#i'm just not. wanting to deal with the consequences of disappearing for months at a time and what that means LMAO

[theseusmcalt]

school knocked the wind out of me i am. so tired. and it's midterms after christmas break so i'll be studying the whole time anyway,,,, iam so excited for post-midterms you guys have NO idea. SLEEP !!!!

[poppadom0912]

Her father's daughter

Warnings: Kidnapping, crying, canon-typical injuries, blood

Summary: When all is well, someone just has to barge in and ruin Will and Faith's lives.

A/N: Soo, I am back more than a month later. I didn't mean to disappear for so long... It will happen again i am sorry. This Ramadan has come with more work and I have exams in two weeks that i refuse to fail. I will most likely return at the end of april/beginning of May.

i've been thinking about writing this for a while because of how much I love Faith but I didn't want to hurt her but then I thought, no one can turn down some good old angst. Sorry again for being mia for nearly another month but randomly wrote this all in one sitting after doing some psychology and having an existential crisis soooo. This is going to be a little longer than usual, happy reading!!

Will was at work when it happened.

He was getting ready to assist Connor in a surgery when he got a call as they were scrubbing in.

The part-time nanny he hired was now basically considered family over the two years she'd been looking after Faith whenever she wasn't in school and Will was at work. So to have her calling him at work was odd but when he answered her call and was immediately met with tears and gasping and hyperventilating, Will felt his heart stop.

Will wasted no time. simply telling her he was on his way before hanging up.

Connor, without hesitation, encouraged Will to leave, saying he'd find Goodwin and tell her himself.

As soon as Will was in his car, the first person he called was a no brainer.

Whenever Will called, Jay would always come running, day or night for his older brother and niece, consequences be damned.

Will found himself struggling when Jay answered, grappling for words he couldn't muster.

"What's wrong Will?"

"Faith's gone Jay... Someone's taken her."

*****

The brothers met up at Faith's school, Will arriving before Jay.

The second Will got there, Allison, the nanny, found him instantly. She ran up to him in tears, hysterically crying as if it was her own child that was taken.

"Will I'm so sorry." She gasped, on the edge of a panic attack, eyes impossibly red as she hyperventilated, tears showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

"They- Reception said a woman picked her up in Maggie's name three hours ago-" She cut herself off with a sob. Poor women was a mess, seeing her so distraught made Will want to cry along with her.

"Allison, please listen." Will said sternly, holding her shoulder so she would pay attention to him. "None of this is your fault, okay? If it wasn't for you, it would've been another two hours before someone found out."

She exhaled shakily, nodding fervently when Will pressed her to stop apologising and accept she was at no fault, there was no reason for her to take any blame.

Before either could say anything more, the sound of sirens scared them, making both of them jump at the sudden loud sound.

At the sight of familiar cars, Will wasn't too sure if he felt relief or impending doom.

"Intelligence Will need to take a statement but after that you can go home." Will told Allison, squeezing her bicep with a timid smile for reassurance.

"As soon as they find Faith, you'll be the first to know, I promise."

*****

Jay was struggling to concentrate on the CCTV footage him and Adam were meant to be watching.

He could say with 100 percent confidence the he never thought he'd find himself in such a situation.

intelligence have been involved with numerous kidnappings. So many in fact that it was usually what they would be expecting to be called in for every day.

But, this was his niece's kidnapping. This wasn't the norm for him let alone the rest of them. A five year olds kidnapping was something they'd never want to deal with, especially someone who was family.

"Here it is." Adam said, clicking the mouse a few more times before settling on a frame, the scene being the reception of Faith's school.

Shaking any deprecating thoughts away, Jay pushed his chair forward, looking closely and minimising his blinks as to not miss a single second of valuable footage. Footage that would show the final moments of Faith being alive and safe.

The halls were empty for the most of it, bar the occasional janitor or teacher walking by. Two minutes passed when a woman in a black trench coat walked up to the desk. Her brown hair obscuring her face from the camera's view along with the thick scarf wrapped around her neck.

She spoke to the receptionist, signing a sheet of paper before a lady walked away, soon returning with a small familiar bundle.

Faith was in her little purple puffer jacket, bobble hat covering her ears and mitten on her little hands. She wore little winter boots, her my little pony backpack sat nicely on her shoulders and Will's old scarf held in her hands. Unconsciously, Jay thought about how she always complained about the itchiness of the scarf that Will would always wrap around her masterfully, his method luring out the most wonderful sound to mankind; Faith's laughter.

Faith looked perfect, just like her fathers carbon copy and even from the shitty camera footage, Jay could see the pep in her step and the twinkle that never extinguished from her eyes.

Jay's thoughts trailed back to earlier this morning when he was still fast asleep in bed but his brother had messaged him, sending him a picture of Faith in all her adorableness. Nothing had changed from that picture and it warmed his heart slightly.

Usually, whoever picked her up was met with the biggest hello, the widest smile and incessant talking and she retold the adventures of her day but this time, Faith's steps faltered at the sight of the stranger.

Jay struggled to watch the rest.

*****

All Will could hear was his baby girls cries echoing in his ears.

He'd heard her cry plentiful, he raised her since birth for goodness sakes but this cry was different. It was like he could hear just how scared she was and it felt like a literal stab in the heart.

Will forced Allison home twenty minutes ago after Hailey took her statement and was told everything. She was still very torn and upset, she refused to leave Will for several reasons but before she started blaming herself again, Will forced her to leave, promising once again to call her later.

Jay had shown Will the footage of the woman who never showed her face, maybe there was some chance Will could recognise the back of her. Somehow, she knew the exact school Faith went to as well as knowing the list of very few people that were allowed to pick her up. The list consisted of Will obviously, Jay, Allison and Maggie.

Somehow, whoever this person was, they knew who was on the emergency contact list, information that only the school and said people were privy to.

That small bit of information made Will want to be sick.

They had tried other means to try identify the woman but they were coming up with nothing. Another hour had passed, now being give hours since Faith had been taken and Will was slowly losing the plot.

"I've contacted a bunch on my CI's." Jay said, face set in stone as he finished presenting. "Still waiting to hear back."

"I have several CI's in that area." Antonio added, Kevin nodding to also confirm. "Waiting for a call any time now."

Voight hummed, giving no indication of what he was thinking or feeling. But not too long ago, he had taken Will aside and promised they would bring Faith back to him, no matter the cost.

No matter the cost. Ethically, Will wasn't too sure what to feel but emotionally, he felt relieved.

Will must've zoned out for a bit because the next thing he knew, only him, Jay and Antonio remained in the bullpen. Everyone else seemingly disappeared.

Wow, he really needed to fix up.

"Hey, how are you-"

Just as Jay opened his mouth, he was cut off by a phone ringing.

*****

Jay wasn't allowed to accompany Antonio to his CI, instead taking Kevin with him. The Latino was never once persuaded by Jay, even when he promised to stay in the car.

The sun was now starting to set and there was a clear shift in the atmosphere as the sky grew darker. To ease broth his own and his brothers fears, Jay sat with Will, sitting together in a silence neither could stand.

This was an uncommon occurrence since Will had returned from New York, the two brothers being alone together. Since coming back, it had always been the three of them. So to be in this moment, both Halstead's would rather die than to have to repeat this again.

"You want a coffee?" Jay asked, eyeing up the half empty coffee pot. At the rate this investigation was going, they'd be needing more than just coffee to help them stay up.

"Sure." Will hadn't meant for his answers to be monosyllabic, Jay had done nothing but right now, he had not much left in him to continue being so forth coming.

The silence enveloping their space, Will usually relished in any moments of silence he could get but this was just uncomfortable. Never did he ever want his little girl to be causing such a ruckus.

"Maggie called me back." Will said, watching Jays' back, following his actions as he made both their coffee's. "She doesn't recognise the woman nor has she told anyone outside the ED's staff about Faith - that's all people I know and none of them know that woman."

Jay hummed as he stirred the tiniest bit of sugar when his tasted a little too bitter for his liking. "That's good but it does mean we have even less of an idea as to who this is."

Will didn't reply, only mumbling a small thanks as he took the mug from Jay's outstretched hand and sipping the lukewarm drink.

"Have you butted heads with anyone at work recently?" Jay asked, knowing his brothers stubbornness very well.

"No." Will rolled his eyes. "I've been under Goodwin's strong scrutiny after the last stunt. Go ask anyone, I've been good."

And for a second, nothing felt as heavy but such a feeling didn't last.

"Antonio and Kevin are back." Trudy suddenly appeared in the doorway of the breakroom causing both of them to flinch. "Go see them downstairs."

*****

"My CI works in a restaurant. When I reached out, his story matched up with ours." Antonio started, standing tall besides the computer screen where Kevin was trying to connect it to the USB they were given.

"At the same time Will called us, a different woman came and ordered a takeaway with a kid he said looks a lot like Faith."

Will felt his heart rate picking up the more Antonio spoke. Hearing all of this felt like a fever dream, he didn't want to get his hopes up just in case they reached another dead end.

The camera footage started to play, Kevin skipping it when nothing was happening, only to abruptly replay it when someone walked in.

All they could see was the back of the woman, her black hair in a braid, scarf wrapped around her neck with a long jacket on. As Will's eyes studied the stranger, he followed her outstretched arm to-

Faith

Will's breath hitched at the sight of his little girl who hadn't seen since the early hours of the morning when he dropped her off to school. He held his breath, watching closely to see if a single hair was misplaced on her body or to try and see what she was feeling from either her scrunched up eyebrows or her quivering lips.

But he couldn't see anything.

The woman went to the counter, ordered her food and stood there for however long it took for the food to be made. Only when she was handed a carrier bag with several containers did she finally turn around and show her face.

Will's face paled in recognition instantly.

"What's wrong Will?" Jay noticed his change immediately, his question causing everyone in the room to turn and look at him. "Do you recognise her?"

Will swallowed harshly, blinking repeatedly to bring himself out of shock.

"Yeah, it's Faith's mum."

*****

With this newfound information, it didn't take Intelligence long to track her down.

Stephanie Brooks, 'Steph' was what she insisted everyone call her. For just over a year, she was Will's girlfriend and as of five years ago, she was Faiths absent mother.

Ever since that night five years ago, Will never thought he'd see his ex again but here he was, sitting in the back of his brothers truck as he waited for Intelligence to get his daughter back.

Once they had her name, they found the car she had under her name in Chicago and the place she was renting out as of three months ago. Three months of which she had been watching them under a microscope.

Will actually had to go be sick in the toilet when Kim turned around with all of Stephanie's activities since she arrived in Chicago, all of which suspiciously looked very familiar and aligned with everything he and Faith did recently.

That aside, all Will had to do now was wait.

Jay and Kevin stood in front, Kevin ready to kick the door down before Jay could go in first. All they were waiting for was for Voight's signal.

"Now!"

Within seconds, they were all entering the bungalow, guns out and pointed in any direction, covering all corners as they searched for Stephanie.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

They all went separate directions, covering every room in search of any life and soon enough, they found their culprit.

She screamed.

"Stephanie Brooks, your under arrest..." Adam went on, reciting the words they all had memorised for years now, his gun lowered slightly as Antonio went forward to handcuff her.

"What, no! You're crazy!" She shouted, struggling against Antonio's grip. Despite the cheap bungalow she rented, she was dressed as if ready for a night out. Her hair was curled, makeup perfect, heels and a tight fitted dress on.

"Kidnapping?" She scoffed, continuing to struggle as she was forced onto her feet. "She's my child, my daughter!"

"You can't take her from me." She told them, getting more riled up when she saw Adam rolling his eyes at her. "I want my lawyer, you have no right to take my daughter from me."

On the other side of the bungalow, Jay heard nothing but thundering in his ears as he frantically looked up and down for his niece. Nearly every room had been covered and they hadn't found her yet-

Jay felt his heart break the second Faith was in his sight.

He found her stuffed in the bathtub shivering. He had to kick down the door, finding her with zip ties around her wrists and ankles, sat in the bathtub with on her knickers and vest on.

Faith started crying.

Without another thought, Jay dropped his gun and rushed forward, kneeling at the edge of the bathtub before picking her up and dropping her into his lap.

"Oh Faith." Jay sighed, wrapping his arms around her as she curled into him. "It's okay, your safe, Jay Jay's got you now."

As sobs racked her little body, Jay took out his knife and carefully cut the zip ties off. As soon as the were chucked to the side, she wrapped her arms as far as they could around his torso.

Standing up, Jay took strides out the bathroom and made his way outside. Hailey found him on the way, taking her scarf off with Kim not too far behind taking her jacket off.

Both garments swaddled Faith, protecting her bare limbs from the torturous snow but she continued to shiver.

Jay felt himself breathing easier with her in his arms but Will was firmly on his mind.

Only a metre away from the premises did Jay find Will who was already bounding towards them.

"Faith, look." Jay gently poked her, watching her carefully pick her head up and turn in the direction Jay was pointing.

The cry she let out, it would forever haunt him.

"Faith."

Jay handed her over to his older brother who's arms encased her small body. Will dipped his face in her hair, inhaling the comforting smell that he never wanted to forget.

"Oh baby. It's okay, it's okay." Will repeated as she sobbed, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. "Daddy's got you."

Will pressed several kisses wherever he could: in her hair, her forehead, her ear poking out from her curls, her cheek anywhere. His arms tightened in their embrace and if it wasn't for Jay who was supporting him, he would fallen into the snow as soon as he lost all feeling in his legs.

Will could barely hear his own thoughts over Faith's gut wrenching cries. Somehow, her tears weren't running dry. To see her in such a state but to have her back and safe with him, Will finally let his emotions get the better of him.

He sniffled, hiding his face in her wild curls he always struggled to tame, his tears dropping like rain but his cries were muffled. Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to even out his breathing, Jay's hand on his back comfortingly rubbing circles kept him somewhat sane.

"We're driving to Med." Jay told him, directing the father-daughter duo towards his truck.

Sitting in the back, the outside world no longer existed, his entire universe was sat in his lap. Will had lost track of time, she had been continuously crying but Faith was silent now as she was knocked out, crying herself to sleep, that's how tired she was. All he could hear was the occasional soft snore, but he could feel everything from her rising chest against his own, her curls that needed to be brushed, her skin that was slowly warming up from both his own body heat and the garments wrapped around her and the tears that were drying on his shirt.

Will felt like he could finally start to relax.

*****

Faith remained in Will's arms at Med, even when he woke her up, neither of them made any move of letting go.

As soon as they got to the hospital, Will was surrounded by all his colleagues, all riddled with stress that was slowly disappearing when they saw Faith.

Currently, Natalie was doing the standard tests, letting Will do all the convincing which wasn't a lot. As soon as he asked, Faith complied.

"I'll go grab some heating blankets." Natalie said, stepping back as she finished off. "I'll make sure to put a rush on these."

"Thanks Nat." Will said, letting Faith curl back into his embrace.

"It's no problem." She smiled, her eyes looking down at the little girl, the sight of father and daughter making her think of Owen. "We're all just glad she's safe and mostly unharmed."

Will tried not to think of the scrapes and clotting up scabs that littered her body. He hadn't seen any of them till they got to Med, his chest restricting to know she had been hurt and he wasn't there to relieve her of the pain.

"Thank Ethan for me." Will added when Natalie was about to leave. "Faith loves the my little pony band aids."

And with that, they were left alone for the first time surrounded by the muffled sounds of the bustling department and the occasional beeps of machinery and the faint drips of the iv.

Despite being a doctor for years, Will found it difficult to see the iv needle in Faith. To have two worlds collide, Will would never wish this upon any parent.

Small pokes to his collarbone caught his attention, Faith poking it ever so gently as she stared up at him imploringly with the widest eyes that still glistened, their colour identical to the woman who was going behind bars.

"Missed you." She whispered, voice breaking towards the end. It was the first time she had spoken since she found her and the two words made his eyes water.

"I missed you too. Missed you so much baby." Will replied, tucking her hair behind her ears so he could see her whole face. "I'm so sorry baby. Daddy loves you so much."

A smile appeared on her cherry lips, her dimples not too far behind. Seeing them made it feel like nothing was wrong with the world and only the two of them mattered.

"Home?" She asked, her voice filled with so much innocence and hope that Will has to give himself some time before replying.

"Not yet, I'm sorry bubbles." He apologised, rubbing circles into her back. "Jay Jay still needs to come back and Maggie needs to bring you some medicine. She might even ask you to sleepover."

For once, Will was glad she was so eager to stay at his workplace. She had such wonderment surrounding his job, the thought of sleeping over at his work was almost a dream come true.

To finally see her mood pick up, her eyes glistening now with newfound happiness at the prospect of a sleepover, unaware of the connotations it had, Will allowed himself to feel good.

For now, all that mattered was that his daughter was rightfully back with her father and surrounded by family that would do anything for her.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

So hear me out, the first time Donna is close enough to reader while they sleep right? Well. Reader may have forgot to mention that they randomly stop breathing for a few seconds sometimes(it’s called sleep something that starts with an A) idk I think it’s kinda funny when I do that but yk. That or reader who had horrible depth perception and walks into things all the time so has bruises everywhere and forgets where exactly they come from

Yesss!!! Well, I chose the apnea option if you don't mind :))) Thank you for your request, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Sleeping problems

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, reader has sleep apnea, protective Donna

Word count: 2,686

Summary: You live with Donna now, but maybe you forgot about telling her something...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes, Donna requests are open!! My other account problems are solved, but I've decided to stay here definetely :))) I'm gonna make a master list and rules soon. I love you all!! :))))

“Are you comfortable?” Donna asked, covering you with the sheets. Her hands trembled, revealing a more than obvious nervousness.

It wasn't like other times at the beginning of your relationship. This time you could say that her nerves were more than justified. After months of insisting, insisting and insisting, you finally decided to take the final step: abandon your old house in the village and live with her.

Donna was your first long-term relationship, and you had doubts too. If something went wrong, you didn't know what the consequences could be. She was still one of the lords of the place and if you hurt her, you would suffer her wrath, and probably Mother Miranda's as well.

But that absurd fear of discrepancies or disagreements disappeared as soon as you started to really get to know her. Donna would never hurt you, or at least it’s what your almost unhealthy heart made you think.

Donna Beneviento had many flaws…. Some of them were natural, others were caused by years and years of terrible loneliness. To get used to her fear of losing you or her completely unjustified jealousy didn't take you too long, although it's true that this obsession with possessing you was the hardest thing to adjust to. She was that way, and you could never change it.

“Yes, yes... I'm fine, Donna,” you replied amused, snuggling up next to her in bed. “Come on, calm down.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, freeing her black hair from the messy bun she always tied it in. “Forgive me, (Y/N), I'm just nervous.”

“Don't apologize,” you said, laughing, grabbing her hand tenderly making that tremor disappear. “By the way… What should we do now?” You asked, lowering your tone and purring very close to her ear.

“What do you want to do?” She asked back, avoiding one of your unexpected kisses.

“I don't know... You and me... A bed...” You said murmuring, running a finger along her waist.

She pulled away from you and shook her head, a tender smile on her face.

“No, tesoro... Not tonight,” she said in a soft voice, suppressing the shiver that your touch made her feel.

“Why?” You asked, disappointed.

“Tonight is a very special moment, I don't want to ruin it.”

“Ruin it? Hey…” You said, pretending to be offended.

“No, I'm not saying that because I don't like it, (Y/N)... I just... I just want our first night together to be special...”

“Oh, well, okay,” you said reluctantly, lying down again and forgetting the desire that had already begun to form inside you. “So?  We are going to just sleep?”

“Aren't you excited to sleep with me?” She asked, letting out her demons, the shadows that made her doubt your feelings.

“What? Of course, of course, darling,” you said, scared by her heavy breathing. It wasn't easy to deal with her problems. Sometimes you forgot how sensitive she could be.

“You don’t love me?” She asked, her eye shining, with an expression of genuine terror. Time to act.

“Well, of course I love you, Donna... Come on, relax, breathe, breathe with me,” you said, grabbing her hands, sitting on the bed and keeping your gaze on hers. “That's it… take a breath…”

She obeyed your instructions and finally relaxed.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N). I wish I didn't have these… Flaws,” she said, snuggling next to you under the covers.

“Don’t worry. We all have flaws,” you replied, caressing her body and kissing the palm of her hand.

“Not you,” she said with a hoarse voice.

“Oh, of course I have…”

Donna looked at you curiously, reaching out with her hand to turn off the light on the table and make darkness fall over your embraced bodies.

“Go to sleep, princess... The truth is that I'm very excited to wake up next to you,” you said softly, planting a soft and tender kiss on her cheek.

“Really?” She asked, excited again.

“Really…”

Moving the stuff you had in your house to the Beneviento estate was an exhausting work. You didn't really know why you were interested in doing anything different than sleeping. Tiredness made your eyelids close immediately and, with the heat of her body pressed against yours, you fell into a deep sleep.

Even though you weren't used to that bed (at least to sleeping on it), nothing could stop you from dreaming peacefully like every night.

“Mmm,” you murmured when the light on the table made you squeeze your eyes tightly.

“(Y/N)... You're awake,” Donna whispered, looking at you, sitting on the bed and running a hand over your cheek. You smiled when you felt her caresses and yawned lazily.

“Yes, now I am...” you murmured with your voice hoarse from sleep. “What time is it?”

“8 o'clock,” she responded, studying your gaze in a strange way.

“Oh my God, I’ve slept so well...” you said, sitting up and stretching comically.

“I don't think so, idiot... You...” Angie's squeaky voice made your ears tremble.

“Angie, shut up,” Donna said sharply, making her doll flee the room in terror.

“What is she talking about?” You asked, still with problems to open your eyes.

“Nothing, it doesn't matter,” Donna said, perhaps a bit abruptly. “Have you really rested well?”

“Of course, why do you ask?” You wanted to know, taking a sip of the glass of water on your table.

“Oh, it's nothing,” Donna responded, with that look that betrayed a filthy lie.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, giving your girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. She stood still for a moment, until she smiled softly and nodded.

“With you by my side, tesoro, I have rested better than ever," she whispered into your lips, kissing you again before getting up. There was something strange in her gaze, but you ignored it. “You want breakfast?”

“Of course, of course. I'm quite hungry,” you said happily, as she got out of bed.

That was the first day of many others. Living with her was the best decision of your life, without a doubt. Your relationship only got better and better. Although, it is true that strange things happened every night. Sometimes you had the feeling that you were waking up, or rather, that you were being woken up, by gently moving your body. You didn't give it the slightest importance.

One afternoon, as was customary, you rested on her chest while you took a hot bath. With the cold outside, it was an unimaginable pleasure.

Donna yawned loudly, making you turn your head in amusement.

“Are you sleepy?” You asked with a slightly mocking tone. The water moved when you wanted to turn around and face her.

“No, I... Well, maybe a bit,” she responded, cupping your face in her hands. “Come, I like to caress you.”

The doll maker turned you around again, making your head rest on her bare chest again, under the pleasant temperature of the hot water.

“It's 5 in the afternoon,”  you continued mocking.

“Oh, is it?” She asked, relaxing her breathing, gently grabbing your waist.

“Yes, that's what the clock says,” you said, amused.

Although everything was going perfectly well, Donna was weirder than usual.

“Oh, of course, the clock tells the time...” she said in a tired, almost delirious tone. You frowned and made another attempt to turn around, frustrated by her hands pressing you against her chest.

“Donna, honey… Are you okay?” You asked, joining your hands with his under the water.

“Yes, yes...” she sighed. You shrugged.

“Okay, then... Do you feel like taking a walk? I heard there is a meteor shower tonight,” you said, making her arm pass through your chest, surrounding it affectionately.

“Mm,” she murmured, taking advantage of the position of her arm to continue caressing you, slower and slower.

“I always liked to see how the stars fall from the sky... When I was little I always asked myself what would happen if they touched the ground...”

“Mm”

“I imagined that they would fall like diamonds, shining in the darkness of the night, and that I could take one home. How silly, don't you think?”

That time, not even a soft murmur left her lips. You moved, surprised. You always liked to talk too much and Donna always listened to you with her full attention.

You turned slowly, removing her now motionless arm from your body.

Donna had her head resting on the bathtub, breathing deeply with her eye closed. You couldn't believe what you saw.

“Donna,” you said, amused. “Hey, Donna!” You screamed louder, splashing some water on her face.

“Mm? What?” she asked, shaking her head confused, making a face of disgust at the water you threw in her face. “Dove siamo?”

“What? You’re asking me where are we? Donna, honey, we're home... In the bathtub...” You said in disbelief, watching as she looked erratically to the sides, blinking repeatedly. “You have fallen asleep.”

“Have I?” She asked, sighing, sitting up. “Oh, well…”

“It's not the first time in several days that I see you falling asleep around the house, are you sure you're okay?” You asked, brushing the hair from her face. She nodded, once again giving away the lie.

“Oh, I... Well... Yes, I'm fine, just... You know, the heat of the steam... Being here with you... I've relaxed too much, I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t worry...” you said with a suspicious look, kissing his wounded cheek carefully.

As the days passed, her sudden naps became more and more frequent. You knew something was wrong with her, but she didn't want to tell you. You began to believe that it had something to do with you, and that it had a lot, a lot to do with a small detail about you that you had never told her about.

“Angie, where is Donna?” You asked, closing the book you were reading. The doll shrugged. You looked at the clock on the wall and frowned. “It's almost lunch time, normally at this time she is already cooking.”

“Hey, stupid (Y/N), you think my Donna is your slave?” The doll protested, climbing onto the couch next to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“No, Angie. If she let me cook I wouldn't be asking.”

“That's because your food is garbage, garbage!” The doll screeched irritatingly.

“It's funny that a porcelain doll without stomach or sense of taste tells me that,” you said mockingly, crossing your arms. “Anyway, I'm going to look for her, I'm sure she hasn't noticed the time.

After avoiding the throwing of objects that Angie usually protested with, you took the elevator down. It was quite common for time to fly by for her when she worked on her dolls.

“Donna? It's me, are you there?” You asked softly, knocking on the workshop the doors. “Donna?”

There was no response, which made you a bit nervous. You decided to leave education aside and open the door yourself. The sight before you was funny and strange at the same time.

Sure enough, Donna was there, sitting in one of the chairs. But she wasn’t focused like she usually was. No, this time her head was resting on the table, making soft sounds, suspiciously similar to the ones she made when she fell asleep.

“I don’t believe what I see,” you said, holding back your laughter, slowly approaching the woman. “Hey, Donna,” you said, moving her back slowly, caressing it so as not to startle her.

“(Y/N)?” The woman in black growled, raising her head from the table. On her cheek, she had stuck a color palette, which had smeared paint all over her face. Your desire to laugh only increased.

“Were you putting on makeup?” You joked, under her disoriented gaze.

“What? No, no... I was... I was painting a doll and...” She said in a hoarse voice, running her hands over her stained face. “Oh, not again…”

“You fell asleep again, huh?” You said, crossing your arms. “Look what you've made to your face. Come, let me help you.”

“Yes, yes I... Oh...” She murmured confusedly, letting you help her to stand up.

The two of you walked to the sink in the next room and carefully cleaned the paint stains from her face.

You ran the water over her face, removing most of the paint.

“Sit down, my love,” you said lovingly, grabbing a towel that was near the sink. She simply nodded, embarrassed.

While you passed the towel over her face, definitively cleaning it, you decided that it was time to talk about those naps.

“Donna,” you whispered, sighing and bending down, putting your hands on her shoulders so she could look at your face. “I’m worried about you.”

“About me? Why? I'm fine,” she said, pathetically looking away from her.

“You lie terribly,” you said, amused. “I've been living with you for two weeks and... I don't know, Donna, something's wrong with you, you're constantly exhausted.”

“I don't…”

“Come on, tell me what's happening. Look at you... It seems like you haven't slept in days,” you said, delicately lifting her chin. “You don’t sleep?”

She didn't respond. She simply shook her head slowly.

“Don’t you? Wow, am I moving too much?” You asked, sitting in a chair next to her.

Donna shook her head again.

“Okay...” You said to yourself, thoughtful.

“You... Sometimes you... No, you stop breathing,” Donna said, with trembling hands, as if the mere fact of saying something like that disturbed her. “Every night I hug you and… Suddenly, your chest stops moving, I can't hear your breathing. You always do it again but... I'm, I'm really afraid that one day...”

“Oh, that was it!” You said, with a tone perhaps too high. “Don't worry about that, Donna. It's normal, it's happened to me since I was little.”

“Don't worry? I'm saying that you stop breathing, (Y/N),” she said with a serious, stern tone.

“Yes, I know,” you whispered, amused, relieved to finally know the problem. “It's something that happens to many people. It's called sleep apnea.”

“I've never read anything about that,” Donna said, feeling ashamed of her ignorance.

“Well, it's nothing you have to worry about. Sometimes I stop breathing for a few seconds while I'm sleeping, but I always do it again. The doctor said there was nothing to worry about.”

“Why hadn't you told me before?” She asked, offended by what she believed was a lack of trust.

“Because I don't consider it something important...” You sighed, smiling in relief. “Wait, wait,” you said, frowning, when some revelations crossed your mind. “Haven't you slept all these nights?”

She shook her head, looking down again.

“I stay awake to watch you. If, if something happens to you while I'm sleeping I... I don't know what would happen to me.”

You couldn't help but burst into loud laughter.

“Does it seem funny to you?” She asked offended.

“No, no... It just, it just seems very cute to me, Donna... So that's why you fall asleep anywhere, because you're awake at night... Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“This is serious, (Y/N),” the woman scolded you, her gaze cold.

“No, no... You shouldn't worry so much, really... Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“Then forget about it, okay? Stop watching me at night. Nothing will happen to me, I promise. Not sleeping is very dangerous for your health.”

“Losing you would be even worse,” she stated sadly, looking for your hand to squeeze it tightly with hers.

“You're not gonna lose me”

After those sincere words, you leaned to kiss her tenderly, to say with a kiss how much you loved her, how much you were happy about the enormous love she felt for you.

“Now, honey, go to bed, get the rest you need. I'll make the food, even if Angie says it's garbage.”

“Oh, come on, she doesn't mean it,” Donna said, amused, getting up from the chair with your help.

“Shh, shut up and go to sleep, my beautiful Donna... I love you so much...” You sighed, not being able to avoid kissing her again.

“Me too, (Y/N), me too...”

[retro-stars]

What. What if Voltron legendary defender and Rottmnt crossover?

Listen, I have a vision: A younger Lance ran into Leo April-style and he as the reason why Leo originally started learning Spanish

He makes good friends with the turtles and co, acting as something of a fun cousin since he's not in New York consistently and absolutely refuses any Donnie upgrades to his tech when he goes off to the Garrison about a month before the season one plot gets rolling since he wants to be an awesome pilot the fair way or something like that

They talk constantly over message and call, giving updates back and forth. They even manage some in person meet-ups for a while once Leo got the hang of consistent long-distance teleportation before Lance ended up in space

Hunk knows them fairly well (the consequences of being a childhood friend of one Lance McClain, you end up knowing a lot of random people through the weirdest circumstances), but they've only met really online or over the phone with the exception of April He's taken to exchanging recipes with Mikey and talking engineering and biochem with Donnie and giving Leo advice. His default talking buddy is Raph through and through though

Pidge didn't get a chance to meet them but she does hear of them, so they're unaware of the whole mutant thing and also that the fellow rogue hacker she sometimes finds digging through the Garrison databases and the super-smart-and-obnoxious-about-it Donnie she reminds Lance of are in fact the same person. Donnie doesn't tell Lance that he's pretty sure Pidge is in fact one teenaged Katie Holt tricking the entirety of the US military and government because he thinks it's funny and wants to see how long it takes Lance to notice the literal fucking soap opera going on around him. Lance has some suspicions as to how legitimate Pidge's identity is anyway since Donnie is horrid at hiding how he's a little too curious about her, though he never gets a confirmation up until Pidge actually tells the team

AS FOR THE ACTUAL PLOT:

The Garrison Trio's disappearance happens literally like. right before the events of the movie. The timing of those two things just generally ended up really unfortunate, 'cause Lance got into the fighter pilot course and started dealing with some serious issues with his self-esteem and peers as well as the additional stress of the bigger workload right as the team dynamics with turtles started getting really bad

And when he disappeared they didn't get a chance to act on their suspicions due to the whole Kraang situation and after that it was mostly rebuilding and recovery and just hoping and praying Lance returned at some point because all of them were too scared of asking Casey jr. about his future for fear of the answer

Meanwhile Lance is dramatizing his reactions to the whole space thing despite it honestly not being that much of a shift to his worldview after the whole "oh yeah there's magic and a whole bunch of different races living underneath New York that all share the common trait that they lowkey hate/fear humans" thing The whole Galra Keith thing comes out and Lance is just chilling and waiting to ask if he can get tested for anything off with his DNA too since he's not entirely sure how mystic energy works and if it can rub off on someone or like. unlock some secret abilities or something so at this point it's better safe than sorry

When they come back to Earth the first words out of Lance's mouth are just the dawning horror of "I'm gonna die, aren't I?" because he knows that Donnie has been digging around the Garrison classified files since he applied to the academy and there is no way he hasn't broken in and seen the video/warning they sent to Earth already and he is most definitely going to be absolutely pissed Lance didn't at least try and send them a message letting them know he was alive at the very least

The team is just staring in confusion as Lance's face slowly goes through the five stages of grief before settling on the expression of a man facing his execution. Except for Hunk. Hunk took a second but as soon as he got it he was full belly laughing as Lance's expense (or at least until Lance reminds him that they're gonna kill him too since he didn't contact them either. Then he's just scared.)

[fantasy-relax]

Brain worms

Kidnap Bela and Cassandra so they and Dani could have a sister day.(Threaten to burn down the theater and the student council)

Tell Cassandra how a bitch she have been with her sisters.

Make Bela ditch her student council responsibilities. (kidnapping is in the table)

Did you broke into Cassandra room, drug her coffee, tied her up and trap her in a far away room?

Yes

You did something similar with Bela?

Also yes.

Now you have two pissed off girls with Amazonian genes looking at you with something that make your brain tickle.

Cassandra looked like she was thinking about stabbing you and watch your blood stain the floor.

Bela don't looked that mad but you have that feeling that if you got close enough she will tear out your throat with her teeth the tape in her mouth be damned.

So you keep distance.

"well I think you are curious about the reason that you are here, is pretty simple, I need a tiny Itty bitty favour from you two. Are you following me?"

They keep glaring at you.

"Great! I just need to make clear the consequences of denying or not doing it all. Nothing too big I'm just gonna burn down the theater and do the same thing with the student council room. Data, paperwork, costumes, scenarios everything to ashes"

Their eyes grow wide for moment and they glared you with more fury.

"Good with that out of the table, let's go to business. The thing I'm need from you is.....

You pause and slowly pick something from your back because you enjoy the drama and messing with them.

"TO HANG OUT WITH YOUR LITTLE SISTER, MISS DANIELA *SKATE ROAR* DIMITRESCU !"

You throw confetti at their shocked and confused face.

"go shopping, have dinner together, watch a movie, spa time whatever you want to do, I don't give a fuck just pass time with her"

They still looked very confused.

"So, Cass you have two weeks to clean your schedule and Bela you have three, I think that's enough time, fail to comply and well things will become difficult."

They were staring at you trying to make sense of your actions. You take Cassandra tape off.

"what the fuck do you think you are doing, look I have a lot of things to do so the show is perfect, so stop your stupid game-

"of course, Miss everything is about me is mad, what, cant live without people kissing your ass? Oh Cassandra you are so pretty so talented sleep with me ooh muack muack.

Did your sisters are so worthless, so pathetic that they don't deserve to shine in the stage of your life? Did they even have a role that have more that one line? Did you even care?.

If tomorrow you lost your voice, your beauty, everything who you think will be beside your hospital bed, ready to help, ready to give everything so you can get a little better, ready to sacrifice a piece of them to the devil for you to live? "

You put the tape back before she can answer you. You look at Bela.

"I don't think I need to say anything you are a very smart girl, you should know what you hadn't done. Because that's the thing miss president, of everything you had done what is what you haven't bother to do? Let me give you a clue: is not paperwork.

"Good Talk" you loosen the knot and start running away. You hear them struggling but you already are too far from them.

The next week is a game of where is wally, you disappeared. Your roommates said that you were dealing with some of family emergency and you will be back in less than a month.

The two weeks pass and half of the curtain in the theater had burned in a mysterious fire. The next day a quarter of the chairs are covered with gasoline and the costumes are missing, a broken clock is in Cassandra dressing room.

After nothing else is found she ask Dani to watch legally blonde with her, to relax she says.

They laugh, Daniela recalls the time that they will annoy everyone by repeating the lines of the movie.

"So you were in the shower"

"what? Is hard?"

How long have that been? Cassandra can't remember. She falls asleep, wake up scared and disoriented.

"Is okay Cass, I got you, I got you, I'm here with you"

The same words she had said the first time that her nightmares started. Daniela always insisted on having sleepovers because she don't wanted to leave her big sister alone. God, how long have been?

The next day the costumes are found in perfect condition, a cup of Cassandra favorite mix of coffee is there with a note: "Good job, little star"

She have movie nights every three days after that.

The three weeks passed, ashes is what rest of the paperwork in the council, the data in the computers are corrupted, a lot things have to be rewritten, firms and petitions have to be collected again, is hell for everyone.

A broken clock above the table is mocking Bela.

She ask Dani to have dinner with her.

"I just don't want to think about it right now" Is the answer that she gives to ease the worry of her little sister.

Daniela nods still worried, she takes a bites and she freezes, tears falls of her eyes. Bela look at her with light worry.

"are you okay?,is to spicy? Salty?"

Daniela laughs cleaning her tears and eating with joy "Is perfect! Is just have been years since I eat it! Yours have always been my favorite!"

Bela open her mouth to correct her, but Daniela is right, Is been years since Bela cooked for her, Is been years since she had cooked for Cassandra.

She had no heart but she swear that is breaking in her chest at this revelation.

The next day the paperwork is in the table, with hard drives full of the data lost. There is still work to do.

She delegates and go back to her room.

There is a book, some scented candles and a note: "I'm proud of you, pretty girl"

They have dinner every two days.

The month ends.

The three dimitrescus are discussing about what movie watch a new tradition for them.

The door opens and you appear, you smile at them, Daniela gets up of the couch hugging you and asking about your family.

"Things are better now, we drifted but we can always come back to open arms."

You look at the two girls in the couch, you don't know if they were grateful or angry, you don't care Daniela was happy and when she go back with them, they looked happy too.

The twenty four loops that take you to achieve it were worthy.

(Learning how to hack, schedules, patrons, take a lot of time, practice and patience, you may had burn down alcina art room to relax a couple of times)

You wish them happiness in this loop.

[juyomiao]

take the chance - ricky

ricky x gn!reader

genre: fluff !!! , best friends to lovers

word count: 791

warnings: ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! so theres going to be mistakes !!! , alcohol consumption but its barely mentioned , is it considered underage drinking if it'd only be considered as underage drinking in countries where the drinking age is above 18/19 ,, (i feel bad for u if u r from any of those countries fr)

note: first actually written work im kinda # nervous my writing skills r .. definitely writing !! this is cringe cliché and based on a dream i had like a month ago . yes im a lesbian yes i dream abt kissing ricky thats completely normal . (friends dont read this i want to disappear rn as i speak)

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You've been to countless parties since the half of the previous school year when your best friend Ricky became popular out of nowhere. You still don't know where that popularity came from, he's always been good looking, it's not like he had some kind of glow up.

Sometimes you think it's more of a curse than a blessing, with all the times you've been dragged to a party you were not invited to because Ricky, being the introvert he is, refuses to go anywhere without you and, consequently, getting dirty looks from everyone for tagging along and 'leeching' off of Ricky's popularity.

Even now, when people have more or less come to terms with the fact that you two are a package deal, you still despise parties, only appreciating a few things about them, like drinking for free and… nothing else, really.

It's not like Ricky enjoys them either, he'd rather stay home with you and watch some romance drama as you eventually fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. But it's not like he can reject every single invite thrown at him. So you two came to a compromise: one weekend at a party, one weekend at your house.

The boredom of awkwardly standing in a corner as you silently watch yet another drunk couple make out, careless of the countless other people surrounding them, soon gets to you, and you blurt out a question.

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

Ricky's calm expression falters for a second, his eyes widening. He just hopes the dimly lit room is hiding the blush creeping on his cheeks.

He's your best friend, how do you not know?

Well, Ricky is a private person and, even having known him for years, he barely talks about his romantic life, so you've never dared prying into it.

"Of course," he says, after composing himself "You?"

You shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. "And I don't think it's going to happen any time soon," you sigh. At this point, it's a hopeless mission.

Ricky is convinced if it wasn't for the loud music in the background, everyone would be able to hear the cogs turning in his brain as it processes this information.

His best friend – whom he has had a crush on since forever – has never kissed someone.

Ricky looks at you through the corner of his eye, wondering if he should take the chance and possibly change your relationship forever – for the better or the worse, he doesn't know.

To you, though, it just looks like he's side-eyeing you with his usual unreadable expression, and you think you fucked up. You assume he's judging you, because not only are you a complete, bitchless loser, but you brought the conversation up yourself.

"Forget it, I don't know why I said that, sorry, now you probably think I'm weird and…" you start rambling, and to Ricky, that's the cutest thing he has ever seen.

God, he's really that down bad.

Suddenly, an idea pops up in his head.

"Can I kiss you?"

The abrupt question leaves you speechless, your words dying in your mouth as you look at him like he has grown a second head.

"What?" It sounds dumb once you say it, but you genuinely think you misheard him. There's no way Ricky, of all people, would ask you something like that.

Ricky smiles, "I said," he turns with his shoulder leaning on the wall so he can look at you directly "Can I kiss you?"

You blink at him, dumbfounded "Wha- what? Did you… what? Did you actually say that? Am I hearing this right?"

Ricky nods, clearly amused by your reaction

"If this is a joke, it's not funny, like, at all."

"Why would I be joking?" Ricky's expression goes back to deadpan serious, he inches closer to your face "So? Is this a yes?"

You nod slowly, still trying to process what's happening. You shouldn't want this, you shouldn't be so tempted to kiss your best friend. But you are.

Before you can overthink it any further, Ricky closes the space between you two. He's hesitant at first, his lips barely brushing against yours, but when you clumsily try to reciprocate the kiss, he takes the lead.

It doesn't feel special, or magic, or like anything else people have described their first kiss as. It's just two best friends who realized their feelings for each other. And to you, that's perfect.

"So… now what?"

"How about we get out of here and go on a date?" You sigh, shaking your head, "Ricky, it's…" you check your phone "1 AM, where would we even go?"

He seems to genuinely think about it for a solid one or two minutes "McDonald's?"

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note 2 bc i cant stfu : WHY IS THE ENDING SO RUSHED I WANT TO SCREAM.. but i've wanted to post this for like a week now so im posting it anyways , pls leave some feedback if u liked it 🫶🏻

[subway-boss-jericho]

(Hammer anon- whoops I forgot to say that on the other ask- I’m also the one who apologized about steady tracks shamanism)

Ok! Two left hands au- 

Such a fun idea to take the two interpretations of emmet and bring them together. Trauma and stressful situations can change someone drastically! And though they act differently, they are still Emmet fundamentally. It’s actually really sweet to read Emmet (1) trying to help Emmet (2) while still being… unhappy. And trying to be distant.

Ooough I was. Imagining it would be something to due to Ingo’s disappearance that would finally bring them together (or at least spark that) but the closing of his case… ough. (Emmet (1) didn’t even stick around to face it…) I’m chewing on your writing. The emotions… love them calling each other out. Like “I Am you idiot. You Cannot fool me”. Astounding. 

"I know." "But you let me in today."

Killing me. 

(I’m actually completely out of words (in like. A good way I’m just playing with the paragraphs and having fun) but this is. Very good.) 

It's okay, it's not hard to tell who's sending in the asks (wheeze)

It's SOOOOO fun!! I hadn't realized the sheer untapped potential with them until a few months ago and now I'm obsessed. They're so fun to write.

Both of the Emmets are in such a complicated situation and both of them have so many layers of emotions about it. There would be 4D chess going on here if they were literally anyone else but Emmet. They know eachother so well yet also feel like they barely know what the other is thinking. They're the same person yet they're so different. So alien yet so impossibly familiar.

(Jericho-typical ramble below the cut:)

Other Emmet (Emmet 1) doesn't really hate This Emmet (Emmet 2) for, well, anything. He's frustrated that his attempt to find Ingo and get him back didn't work (yet), and This Emmet's presence feels like someone out there is taunting him for daring to try. He frustrates him, because it should go without saying that he sees himself in This Emmet. It makes him angry to see This Emmet so "Happy" without Ingo, especially because he feels like by this point that he'll never BE happy unless he can find a way to get Ingo back.

This Emmet, in the early stages of the AU, is still just trying to process what is going on. Other Emmet has been able to explain enough that This Emmet at least has a vague understanding of what is going on, how he got here, and why he's here to begin with- But broadly, this is not his area of expertise. He was never expecting anything like this, and facing continued emotional rejection from someone he would have hoped to confide in/take comfort in is very upsetting. He doesn't want to push Other Emmet around or make him feel like he owes him something, yet at the same time, he's suddenly being forced to carry an additional emotional burden that he can't talk to anyone else about. He IS upset- frustrated, angry -that Other Emmet just waltzed into his life and now he has to deal with the consequences, but he also knows that Other Emmet is just as hurt as he is, and doesn't want to take it out on him.

Both of them do care about the other, but show it in different ways, and need to learn how to communicate + get along. Both of them frustrate and upset the other, and once they agree to support and confide in eachother, that starts to be a little easier for both of them.

Touching on the obvious sensitive point of Ingo, of course they're both on edge about the whole thing. They both know that Ingo went missing for both of them, and they both know that the other is upset about this unplanned stop. This Emmet wants to have someone else to confide in, someone to help him process all those heavy feelings, but Other Emmet wants to stay distant in the hopes that he doesn't need to get hurt again. It isn't until the case closes that Other Emmet takes a chance, to give This Emmet a listening ear or at least somewhere he doesn't have to hide how he actually feels- Especially when he can see the mask cracking. Especially when he can see that This Emmet had been trying to spare Other Emmet's feelings, too. This Emmet knows that Other Emmet is upset. He can tell that he's venting that tangled knot of heavy emotions through Anger, through trying to solve the problem, even though he's very sure he's really just deeply sad. He knows himself well enough to guess that he doesn't want to give himself time to grieve because if he crashes he might not be able to keep going- Because at first, that's what happened to This Emmet, too. But This Emmet is also proof that he can keep going, even if he stops to process how he feels and grieve. And Other Emmet is proof that moving on doesn't have to mean giving up, it can mean trying something new.

They both have a lot to learn from eachother. It starts by letting him in.

So yeah, it's killing me too. This is where I'd put the gif of me exploding. I love writing them and picking apart how they behave and interact. The scene I wrote with them is one of my favorite things I've written recently, makes me want to yell out loud I'm really really glad you enjoyed it, it was so fun to write and it's always my favorite thing to see how people respond to my work.

As always, thank you for the ask! 🤍🌟

Reflection AU Masterpost

[princess-of-the-corner]

Wait a second what are we doing with Lu Ten in Miraculous Gaang?

Is he alive? I know he got like really sick at one point, but are we letting him live? If so, how old is he and what is his relationship to the Gaang? Because I imagine him being quite a bit older and seeing the Gaang as his much younger siblings that he has to mentor. He's probably away at university during most of the events of this, but Zuko and Azula call him in to save their hides for some of their civilian problems. Assuming he's alive

And how did he get sick? Did he like use the peacock or did he just get really ill and it woke Iroh up to the fact that he was being kind of a neglectful parent?

Also, other named kids you can use for miraculous if you want:

Song, the chick that saved Iroh from poisoning, tried to bond with Zuko over being hurt by the fire nation, and then he stole her ostrich horse

June, but she's probably a bit older than the rest of the crowd, maybe even Lu Ten's age.

On Ji, the girl that Aang talks to when he goes to Fire Nation school and consequently gets into a fight with her boyfriend Hide.

Shoji, another kid from the fire nation school, very nervous type.

Chan, the guy that Azula tries to flirt with in The Beach, and then they burn his house down.

Meng, Aunt Wu's assistant who keeps trying to flirt with Aang in The Fortuneteller, and who gets utterly blown off, only to eventually tell Aang at the end of the episode that Katara is really pretty and they deserve each other, and also gives them the cloud-reading book for their plot (because she's been stalking Aang, and HEY that's on brand for ML).

Of this selection, the only ones I have any particular attachments to are Meng and Song. I think I'd give Meng the goat if we keep your usual Dreamwalking powers, due to her fortune teller associations. Song could honestly have any of them, but I'm leaning Dog. But yeah, it's interesting that most of the Gaang's allies seem to be adults. Between the white lotus, various world leaders, and assorted other Randos, the significant adults in this show probably outnumber the significant children.

Yes! So!

We decided that since this is taking place in a Miraculous-esque Universe, a chunk of people get to live. Like, there's no war fucking up the world and we're axing the Bending (like if they had Bending on top of the Miraculous then OOF.) and also this is a modern world with better healthcare capabilities.

So yeah some people live. Lu Ten was never on the frontlines of a war. Kya never had to protect Katara from raiders looking for a Waterbender. Yue won't have to sacrifice herself to save the Moon Spirit, etc.

Not to say everything's perfect because there's going to be injuries and close calls and some of these fuckers can get killed off.

So since I can change things and let characters live, I am!

Anyway. Lu Ten!

So we're going with some kind of car accident type deal for him. He was in a coma for a few months. (During this we had the drama of Iroh falling apart with worry, Azulon 'dying', Ozai taking over the family company, and Ursa disappearing).

He's alive but has some medical problems. Mostly mobility issues. Usually in a wheelchair, though he can use a cane for short distances if needed. His hands are bad too, but he can still get stuff done.

He's a good decade older than the Gaang. Like in his mid-to-late 20s.

Between the age and mobility thing he's probably not getting a Miraculous himself (I mean the mobility isn't stopping Teo but he's the 'I'm gonna use the Miraculous Transformation to give my wheelchair jet rockets and fly' type of guy).

He's very much the older brother figure! Especially once Zuko gets kicked out.

As for the other character suggestions!

June is too old for the group, as much as I love her. Ji, Shoji and Chan never vibed with me. Song vibed with me more but we're also getting to the 'wow huh there's not a lot of kid characters that consistently appear huh?'.

Meng is actually a great idea and I love the Dreamwalker thing I'm keeping that.

[moltensmusings]

I have a question about your RWBY au: how would you handle teams facing consequences when making a big decision that backfires?

My problem with RWBY is that despite making choices that should had have consequences (telling government secrets to Robyn hill, pointing a gun at Whitney, agrus incident etc) the characters instead get rewarded for their actions.

What will you do differently?

I apologize because this got long and maybe veered a bit from the original question but here we go.

For a TL;DR: we need better world building, more apparent character flaws the narrative actively calls out, and villains to be dangerous

I think the main issue with why RWBY never had proper consequences, is that it largely operated (and still somewhat does) on rule of cool. Characters are powerful when the plot demands it in ways that kind of make the stakes feel nonexistent.

To properly implement consequences for characters we need to know what their flaws are and what they could get as punishment if those flaws aren't handled.

Our characters have some referenced flaws, but often times their flaws either never get checked because the writers don't view them as flaws needing to be fixed, or they're excused in canon. Bad things don't happen to them mainly because they mess up, they happen because bad people do bad things.

While pyrrha is the character I'm most annoyed about with the lack of depth, all of them are written to be cool and kind of flawless. So first step is I'd set up clear flaws from volume 1 and have them face consequences that will carry over long term. Here are some examples.

Ruby: For Ruby I feel like she tends to focus on handling things herself. She's incredibly self reliant to the point that she makes a lot of choices to do things solo that ultimately could get her killed. But the writers never go that far. She faces off against Cinder twice and leaves unscathed, if we're going to have her track Cinder to the tower, Ruby needs to leave wounded. Allowed to live because Cinder let her. Give her a scar that remains on her for the rest of the series. Maybe it's normally covered but it's a reminder of the dangers she faces. And even then we don't have to have her learn her lesson yet.

Yang is one where her consequences will effect the Atlas arc. Because I want her semblance to make her black out when she rages. Something she never focused on fixing because normally she could direct it before she blacks out so that the only person hurt is the one who caused the rage. Her teachers keep warning her of the damage she does to the area around her and how her black outs get longer the angrier she is. But she kind of waves it off because she's had this semblance for years and she knows how to deal with it.

However during the vytal festival when there are several competitions between schools and we build up a rivalry between team villain and team rwby we see her anger boiling. She's containing it and does a good job for a while, but the Mercury fight is the last straw. When she attacks Mercury its not just that she hits him once, in fact the villains new her rage made her black out and expected her to hit once. She downs him bad. She has to be restrained and the entire of remnant bears witness to her building rage culminating in her pummeling a kid from a different school. And when she attacks Adam that's once more her lashing out before thinking leading to her arm loss. When she travels she's met with wariness and fear because people know her as the girl that destroys.

Her six month hiatus is not just full of her wallowing over her arm, but angry over everything and raging out sporadically. I'd honestly give taiyang the same semblance as her being the one to help her train to properly control it. But the shadow of her actions won't disappear and people will try to exploit that weakness if she doesn't curb it.

For Blake it would be her being a traitor and running. RWY need their trust regained by her that she'll have to actively work towards doing so but it won't just be them. In Atlas Ironwood knows her past because he would've run checks on any people if interest and found her connection to Adam who was one of the people leading the attack on Beacon and subsequently also was the leader of a group that attacked Argus. Finding out she was a loyal follower of him almost her entire life means that she isn't let into the inner circle and in fact spends most of her stay in Atlas monitored and on probation. The group vouches for her but that can only pacify someone like Ironwood slightly.

For Weiss I'd have her actually be very loyal to authority figures in a way that often causes arguments between her team and her. In Atlas it would cause a major fight because if Yang were to spill secrets to Robyn, Weiss would probably avoid speaking to her for a decent amount of time. I think by that point she'd not outright tell Ironwood herself, but she would be furious at the disrespect. It would mean that more often than not, she's causing unnecessary disagreements in the group but it would also mean that she knows best how to handle people in places like Atlas.

Largely I'd just have a big focus on how dumb choices they make effect their relationships with people outside of the core group. Revealing secret information leads to Penny becoming very disappointed in them and a slight breakdown in the friendship. Potientially if Yang did it without talking to the others it now means Yang gets into a verbal fighting match with the rest of the gang because everything starts to go wrong.

Going off to fight things alone or not properly training means you get into situations that could maim or kill you. Trusting anyone too easily can result in someone dangerous entering your group with the intent to cause harm.

In general I'd really just focus on building flaws, turning down power levels at the start, and making the world and villains more dangerous. Also I think making each kingdom distinctly different in its politics and government could've helped make it so that the group trying to approach all situations the same backfires a lot. It's something I'd have to rewatch the show for to list specific instances of things I'd make consequences for but those are my current notes.

[farfromstrange]

Austin: Chapter 1 [Owen Sleater x F!Reader]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Atlantic City!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read Me on AO3

Chapter Summary: You make your way to Atlantic City, and things do not go as planned from the moment you step off the train to meeting a very handsome but also very cheeky Irishman at Nucky Thompson's estate.

Chapter Warnings: foul language, mentions of murder, illegal activity, plot, Owen being a cheeky bastard, Season 2 spoilers, foreshadowing, slight angst (?), kind of a "I hate him" situation (enemies to lovers *cough*), mentions of misogyny

Word Count: 7.2K

A/n: This chapter is longer than the first, which was not planned, but the juices were flowing. The meeting was originally planned for Chapter 3, but then I realized that Nucky Thompson was no longer at the Ritz at this point in the show, so I had to improvise, so yeah. Anyway, first meeting, and it even made ME blush. But then again, I had to add a little bit of angst for the slow burn. (I'm always so scared of inaccuracies because the 1920s were very complex, so if you find any, just ignore them.)

Set from Season 2 episode 9 onward!

This series is rated E for explicit! 18+ only!

The train ride from Austin to Atlantic City takes you two days. You’re no stranger to long-distance traveling, but being stuck in a carriage with strangers for hours on end would never be your first choice for an adventure.

You’ve been to Canada and Mexico; you have made a deal with the Italians on the West Coast, and you have conspired with the Russians in Coney Island. You hold friends in high places all over the world, but not once have you been to Atlantic City. 

It’s not that you don’t love the beach—you have quite the affinity for the ocean, actually—but you told yourself that you were better off not messing with the powerful forces that have owned the Boardwalk ever since liquor first became an object of illegal trade. As feared as you are in Texas and all neighboring States that profit from your work, Nucky Thompson is—well, used to be—equally as feared in his part of the criminal underworld. 

The times you have shown your face in the past, the people present have not lived to tell the tale. If someone shouted from the rooftops that Mr. Austin is, in truth, a woman, it would cause quite an uproar. Your spite is not the only factor in this equation because you’re not the only person who has something to lose. You’re not like those you despise; you care about what happens to those who work for you, knowing that they are risking just as much in this business as you are every day.

If someone told your name and spread the news that you did not die in the fire you set that night eighteen months ago, the connection could bring on a myriad of consequences. You would have nowhere to run but to prison. You killed a man, and justice has a way of kicking criminals in the ass. You know that very well. When you disappeared though, you swore to do whatever it would take to keep the walls around you stable enough to survive, and you have been doing well so far.

Nucky Thompson’s letter was the Trojan Horse that has now forced you out of your shell. You are far too exposed—far too vulnerable here, even though no one knows who the woman with the red cowboy boots sitting on the back of the train is or where she’s from, and they don’t seem to care at all either. 

You care though. And you know the truth. You care too much about what other people think. If you want to be able to stand your own against them, you have to be more confident, but you always find yourself held at gunpoint by your insecurities.

You won’t know what more could happen until you confront the man who chose to throw very lively bait at your feet that you couldn’t help but dig your teeth into. Now, you’re being pulled toward Enoch Thompson and Atlantic City instead of away from the chaos that has erupted around him.

If you had sent your right-hand man—if you had sent Anthony, out of all people—you fear that he might have come back to you in a box, but he has a hard time acknowledging the fact that you are far more dangerous than you let on.

“I can’t believe you left!” his voice is so loud you have to take a look around the small phone booth to see if anyone on the outside can hear you.

“I had no choice,” you snap back into the receiver. “You read what he wrote. If there is even the slightest chance he knows who I am, we’re in a lot of trouble.”

Anthony sneers. “You really want to believe a guy who’s on trial for several crimes and is about to lose everything he worked so hard for just because he sent you a letter out of desperation?” 

You imagine his green eyes glaring holes into the atmosphere. His bottom lip must be swollen from how many times he gnawed on it, and his dark hair is probably disheveled because as he told you once before, you make him want to rip his hair out. One by one. He tends to be quite dramatic.

“You’re smarter than this,” he says. He utters your name, and his voice takes on a softer touch. 

A train horn blares in the distance, but your focus remains on the man on the other end of the phone line.

You sigh. “Because I’m smarter, I had to go,” you try explaining. “You can’t deny that a man who has everything to lose is almost as dangerous as one who has nothing to lose. And if Nucky has everything to lose, so do I,” you say. “He has the power to take everything away from me, and I have to make sure he doesn’t know the truth. And if he does, I have to find a solution. Me. Because he wants to see me, not you.”

“He wants to see Mr. Austin,” Anthony corrects you. 

“Exactly. And who’s he?”

“A name on paper. A myth.”

“No, Anthony. Who is Mr. Austin?” you ask.

The pause is filled with a heavy silence. Then, he opens his mouth, and he murmurs into the telephone, “You are.” He acts as though it hurts him to admit it. 

It hasn’t always been like this.

You nod, but his reaction doesn’t sit right with you. It may not be audible through the phone, but he knows you well enough by now to read your body language even from miles away. 

“That’s right,” you say. Your voice remains calm, though your words do not. “I’m your boss. I own this fucking business, and I know what I’m doing. I know you always attend these kinds of meetings for me, but this is an emergency, and I had to leave without dragging you or anyone else into it until I’ve found a solution.”

“You’re insane.” It is less of an accusation than it is a statement. 

“No, I have to make sure that a man my father once considered a friend doesn’t burn his legacy to the ground. He already had one shitty friend try it, and we both know how that turned out. I saved his legacy from certain downfall. I killed for it. And I intend to protect it with my life, no matter what it takes.”

In the background, music overlaps with the distinctive sound of voices and the clinking of glasses. 

Anthony sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. “No matter what it takes, huh?” he asks, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. “Even if it means revealing your face, your identity, even your name to a stranger? No matter what it takes?”

“Don’t patronize me!”

The fury tugs at your heartstrings, tearing a hole into your soul. What started as a bout of frustration is starting to turn into an inferno of anger. It consumes you, threatening to set you on fire. The beast inside of you begs to be set free.

“You do realize that if you go there and he doesn’t know who you are, he may as well connect the dots and then screw you over anyway, right?” He doesn’t stop. “You’re serving him the gun on a silver platter, Jesus fucking Christ!”

When he yells at you, you see red. “He already has it!” your voice bounces off the glass around you. “He already has the gun, I’m sure of it,” you tell him. “I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this, and I have to burn this son of a bitch out before it’s too late. Before—before he can burn me. Us,” you emphasize. “He is in an impossible situation, and that makes him a million times more dangerous. But that also makes him valuable, and if I can talk with him—figure out what he meant and talk some sense into him—I can come home and we can forget this ever happened. But for that, I have to give him what he wants first.”

Again, Anthony seethes, “Nucky Thompson is not a man you can trust.”

“I don’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do business with him.”

“Is that what you think?”

“The better question is, do you think I’m less capable than you because you’re such a strong, invincible man?” By saying it out loud, you have found a way to spit him in the face.

His hand grips the receiver so tightly that the line crackles. He exhales a growl. “I think that you should have thought this through and discussed it with me,” he says. “You should have called a meeting with the rest of the team, and we could have talked about this.”

“I discussed it with you in great detail, but you wouldn’t listen,” you counter. “Now, I’m here, and I won’t stop until I get what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“Control.”

He calls your name. “That’s it. I’m taking the next train to Atlantic City.”

“No!” you stop him. “I need you to keep things going in Austin. Make sure everything runs smoothly. I’ll call you when I find out something new.”

“Not happening. That man is too dangerous for you to deal with alone. Even with half his empire gone, he still holds too much power. I’m coming. End of discussion.”

You chuckle, but it lacks amusement. It’s a dry, empty, and entirely emotionless chuckle that matches the look in your eyes. “You underestimate me, Anthony,” you say. “May I remind you that I’m in control here? You are not in charge. I am. I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in Nucky Thompson’s head if he decides to stab me in the back. And I won’t hesitate to do the same with you or anyone else who dares to cross me. So don’t ever fucking underestimate me again. Your responsibilities are back home, so that is where you are going to stay or I swear to God I’m going to make you regret it. Are we clear?”

“I’m not undermining you, I’m just concerned—”

“No, fuck you!” This time, one of the women passing by the telephone booth, stares at you, and she seems utterly appalled at your language. You tilt your head. Her eyes widen, but before you can yell at her to turn around and walk the other way, her husband pulls her away. 

“I’m not listening to this—” You place your lips close to the speaker, “Stay where you are. Do as I tell you to, and wait for further instructions. Do not come to Atlantic City, and don’t ever fucking doubt me again,” you spit. “That’s an order!”

The line clicks, and the entire booth vibrates at the force with which you hang up the phone. 

You take a deep breath to calm the erratic drumming of your heart against your ribcage. You need to slow the adrenaline in your veins before it melts you from the inside out. Your knuckles crack when you stretch your fingers, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. You take another deep breath in, then exhale. 

The clock strikes noon. You reach for the suitcase you managed to cram into the small telephone booth. The sturdy leather feels slippery on your sweaty palms. You always travel light; you don’t plan to stay for much longer than a week, anyway. One suitcase of clothing should suffice plenty. At least that was your train of thought before you arrived at the bustling train station of Atlantic City. 

A soft, salty breeze brushes your cheeks when you step outside. You can hear the rushing of the ocean in the distance. Children run along the pavement, followed by their parents. Everyone is dressed so much differently from the fashion you see every day. 

The South isn’t New Jersey though, and you should have figured that styles may vary over thousands of miles apart. You receive a few curious glances; is it that obvious that you don’t belong here? A group of women passes by you, and you swear you can hear them giggle when they are a few steps further away. You wonder if it’s the red boots that are made for farming rather than a city close to the coast, or maybe it’s the way you carry yourself, wearing your uniqueness on your sleeve like an elegant piece of jewelry. 

You came here with one suitcase and a clear mission; you won’t let anyone ruin that for you. Not Anthony, and surely not a group of strangers who are probably more prone to gossip than you ever were in your lifetime—and probably ever will be. 

When you left early that morning, you tasked Beth with calling Nucky Thompson. She is responsible for all of your appointments, but when she heard his name, she was rightfully hesitant. You didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you left her with an excuse and a pile of guilt in the pit of your stomach.

At three o’clock, you will face him, and you will pray to a God you don’t believe in that it will all be over after that. One night of rest, and you will be on the same train back home. That is what you are hoping for.

You heard that Nucky lost his suite at the Ritz-Carlton after the charges were filed against him, and he retreated to the comfort of his home. You can’t say that you have a lot of empathy; you would prefer a room at the Ritz over one at the Marlborough any day anyway. 

Hopefully, the small glimpse of the Boardwalk you get as the cab pulls up to the hotel will be the last you see of Atlantic City for a very long time.

The car comes to a halt, and the driver curtly tells you, “We’re here, Miss.”

You nod, then reach into your coat. “What’s your name?” you ask him. 

He frowns at you through the rearview mirror. “Carter, Miss,” he stutters. “Ben Carter.”

“Ben. Carter.” You retrieve a stack of money. “I like you. I could use your help.”

His entire body stiffens. “M-my help?”

“Mhm.” You lean forward. “I need someone to drive me around the city today.”

“I���m a cab driver. I—”

“I’m aware, but tell me, is there anything you wouldn’t do for money?” The bills rustle next to his ear as you hold them up.

“How much is that?” Ben asks breathlessly. 

“500,” you answer. “Although I’m open to giving you more if that’s what it takes.”

“For a day?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a–a catch?”

You chuckle, placing the money in his shaky hand. “All I ask is for your driving skills and your discretion. Can you do that for me, Ben?”

The wheels turn in his head. He’s considering your offer. That much money isn’t so easy to come by, especially not for a cab driver. You’ve learned over the years that if you play your cards right, you can get just about anything.

Ben stares at the dollar bills for a few more seconds before he meets your eyes. Sweat drips down his temple. “Where do you need me to take you?” he asks. 

Your lips curl into a smirk. This poor man doesn’t know a thing and yet you are playing him like a fiddle. But he doesn’t need to know the truth. To you, he is only a means to an end. You will pay him, and he will give you what you need in return for a reward. After your stay in Atlantic City, he will never have to see you again.

The small piece of paper is tucked safely into your shirt. You retrieve it, still neatly folded, and hand it to him. “I need to be at this address,” you tell him. “Three o’clock.”

He glimpses down at the note. “Nucky Thompson,” he reads aloud. “Isn’t he–”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t ask questions. Discretion, remember?”

“Yes, Miss. I’m sorry. I was just wondering—”

You cut him off once again. “Why don’t you wonder in silence while you help me carry my bag inside? Answers are earned, and it is my choice whether to answer or not.” You smile. It appears as sweet as sugar, but even the deadliest poisons smell deliciously of almonds. “You can still opt out, but I’d be taking the money back,” you add. “I would tip you nicely for the ride, of course, and I would let you leave without a word, but you wouldn’t get more than that.”

The man considers your words for a moment. You’re giving him a choice, but he isn’t quite sure which one would be the right one.

“Tick tock, Ben,” you purr.

He clenches his fist around the money. “I can be discreet,” he says.

You chuckle. “That’s what I thought. Now, about my bag–” You hand him another bill, not paying much attention to the amount. “It’s rather heavy, so I would appreciate it if you could carry it to my suite for me.”

The look in your eyes is destined to turn him into stone if he were to make the wrong move. As Ben looks at you, he swears you resemble Medusa, an ancient goddess in the back of his cab who is as dangerous as she is powerful. He has no other choice but to cater to your every need. 

When you get to your suite, you notice instantly that the windows open toward the ocean. Beth was gracious enough to book you a room with a beach view, and while you appreciate her thoughtfulness when it comes to your comfort, you don’t plan on extending your stay, no matter how nice the view may be.

Yet again, you find yourself staring at the Boardwalk, watching the people pass by. They all have a story of their own to tell. They all have their own set of opinions and values, some of which no one will ever know about. You could be an expert at reading human behavior and still be wrong in your interpretation. In the end, most people are experts at shapeshifting to fit into whatever category they want you to think they fit into, and trustworthiness isn’t just black and white; you have to be prepared to get disappointed.

Elegant houses with high walls, porches, and front yards pass you by as Ben drives you to Nucky Thompson’s home. Children are playing by the side of the road. You would consider this neighborhood one of the wealthiest you have seen today. And probably one of the safest, too. 

“We’re here,” Ben says.

You look up from your fidgeting fingers. “Thank you, Ben,” you reply.

Time to walk into the lion’s den. The only thing you have on you is your wit and what little research Leo conducted for you. That has to be enough. You just have to be smarter than the smartest man in Atlantic City. How hard can that be?

You knock on the door. You expect his secretary to answer. Maybe a maid or a butler, but when you look up, your shoulders straightened and your face blank of emotions, you are met with the face of a beautiful woman. Her hair is tied up, her dress flows effortlessly down her frame, and she’s wearing a delicate pair of heels that add a few inches to her height. 

Your brain takes a moment to reload. Nucky could have at least created a professional atmosphere, but this woman does not seem like she works for him. Every person in Nucky Thompson’s life could become a threat to you. Every person you meet that you have not intended to meet brings you one step closer to irreparable damage. But perhaps that has been his plan all along. 

“Hello,” the woman greets you. Her eyes are wide with bewilderment. 

You stutter. The blood rushes to your head. “Um, good afternoon–”

“May I help you?” The Irish accent starts to come out, and you put one and two together. 

Leo told you about Mrs. Schroeder. Margaret. You were right to assume that she isn’t one of Nucky Thompson’s goons. Far from it.

Inhaling a deep breath, you gather your thoughts to form an appropriate answer that won’t give you away entirely. “I’m here because I have a meeting with Mr. Enoch Thompson. I’m sorry, am I at the right address?” you ask.

“Oh!” Her face lights up with realization. “No, yes, of course. You are at the right address. Mr. Thompson just isn’t home yet.”

“I am a few minutes early, I’m afraid.”

Five minutes. It isn’t all that much. You try to be nice, but inside, you’re fuming. Not at this poor woman, not at all, but rather at Nucky. You haven’t even met him yet, but you already feel a deep disdain for this human being. How your father managed to consider him a friend is beyond you. Perhaps he was different back then—it has been a few years—but you highly doubt that. 

You clear your throat. “I take it you’re the lady of the house?” 

Margaret blinks, then smiles. “Yes, I believe that would be me. I’m Margaret Schroeder,” she says.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Schroeder. Or is it Mrs.?”

“It’s Mrs., actually.”

“Apologies, Mrs. Schroeder.”

“No apologies needed.” She curtsies, which is endearing, in a way. Her eyes roam your body from head to toe. She’s trying to figure you out; you can’t blame her. “And who might you be?” Margaret asks. There is a hidden pressure to know the nature of your appearance hidden behind the niceties.

You can’t blame her for not wanting to let a stranger into her house, but the question leaves you grappling with the possible answers that could keep her off your back while still sounding truthful enough for her to believe you.

“Austin,” you blurt out. It wasn’t well-considered, but you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Austin?” she questions.

“Yes, ma’am. My parents didn’t know what to name me, so they considered all cities in the State of Texas before settling on Austin. I’m aware it isn’t very conventional, but they liked to pride themselves on being free spirits,” the lie flows past your lips effortlessly.

Using your alias while at the same time branding yourself as another character entirely is risky. You shouldn’t rely on your gut feeling. Margaret may seem innocent, but there is always a certain risk. You can only hope that she will buy it. If not, you have yet another bridge to burn.

Margaret gasps softly. “You came all this way from Texas?” 

Thank God it is the only thing she took away from your explanation. 

“I represent Mr. Austin in his business,” you state. “Mr. Thompson will know what that means.”

Her reaction tells you she doesn’t know what you mean, at least, and it takes an ounce of the weight off your shoulders.

“Well, Austin,” Margaret says, still suspicious of a stranger in her home but less tense, as it seems, “Would you like to come inside? I’m sure my—Mr. Thompson will be back any minute. He probably just got caught up in some business.”

You nod. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

She steps aside. You take in the spacious entrance hall. It is bathed in soft sunlight, filling the entire house with life. A set of stairs leads upstairs. The property is nothing short of extravagant, and you wonder how far the walls reach. 

Your eyes meet those of a brunette standing in the doorway to what you assume must be the living room. Her hands are crossed before her, fingers tangled in the white fabric of her apron. You suppose she must be a maid, or at the very least a housekeeper. 

Margaret nods toward her. “Katy, would you please take Miss Austin’s jacket?” she asks. 

The woman—Katy—steps toward you with a curt smile. She opens her arms. “May I?” she says. 

You take a moment to process the clear power dynamic, then quickly slip out of your coat. It’s not too cold outside—you wouldn’t even consider it hot, just comfortably warm—but you hardly ever wear jackets out of practicality. You wonder if any woman does. Your sleeves are short, barely covering your shoulders. The first time you wore what you wanted without care was simultaneously the last.

Showing your shoulders is considered preposterous, but only if you’re a woman. That isn’t different in Atlantic City. You could get fined for wearing a skirt that is a few inches too short in a public setting, but only if you’re a woman. You can’t wear your hair down if you have long hair or you will get scrutinized, but only if you’re a woman. What doesn’t get scrutinized is the fact that men can’t keep their disgusting fingers to themselves. They don’t respect the word ‘no’ as a full sentence. They wouldn’t even let women vote until they started fighting back. 

Men have the right to make rules about how you, as a woman, are supposed to present yourself as an individual. If you don’t follow the rules, you are immodest and impure. You’re not a woman if you don’t bow down to a man. Perhaps it was the way you were raised but it has always felt so wrong to you to allow the supposed superior sex to play with you as if you were a toy and set rules for all women just because they are secretly afraid of the power they hold. 

As infuriating as it is though, you wouldn’t want to be thrown in jail. You were threatened once with it, and you decided that you can’t fight back if you’re constrained. Instead, you conform, and you bottle up the rage that has consumed you and your ancestors since the beginning of time. You pour it into fragile glass bottles and place it on a shelf, but that very shelf is about to break under the weight, and God knows what may happen then. 

One day it will be different, you wish. But that day is not today, and perhaps it won’t be for centuries. 

You want to tell Katy that you can take care of your coat yourself, but this isn’t your home, nor is it your family. The last thing you want is to come off as rude. You don’t want to overstep or appear in a negative light. 

“Thank you,” you say, and her smile becomes more genuine. 

You turn back to Margaret. “I hope I’m not intruding, Mrs. Schroeder.”

She shakes her head. “Nonsense,” she says. “Punctuality can be quite the curse when you’re meetin’ with an unpunctual person.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

Children’s laughter sounds from somewhere to your left, and you peek around the corner to see a little boy and a little girl sitting on the floor. 

“Are they yours?” you dare to ask. 

“Yes. That’s Emily, my youngest,” — she points to the girl — “And her brother, Teddy.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Thank you. I’m quite proud of them.”

You watch the two kids play under the watchful eye of another maid. They’re still so carefree; safe and sound under their mother’s wing. Things were easier when you were their age. When you still had hope. You enjoyed sitting on the floor of your childhood home and playing with your toys just as Emily and Teddy are doing now. Sometimes, you miss being a child who only knew what she wanted to know; a child living in her fantasy world, far from any kind of illicit affairs. 

Then again, rumor has it that Margaret lost the father of her children to Nucky Thompson, and even though he was a bad man, it was a huge cut in their lives that affected everyone in the family. It will get easier to deal with, maybe, but they won’t forget.

She utters the name you gave her, and you instantly tear your eyes away from the little humans in the living room. “You can settle down in the conservatory,” she tells you. “It’s a lot more quiet there.” 

“Of course,” you answer. Margaret guides you down the hall and through another doorway. You try not to stare too much as you pass the lavish decor. 

The sunlight hits your face as you come closer to the well-lit conservatory that stretches out longer than you expected. “Would you like some tea?” she asks. 

You wave her off. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly accept that.”

“I’m sure Katy wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m good, honestly, but thank you.”

“Very well then.” She smiles, but the more she does so, the more you start to believe she is forcing her reaction. The tension in her shoulders is palpable. You wonder if it’s because of you, but it couldn’t possibly be; you don’t pose a threat. Maybe it’s the connection to her partner that concerns her, and you can’t blame her for that. 

The conservatory is filled with green plants and colorful flowers. They seem to shimmer under the natural lighting. It’s cozy, you have to admit, and certainly a lot more comfortable than waiting outside the door on the front porch in a neighborhood you don’t belong to.

“Feel free to, uh, take a seat,” Margaret says, pointing toward the table. “I will be taking the children to the beach in a few minutes, but I’ll make sure someone fetches you once Mr. Thompson is back. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let the maids know. They’re at your service.” 

You offer her a disarming smile. “I appreciate it.”

She bids her goodbyes, wishing you a good day, before she turns on her heel and leaves you to your own devices. 

The big windows are calling for you. You inhale the oxygen that has been purified by the greenery. For the first time since your train rolled into Atlantic City, you feel a little lighter. You don’t feel like the reality of the situation is pressing down on you and drowning you in misery. You can breathe again. 

You dare to step closer to the flowers. The red of the petals offers a stark contrast to the green. You play with the sunlight on your fingers, then gently move the tip over one of the delicate blossoms. Your heart jumps with the sudden realization that you could easily break or injure it. 

The floral scent fills your nose, but it isn’t too overwhelming. Unlike roses, while looking beautiful with an intense shade of maroon, this flower is rather shy. It may look like it would smell like a thousand gardens all at once, but it’s treacherous. 

“I didn’t realize Mr. Thompson hired a new gardener,” the Irish accent makes your head whip to the doorway. 

“Excuse me?” you blurt.

Gelled-back dark hair and hazel eyes that rival the plants in the conservatory. The man is clutching his hat to his chest. A gray jacket covers his stoic frame, but it’s the way he carries himself that catches your attention the most. He exceeds the kind of confidence that he hides behind a shy smile.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he says, “I was only joking.”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know, I was merely admiring the flowers, not tending to them.”

Who does he think he is, you ask yourself, that he believes he has the right to look the way he does—act the way he does—and talk to you like that? It’s outrageous.

His plump lips part and the only words he seems capable of uttering are sickeningly cheeky. Whoever he is, you want nothing more than to turn around and leave. Because this man is too young to be Nucky Thompson, but he has more than enough audacity to pass as someone in his position. Or someone working for him. 

When Margaret said she would have someone fetch you, this is not what you expected. Young, tall, and handsome as hell. Your stomach curls into a tight coil. No, you don’t like him. You can’t like him. You swore yourself you would never stoop this low, but one look into his eyes, and the blood pools in your cheeks like scarlet mountains.

The stranger chuckles as he approaches you. “Of course. A lady of refined taste, I take it?” The glint in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

With every ounce of blood your heart pumps through your body, heat fills you from the inside out, threatening to melt you into a puddle—an annoyed puddle. 

“And just what would you know about my taste?” you challenge him. 

He shrugs. “Only that a woman as lovely as yourself must appreciate the finer things in life.”

You want to burst like the ticking time bomb people have told you that you are. 

You clear your throat. There is a slight edge of flustered uneasiness to your voice. You try to swallow it, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he must have heard it loud and clear. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister…” 

“Sleater, ma’am,” he interjects. “Owen Sleater. I work for Mr. Thompson.”

He’s smooth, and God, he knows he is smooth. It’s written all over his face, those defined cheekbones, and his sharp jawline. It’s like he has been painted by a Greek God. Or he is the Greek God. Either way, this Irish—your first instinct was to call him a fucker when you first laid eyes on him—is getting on your last nerve. 

He’s clean-shaven, but the shadow of a once-there beard is visible. He’s a beautiful man, stunning even, and that annoys you even more. With his fake innocence and his desperate attempts to come across as a pure gentleman while he is teasing a total stranger into oblivion for a probably very sadistic purpose. You should not allow your mind to even go in that direction. Not when he makes you so nauseous. 

“Well, Mister Sleater,” you find your voice again, “I have to disappoint you,” you say. “I’m not easily swayed by a smooth talker.”

Owen—his name suits him, you have to admit—raises his eyebrows. His forehead wrinkles a little as he does so. “What are you swayed by then?” he inquires. 

“Not you, that’s for sure.”

You can see your reflection in his eyes; his color blends with yours, drawing you in. Owen chuckles, probably to save some time to gather himself. 

He stutters. “You have quite the sharp tongue, Miss…” he trails off, waiting for you to fill in the gap.

Once again, you stare into the face of a very big problem. You shouldn’t be here. You consider the possibility that Anthony may have been right, just for a moment; maybe you should not have come on your own, and maybe you should have taken him with you because everything suddenly feels like it’s falling apart.

You push the thoughts away. “You may call me Austin,” you say. 

“Miss Austin, ma’am.” A flicker of recognition crosses his face. “Are you, by any chance, related to one Mister Austin?” Owen asks. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I do, ma’am.”

“That doesn’t mean you are entitled to an answer.”

“Trust me,” he chuckles, “I’m well aware of that.”

He exposes you with his gaze. You’re standing in the eye of the storm with nothing to protect you. Even in your best dress, you are naked and vulnerable. You cave when you meet his eyes. You try to be strong, but it’s useless. 

Self-awareness is a virtue not many possess; Owen is aware, but he chooses not to care. There is a difference that exceeds worlds in distance.

The only way for you out of this is to change the subject. “Would you happen to know your way around botany?” you ask. The subject isn’t entirely different; it was Owen who started the conversation with a similar context.

“I know a thing or two, yes,” he answers.

“Can you tell me what kind of flower this is?” You trace your fingertips over the red petals of the flower before you. “The color’s lovely.”

“I believe these are Alstroemerias, ma’am.”

His way of saying it melts like butter on your tongue. “Alstroemerias,” you repeat. “Quite a beautiful shade of red, isn’t it?”

You don’t care about his opinion, at least you don’t think you do, but the conversation is flowing and you can’t possibly stop it. 

“Very much so,” Owen says. His lips break into another smile. “And they suit the color of your eyes.”

The addition makes your head spin. You swallow, and you brush off his words with a scoff. “Are you always this cheeky, Mr. Sleater?”

“Only sometimes, but it’s been known to get me into trouble.”

“I’ll have you know that confusing me with the gardener does not help your case.”

There it is again, that glint. The mischief. “Not appreciative of my jokes, I see,” he muses.

Your jaw clenches. “I can appreciate a joke when it’s good. Have you seen me laugh since we met?” The words come out a little harsher than planned, but he takes them with the same lightness he seems to take everything with. 

Owen chuckles. The sound rumbles in his chest. “I, uh… No, I haven’t.”

Your body reacts to the sound of his voice in a way that makes you angry at yourself. “Checkmate,” you say. You beat him, and that’s all that is supposed to matter.

Owen though? He just won’t stop.

“Consider me beat,” he retorts. 

“And yet you’re still talking.”

The distance between you shrinks with each passing moment. Owen takes a step closer. You can feel his breath on your skin. He smells of Whiskey and gum. 

“Perhaps I just can’t resist a challenge,” he says.

“Is that so?” you ask. 

He brushes lightly against the back of your hand, reaching for the flower. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you pull away instantly at the shiver that rolls through you. It’s a tidal wave. 

He chuckles as if he knows that he is overstepping, but once again, he doesn’t care. Owen wraps his hand around the stem. The other slides into the pocket of his slacks to retrieve what seems to be a pocket knife. He drags it just a few inches below the flower’s petals, and it falls into his palm. He’s so gentle one wouldn’t think his fingers are calloused and his knuckles are cracked until they have felt them on their skin.

You tilt your chin up defiantly. “Now look at what you did—” You point at the broken stem, “You violated the poor flower. Don’t you have any regard for Mother Nature, Mr. Sleater?”

Owen leans in, his chuckle only another breath on his lips as he slides the flower behind your ear. The smell is a lot more dominant now that it is touching you.

“It’ll heal,” he states. He says it as though he knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he is probably not wrong. You wish he were, but he isn’t. 

Flowers and plants heal. They grow back. They bleed—sometimes they even make human beings bleed—but they often grow back. Nature is a lot more resilient than humans could ever be.

You should pull away and put an end to this dangerous game before it goes any further, but at that moment, with this stranger placing a flower he has claimed goes beautifully with the color of your eyes behind your ear, all rational thought flees from your mind because you can’t quite comprehend what is happening. What has this day turned into? He’s rendered you speechless, shaking in your cowboy boots, and the blood in your veins freezes even as it is boiling.

You’re too close to losing your composure.

The floorboards creak. You turn to the doorway for what seems like the millionth time. Katy looks between you and Owen, and something static crackles in the air. Her kindness from before has disappeared behind an iron wall. 

“I’m sorry,” she says curtly.

You look between her and Owen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Miss, Mr. Thompson wanted me to tell you that he is ready to receive visitors now.”

Finally. This is what you came here for. You touch the flower behind your ear, and when you look at Owen who looks almost guilty, his affection that has melted like butter before is starting to grow over with toxic mold. 

“Thank you,” you tell Katy. Reaching for the flower, you remove it. 

“He said he is supposed to have an appointment with a Mr. Austin right now,” Katy adds. “I’m not sure if that is important.”

She is avoiding Owen’s eyes like the plague. You can’t blame her. Now that you have made the connection that this Irish fucker flirted with you even though he had a thing or two with his employer’s maid… You grab his hand and place the Alstroemeria in his hand rather roughly, closing his fingers around it.

“Mr. Austin,” he murmurs. 

You should panic, but there is nothing but emptiness in your dead expression.

“He couldn’t make it,” you state. 

“Could he now?” Owen is slowly but steadily connecting the dots. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

He scoffs. You turn away from him, the flower now squished in his hand. Katy looks like someone just kicked her, and you wish you could put that smile back on her face. Of course, Owen Sleater has to be a player. You should have figured as much. He can’t possibly keep his hands to himself.

On your way out, he calls out to you, “Mr. Thompson doesn’t like it when people waste his time.”

You stop on your way to the stairs, following behind Katy who is showing you the way even though she has no obligation to. A smirk grows on your lips. You have the upper hand now, and he has no idea. 

“I’m not wasting his time,” you say. 

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” You look over your shoulder. “Because I’m his appointment, and Mr. Austin doesn’t like to be kept waiting, especially not by inappropriate flattery,” you tell him. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Sleater.”

His fallen face is the last thing you see before you turn around and make your way upstairs to the office, hoping that it will all have been worth it once this day is over, and you can finally forget it ever happened. 

tagging: @ebathory997 @kal-0n (if you want to be added, let me know)

[dammit5ive]

Hi! How did your Five get to Abel? What’s her story?

Ok, I don't know if you meant to open this can of worms but you did and now you have to deal with the consequences. I will start with a tldr tho so you don't have to suffer through my Five's entire mary sue backstory, that is extremely loosely based off of Mickey Pearson from The Gentleman (2019). Just a warning, yes I'm aware it's chaotic and absurd but honestly so is ZR.

TLDR: Five made some very bad™ choices, cleaned up their act just in time for the end of the world, and then throws themselves into service to try and atone for what they did.

Long version: Five was born on a hippie commune deep in the rocky mountains of Colorado and coincidentally, their name was literally Five .. Their parents were super hippie dippie and they like "the number's vibrational energy" and they didn't want to choose a last name because they wanted them to choose because they didn't want to assume dad's last name because of the patriarchy or whatever. The commune was pretty much the stereotypical weed growing, Woodstock type and as a kid their chore was typically tending the gardens. Not that they minded. As they grew up, a cult infiltrated their commune and by the time they were a teenager the cult leader and everyone but them... drank the kool-aid so to speak. They ended up emancipating and getting themselves an education where they graduated early and were accepted into Oxford for their graduates.

Once they arrived in England and started attending Oxford the expenses began to become too much for Five and they took they knowledge they learned on the commune to grow and sell weed. One thing lead to another and they started crossing into others' territories. Before they knew it, they had one of the largest international marijuana ring.

Closer to their graduation, they decided that they wanted out of the business and to leave it behind for their original plan of becoming an archivist. They disappeared completely, erasing any evidence of who they were. After their graduation, they were hired as the lead archivist of the British Museum and began work to try and overturn the British Museum Act of 1963. Before anything can really come of it though, the zombie apocalypse happened.

Five left for their safe house that they've had just in case their past caught up with them. Along the way, Mullins picks them up, recognizing them from a list of prioritized survivors. (archivists would be important post-apocalypse right?) From that moment on, they swear to just put their head down and help when possible as penance for being a ruthless kingpin in their former life. Because of this they get chosen for Project Greenshoot and well, you know what happens after that.

Crazy, I know but I've been obsessing and building onto this for literal months lol. I'm so obsessed with my Five and will take any chance to talk about them. Also! here, have my ZR pinterest board!

[stormandforge]

Raw reactions to X-Force #4

You wanted an action-packed X-comic? Here you go.

SPOILERS after the fold.

Now you see why the slow set-up was necessary? YOU SEE? Premise, characters and and relationships established, aaaaand we're off.

I'll be honest: up until now I thought Thorne was blowing his own trumpet when he said things would only get crazier, but now I believe him. We get: our usual fracture set-up, 2 Earth locations, Otherworld, Nuklo, Man-Thing, inter-dimensional shit, a legendary temple and weirdo Avengers. And it all flows and never feels clunky. Very nice.

Magic vs science (or magic x science) continues to be a thing, and I continue to be here for it. I'm a Forge fan, it comes with the territory.

Betsy calling Forge out on his bullshit, Sage trying to calm her down, Forge standing his ground - let the drama commence. I'm really loving the team dynamic.

What's Forge hiding in that terrifying brain of his? Do we even want to know? I'm now 90% sure he's causing/has caused the fractures, perhaps by upgrading himself or creating the Analog, but does he know? I sincerely hope not. At the same time my boy has a history of not dealing very well with the consequences of his own actions...

The looser Forge's ponytail is, the pervier my brain gets. This is a warning. If he doesn't take a second to sort out his *fucking magnificent* hair in the next issue, this blog will become NSFW.

Ok, I'm glad teleporting is finally mentioned, because I've been wondering. I get that Forge's power isn't to "think of everything" (see issue 1), but bringing a teleporter to a fast-paced planetary mission is just common sense. And that he should make one that fits onto the jet is also obvious, especially since it's a problem to solve, which is kind of his thing. And if for any reason he's forgotten common sense, he's got Sage, who's got enough common sense for all of us. So...yeah, plot hole. But it's all good - you gotta use Betsy and her cool sword.

I love the way Surge's comparative youth is presented. She's experienced enough to pull her weight, but she still has the fire of youth, and the ability to see the obvious when the adults have disappeared up their own asses. "Hey, guys! You might want to stop chatting and look at THAT OBVIOUS SCARY THING OVER THERE."

Drinking game for when the trade comes out: take a shot every time Sage says "processing".

Who's this "she" the psi-girls are talking about? I might have just missed something on that one. Either way, "she" sounds scary and fun, I hope she shows up.

ORORO??? I didn't expect her until issue 6 😍

That ain't really Ororo though, is it? These Avengers look like they just stepped out of a parallel world, and in any case she's currently in Atlanta coughing up blood and feeding hippos.

LOL, entire team fails at taking down Nuklo, Ororo takes him down with one lightning bolt. That's a bit embarrassing, guys.

Dishevelled Forge whispering "Ororo?" in utter shock is my new sexual orientation.

So, we're meant to get a character death next issue, if we believe the marketing. I expected this issue to lay the groundwork for this, but nope, it'll be a complete surprise. Let's see what happens! (My money was on Sage for the longest time, but now I'm not sure anymore. Could be anyone.)

Either way: I'm getting Forge and some version of Storm in the same comic next month, and I'm already freaking out. I hope my little shippy heart can take it. ❤️

[mdhwrites]

I believe Vee was created because the writers didn’t want to explore Camilia worrying and grieving over possibly losing Luz, the only family she had left. We didn’t witness Camilia spend months wondering what happened to her daughter since Vee pretended to be her. Even after Camilia discovered she wasn’t her child, she kept her and formed a familial relationship. Another issue is that Luz didn’t have any questions surrounding her disappearance, nor did she have to repeat a grade since Vee had taken her place, leaving others none the wiser. Vee was a copout by the writers, who didn’t want to have Luz face consequences for going missing.

Here's my rebuttal: What place did that have in this story?

Especially by the time of Yesterday's Lie, TOH is still a kid's show. It's still the story of a girl escaping to a fantasy realm and getting to live the dream of being a witch that she always wanted. While S2B will get more dramatic, it never gets truly dark frankly. All of its water works are pretty basic and bare bones for the fantasy genre frankly. I mean, the darkest it gets is "I'm a clone and Belos has murdered me untold amounts of times" and they don't explore that either because that'd mean following through on the plot point and one dark plot point does not a drama make. It's part of why the fandom constantly shouting trauma never rang true because these are the first actually bad things to ever happen to these characters and they never respond quite properly to them.

All that you want is befitting for a genuinely dramatic story. One that is trying to face the consequences of EVERYTHING. It'd actually be a really bad, really brutal gut punch to a story that is already exploring the genuine effects of being an isekai protagonist, already exploring how much that would already suck, and that's the exact OPPOSITE of what TOH was interested in doing. It never properly faces consequences for anything that happens in the show and actively shoots possible consequences in the face much of the time so they can move on to the next moment the writers actually care about.

Instead, Vee is a genuinely brilliant work around the problems of the isekai genre while not pretending they just don't exist. Does she fully function? Not entirely, you still have to suspend your disbelief that this lab grown creation who never had any schooling or social interactions can FUNCTION in society but that's pretty normal suspension of disbelief for this sort of thing frankly. It would have started straining more if they'd gotten a full S3 and so actually had to spend time with Vee and dealing with the twin identities but at this point I hope I've pointed out enough in the rest of my blogs that this show just wouldn't properly explore any of that really. We'd maybe get one episode that ends up on Luz's side in the end and that'd be it.

But as I've talked before with Vee, her main goal wasn't even just to wave away tonal issues. She was meant to directly be able to show that Luz could have had friends. Could have been happy. That, as Vee states, "She had it good." Which, you know, was a GIANT mistake since they never backed up Luz being bullied or an outcast or having social anxiety or anything like that so it just makes Luz like a lying bitch and recontextualizes her entire introduction in terrible ways. It WAS the intended goal with Vee though to do that.

That's honestly part of the tragedy of TOH and why it's hard to defend the writers as writers. There's almost ALWAYS an explicit point to most of the elements included in the story for a short term gain or statement but there's no thought to the overall effect of it. It could NEVER have been serialized because these writers don't think about the big picture. Instead, they sloppily put together a Jenga tower and the longer the game goes on...

Well, eventually a good base is eroded until it all comes crashing down.

[pardonmydelays]

oooh the last two anon replies got me fired up so here's my manifesto i guess.

the universal hating on lin manuel miranda comes down to a few factors that most of the time have nothing to do with his actual mistakes:

their cringe history is reflected in him and they can't deal with it. let it be known that it is not lin who created miku binder jefferson. that was entirely a monster of our making. and somehow, his enthusiasm and willingness to interact with fan content (i remember everyone loving him for it) is worthy of punishment in relation.

he's an easy scapegoat to dump criticism on because people already feel so comfortable speaking on him. like you said, it's crazy that people will paint out lin manuel miranda, the guy who changed broadway and did so much for POC roles, to be the big baddie. he's made mistakes, and there's a lot we can discuss about hamilton's legacy, etc., but damn. where's this energy for everyone else? is it a case of "he actually tried, therefore we have material to latch onto and tear down?"

a lot of what he does is successful and in the public eye! it's crazy but i see people going "why is lin manuel miranda in everything" about projects from the 2000s, like yeahh he didn't just make hamilton and then disappear for your own convenience. if anything it's a statement about how a lot of his work, like it or not, is remembered over time. the reaction to him being in percy jackson was crazy to me because i KNOW for a fact that you did not see his dark materials or tick tick boom; at most you know him from moana and hamilton. and then complaining that he "threatened disney to be in everything they do" smh.

he's not your typical white boy of the month. this might be a loaded statement but sue me, i think it's true. POC celebrities have a limited amount of time in the sun compared to white celebrities. a white actor having multiple roles in a year is okay, and it means they're a hard worker. but when it's a POC actor, their presence is conspicuous. their presence becomes bothersome. public goodwill dries up so much faster. even pedro pascal, i feel, has been talked about with eye-rolls recently. i read a very interesting paper about this.

it's fun! the internet's chosen him as their punching bag, and there are no consequences to online hating if everyone else agrees. i bet a lot of people think they're just joking.

and all of this makes it such that if they do find out about some of his actual mistakes, it's a relief. i legitimately saw a tiktok comment section filled with bashing, and someone said "this is so hilarious but kinda mean, the guy didn't do anything" and someone said with "actually he did this this and this" and they replied "oh thank god, i don't feel bad now!" so it's not "oh let's see if this person improved" it's "phew! i have a legitimate reason to continue what i've been doing all along!"

it's crazy because i'm not even a lmm fan necessarily. i've just been in the musical community for years and noticed all of this happening surrounding his very popular work. you all will rue the day! 10 yrs later or so people are going to start making those "he deserved better" posts but i will not forgive or forget.

i don't know if you want me to respond to every single thing you wrote here, but i appreciate the message, especially when it comes from someone who's not really a fan - it only shows me that it's possible not to be in the fandom & still be respectful.

don't even get me started on miku binder jefferson, it's probably the most ridiculous thing i've ever seen in my life. also, one thing i need to point out is that NOT EVERYONE in this fandom is like that, & i think i'm a perfect example of a person who just enjoys lin's art & likes talking about it & analizing things, but not enjoying all those weird cringe things that were created by the fandom (like the one you mentioned), so like... maybe a certain part of the fandom was the problem, not the creator of the thing? i have nothing against fanfiction in general, nothing against fanarts but like... some people are ruining the thing cause it's just too much. like the famous lmm cannibal mermaid fanfiction, come on guys, be serious, what the actual fuck???

i also agree with the percy jackson thing, i remember seeing all the hate even before the episode with him dropped & honestly i couldn't stand it, the pjo fandom ruined all the fun for me & i literally had to block pjo tag lol. then the episode was out & everyone was suddenly like OH, HE WAS ACTUALLY GOOD, well guess what bitch, i've been saying this all the time, he is actually a good actor & you are just a miserable hater. this fandom is toxic as fuck. also, you think he's everywhere? i do know a lot of other celebrities who actually ARE everywhere these days & somehow no one is sick of them??? so maybe people really are just racists. also, this is literally his job lol what do you expect him to do, disappear forever?

i will not forgive or forget either. like i said before, i'm aware that he made some mistakes, it's not like he didn't apologize for some of them, also he's not perfect, but no one is. all i'm trying to say is that there are more problematic people but somehow everyone feels the need to hate on him. you picked the wrong guy, just let him be.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Bringing Vi to Life [2]

I watch Sally walk out of the door, trying to hold it together until his messy blue hair turns around a corner and finally leaves my field of vision.

How did this even happen?

The streets of LA are bustling and, still, all I can think of is his black clad figure—the only color on him being the sapphire shade of his hair—walking through and between people. But everyone else was just a shadow beside him. Zooming figures in my way. Blurs with no soul and no purpose but to burden others.

He's long gone now. Michael walked in just minutes after Sally disappeared. I'm forced to pretend that I'm ignoring the phenomena that just occurred as I wait tables and deal with customers that mean nothing to me.

Every inch of me burns to call Ash and quiz her about Sally's surprise visit. My muscles tense up in excitement when I think about it and my head throbs with tons of ways to tell her about what happened. My lips are chewed up and bloody, no doubt, just because I've been worrying over this since he walked through the door.

As much and as badly as I want to call Ash, I know that I can't. She would tell Sally that we met, for one. That's the last thing I want. Even if I asked her not to tell him, I'd be putting her in a compromising position if Sally and I were to ever meet as our real selves rather than this Lexi character that I created.

I'll just keep what happened today to myself. I don't ever have to tell anyone. It's my business anyway. I'll just deal with the consequences if it ever comes out that Lexi and y/n are the same person, which it will come out. With Ash, Larry, Todd, and I's friendship, we're bound to meet up again at some point. Not to mention, I'm planning on trying out this streaming thing soon.

Mine and Sally Face's meeting is fate no matter what fake name I come up with.

My day is boring and cruel. All I do is think about Sally's guitar pick hanging around my neck and the warmth in his bright blue eyes. I remember the way he complimented me, the way his ears turned pink with embarrassment, and all of the nice conversations we shared during his short stay in the diner. I still can't truly believe it happened. I'm honestly... mind blown.

I'm closing up tonight. It's about a quarter to ten and Michael is sweeping around tables as I count up all the money we made today. We close at ten, so we might as well finish our extra responsibilities now. Usually, customers are beginning to finish up at this time. We hardly ever have anyone walk in.

"Alright, y/n," Michael sighs, standing near the front door with his broom in hand. "I'm going put this up then I'll be heading out. You need any help closing this place?"

I smile at him. "No, don't worry about it! I shouldn't be much longer. I'll see you tomorrow."

Michael grins, pulling his apron over his head. "Awesome. See you bright and early."

He disappears into the back, then leaves out the front door just a minute or so later. So I wipe down the counters around me.

It's been a long day and I've been under a considerable amount of stress compared to other days. I'm so tired that I almost feel sick—I have a pounding headache and achy limbs. I almost want to skip work tomorrow and just take a day to myself—but taking a day to myself means losing a pretty $100 for bills at the end of the month. I'd rather not risk that, especially since I only work five hours tomorrow. What's the point of staying home if I won't be out too long anyway?

The bell on the front door jingles with a new customer and I almost groan out loud. I lean down, looking at my phone. We close in three minutes—why would someone do that?

As per my boss's request, if anyone walks in before closing, we have to sit them down and get what they need. I get it in a way, but for other workers like me who have taken a full day's shift, that's tough.

"I'll be right with you!" I say sweetly, scrubbing a spot on the counter despite my aggravation over having a new customer. I'm just ready to get home.

"No worries. Take your time."

I look up in a panic, making eye contact with a sweet, smiling gaze. Do my eyes deceive me? Even if they do, my heart surely wouldn't. It's beating so quickly that it almost hurts. And the sudden butterflies in my stomach make a queasy feeling slam into me.

I take a moment to reply, glancing over Sally who's randomly decided to show up again.

His hands are in the pockets of his black Larry merch hoodie, hiding away the edges of the beautiful tattoo I got to touch earlier. And as always, I can't see his face, but I can tell that he's at ease. Just enjoying his night and perfectly okay with waiting an eternity for me to get to him. Must be nice to not be in a rush all the time.

I gape at him for a moment, then blink. Quickly fixing my posture, I let a little smile pull at my lips as I walk closer to him. "Hey, Sally," I say a little nervously. His name is odd to hear but feels perfect leaving my lips. I can't even remember why I hated this guy at first. What did he say again?

"Hey, Lexi," Sally excitedly says, taking a step closer and leaning his weight against the counter. His hands never leave his pockets. "Sorry to come in so late. I won't be long, just wanted to come talk to you."

I tilt my head curiously, laying my washcloth on the counter. "What about?" I ask.

"Well, it sounds a lot better in my head." He laughs, finally removing a hand to push it through his hair. "Honestly, I'm considering just... saying something else. I don't talk to people often so this is..." he motions between us awkwardly then turns away, looking over at the front door.

I hum, biting the inside of my cheek. His words strike a bit of fear in my heart. Part of me wonders if, somehow, he found out about my real identity. But I know that's next to impossible, especially since Larry, Ash, and Todd haven't gotten a picture of me in years. "I mean, you can say anything. We're just two people in a judgement free zone. I'll never know what you were going to say either if you decide to say something else." I shrug, offering him a sweet smile.

Sally takes a shaky breath. "Yea, you're right. That's why I respect you, though. So, I might as well just do what I came here to do."

I shrug, pinching my fingertips in hopes to quell my anxiety a bit. "Up to you."

He turns his head, azure eyes meeting mine. His gaze slowly travels over every inch of me before they settle on my eyes again. Then, he sighs, resting his elbows on the counter behind him. His hoodie sleeve rides up his arm a bit, showing off an inch or two of the geometric, entrancing tattoos on his arm.

Drool.

"Can I have your number?" He forces out after a moment. He tilts his head nervously. "Like, I don't want to tell you I just want a good friend to talk to." Sally's voice is giggly, like he's extremely anxious. "I mean, I do want a good friend to talk to and you're a really awesome person. But I also would like to talk to you as more of a friend—" He pauses for a moment, then flinches, pulling his hands out of his hoodie in a flash. "But not like a hook-up kind of thing, I mean more of something that could turn into like a relationship over time." He sucks in a breath. "But you don't have to—"

I snort before I can hold it back. A hand automatically slaps over my mouth in shock and I feel bad for giggling. I pull my hand away just as quickly as it went up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. Your explanation was just... really cute." I giggle again. Why am I calling him cute? "Yea, you can have my number. I think you're amazing."

I wish I'd have thought about my response. It came naturally, even quickly like the words had their own nerves, cells, and ideas. I'm jealous of their confidence. At the same time, I truly wish I could take them back because how the fuck am I supposed to get away with my secret now?

But I don't worry about it too much because the excitement reflected in Sally's eyes is just worth it. Any fear or resentment I had left for him melts away and I wish to see his pretty smile more than anything.

I give him my phone number with no reservations for a moment, watching him type it into his phone. He brushes a strand of light blue hair from his eyes then looks up at me, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Thanks," he says. "Sorry if that seemed kind of weird. But, uh, I'll text you later?"

"Yea, that sounds good." I smile at him, pulling my apron over my head and setting it down on the counter beside me. My heart races a bit at the thought of him leaving already, but I know it has to happen.

"Alright," Sally says, chuckling softly. He just kind of stares at me for another moment, eyes flitting over my features before he glances down. 

I swallow thickly when his hand is suddenly in front of me. I flinch at the brush of his cold fingertips on my collarbone. My brain is overloaded as I gaze down at his hand, wondering what on earth possessed him-- when I notice the guitar pick between his fingertips.

It's extremely hard to ignore my heated skin and flushed cheeks while I watch him flip the pick between his index finger and thumb, his skin brushing against my chest with each slight, subtle movement.

"Didn't think you'd wear it," he murmurs. "I'm happy to see it."

When I look up, I'm sent into an endless night sky just upon simply gazing into his powerful blue eyes. The gold flecks littering his iris' look like stars lighting up the piercing blue that takes up my entire life for a moment. 

He's a lot closer than I imagined he'd be, so we both get lost in each other for a moment-- that much is noticeable. 

"It means... a lot to me." I say shakily, finding my small smile again. I'm still shocked by our unexpected proximity and, fuck, his absolutely gorgeous eyes.

I wish I could see his smile when he takes a step away from me and giggles lightly, a light pink dusting his ears and neck. "That's sweet of you. Anyway, I'll get going. I have a flight to catch early in the morning. Um, and I'll probably be playing with everyone tonight, so..." He tilts his head down, shaking his shoulder length hair away from his prosthetic face, but he still never looks back to me.

Compared to how much hate I felt toward Sally just a day ago, I actually feel quite infatuated with him now. He is so amazing. I shouldn't have jumped the gun. Maybe he heard something bad about me and that's why he was so hostile towards y/n. Maybe it's a misunderstanding that we'll have to talk about at some point. I'd prefer that over him just hating me because I'm... me.

"Oh, of course," I say cheerily. "Don't let me keep you, I was just about to close up anyway." Even though he's the one who walked into my diner and I am in no way holding him hostage. "It was so nice meeting you again." The more I talk, the more rushed it sounds and the more frantic I feel. "Thank you for being so kind to me. I'm happy to have connected with you." What the fuck am I saying?

Sally lets out a hearty laugh, patting my shoulder amusedly. But he keeps his hand there. "You sound like I did when I first walked in, Lexi." Oh, true. I'm not y/n at the moment. "Relax. I'm really happy we met, too. I'm looking forward to seeing where we can take our friendship."

I can feel the chill in his hands seeping through my thin shirt and the tightening of his fingertips on my shoulder. The same heat from earlier returns to my cheeks before he finally pulls away. "See you, Lexi!" Sally calls as he walks away and towards the front door.

I lean onto my tiptoes, waving to him. "Bye, Sally." The door closes and a weight that didn't exist just milliseconds ago drops onto my shoulders like 12,000 overweight cats. 

The reason I say cats is because the weight is very welcome (who doesn't love chunky kitties?) but it's also incredibly hard to hold up. I love the situation I've found myself in regarding Sally Face, but then again, he hates the true me but seems to enjoy this fake character I created out of fear. 

So, like, yea! Sally Face is totally into me, but he's going to catch me in a lie then hate me even more than he already does. 

He can dig my grave and spit on it too if he wants. Can't change my fuck up. I'm here and either way, shit's crazy at the moment. I might as well be crazy with the shit.

And then there's the fact that I gave him my phone number. There are so many issues with that stupid decision and I don't even want to think about the full list, but some reasons include, but are not limited to:

1.) Ash could totally match my phone number with the one I gave Sally.

2.) Did I forget to mention that I gave him a fake name?

3.) He fucking hates my guts.

4.) He's going to end up hating Lexi too because I highly doubt I'll ever be able to text him back after realizing what kind of shit-show I've become the main attraction in.

I could list so much more-- those are just a few.

Another happens to be my awful history with relationships. I'm not good at relationships. I've battled depression all my life, which just so happens to be part of the reason as to why my friends back in Nockfell haven't even seen a photo of me since I was a teenager. 

I was diagnosed with depression at fifteen. Things took a bit of a turn for me quite quickly. I had been fine beforehand, then my parents got divorced and constantly traveling between their homes made it hard on me. I didn't enjoy anything anymore. Life felt like a chore. I slowly began to distance myself from my new friends, only texting Ash every few days. Sometimes, I'd even go weeks without messaging anyone. I'd just wait for night to come so I could sleep again. So I could dream.

I actually enjoyed school growing up simply because it got me out of the house and kept me busy-- it was the only time that I didn't think about how fucking tired I was of living. 

So I've been taking antidepressants for about six or so years now. Life improved for me once I began taking medicine to help me out. I had a few boyfriends who introduced me to many things, but ultimately left my tiny little heart bruised and broken. 

Relationships never work for me. I've been cheated on, mentally and physically abused, and betrayed. Maybe it's trauma, maybe it's bad luck. Either way, I don't want to end up like my parents. I'm perfectly fine with living the rest of my life without ever having a significant other.

So Sally Face's phone number will be sent to my text-message purgatory when and if he decides to text me one day.

I grab all of my things and start walking back to my apartment. Dad should be home by now. He works all day and sometimes has to stay at hotels depending on where he is in California at the time, but he told me he'd be close by today.

By the time I make it to our apartment door, I can hear mine and Dad's favorite band playing. The sound is lightly muffled by our door, but I wouldn't mistake this band for the world. 

One of the things that got me through my couple years of undiagnosed depression was Breaking Benjamin. Dad showed me the band one day and my young brain fell in love with the sound, the instrumentals, and the lyrics. I have been obsessed with them since I was a teenager and a dream of mine is to finally see them in concert when I have the money to do so.

In fact, I have some of their lyrics tattooed on the left side of my chest, right over my ribs.

An excited smile builds on my face as I throw my front door open, instantly making eye contact with Dad in the kitchen. He waves a little spatula around, grinning at me.

"I know it's late, but--" He tiptoes over to me, speaking in a sing-song voice. "I made pancakes and bacon!"

The lyrics of my favorite song from their Phobia album, Unknown Soldier, quietly plays through our apartment with the sweet smell of warm pancakes to accompany the melody. Our balcony doors are open, letting in the sound of honking cars and laughter from the city below. It's dark out, probably about ten thirty in the evening. I can see all kinds of lights in the distance with just one glance.

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket and a squeak falls from my lips as my momentary bliss is interrupted. My heart thunders against my chest. Fuck, what if it's Sally calling me? I'll decline it. Instantly.

Gosh, I don't want to look at my phone. It's going to be so hard to decline the call mainly because I truly don't want to. In all honesty, I'd love to see where things could go with Sally but I'm in too deep with this lie and I don't trust my luck with relationships. He and I just shouldn't be. 

I watch my father for a moment, who raises an eyebrow at me before glancing at my noisy pocket. "You gonna get that, Ducky?" he asks.

Dad's old nickname for me always calms me down a bit. He only uses it if he can tell I'm nervous and need some kind of calm. It's a reminder of simpler times and he knows how much the name means to me. "I don't know. I'm kind of scared," I answer him honestly.

"Want to talk about it?" He asks, lifting up a full plate of pancakes.

I smile, finally growing the balls to pull my phone out of my pocket. I hold my breath and look down at the screen.

Oh, thank God. It's just Ash. 

The call ends before I can answer, so I make a mental note to call her back after I talk to my dad. 

"I met this guy and... it's a little complicated but I gave him my number. I don't really want him to call me," I murmur, locking my phone and putting it back in my pocket.

Dad snorts. "You know how that sounds right? You gave a guy your number but you don't want to talk to him?"

I roll my eyes. "Okay, yea. It sounds ridiculous, but like I said, it's a complicated situation that I really don't want to get into tonight. I have some things I need to do with Ash."

"Whatever you need, Ducks. I'm here to talk if you want. How is Ash, by the way? She and the guys still doing that online stuff?" Dad asks, stuffing a pancake into his mouth.

I hum, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a pancake for myself. Yes, I do eat them like a normal human-- on a plate with syrup, but I want to get with Ash as soon as possible so I'll be fine with just a plain pancake for now. "Yea. I'm actually going to try it out soon, too. They're really popular and making a lot of money. Look up Ash Campbell on Google."

Dad's brows furrow as he munches on a slice of bacon. "You're kidding." He pulls his phone out, squinting his eyes as he types. Then, his eyes widen and he hums. "Net worth $780,000. That's crazy." 

"Yea," I sigh, dusting my hands off over the sink. "You should see Larry and Todd, too."

"I'll go look them up now, hun. You let me know how that online stuff goes. I'm hoping it works for you." Dad sends me a smile then turns back to his phone.

I smile back and begin walking to my room as Anthem of the Angels by Breaking Benjamin comes on-- that's dads favorite song.

The sweet sound of instrumentals and a beautiful voice follows me through our apartment as I grab some clothes to change into. The music I grew up with fills me with a sense of nostalgia, taking me back to a place where everything was easy. I wasn't doing the same thing every single day. I wasn't living paycheck-to-paycheck. I wasn't on my feet all the time and hoping I made enough tips to pay my credit card bill for the month. 

It's nice to go back in time every once in a while, even if it's only through music.

When I walk into my bedroom, I grab comfy clothes then head over to my bathroom.

I pull my phone out again, clicking on the notification of Ash's call from five minutes ago. My phone rings for a singular second before a sharp shriek bursts my ear drums.

I flinch, covering my ears and quickly turning down the speaker. I'm sure my dad heard that.

"Y/n!" Ash exclaims. "I was kinda worried you wouldn't call back because I really want to ask you something but like I need and answer now--"

With a nervous giggle, I slowly remove my hands from my ears and pull my dirty work shirt over my head. "Sorry about that, I was just getting home and talking to Dad. Whatcha got for me, babe?"

Ash giggles maniacally, sending alarm bells off in my head. "Okay so how would you feel about jumping online with me and the boys tonight?"

I blink, my eyebrows slowly furrowing as gears turn in my head. She means all the boys. Sally Face told me he was going play with them not twenty minutes ago.

Am I ready for a step like that, especially after just having jumped a hurtle with him? Probably not. But I might as well just get the hard part of introducing myself over with, right?

Maybe he'll like this version of me like he likes Lexi. One can only hope.

"Um," I quietly murmur, chewing on my bottom lip. I'm nervous. I know nothing about streaming and it's been ages since I've used my voice to speak with Larry and Todd. But I'll have to try it out sooner or later anyway, right? Why not get it over with now? 

I ponder over the idea for a moment longer before finally saying, "I'll do it. Just don't tell anyone who I am-- not Larry, Sally Face, or Todd. Larry would spill the beans immediately."

Ash laughs sweetly. "You're so right about Larry," she says before squealing. "I'm so excited. This'll be so fun! I'm going to help you set everything up and explain how to record your videos and post and set up your microphone and all of that good stuff!"

I let out a shaky breath, a small smile pulling at my lips. "Sounds good. I don't have a good mic right now, though." 

"That's okay!" Ash says while I put on some sweatpants. "We'll figure that out with time. For now, go turn on your shit!!"

"Yes ma'am!" I chirp, saluting the air even though Ash can't see. I open the door and slide out of the bathroom with my socks and veer around a corner to my bedroom. "What are we playing?" I ask as I grab my headset and power it on. I have some experience with parties of people. Ash and I have played together plenty of times.

"We're playing Among Us on PC." I can hear some clicking from Ash's end of the line. "I just sent you an invite to join our channel on Discord. We'll start a VC from there."

I tilt my head, turning on my computer and widening my eyes. "What the hell is VC?"

Ash sighs, clicking her tongue. "My poor, sweet, technology deficient y/n."

"Hey," I murmur, pursing my lips as I pull up my new Discord account and log in. I see the invite, so I accept it, immediately being met with a few immediate messages between Larry and Todd.

"Someone has to tell you the truth!" Ash says matter-of-factly. "Anyway, the boys are probably pretty active right now. Todd and Larry have been bugging me about starting the VC."

"Will you finally tell me what a VC is, Ash?" I ask frantically upon noticing Larry's messages as they come in.

LARBEARAWR: dude who tf is VioletViolence

LARBEARAWR: did we get hacked

LARBEARAWR: do we need 2 start a new channel again

Todd comes in next, his texting style exactly the same as it was and has always been.

T0DDLES12: Idk, man. I wouldn't be surprised if someone found us out by now.

T0DDLES12: VioletViolence, who are you? Has someone hacked us and invited you?

I nearly choke on air when Sally Face pops into the cat. I'm horrified of things going wrong within just a few minutes of us officially meeting. Not to mention, him seeing me as a hacker isn't a good way for me to scoot into the group.

SALLYFʌCɜ: why the fuck would you talk to the hacker

"Oh... Ash they are going crazy. Please say something," I whisper with shaky breaths as panic and anxiety begin to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"Shit, I forgot to tell them about you. Hold on," She says quickly, her soothing voice taking a harsh edge as the sound of her quick typing echoes in my room. "Fuck, what do I tell them?"

"Uh," I wave my hands around and look around my room for something to help me come up with an excuse. All I find is a collection case of every season of Friends-- but it does give me a little idea. It's the best I've got. "Tell them that I'm your cousin's friend?"

I hear some more typing and a quick breath of relief, then Ash's message pops up. 

ASHYPOOO<;3: VioletViolence is my cousin's friend! Just trying to help her get on her feet :P She's a big fan and looking for a job. She has experience with gaming too so she's not a newb or anything

Unfortunately, at least for me, Sally responds immediately and the outcome is not looking very good.

SALLYFʌCɜ: ash wtf

SALLYFʌCɜ: we don't do new people

SALLYFʌCɜ: especially people we don't know

Ash scoffs over the phone and I peel my attention away from my computer screen, blinking away sudden tears. It's just because I'm really anxious, but I don't want to break down over something so ridiculously trivial.

But, as always, I'm lying to myself. 

I hate that a big part of my life is constant lies. Some of them are little white lies, things I've said for years. I'm fine. I had a good day. I ate lunch. But these recent lies are getting complicated and I keep coming up with and acting on them even though I know it's going to fuck me up in the near future. 

Karma's gotten my ass before. No doubt that it'll happen again. And this time is going to be awful.

"He's such a little ass. Always worried about bringing new people into the group. You're our first test trial, y/n." Ash sighs. Wow. Great. Can't wait. "If you look at the channels, you should see a section called Voice Channels. Click on the first one there and that's how we'll talk-- also, that's what VC means."

"Finally," I snicker, following her directions. "Okay, I'm in." I'm the only one in the voice call, clearly since I can't hear anyone else. 

"Awesome!" She chirps. "Now open up that screen recording app I told you about, log in, then press record. I'm going to hang up, but I will see you again in the VC in just a moment."

"Sounds good. Don't use my name, Ash," I mumble, focusing on setting up the recording app. 

Before I start recording, I wait for Ash to promise that she won't use my legal name, then I press record and go back to Discord.

Ash is online with me a moment later, then Larry right behind her.

"I'm cowering in a corner, Ash," Larry whispers. The sound of his voice in real time makes a beaming smile and excited shivers take over my body. "Who's this chick?"

I can't help but let a little giggle out at his amusing introduction. 

"Oh?" Larry's voice seems to perk up a bit. "A hot chick with a cute laugh?"

There it is. I roll my eyes and finally speak. "Hey, Larry," I start carefully. "I'm a big fan. Nice to meet you. Ash tells me a lot about you guys." I'm playing the role perfectly, I think.

An unflattering, hilarious, garbled sound comes from Larry's line. "Well, the pleasure is all mine, little lady." He chuckles a bit, drawling out some mumbles and poking fun at Ash. "So like, what's up with you?"

I struggle to hold back little laughs as I sit down in my chair and lean back. "Um." I shut my mouth when I realize I have nothing to tell him. What am I supposed to say for now? "Err--"

"She's from... Connecticut! She's... twenty-one and struggling with her job as... a bank-teller. She wanted to try something else so I offered to help her out." Ash saves the day and comes up with a lie so random and absurd that it sounds believable.

"Oh, cool. What's it like... counting numbers in Connecticut, little lady?"

"Larry, stop calling her 'little lady,'" Ash's thunderous, agitated voice makes me flinch away from my computer.

Larry gasps, feigning offense. "Gosh, fine, fuck, whatever, Ash! Just trying to be nice!"

"So this VioletViolence is not a foe?" Todd's deep voice makes another smile quirk my lips.

"I'm a friend, I promise." I laugh lightly. "It's nice to meet you, Todd. I've been watching you for a while."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, VioletViolence," Todd formally and sweetly welcomes me. "Your name is quite a mouthful. We'll have to find a nickname for you."

I hum in response, thinking it over. "You're right. It's a bit much." I don't quite know how to shorten it down, though. We'll just stick with this for now I suppose.

I don't have time to prepare myself when Sally suddenly pops into the voice channel. I simply suck in a breath as his livid voice fills my ears. "Ash," he says angrily, "our agreement is to never let randos into the group, so why the fuck is this person here? And no, I couldn't give a shit less if this insignificant fan that you found online is witnessing this right now."

All of the memories I have of Sally crack. Just one more slip up and I'll forget them all. What is his problem with almost every version of me and why is 'Lexi' an exception?

"Sal, stop acting like that! I've met this person many, many times and I trust her. Stop being a dick. She's a fan of ours and she's practically family to me," Ash sticks up for me, arguing aggressively with Sally.

"You think I care? This is just a repeat of whatever went on with that y/n chick. I swear that bitch's aura follows me around every turn. I even heard her fucking name today. Now I have to deal with another?" Sally scoffs into his mic, his voice growing dangerously low and hostile.

I know he didn't just refer to me as a bitch.

I wince. He heard the right y/n's name today. He also met her-- but he doesn't need to know that. So what's his deal, then? Is he just overprotective of his group?

I jump into the conversation before Ash and Sally can argue any further. "Um, hey, Sally Face." My voice is soft and shaky. Anyone would be able to tell that I'm horrified. "I'm sorry if you feel that I'm impeding. I won't cause trouble and you guys never have to play with me again. I'm actually a big fan of yours--"

"I don't fucking care. I do not want you here," Sally's sharp, straight-to-the-point tone makes me flinch in my seat for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

"Stop it, Sally. We don't need you being an ass, man. Come on," Larry tries to diffuse the situation, his voice a bit disappointed but soft, consoling even. "I'm gonna start recording so watch the shit you say. Be nice to Vi. She's just looking for a kickstart."

"There!" Todd exclaims. He sounds excited. "There's the nickname! Yes, that works great!"

A smile settles onto my lips again. I thought I'd lost it for good because of Sally, but Larry found a nickname for me.

Larry laughs, followed by Ash. Then he starts with his intro into his stream followed by Ash, Todd, and Sally. I just kind of sit there for a moment, waiting.

"Vi!" Larry's overexcited and comforting voice calls my nickname. I sit up, paying close attention to what he says next. "I'd like to introduce you to The Faces! Everyone, this is VioletViolence. She will be joining our game of Among Us today. I've heard some pretty good things about her skill, so let's see what she's got!"

The Faces. The group that consists of Ash, Larry, Todd, and Sally. I never thought I'd be included, even if it is just for one video.

"You heard him," Ash says. "Vi, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

"Or we can just start the game?" Sally says, tone biting and dangerous. He's putting up a barely held up front for his viewers.

The crack in my new view of him finally breaks apart. My opinion of him is just as vile as it was before I met him in person and it takes a lot of willpower to stop myself from snapping at him.

"Well, I'd like to learn more about VioletViolence and it seems like my viewers would as well. They're wondering if your Twitch account is VioletViolence as well, by the way, Vi," Todd says, turning attention to me.

"Oh, yes!" I sit up quickly, pushing down the blush on my cheeks. "My Twitch account is VioletViolence, but I'm not streaming there at the moment. I'll be posting a video from tonight somewhere. Maybe Youtube."

"Okay, everyone seems to be looking forward to your video. If you need any help with Twitch, let us know," Todd sweetly says.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I reply.

"So, tell us some fun facts, Vi!" Ash says excitedly. "What's your favorite color? Favorite movie? You know, just so we can get to know you!"

Smiling brightly, I settle into my seat and navigate my way around the loading screen of Among Us while I talk. "Well, my favorite color is actually violet. I love dark colors, especially purple. Um, my favorite movie is Rob Zombie's remake of Halloween. Big fan of Mike Myers."

"Yuck, Sally loves those movies, too! I hate horror," Ash giggles, fake-gagging. 

Laughing, I think about how lucky I am to have Ash before I talk again. I'll never have a friend as generous and loving as she is. "Makes sense. You're pink and upbeat. You know I had a goth moment growing up."

I feel like I'm going to vomit when I realize I've slipped up, but Ash saves me again. "Oh, true! I forgot to tell everyone, but Vi and I know each other! She's a family friend."

Thank the stars. Ash deserves love and success to last a lifetime.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Larry asks, giving me some scary deja vu from earlier today. I guess I have to come up with a different answer from what I told Sally.

"I really like rock. My favorite band is Breaking Benjamin! I'd love to see them in concert one day." I keep my voice light and comfortable, pretending to be something I'm not.

"Oh, cool! I like Breaking Benjamin. They're pretty rad. I love the Celtic symbol they use as a logo," Larry says, sounding like he's genuinely interested. "Don't the members have the logo tatted on their wrists?"

I chew my lip, lifting my legs and holding them to my chest as I twirl back and forth in my chair. "Yea, as far as I know. I have their lyrics tattooed on my side, actually. I guess that's another fun fact."

"Oh, so you have tattoos, too? That's hot as fuck, bro." Larry starts giggling like a little schoolgirl. At that exact moment, I get a few notifications on my phone from Twitch and Youtube. All new subscribers. Shit.

"Only one for now," I say with a little laugh. "It says, 'Empty and perfect, shattered and worthless. Sober and silent, faded and violent. Never surrender, out of the embers.'" I debate on whether I should give a little more information about myself. "It's from the first song I ever heard by them called Never Again. It really stuck with me, I felt like I could relate."

"Those are some deep lyrics," Todd says. "Is that where you got your username from? The 'faded and violent' part?"

I'm shocked Todd noticed that, especially since I didn't notice it. "No, I've never realized it until you said that. I guess it was fate, huh?"

"That's so cute! I love how everything always ties together in the end," Ash says, her sweet voice making me grin. 

"Getting lyrics tattooed is kind of basic. You should've gotten something else." Sally's words are murmured and I can almost feel his nonchalant shrug like I'm doing it myself. 

"And being an asshole is really old," I fire back, letting my foot fall from my chair so I can bounce my leg. I'm really starting to get fed up with this guy.

Ash sighs. "Here we go."

Sally Face snorts, unamused by my retort. "You asked for the asshole side of me when you jumped in on what I do for a living. I don't even know you. None of us do."

"Ever heard of socializing?" I ask, tilting my head. "It's not impossible. It's not a bad thing either. I'm not going to steal your heat, man."

"You wouldn't be able to take any of my heat regardless," Sally laughs heartily. "I'm just ready for you to go back to what you were before we met-- insignificant."

For the first time since talking to him as VioletViolence, I smile at his words and I mean it. It's not forced, it found its way onto my lips of its own accord. No fighting, no issues. I embrace the smile because I know I'm an even match for Sally Face, and perhaps that's why he's already so upset over my existence.

I'm going to beat him at his own game.

My reply is instant. "You're not the only person in existence, you shrimp-dicked fuck nugget. Have some respects for others around you."

I start a new game of Among Us, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated as I finish our little argument with, "I win."

---------------------------

A/N:::::: I KNOW. THIS WAS LONG AWAITED AND I APOLOGIZE!!! Part of the reason as to why I haven't posted in a bit is because this story is still fresh to me! I have a general idea of how I want it to go, but finding and picking out directions for the plot is a bit hard! I'm still figuring out the content of chapters and what I'll do next. I'm also still getting used to writing smut and taking my time to learn how to write it better so I can give you guys the best that I can. We're still at the start, so hold onto the 'oh-shit-handle' and get ready for the ride! 

As always, I love you all with my entire heart. Sweet dreams/daydreams <3333

[rametarin]

Thinking about the projects I've left behind.

Long story short, I'm reflecting on how many people I knew back in the day that were starting group projects that became franchises and stuff, and gave them notoriety and fortune.

And the fact that I knew so many of them. I was so close to being part of their crews and staff, just by virtue of being a talent the creators knew before they were famous, or even career. People that liked my work, wanted me part of their projects.

Projects I had to decline. Because at the time, my abusive, controlling psychopath of a mother was manipulating my life with dilemmas and consequences that would've stuck with me long after trying to move out and start over with no money, no education, no credit, no transportation, nowhere to live. When she'd go on month long crusades threatening me to either get a job and hand her 100% of my income, or get out immediately. Which would've meant no time or effort for projects, or anything that wasn't being used as a tool for all I was worth or thrown in the garbage to do everything by myself from the place with the least amount of leverage possible in life.

I've missed out on multiple lifetimes of success and fortune, because this worthless fucking cunt wanted my life tied around her wrist like a balloon.

I've had to mysteriously disappear from so many projects in-progress because I couldn't commit or dedicate the time, thanks to her. Because I had nowhere to go, because I didn't have and couldn't make a windfall if I wound up homeless. Because everything I tried to do was just another opportunity for her to seize more control and make more Faustian deals where I had to surrender control or wind up homeless and penniless with debts and bills due.

Maybe in my 40s or 50s, I'll finally have the freedom to make something and profit off of it. And I finally won't have to abandon a project just because that psychotic, selfish bitch wants to control every aspect of my life or leave me in a gutter.