. My parents won’t let me go since they couldn’t find Quentin.” Rasul smiled. “I’ll come next year and light some incense tomorrow, I swear.”

“Yay! More incense!” Presley smiled, but Sebastian didn’t seem as happy. 

“Big Brother Rasul, just remember to take care of yourself, alright?” 

“I know, I know.” Rasul laughed. “Come now, I think everyone else waiting for you so you can go to the Other Side before you get trapped here.”

“Brother Rasul, how did you know that?” Adelaine asked. 

“It’s complicated.” Rasul said. “I’ll explain next time I see you, okay?”

“Alright.” Adelaine said, and the group of child ghosts disappeared into the daylight.

Rasul turned to his sister with a sad look on his face. “You scared me, Quentin. I thought. . . You’d died again.” Rasul smiled creepily, and took Quentin until the house. 

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 6

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Notes: 

Trigger warning: self hatred, and demeaning thoughts towards oneself. Skip the bold text if that’s a trigger. Also blood and descriptions of fighting. Skip the first paragraph if that’s a trigger. When the speech is in italics, that means they are speaking in another language. I will say which one it is, so you can know because there are two other languages.

---

The room was shrouded in an ethereal darkness. Marinette looked around and screamed at the ghostly form of Chat Blanc lurking in the flickering shadows of the balcony. His bloodstained white hands reached for her as ice blue eyes gleamed with dark energy. She raised her arm to block the blow before shoving him away and running for the door. Her hands grasped desperately for the handle as a large hand grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the side. She stumbled back into the dresser, and with a snarl he lunged. A flash of light on gleaming claws, and then there was nothing but blood and hurt and the rasping sounds of her shallow, fading, breaths. She heard the ‘whoosh’ of a boot slicing through air, and felt a crack as it connected with her ribs. Knife sharp pain lanced through her chest, and she choked on her blood as he smirked down at her. He tuned and brought one red stained finger to his mouth before smiling at the taste and disappearing from the room. Too late. She thought as he vanished in the warm light of the sunrise. Too late. Then her vision went dark and she knew no more.

---

Marinette woke up screaming. Looking at the dark room around her she nearly fell out of bed in her haste to turn on the table lamp. As the dim light flooded the room, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, eyes flickering to corners in a search for shadows that weren’t there. She stayed like that, trembling and shaking with muffled sobs as the Kwami tried to comfort her, for almost an hour before she felt confident enough to move. 

Even then, when she eased into her wheelchair, she stayed away from the balcony, and kept her eyes firmly on her sewing. The repetitive motions soothed her as she worked, and calmed her rattled mind. When her alarm for 6:30 began blaring, she stopped working and got ready for school. 

Looking in the mirror, she made eye contact with herself and winced at her appearance. Deep bags were under her eyes, and her gaze was shadowed with the memories of her nightmare. She grabbed her concealer and got to work. She moved to let her hair down, and then flinched as the memories of Chat Blanc assaulted her mind.* She knew Adrien would never hurt her, but sometimes she would look at him, and all she could see was a world that had drowned and a shattered moon hanging in the sky.

Shuddering, she hugged herself around the waist before tying her hair into her signature pigtails.

The familiar actions calmed her down enough that she could manage to make her way downstairs. Her body felt heavy, and she was both exhausted and wide awake. She wheeled into the room, and was immediately met with several pairs of blue eyes looking her way. Blue eyes….

Tikki nudged her softly through her pocket. At the gesture, she steeled herself and pushed past the memories to make eye contact with everyone and smile. Then she sat down, and the flood of horrors suffocated her again. Moving on autopilot, she mechanically ate her breakfast before wheeling to the car, not noticing the concerned glances of the family. 

---

Damian was not worried. 

He simply noticed that when Dupain-Cheng had walked into the room, she had flinched slightly upon making eye contact with everyone in the family. Everyone in the family but him and Alfred. She had forced a smile onto her face a second later, and as she ate, she seemed to not notice the rest of her surroundings. Father had called her name three times, and she had not responded even once. Then she had taken her plate to the sink, and wheeled to the car without even looking at any of them. 

So no, he was not worried, just curious.

---

As the car pulled up to Gotham Academy, Marinette felt her fear rise. Would this school be just like her old one? Spoiled bullies and liars getting her into trouble? What if her classmates hated her? What if they called her a charity case? ‘It would be true, though.’ She laughed bitterly to herself. ‘Poor Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Can’t even deal with a single bully, so she has to escape to a county all the way across the ocean.’ She clawed her way out of the self loathing enough to open the door and climb out of the car. As she made her way into the school behind Damian, heard the whispers and glances of the students she passed in the hallways. Saw how their eyes lingered on the bruises that were still too painful to cover with makeup, how they focused on her stitches and glanced at her leg. She felt their pitying stares on her back as she wheeled into the office. 

The secretary, a young woman with long brunette hair, didn’t even look up as she entered the room. “How can I help you?” She snapped, all business as her fingers clacked at the keyboard. “My name is Marinette, um, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m a transfer student, and I need my schedule.” She muttered, feeling insecure at the poorly-disguised hostility rolling off the woman in waves. “Right, here you go. Make sure you’re not late, your first class starts in five minutes.” She snapped as she reached out with one hand to give her the schedule. “Thank you.” She mumbled before turning to leave. She didn’t even look away from the screen, only giving her an absentminded “Uh-huh, no problem.” Getting the message, Marinette turned and wheeled out the door.

As she made her way to her first class (Damian having left her at the office with barely a backward glance), Marinette thanked her Ladybug luck for giving her classes on the first floor. She stopped in front of her first class (Physics with Mr. Henway, how wonderful) and knocked twice before rolling in at the muffled “Yes, come in.” she heard. 

Opening the door, she surveyed the classroom and noticed nobody was looking at her-a stark contrast to the hallways where she had felt like an exhibit on display. She turned to the teacher, an older man with a stern grandfatherly air about him. “Hello sir, where should I sit?” She asked quietly.

He looked up when she spoke, and immediately let out a loud gasp that garnered most of the room’s attention. “Good golly child, what happened to you?! You look like you just went three rounds with one of Scarecrow's goons!” Feeling the incredulous stares of the people in the class, she shifted awkwardly in her seat and repeated her earlier question. 

Realizing she wasn’t going to answer, he sighed and motioned to a spot in the front row.

She took her place and tried to ignore her rising blush, and the rest of her classmate’s glances as he began teaching.

The rest of her classes passed in a similar manner: shocked teacher, repeated glances, quiet muttering she tried to ignore. She met a group of four other kids that were quick to latch on and include her in their conversations. She learned their names were Claude, Allegra, Bridgette, and Felix, and she hoped they would become friends. She ignored the voices hissing in her ear: ‘They’re going to abandon you. Nobody loves you. Everyone around you hates you. They all want you to go away. They’re just being polite to the new kid because they pity you.’ as she accepted their invitation to eat lunch with them. Even with her newfound friends, lunch was the worst, as the whole room kept looking at her. Felix and Allegra glared threateningly over her head as Bridgette and Claude tried to draw her into conversation. Feeling anxious, she ducked her head down, and ate quickly, trying to ignore everything. 

By the time school was over, she was drowning in a sea of insecurity and anxiety, and she barely heard Alfred call her name over the ringing in her ears. Latching on to his voice like a lifeline, she hurried into the car, and slumped against the seat with a shaky sigh. 

“What's wrong, Miss Marinette?” Alfred asked as they drove to the Manor. She heard Damian tut behind her and mutter “Can’t even get through one day at school.” Blushing with embarrassment, she quickly answered “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Seeing his unconvinced stare, she hurried to add to her excuse. “There were just so many people, and it was kind of overwhelming. But I’m okay.” She saw him nod in acceptance, and let loose a relieved exhale as she leaned back in her seat and watched the buildings go by.

---

She wheeled into the Manor, feeling relieved to get away from all the crowding and stares at school.  Making her way through the house, she gave Bruce a small wave as she passed him in the hallway. This day was totally awful. Nothing can make it any worse than it already is.’ She thought to herself as she entered the living room. Noticing Jason, Dick, and Tim watching a show, she lifted her hand to wave, but then brought it to her bag as her phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she smiled to see Chloé’s name flash across the screen. She nodded in greeting instead, and answered the call. 

“Hey Chloé, what’s up?” she spoke as she sat down on the couch next to Jason. “Maribug! Fu’s completely lost it!”  She shrieked over the phone. The sound was so loud, Marinette had to pull the phone away from her ear with a wince. “Tone it down a bit, Chlo. What do you mean?” She asked, trying to speak calmly. “He won’t stop mumbling to himself, and at random times he’ll just stare at the wall blankly!” The girl answered, though at a much quieter volume.  Marinette frowned and switched to French, hoping the others weren’t fluent. “Well, I think that behavior should be normal for a man that just had memories from over 150 years of his life erased.” Someone choked on air behind her. ‘So much for them not knowing French.’ She thought. She was totally screwed. Her thoughts were interrupted by Chloé speaking again. “No he says the Demon is coming!” Marinette paused. “Chloé,” she spoke carefully, “you need to tell me his exact words. Now.” Her voice hardened at the end; it was not a request. Sensing the importance, Chloé immediately became serious. “It was mostly mumbling, and I couldn’t make out most of what he said, but I heard something about Al Guhl, and eternal life.” Forget what she had thought earlier. Apparently there was something that could make this day worse. For being a Holder of Luck, she sure was unlucky. She tried to calm her breathing, and tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “You’re absolutely sure he said that? You weren’t just hearing things?” “Yeah, that's exactly what he said. Is something wrong?” Chloé responded, sounding worried. She let out a laugh, but it sounded strained. “Yes. If I’m hearing you correctly, Master Fu was talking about League of Assassins.” She spoke in the language of the Guardians to make sure the rest of the room didn’t understand her words. Chloé sucked in a breath before cursing loudly. “Yeah, we’re totally fucked.” Marinette muttered an agreement before ending the call. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned loudly at the thought of dealing with assassins on top of everything else. “Mari? Are you okay? That conversation was kind of concerning.” Dick questioned gently, looking supremely worried. Marinette smiled up at him. “No, everything’s good. I got it handled. Just some issues with...a mentor of mine. Nothing big.” She lied, before making up an excuse. “I have a lot of homework to do, so I’m going to go work on it.” She shot the three of them another fake grin, before wheeling out of the room without waiting for their response.

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Taglist: @laurcad123 (let me know if you want to be tagged)

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More Notes: *In the episode Chat Blanc, Marinette wore her hair down after the identity reveal, so I’m making that a trigger because she associates that with Adrien’s eventual akumatization. This is not an Adrien salt fic!! It’s just her own trauma making her fear him sometimes. Also, I know her wrist brace came off, but it’s still sore which is why she’s using the wheelchair instead of crutches. And in school we weren’t allowed to carry book bags (students might be hiding guns or weapons) so you had to carry your things around. In Gotham that would also be logical, so with that in mind it would be hard for Mari to get around with crutches and carry her things simultaneously.

[xpedropascal]

To Be So Lonely [Maxwell Lord x Reader] Part Two

Summary: After being struck by a family tragedy, Maxwell Lord finds his legacy in taking over his father’s business, Black Gold Cooperative. Cold and shut-off from the world around him, he decides he does not have time for anything other than his work and cares only about pushing his company to success – but how difficult does that become for him when you enter his life as a ghost from the past?

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

WARNINGS: stalker-ish behaviour, mild sex reference

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR [coming soon!]

MASTERLIST

KO-FI

AUTHOR’S NOTE: yay! chapter two! :) flashbacks can be identified through use of italics. To Be So Lonely will have themes of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff etc. i plan on it being a whole exciting ride. there will be connections to the DCEU and certain characters will making an appearance... however, for story-telling purposes, this will be in an alternate universe to Wonder Woman 1984 just because the movie has yet to be released. the main bulk of the story will be set in the 80s, with the occasional childhood flashbacks. please let me know if you want to be added onto a tag list!

♡♡♡ TWO ♡♡♡

Gotham was a bustling city, and practically lead by none other than Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and on-going rival to Maxwell Lord. Wayne Enterprises, as an international conglomerate, was taking the world by storm under Bruce’s reign. He had shares in railway, aerospace, technology, food, and more recently; oil. Much like any other successful CEO, Bruce Wayne would do anything to see his business thrive, but at the moment, he had his eye on something very particular. He was a man with a plan. Bruce Wayne was fearless, but he knew when to be concerned, as across the country, Maxwell Lord led the biggest oil extraction company, Black Gold Cooperative.

“Mr Wayne,” his assistant, Gemma, dropped a file on his desk. A file with your name on. “Everything is here, as requested.”

Bruce Wayne flicked through your file momentarily, taking in the glossy images of you that he’d had someone take on your route to work. The file contained everything about you. From your date of birth and address, to your national security number. “Excellent,” Bruce smiled. “I will have Jeeves drive me to…” he pulled out a map that highlighted the route you took from home to work. “…Cocoa Coffee.”

“I believe she finishes at eighteen hundred hours, sir.” Gemma piped in. Bruce checked the time on his wrist watch and cursed under his breath before standing up and grabbing his coat.

“I best be on my way then.”

A lot had happened since the days you spent living in the Lord family guest house. You were now, a lot older – a young adult with ambition, but stuck working as a part-time barista in one of Gotham’s favourite coffee shops, Cocoa Coffee. You and your mother had returned to Gotham four years after moving to DC; and looking back, your time spent with the Lord family had been tainted by the day you were forced to leave.

♡

Every day was the same. You would come home from school and throw your bag on the sofa before changing into your play shoes and heading out to the gardens to see Maxwell. For him, it was similar. At 4PM sharp, he would drop whatever he was doing to come see you. His mother hated you, that much was obvious. Naomi Lord constantly scolded her son for playing with you. “The Lord family do not associate with people like that,” she would tell Maxwell. But he didn’t care. He was your best friend and you were his only friend. He went from wanting to be a successful businessman like his father, to wanting to be as free-spirited and happy as you. You inspired him and made him feel like a better person.

On the evening of Maxwell’s sixteenth birthday, you had something special planned. You wanted to lay with him in the gardens and show him the beauty of star gazing while you stuffed your faces with cake and told each other the craziest imaginative stories. At 4PM sharp, no different to usual, you slung your bag down on the sofa and slid your feet into your play shoes, and just as you were about to leave the guest house, your mother extended her arm across the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sweetheart,” your mother said sadly. “Maxwell can’t play with you today.” You looked up at your mother, doe-eyed and confused. Your mother had never stopped you from playing with Maxwell. Before you could question her, she opened her mouth again. “I’ve lost my job.”

Your jaw dropped. “You- what- mom… what happened?”

Your mom shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve packed all your things. We need to leave right now.”

If you’re mother wasn’t prepared to tell you why she had been fired, the least she could do was allow you to see your best friend once more on his sixteenth birthday. “At least let me say goodbye to Max-“

“No you can’t.” Your mother’s voice grew stern. You knew, in that moment, something serious happened. “We are leaving, now.”

“But Max-“

Your mother raised her voice, barking your name angrily, and making you flinch. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “Something awful has happened, and Maxwell… I just know the poor boy will have a lot on his plate right now. More than anyone could ever imagine. You and I… we might not have much, but we’re lucky.” Your mother’s tone of voice softened. She was clearly sad. But you became increasingly frustrated at her secrecy and not allowing you to say a final farewell to your best friend.

The sky fell dark fast, and as you left the guest house with your bags and walked down the drive way, Lord Manor was busier than you had ever seen before. An ambulance, police cars, vans from not only local news stations, but national news stations too. Flashing lights blinding you from the paparazzi cameras. Your mother dragged you into the shadows, ensuring the press didn’t see you both leave. You couldn’t help but stare, and walked on your tip-toes, trying to look over the heads and see what was going on.

There, standing outside the front door of Lord Manor was Naomi Lord and her sixteen year old son, Maxwell. Naomi was sobbing into a silk handkerchief, her hair no longer in perfect curls and her makeup smudged with tears. Standing forward slightly, all suited up, was Maxwell Lord IV. On his sixteenth birthday.

You knew this would be the last time you saw your best friend; but you wished you hadn’t seen him at all. All colour was drained out of his skin and he stood there, frozen. You whispered his name to yourself as your mother dragged you to the gates, and you felt tears brim your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Not without a goodbye. Maxwell looked sick. Despite dressed in one of his best designer suits, hair perfectly styled – he looked ghostly. The closer you got to the gate, the more you heard paparazzi endeavour him with questions. But it was so loud and overwhelming you could barely make out what they were saying. Gone, was the happy smiley boy you played with in the gardens. It may have been Maxwell’s sixteenth birthday, but that day marked the end of his youth. No more time for games.

♡

“Life is good, but it can be better… I’m Maxwell Lord and for a low monthly fee…” Hearing his name snapped you out of your daydreams. You looked over at the small television in the corner of the staff room, your co-worker, Theresa, smacking it with her hands in frustration.

“Remote not working again?” You sighed, putting a hand on your hip and watching her struggle to change the channel. You couldn’t help but smile as she let out an exasperated groan.

“Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative! The world’s first oil company run for the people, by the people. You can own a piece of the most lucrative industry in the world. And every time we strike gold, you strike gold.” You felt your lips twist in disgust at how artificial your childhood friend was sounding. You couldn’t even bare to look at him. His face was everywhere.

“Every time we strike gold, you strike gold,” you badly mimicked his iconic line. It was the company slogan. Rolling your eyes, you walked out of the staff room and to the front-of-house. You heard Theresa throw the remote in frustration and suddenly, Maxwell Lord shut up. You smiled as Theresa followed you behind the bar. At least she had managed to turn the television off.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Theresa asked almost rhetorically. It was true, you didn’t like Maxwell Lord. Simply because he wasn’t the little boy you played with in the gardens of Lord Manor. You knew you shouldn’t have held resentment. Everyone changes as they get older – but Maxwell Lord was just so easy to hate. Max’s carefree spirit died the day you left, and the smarmy salesman Maxwell Lord IV was not someone you cared for. For months after you moved back to Gotham, you waited for some kind of communication from Max. But nothing. And it became clear that Maxwell was happy enough to throw away the four year friendship you had shared together. Your silence prompted Theresa to continue. “He’s handsome though, in a way.” You spluttered at her sudden confession and Theresa just laughed. “Rich…powerful…” she went on.

“He’s an asshole.” You stated, as blunt as ever.

“You know him?” Theresa quizzed. “Hmm?”

“No but-“ You stopped yourself. “I know enough about him.”

“His fiancée is a lucky gal,” Theresa sighed, and you found yourself completely taken aback.

“Wait. Fiancée?” There was no way.

“Do you even read People Magazine?” Theresa scoffed, shaking her head as if this was common knowledge. You spent every living day trying to avoid Maxwell Lord after the way he and his family had hurt you and your mother. But of course, his presence followed you everywhere. Whether it be his enormous head hanging over the highway on bulletin boards or his infomercials that were broadcasted on every channel, at the same time, every evening.

“You got this information from a tabloid?” You rolled your eyes.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe that Maxwell Lord has a fiancée?” Theresa made a point. Sure, Maxwell Lord was charming… but in a cold, sick and twisted kind of way.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t it’s just-“

“Oh shoot, look at the time! I gotta pick the kids up from school. They’re at an arts club, you see. Would you mind tidying and closing the shop tonight?” Theresa gasped, although it wasn’t as much a question as it was a statement. She thrusted a sweeping brush into your arms and in a frenzy, was out of the coffee shop within a minute.

It was the hottest summer you could ever remember. Golden rays of sunlight beamed through the large windows, the heat making your hair stick to your forehead as you puffed your cheeks out. Tiredly, you loosened the ribbon that was holding together your apron and continued to sweep the floor and wipe down the tables. It had been a long day, but the end of the month meant you were getting your pay check. Just as you were about to close-up Cocoa Coffee, you heard the bell jingle as the front door opened.

“Oh I’m sorry we’re clo-“ you said before stopping and taking in the sight that was Bruce Wayne. If Theresa was still here, she would’ve lost her mind. Not quite Maxwell Lord, but another rich businessman; seemingly, just her type. The CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He was a black silhouette, standing in front of the setting sun, but despite being hidden by a casted shadow, you could recognise him anywhere. During your time at Lord Manor, you had grown up hearing a lot about the Wayne family. You froze, staring at him with anti-bacterial spray in one hand and a cloth in the other. Bruce took a step forward, grinning at you. “Mr- Mr Wayne…” you found yourself stumbling over your words. “How may I help you?”

“I’ve been watching you for some time now,” Bruce said darkly, breaking any distance between you both. You looked up at the businessman feeling somewhat intimidated. “You’re the girl who has been making my lattes every day for two years.” Like the flick of a light switch, his tone of voice changed to be more cheery, but you were still taken off-guard.

“I- I have? I’ve never seen you before.” You replied, bewilderment dripping from your tongue. Sure, you had seen Bruce Wayne make headlines but you had never seen him in real life before. “I mean. I’ve seen you. On uh, Forbes right? Front page?”

“Not this year,” Bruce sighed, and removed his sunglasses. “Some other scam artist took my place.” Immediately you felt a sense of dread, and you hoped you hadn’t done anything to piss him off. Bruce turned around and pointed to a black car with tinted windows, parked outside of the coffee shop.

“I’m sorry.” You bit your lip awkwardly. Bruce just shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he went to continue on his opening statement.

“I sit in the front seat while my assistant grabs my coffee,” Bruce explained, still pointing at the car outside, and you breathed out a little ‘ah’ whilst nodding somewhat understandably. You did not want to get on Bruce Wayne’s bad side, that’s for sure. “And I must admit, not a day has gone by where I haven’t been mesmerised by your beauty.” You felt your cheeks flush with heat at his compliment. You couldn’t help but remain silent, thus prompting Bruce to continue. “See, I’m actually a shy guy,” Bruce said, but his charm and fluency made you feel as though he wasn’t entirely being truthful. There was no way you could question the multi-billionaire. “And after a lot of persuasion from my assistant… well, I’m here to ask you out.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You were just about to end your shift playing barista for the day when the Bruce Wayne had come into Cocoa Coffee saying all these nice things. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t make sense of it all. Had he gotten the right person? He recognised you, so he really must be wanting you. So many thoughts raced through your head. Something felt off immediately, but you knew you could never deny Bruce Wayne a date. “I- uhm-“ you stumbled on your words and found Bruce looking nervous, awaiting your response. “Okay.” you accepted his proposal, and his worried frown turned into a beaming smile.

“Great!” He cheered. “I will have someone pick you up on Sunday afternoon. Don’t worry, I know where you live.”

Brushing past his comment about knowing your address, you raised a finger. “Uhm, where will we be going?”

“DC.” Those two letters made your heart sink into your chest. It had been years since you had last step foot in DC and you didn’t exactly associate the capital city with the fondest of memories. “I have business there. That’s not an issue, is it?”

Was it?

“No, of course not Mr Way- I mean Bruce.”

“Great, I will see you Sunday. Dress formal. I know the most amazing restaurant we can go to. They do the best martinis.”

♡

Maxwell Lord IV zipped up his pants and sunk into his office chair, regaining his breath. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and fixed his hair the best he could, before looking down at his secretary who was still on her hands and knees under his desk, looking up at him, waiting for his next instruction. Maxwell simply opened his desk drawer and threw her a silk cloth to wipe away the mess he had painted her face with. “Same time tomorrow.” He said, not even bothering to make eye contact with her. “Wear that same lipstick too.”

“Yes sir.” She replied, shakily standing up.

“You are free to leave now,” Maxwell told his secretary. “What do you say?”

“Th-thank you sir.”

His secretary scurried out of his office and once more, Maxwell was alone. He spun around in his chair and looked at the framed magazine cover, hanging on the wall behind him. There he was. He had made it to the front page of Forbes. Richest man in the world. He was loved. He was feared. He was Maxwell Lord IV.

♡♡♡ TAGLIST ♡♡♡

@mrschiltoncat​