#id NEVER say this of anyone else but i consider my child self to have been somewhat my assigned gender and

[its-your-mind]

11 year old Gerry Kaey - a psychological analysis

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “First Name,” with “Gerard” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Last Name,” with “Kaey” listed below it. End ID]

Like everyone else, I was of course delighted by the presence of our beloved arsonist on our list of child test-subjects at the World Line 2 Magnus Institute (not delighted that he was having unethical psychology experiments performed on him, delighted by his presence. though it’s possible that this was actually a better childhood than he had with Mary. but I digress.)

(Data set can be found here, if anyone else wants to make a copy and play with it, and this post has my fave analysis of the sheet itself)

The data for Gerard Kaey was absolutely delightful, and it indicated more than almost anything else that some people were in fact the same (or very similar) across world lines. I was going to post about it and then I remembered that not everyone was forced to take a slightly outdated Educational Psychology class recently, and thus the random names at the top would not be indicators of fuckin anything without extensive Googling.

I figured trolling the internet for details on outdated developmental psychology theories and unethical sociology experiments is not most people’s idea of a fun afternoon (tho in the magnus fandom you never know); either way I figured I’d pull out the fun and interesting data on this goth child and translate it into human terms for us all to enjoy.

(QUICK NOTE: Pretty much all of these theories are outdated on account of being No Good and quite reductive and many of the experiments are EXTREMELY fucked up (all of which makes sense, given where these fictional data came from). If you’re curious about any of the actual psychological theories and criticisms, here’s a relatively jargon free summary, with further reading at the bottom. I’m gonna follow the time-honored tradition of psychology professors and say “well it sucks and was bad that this happened BUT it did happen and we might as well use the data to come to some general conclusions and/or ask better questions, especially about the people performing those tests in the first place.” anyway ty for coming to my TED talk ONTO THE GERRY DATA)

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of three columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Kholberg,” with “Level 3” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Prosocial,” with “High” listed below it. The third column is labeled “Empathy Index,” with “95%” listed below it. End ID]

Let’s start here.

Kholberg’s Theory of Moral Development is a metric for measuring the moral development in children. It has three stages. A child who has reached the “third stage” demonstrates a consideration of the needs and feelings of others when making morality-based decisions and judgements, even above the norms and expectations of society.

Prosocial behavior is behavior that can be characterized as having no direct benefit to the person performing an action; something done entirely for the good of others.

Empathy Index is pretty self-explanatory (as far as I can tell, it’s not actually based on anything and is something the researchers created just for this experiment).

So far, we’ve got a rough picture of Gerry as a kid who has a strong moral compass, who is quick to help, even when there’s no benefit for himself. Who considers what the people around him might want or need. Who is able to throw social expectation out the window when someone else is in need.

Reminds me of that older, slightly different version of himself, sitting alone at a table in Venice, wearing a Hawaiian shirt because he’s “on vacation,” sighing in exasperation at the interruption and telling a stranger to think of her mother.

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Milgram,” with “Low” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Asch,” with “Low” listed below it. End ID]

These are my favorite rows. They’re all the way at the end of the spreadsheet, which kind of makes me imagine that the testers had this image of a highly developed child, a kid who seemed perfect for whatever they had planned. And then…

Milgram was the motherfucker who ran the experiment where people were told to press a button, and when they did, another participant was delivered an electric shock. (there wasn’t actually a shock in Milgram’s experiment, just an actor pretending to be shocked. The socks were fake, but the psychological damage was real!) The test was designed to measure how long people would continue to do what they were told by the “scientist” running the test, even as the electric shock appeared to grow stronger. A “low” score is indicative of someone who bailed out ASAP, no matter what the test-runner said.

The Asch Conformity Experiment put a large number of people in the room (most of whom were actors) and showed them a series of images of lines with different lengths, and they had to identify which was longest. The actors all gave the correct answer for the first few, and then all of them started to give the exact same wrong answer (i.e. all of them would say B, even if Line A was clearly longest). The test measured how likely a subject was to conform to the group opinion, even when they knew the people around them were objectively wrong, if they were the only one offering a different (but correct) answer over the course of several rounds of images.

I have this super clear image of little Gerry in a ratty pair of jeans and a band t-shirt, long hair absolutely unbrushed, walking into a room with a dude in a lab coat and someone else strapped to a chair and IMMEDIATELY getting suspicious, and just refusing to press the button again once he realized what it did, leaving the actors just… lost as to how to proceed. And then with the Asch test, he’s just sitting there with a look of incredulity on his face looking at the people around him and saying “do you people need fucking glasses all of a sudden? it’s not fucking B.” and just ignoring them for the rest of the test.

and all of the Magnus people who had been VERY excited about this promising young person all of a sudden realizing that they have accidentally recruited a VERY intelligent juvenile delinquent.

so there you have it! World Line 2 Gerry Kaey was kind when he didn’t have to be, he didn’t give a shit how other people felt about him, he cared deeply for other people, UNLESS of course they were people in authority, in which case he told them to go fuck themselves.

*dreamy sigh* that’ll be our Gerard

final fun notes:

Gerry has the second highest number on the Empathy Index at 95%

The only kid who beat him, with a score of 98%, was 9 year old “Samara Khalid”

10 year old “Conner Dyer” scored “Low” on the Milgram and Asch tests JUST like Gerry. I wonder if they were friends.

Other than that, Dyer is almost exactly average among the rest of the data

Khalid scored “High” on both Milgram and Asch

Wonder how that’s gonna affect things 👀👀👀 high empathy, high value on what other people think

Sam thats so autistic of you I love u

Khalid was also on “Level 3” of Kholberg and had “High” levels of Prosocial behavior, despite being only 9 (super young to have the abstract thinking necessary for that)

[v-anrouge]

Just a general analysis of like yi how he would act and stuff

A lot of people seem to think vil is a narcissistic self obsessed asshole who would give ppl eds and insecurities and shit and like as someone who is hyperfixated in him and has read about every content of him available in eng server that i manage to get my hands onto it's just one of the biggest mischaracterizations of vil. his words are always meant to be of encouragement when he criticizes something, his words are rough because as a child that was the way everyone talked to him, he was a young boy thrown in the modeling world and the acting world, and although it was (half) by his choice, having a famous dad he was born in front of the cameras. it's very clear that vil masks and barely shows his emotional side and you can see that this has been going on for YEARS because as a child when he is beat up by a group for being a villain in a movie he didn't cry and just stood up and insulted the kids , a contrast to how he vulnerably asked his father for reassurance on wether or not he was a villain also in his overblot flashback. vil has said it himself multiple times but whenever he assigns a self care routine and a diet to anyone it's always with the best intentions in mind, he doesn't give them a diet so they can lose weight, and he would never, we know that because in his overblot he confessed how much he hated the diets he put himself through but couldn't help it because he was desperate to be seem as beautiful, to finally be enough. vil is a very insecure man, a type of insecurity that is hidden from anyone that doesn't know his heart, and trust me, very little people know his heart. he's not one to trust others easily and once again that probably has to do with the industry around him and people probably trying to ruin his career. vil is an extremely caring and protective person, he takes care of everyone in his dorm and the people outside of it, and he recognizes the value potential and strength in everyone, and he will comment on it when he sees someone with so much of it and wastes it all by never trying, we can see that in multiple times but ill highlight his moments with leona and how he comments on it because he, unlike many in the school, recognizes leona is amazing and extremely talented (id also like to point out leona and vil are extremely similar and have extremely similar trauma just ended up coping w two opposite extremes (leona not trying and vil trying too much)) he is shown to even stay awake late at night to make sure everything is going right with each of his students. a lot of people seem to have the misconception that vil's overblot was caused out of envy for a casting of a simple movie but the truth is the roles were never the problem, it's not like vil has a problem with villains, what he hated is that he only got villain papers because no one ever saw the worth in him to be a hero, no one considered him good enough or fit for the role and would constantly cast all his hard work and passion aside in favor of someone else's (neige's) see how it is? it's never about the actual roles in a movie, what vil craves is validation, is admiral, is being truly loved for who he is, is to have his hard work be seen and recognized and cherished, is to for once in his life not be a second best, that's why he says n his overblot, that for once all he wanted was to stay in the stage until the curtains fall, all he wanted in life, is to be able to stay, and not be thrown away once something better is found to replace him

since you write for x reader im assuming you'd like to know how he'd act with a lover so; vil would even more caring over his lover, constantly checking in on them and fussing about little things in order to make sure they're taking care of themselves and treating themselves right the way they deserve to be treated, for vil to fall in love it takes A LOT of trust in that person so rest assured you'll see sides of vil that nobody but his father have ever seen before, you'll need to be patient because vil has a lot of issues to work through but if you stay by his side, hold his hand and encourage him to better himself like he always did for others vil swears on his own name you'll be the happiest person to ever exist

[originallyjustolookatmemes]

Thank you!

Grief is a very large theme of S.A.S.S. (its a working title, and is an acronym of the main characters' names Spice, Autumn, Sam, and Sugar)

I personally have not lost anyone i care about, the closest loss to me personally being my previous cat (which was the only death that's gotten me to cry) and even then, i was hit by it months after the fact and was 11 at the time. So i don't quite have a point of reference.

My "bestie" as i'll call them would be my equivalent of what Autumn eventually means to Spice, and i've based their friendship mainly off that. (im aware we're potentially co-dependent, but we aren't harmful for each other as far as i know) I've done the most reputationally/life situation self destructive things to stay in contact with them and id walk through hell and back if they needed me to. And its cause they've seen my worst thoughts, worst urges, and not left me or viewed me differently and fought to stay in contact with me as well. They are my world. i would not be living today without them. Any other "friend" ive got i could get cut off from and i'd be stable, them? My life is ruined, i don't see a reason to exist. (which might be the BPD) But they are the sole person i can actually somewhat strongly empathize with (cognitively) at times (it fluctuates depending on the situation they've told me about, but I'd never be an ass to them and i always give some sort of answer that shows i cared even if i didn't and take the energy to listen even if I'd rather do anything else). Everyone else gets the social expected responses.

i operate heavily on "friendship is a two-way street." i refuse to take more than i give because then that's emotionally abusing the other person (to me). But unless someone else puts the first foot forward, im not extending an offer of acquaintanceship. I don't consider many people true friends, most are just "people i talk to" or "know of" but pro-socials view friendship differently than i do and treat it as a causal term. So to them maybe im "a friend" but they aren't to me and i'm aware that's an asshole thing to say and i have a very deeply inset fear of being the same as an abuser of mine, so i call them "friends".

To me, a friend is someone who will hunt down your place of learning to make sure you didn't kill yourself and will drive over 40 minutes to pick you up when you call them from a stranger's phone.

i place great value in being not judgmental. i have a "passing" amount of cognitive empathy that i mask with, and non-existent affective empathy. i care a lot about making sure i don't hurt others (even if i could care less about the person specifically), because that means I'm the same as those that hurt me and i never want to be them. But if i view someone as a bad person, all that goes out the window and i will not care about hurting them in any way. Ive been told by my sole friend over and over that that im a "good person" but its been a struggle to not laugh it off. i've embraced being the "fucked up" child so much that its hard to believe me being called a "good person".

Anyway, got sidetracked.

Grief is the main experience I'm needing research for since i have genuinely no experience with it, but any and all details help immensely. I haven't lost the person i care about. Spice loses half of the people he does, and i don't have any points of reference for how he may deal with it.

(do @ me when you become a vtuber, i'd sub/follow in a heartbeat)

For everyone with ASPD, you deserve good representation.

Help me write you an Aroallo ASPD character that represents how we can heal and be ourselves to spite our trauma without having to bend down to prosocials.

How can you help? Reblog with ramblings or comment about your personal experience of living as a pwASPD. if you aren't a pwASPD, reblogs and likes still help!

i've tried my best to do the research necessary, but the amount of ableist sites that get shoved in my face with a basic google search has pissed me off. im taking matters into my own hands and asking y'all directly for your experiences.

I haven't gone for an ASPD diagnosis because it is simply not in the cards for me right now, and would potentially be harmful for me, but i check many boxes. However, due to a likely BPD and ADHD co-morbidity i dont trust myself enough to write a solely ASPD character based off only my own experiences.

Thoughts, advice, encouragement, all is appreciated.

(Post made by Shawdios on YT)

Spice (legal name Simon) is a felinefolk/birdfolk hybrid who works as a bartender for his side of the bakery-bar Sugar & Spice that him and his caretaker formed. He grew up bouncing around in the foster system and treated like a oddity to hide due to his odd mix of genetics. But his last caretaker, Sugar, he grew to see as a genuine mother to him because she was the first to believe his side of the story and not treat him like an "Other".

Due to his feline side, he often was found hunting down squirrels, birds, and rodents as a young child. Some of which he toyed with as they died, others he simply bit and killed. This behavior off put many of his foster parents and got him transferred around to different homes quite a lot. Spice was quite the delinquent as a child, he often was provoked into fights that he most of the time lost. (The first time around at least.) But he always got a cruel form of revenge depending on the bully who knocked him down. The fighting got worse once he hit middle school, to the point where he was once expelled for half blinding another child with his claws (and going home with a broken wing and shoulder himself) By the time he's finished highschool, Sugar had adopted him and done her best to help him mellow out and process his traumas from bouncing around the system and being treated like a thing to be tamed. But, he still gets in enough trouble to gain a Conduct Disorder Diagnosis and later after he graduates an Antisocial diagnosis.

The entirety of his moral system as an adult is built on what would or would not disappoint Sugar. He's perfectly content to live out his short life baking with his mother figure, mixing drinks, and curled up by a sunny window with his nose burried in books till his bad genetics kill him, but Sugar tries to get him to at least try to interact with others. And he holds her in such high respect that he does his best to maintain a good reputation with those that stop at the bar.

His care for the world revolves solely around himself and Sugar till a birdfolk with one wing named Autumn violently enters his life (and Re-enters Sugar's) and then violently leaves it five years later.

[foulserpent]

what ages does everyone who transes gender realize theyre trans? i think shaps view on his life is extra interesting because i also feel like i really was cis in my previous stage of life and now ive grown into a different stage and gender and i feel like thats not a common experience/way of thinking represented (or i just dont see it often in my circle of online)

xikeel: comes from a culture where gender exploration is generally encouraged (though shadowscale culture is a little more restrictive), so pretty early on. was referring to herself as a girl almost as soon as she was aware of the concept. experienced a little outside pressure to be cis, but luckily she had people that supported her.

ned: no distinct moment of realization, just gradually came to acknowledge himself as a boy. he actively told his ma he was a boy in his early teens, but mom was referring to him as a son by age 8-9. got alchemical puberty blockers around 11, and finally got HRT around 18. has historically been a little jealous of men with top surgery scars because he thinks they look cool (but appreciates the hell out of his ma for how she scraped together enough to get him blockers as a very poor woman)

shap: he transitioned for semi-spiritual purposes tied to argonian sithis worship. went at it from the perspective of wanting a rounded out experience that a distinct life phase could provide. transitioned around 20. comfortably refers to his younger self as a girl, but is very happy being a man and would not want to change.

dusty: early 20s, though they really dont have things figured out until even later. its pretty much during the events of morrowind (theyre around 30) that they start considering themself somewhat of a woman (they still consider themself mostly agender, but connect to women as a woman). its kind of a personal victory for them in the face of being shaped into the image of a specific man (nerevar) at the cost of their own identity

niviiran: around 10, but didnt come out for another few years. shes the eldest child from a mercantile family from a culture with matrilineal lines, so as eldest daughter she would have high expectations placed on her and family obligations. her family could have pulled together to afford a full transition, but she put it off because her relationship with them was difficult and she did not want them controlling this deeply personal thing (did it herself in her late 20s)

ahanabi: shes still a developing character so im not sure on what her personal journey with it was like, but im thinking in her 30s..

[letarasstuff]

Breaking Protocol

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing for JJ for the first time :)

Summary: What will happen, if JJ isn't technically allowed to tell her family about the Anthrax Attack, but tries to do it anyways?

Warnings: Mentions of a sick child, Spencer eats Jell-O, so food

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

JJ always says that even though she is a communication liaison for the FBI, she is a mother first. This is something she promised her daughter when she first began to work there. And she is set on keeping that promise.

But today it turns out to be more difficult than ever. Hotch’s strict instruction to keep the information about the Anthrax Attack in the circle of the BAU and the military forbids the mother to say anything to her family. Still, her family is constantly on her mind.

If she is right, Will planned a trip with one year old Henry and 14 years old (Y/N) to the park. JJ can’t think about anything but her most important people in the world laying in the ER, coughing their lungs out and spluttering blood, while she is stuck at the office with the power to warn them.

Spencer comes into her office, asking for a certain file. “Spence, what would you do if your family is in potential danger?” He stops for a second to think about it: “Given the fact that my mother is in a sanctorium with guards and medical staff, I consider her pretty low risk and can’t put myself in a situation where she is in real danger. So I take all of you and since I see you as my family and the people that keep me going I think I would do anything to keep you safe.”

She looks up at him with her blue eyes. “Even if it means to break protocol?” “Especially if it means to break protocol”, he answers her firmly, exactly knowing what she means. Spencer knows that her little family means the world and more to her. If anything happens to them she would never be the same.

Meanwhile JJ sits there contemplating putting her job on the line for an eventually that maybe isn’t even true, Will runs around the house frantically.

“Maybe I can go and get some? I’m sure we can’t disturb mom at work”, (Y/N) suggests as she tries to console the crying Henry in her arms. Her stepdad considers the offer. They originally wanted to go to the park to have a small picnic and maybe even invite JJ to meet them there on her lunch break. But Henry caught something overnight and the only thing he does is crying and puking.

Will is looking for any kind of medicine, but he can’t find anything appropriate for children. “I guess you are right. Do you know which one we need? I’ll try to get him to sleep or calm down at least. Thank you so much, (Y/N), you are a lifesaver.”

“Of course, I do anything. When I get lost or something at the pharmacy I can still call you, right?” He nods while taking his son out of her arms in order for her to be able to put on her shoes. “Good, then see you soon. I’ll hurry up.”

(Y/N) takes her bike and decides to use the shortcut through the park. It’s a nice sunny day with a warm soft breeze going through the bushes. In moments like these the teenager knows that the world is alright. That somehow everything will be good. Always.

Buying the needed medicine for her baby brother takes place without any complications and soon she is back on track with her bike. Shortly before reaching her house, the teenager’s phone is ringing.

In case that Will needs something else (Y/N) has turned her ringtone on. Surprisingly it’s her mother, she sees after descending her bike and looks at the caller ID.

“Hey Mom, is everything ok? Did something happen?” As sad as this may sound, but in 90% it’s the case that she was hurt on her job or anybody else when she calls (Y/N) during her workday.

But JJ is relieved to hear her daughter safe and sound. “(Y/N), honey. Everything is fine. Did you go to the park with Henry and Will?” Slowly the girl continues her way back, pushing her bike. “No, we didn’t. Henry got sick overnight, so there is no way we could have taken him. I think it’s just a stomach bug. Will and I couldn’t find any medicine for him, so I did a quick run to the pharmacy. I’m actually on my way back right now. Why are you calling?”

Once again the mother tries to not answer her question. “Aw, poor Henry. Can you tell him that Mommy will be home soo- Wait, to which pharmacy did you go?”

Puzzled by her mother’s sudden harsh tone (Y/N) stops in her tracks. “Mom, what’s the problem? You never call me during work except when something happens. Is anybody in the hospital? Did you get kidnapped? Is this your last call to a loved one? Mom, answer me!” Panic sets in as the silence grows from JJ’s side.

“Honey, please tell me you didn’t go to the one on West Street. Please.” Her begging tone alarms the teenager further. Is this a clue?

“I did, Mom. I took my bike, went through the park to West Street. It’s the closest one and Henry really doesn’t feel good, so I had to hurry up. Can you please tell me what’s going on?!” But her mother stays quiet for several moments, as if she is calculating something.

Being finally fed up with her, (Y/N) speaks again: “If you don’t want to tell me anything, don’t bother call-” She is suddenly cut off by a huge coughing fit.

“(Y/N)? Honey, are you ok?” The agent’s mind goes into momma bear mode, completely ignoring any protocol in the world. But her daughter isn’t able to answer. Too stunned is she by the fact that she just coughed up blood. How is that poss-

“(Y/N), please answer me”, she begs again. “M-mom, I just c-coughed blood.” JJ feels like her heart stops. This can’t be happening.

“Stay calm, (Y/N). I- There- I’ll send people to you. They will come and get you. They will explain to you what this is, they know more about it than I do. I’ll call Will and tell him that you are not coming home. Penelope will ping your phone, just don’t move.”

After a few more reassuring words JJ hangs up and bolts into Hotch’s office. “Hotch, (Y/N) got infected, she rode her bike through the park and back to get medicine for Henry and I told her to stay where she is. That somebody is going to get he-”

Aaron stops her rambling by putting both hands on her shoulder. “I’ll let Doctor Kimura know. Meet them at the hospital.” “Bu-” Again he cuts the blonde off. “No buts. You always say that you are a mother first. Your family, especially your daughter, needs you now more than ever. Go and be a mother.”

Encouraged by her boss’ words she makes her way to her car, simultaneously calling Will to let him know what’s happening.

Shortly after this the small family sits in a hospital room. (Y/N) lays passed out on the bed, paler than anybody has her ever seen. JJ grasps her hand, mentally kicking herself for not calling sooner. For letting regulations destroy her family. Will holds Henry, who finally is asleep, in his arms and tries to console his girlfriend.

“You weren’t allowed to say anything. Also, I wanted to go to another park if Henry wasn’t sick. There was absolutely nothing you could have done differently.” His accent is thicker than ever.

Before she is able to respond, a nurse enters the room with an inhaler in hand. “What is this?” Ever since (Y/N) was admitted to the hospital, the mother is careful to know what they give her and what not.

“This is a cure for this strand, Doktor Reid found it in Nichol’s office. We already tested it and it’s 100% effective.” More or less convinced JJ let’s the nurse do her job, watching her every move like a hawk.

And then they wait again. And wait. And wait for the cure to kick in. For (Y/N) to open her eyes. To be able to form a sentence. A coherent sentence without being interrupted by a coughing fit.

Once JJ leaves her bed reluctantly, Will forces her to take a walk and get a coffee from the cafeteria. On her way back she visits Spencer’s room, who is already awake.

“Hey Spence”, she smiles softly at him. He stops shoving a cup of Jell-O into his mouth to smile back. “Hi. How is (Y/N) doing?” A frown quickly spreads onto her face. “Still not awake. But the doctors say she will be fine. I wanted to thank you. If you wouldn’t have put your life on the line, none of the others would be alive. Thank you, for saving my daughter”, at the end the blonde’s voice breaks. She can’t imagine a life without her oldest child. Without anyone of her family.

“Hey, it’s alright. (Y/N) is fine. I’m fine. Everybody got their own happy end. Now go back to her, I’m sure she’ll wake up in no time.” She nods and gives him a hug before going back to (Y/N)’s room. There she sits back in her seat, handing her boyfriend his own cup of coffee.

A few minutes later a small groan is heard. “Can anybody turn off the sun? It’s unbelievably bright today.” Not registering what’s really happening, the teenager finds herself in a big family hug with Henry on her chest. “Woah, did I fall asleep during our picnic or something?”

JJ smiles through her tears of relief, seeing her daughter being her confused self again. “No, I’ll explain it to you later. Get some more rest, we’ll stay with you.” “Rest, this sounds nice.” Just a few minutes later (Y/N) is asleep again.

Luckily both she and Spencer make a quick recovery and even get a “Welcome Back to the Living” Party (organized by the one and only Penelope Garcia). From this moment on JJ makes sure to warn her family one way or another. Hotch generously lets it slip, acting like he doesn’t know about it after this close of a call.

In the end the only thing that matters is that they all are back to being healthy and make up for the missed picnic.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch

[ccelinewritess]

say love—draco malfoy

pairing - (hufflepuff! reader) draco malfoy x reader, cedric diggory x reader

word count- 4.3k

warnings- cheating? toxic relationships? curse words? my lack of diverse grammar? spelling? not heavily revised? yes this has it allll.

quick note: cho, the reader, and draco are all in the fifth year, cedric is two years older (cause idfc what villain i make this boy out to be he is not dead) anyways ilu and hope you are well. here we go.

-

y/n was sweet, kind, compassionate, gorgeous and smart, so when she caught the eye of cedric diggory a year earlier he made it his personal mission to get her to go out with him, even on one date.

when she finally caved in they went on one date. then a second, a second turned into a third. he asked her out officially, she met his parents, you know how the story goes. well perhaps not, and there was no happily ever after with cedric. certainly not as hot tears ran down her cheeks as she watched her boyfriend of a year, hand caressing her face, kissing cho chang like a moth to a flame, hungry for more. prefects duties my ass- she thought as her pure devastation dragged her away from the scene, her original presence going unnoticed. anger was boiling through her blood and she lost track of where she was going, until she ended up in the library somehow. y/n loved reading and spent countless hours in the room, and she certainly didn’t want to be in the common room when her not-so-loyal boyfriend would be returning shortly enough. so instead she shrunk down, back against a bookcase, knees tucked into arms, and let the sadness and confusion take over. she didn’t even hear the library doors open once again over her sobs.

the last thing draco malfoy expected to see that night in the library while grabbing a book was the friendly hufflepuff girl y/n. and especially not with tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes. draco would never tell her, but he was always captivated by her, she was to kind and trusting for her own good.

“er- im sorry for uh- interrupting” his voice startled her at first.

“no im sorry” she said wiping her tears. “i should be in my common room, not crying like a child in the library.”

when he sat down next to her it was nice, he wasn’t too close but the company was enjoyable, even if it was temporary. “well I know we aren’t friends, like at all, but if you’d like to talk about whatever is making you cry in the library at one in the morning, im not a bad listener”

she wasn’t even considering talking to draco. not in the slightest, but she didn’t have anyone else to talk to. she couldn’t talk to her parents, they would fly out to hogwarts and personally hex the boy. and she had spent so much time hanging out with cedric that she didn’t have any other close friends she could talk to. maybe talking to a stranger would be best. draco found it quite cute that she hadn’t noticed she had zoned out, but before he got to admire her more she looked back up at him “fine”

“you need to understand that i am still confused, completely.” that’s how it started. she told him about how cedric lied about where he was, and how she went to surprise him, and how when she turned the corner she saw him and cho, practically swallowing eachothers faces. at some point in her story draco opened his arms and she fell into them, tears still sliding down from her eyes. she did find this odd at first, of all the reputations draco held, hugger was not one.

by the times she cried all the tears she could, draco walked her back to the common room. as he pulled her back into another hug he whispered in her ear “meet me in the courtyard before breakfast?” she could only muffle a response into his sweater. as they released themselves from eachother a minute later, she watched him walk away down further into the dungeon. it took her mere seconds to fall asleep that night.

-

when she saw the blonde boy the next morning alone in the almost empty courtyard, she made her way over to him, as fast as her legs could carry her without running. he looked happy to see her, but she didn’t wait to get to the point.

“about last night, you haven’t told anyone yet have you? it’s just that id like to hear what happened from cedric before people find out.”

“ofcourse not love. im a slytherin, not an asshole. speaking of cedric you need to break up with him.” he was hesitant with both the nickname and the proposition, considering that before last night they had practically never spoken.

it was now her turn to be hesitant. “but what if she kissed him though, you know, maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding” y/n was always looking for the best in people, but maybe cheating was cedrics best, she hated to think it.

“y/n! you saw him kiss her back didn’t you? there was no denial from cedrics side right? i know you look for the positives but sometimes it’s not a shame to realize not everyone’s perfect. and you deserve someone who values you” it was harsh in a way, but true. he continued to encourage her until she realized if she didn’t now, cedric would continue to go on these midnight strolls, faking prefect duties and kissing other girls.

when she entered the great hall she immediately stormed over to cedric, who was in deep conversation with his friends. when she butted in to ask if she could speak to him the emotions of the night before threatened to arise within her again. dracos words floated in her head. maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, even the hogwarts “it” boy had flaws. he was insecure which led to jealousy, he could sometimes be insensitive, and the newest to the collection, he was a cheater. and he sure as hell wasnt going to admit to it if she asked.

once he finally acknowledged her presence with a smile she began.

“cedric, may i speak to you, alone” she glanced at his friends at the last word.

“just say it aloud, im sure the boys don’t mind” he really didn’t know what was coming.

“im not sure you want me to talk about this with your friend around”

“come on darling”

well here goes nothing.

“if you say so. we’re over. don’t try to defend yourself and act all innocent cause I know a lot more than you think. just a tip in the future if you want to have a successful relationship do not go make out with other girls in the middle of the night in random corridors, or at least breakup with your girlfriend first. asshole” y/n was sweating and cedric was pale and speechless.

y/n’s rant had gathered many eyes from across the room. as she walked back towards draco who was waiting at the end of the aisle he couldn’t help but smile and whisper “you are a baddass, come eat at slytherin, then?” when they got across the room, people were confused but no one would ever say no to draco or his friends. blaise zabani seem unbothered at her presence but kind nonetheless, pansy on the other hand, jealous that dracos eyes were for once not on her.

-

over the next few weeks a friendship began to grow between y/n l/n and draco malfoy. they were sitting together in classes, studying together, eating meals at eachothers tables and all around enjoying eachothers company. little did y/n know that as the seasons changed, so did dracos feelings for her. she was so undeniably amazing in every way imaginable, something draco had never came across in his life.

on this particular evening they were walking around the black lake on the cool evening with the pink and orange sky on the horizon. deep conversations were common between the pair and tonight was no exception. “do you still love him?” the question shocked her at first, and she thought deeply about her answer before responding. “i don’t know honestly, a part of me probably still does. and it’s not like I’ve never had things not work before, but how people leave always stays. i hate to say it, but a part of me wants revenge. i just want him to feel some sort of pain, even just jealousy as dark and twisted as that is.” a comfortable silence fell once again before he broke it after a few minutes. “it’s not as dark as you might think, actually. and if you want him to feel jealous i have an idea that could benefit us both you just need to be open minded.”

draco malfoy wanted her to do what?

“what does fake dating even mean? how do you even do that” she questioned

“i mean just convince people we are dating, cedric will be jealous and it will get pansy of my back for two minutes. all you’d have to do is hold my hand, wear my scarf, come to my quidditch games and parties with me, anything else” he asked

“we could probably go to hogsmeade togther, cedric will be fuming, thank you draco” she said before kissing his cheek making his face go a brilliant red.

yet again draco had her doing things she wouldn’t do in a thousand years, but maybe she needed a change. plus he seemed to have this quite planned out and there was no harm in trying. “if you really think this could work, then fine, I’ll do it.”

draco would never admit it, but he was embarrassingly excited that she agreed.

-

the next morning their hopefully “master” plan would begin, but that night for the first time in a long time, draco couldn’t sleep whatsoever. he tried counting sheep, drinking tea, every sleeping position and yet he couldn’t get y/n out of his mind. she was so pretty, and smart, and kind. he had trouble even imagining what kind of delusional cedric was to let her go. if she was his- and not fake his, he would do everything to keep her happy and never see her like he did in the library only three weeks ago. in the end, she was just a rose in the hands who had no intention of keeping her. after even more attempts, he finally drifted off into a deep, and dreamless sleep.

-

once y/n finally got enough motivation to roll her self out of bed for the last day of classes before the weekend the conversation from the night before entered her brain. was this going to work? everything that could possibly go wrong played over and over again. what if cedric never got jealous? would they be forty and still fake dating? she thankfully got out of her head when she saw draco waiting for her outside the hufflepuff common room. “well good morning love” he said before placing a ginger kiss to her forehead, no one was around to watch, and she didn’t recall that being in the verbal agreement, but to be completely honest, it was nice.

they were both nervous and for different reasons. draco knew better than anyone that if word of this so called relationship to his parents, they would flip. everyone knew the malfoy’s had very strong morals and were extremely racist, and no matter how much he liked her, they would never approve of the halfblood hufflepuff. y/n knew pansy would be up her ass, and there was no guarantee that this would work, she also wasn’t huge on attention, and this was not exactly going to make her any less of a subject around the hogwarts grounds.

speaking of hogwarts, was the walk from hufflepuff to the great hall that long? was her hand sweating or was she imagining it? dracos long fingers were intertwined with hers and they talked about everything and nothing as they made there way to breakfast.

once they arrived, few heads turned, as many were still engaged in conversation, much to the satisfaction of y/n. dracos green eyes immediately made harsh contact with cedrics grey eyes and they made their way to the slytherin table, where pansy’ dirty glares would go unnoticed y/n.

the day trudged along slowly. in the classes with draco they sat together, he picked her up from the rest, walking her to her next. eating lunch and dinner at his table, showing pda at any given time, even when cedric wasn’t anywhere around.

when y/n were dismissed from herbology at the end of the day she wasted no time getting back the hufflepuff common room starting on her potions essay. in a wave of exhilaration the puffs already in the common room rushed out, she was confused but followed them out anyways, unopened books in arms.

-

y/n wasn’t tall, so she struggled to see passed the crowd. finally reaching the inner layer of the circle she saw what was likely destined to happen. cedric was buffing out his chest, trying to close in on draco, despite them not being far in height whatsoever. the boys muttering to eachother went unheard after the shrill voice of professor sprout broke out. “what do you boys think your doing, everyone return to your common rooms” she said before going into a small lecture with the boys more quietly. people filed out of the corridor behind her in every direction. and once the raft of sprout had finished, and cedric had stormed off to god knows where, draco engulfed the girl in a warm hug, almost knocking them over.

that night she did her homework in the slyerthin common room, on the lap of her boyfriend, fake boyfriend- she reminded herself, it was only the first day but it was so easy to be with him.

“he’s lucky sprout showed up, he kept acting as though he was superior to me, the dumbass couldn’t beat me in a duel in a million years, I’ll show him in the quidditch match tomorrow”

“is that tomorrow already?” she sighed before continuing “well I’ll be cheering for you, draco”

“id hope, love, also how do you feel about wearing green?”

-

the green scarf actually complimented her features nicely, much to her surprise. the match started in seven minutes, and if y/n wanted to make it on time she had to leave now.

the last few weeks were cold, yes, but this was the first snowfall of the year, fluffy snow was settling on the ground and castle, like a beautiful painting. the con? the snow was also making it difficult to see, almost guaranteeing a long match. right as she sat down next to some fellow fifth years the whistle blew. dracos green scarve made her stand out in the land of bagders, recieving some questioning.

“your dating him? but he’s a slytherin?”

“and an smart, handsome, kind one at that, so I’m going to get back to the game, if that’s okay with you.”

the game was the most eventful of the year due to the multiple dirty fakeouts between the seekers. this was less a slytherin vs hufflepuff thing to y/n and more of a draco vs cedric. ofcourse she loved her house, but there was no way she wanted cedric to win now, after the cheating and lying. that thought was mutual but unshared between her and draco. and the cold wasn’t making anyone want to stay out there for much longer, despite the excitement. while cedric was trying to trick draco once more draco saw the real snitch, where cedric was only moments before. rushing towards it, arm reached out, he could almost grab it. almost. almost. almost. yes. the small snitch was clutched tightly in his palm, cedric still clueless, zooming around, not noticing his attempts had failed him miserably.

ravenclaws and slyertherins alike were running onto the field, y/n somewhere amongst them. in no time draco was being held in the air, with those around him chanting. normally she would have been pissed that hufflepuff had lost, but the smile plastered on dracos face made it all worth it. after nemurous minutes he was put down, made his way to y/n and kissed her. he actually kissed her. in front of all those people. the chants were replaced with whistles and if anyone didn’t get the message of their “relationship” it was surely out now. his kiss was sweet and soft, and ended much before she was ready to. “honey you look dashing in green”

the party in slyerthin that night was like nothing she had ever been to before. music was blasting, house elves had made food and drinks of all sorts and y/n was cuddled into the arms of draco on the sofa, in his jumper and joggers. occasionally people would come congratulate him, and even pansy had the audacity to come try to flirt with him, that was until he shooed her off.

as the festivities continued into the night, y/n fell asleep right there, in her fake boyfriends arms- who, she would never admit, she was catching feelings for. she didn’t know much, but she did know that she was not ready to get hurt again anytime soon. they had spent the last hours together talking about random deep topics, their biggest fears and insecurities as those around them danced to the rhythm of the music. draco struggled to even think someone as perfect as y/n would have insecurities, but she did. eventually he picked her up bridal style and carried to his dormitory. he couldn’t exactly settle easy, the girl he liked was sleeping in his bed, so once he confirmed that she was infact asleep he let it off his chest.

“in case you didn’t know- im crazy about you, since i found you in the library that night.” he was whispering as soft as he could

“i haven’t told you any of this because i know your still healing but god im in love with you”

he too fell asleep that night, limbs tangled with hers.

the sun hit her face from his window that morning, bright as ever, highlighting her beautiful features and draco couldn’t help but admire her beauty. for numerous minutes he laid there, staring until she woke from her own dreams.

-

cedrics next attemp at payback for draco was just as low as the first. he followed draco towards the dungeons one afternoon when y/n wasn’t in his presenceand tried to fight him right there, outside the slyerthin common room.

“draco what do you even want with her?” he was practically grumbling

“you really don’t know what you had? did you? also she’s my girlfriend now, so what do you want with her?” draco spat back, emphasizing the you.

unlucky for cedric, right after he threw the first punch, which draco dodged successfully, snape came out and gave cedric two weeks detention.

“whatever, ill get her back” cedric said fast before heading towards the hufflepuff common room. draco wasn’t too sure of that, he had fallen desperately for the girl and would do whatever he could to keep her, and keep her away from cedric.

-

they were on there daily evening stroll around the grounds, much like the one that the original idea was pitched during only a handful of weeks ago, fingers intertwined. partially because it is cold, partially because they wanted to. draco could tell that y/n was deep in thought and originally wasn’t going to ask her, but he couldn’t help himself.

“what are you thinking about?” he said quietly but loud enough for her to hear

“im feeling kind of stupid honestly. i mean it was all there, the prefect patrols on days i could have sworn weren’t his. the glances across the hall to her, god even the tutoring in the classes he was doing amazing and needed no help in.”

he could tell this was making her upset and so he racked his brain for the right thing to say, but before he could find anything she started again.

“I’m also quite mad at myself, i mean i know all relationships are flawed but looking back ours was pretty fucked up. i started dating him in our third year, and i was still very insecure and didn’t exactly love myself. i spent a lot of time worrying about things I had no control over, and he wasn’t a help in the slightest. he’d flirt with other girls all the time but one boy would look at me for a second longer than he’d liked and he’d be confronting them. I don’t know if I really loved him, or if i was just in pain but whatever it was it was horrible.” tears were threatening her eyes but not yet approaching them.

“im sorry y/n. you are amazing and beautiful, smart and kind and your sure as hell don’t deserve that, if you want to talk about it ever please ask me” he would add on to that, if they were dating- and for real he wouldn’t treat her any less than the princess he considered her to be. he pulled her into a big hug before they walked back up into the beautiful castle.

-

they hadn’t heard from cedric in weeks, mission accomplished right? well no.

being completely honest, y/n didn’t know how much longer she would be able to participate without feelings boiling over. y/n didn’t even know where it came from, and there was no denying it, she was head over heels for the slytherin prince. she didn’t know when, maybe at the quidditch game? when he gave hugged her after sprout gave cedric punishment after draco stood up for her? she too wasn’t sure.

-

the morning of the hogsmeade trip, snow was falling once again, replacing the already existing layer on the ground. leaving hufflepuff, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw the blonde haired boy by the barrels waiting for her.

walking arm-in-arm to the small village, y/ns teeth almost chattering when draco lended his green scarf to the girl yet again.

“when i said you looked good in green at the match, i wasn’t joking, you should wear it more often”

draco loved the way she looked with her pink tinted nose and cheeks. and before he knew it they were in the three broomsticks drinking butterbeer, talking about god knows what.

that was until draco decided to come clean about his feelings.

“y/n youre probably not ready to hear this, and i will wait as long as you need me to. but i just can’t take it anymore. ive been crazy about you since we started being friends and- whatever this is, three and a half months ago. and if you’d like id love to go out with you- and not as a jealousy scheme”

the cold was no longer able to mask the blush on her cheeks and she told him everything she’d been hiding. thankfully. if she hadn’t he would have lost the best thing in his life. she knew his family wasn’t exactly the lovey dovey type, and his friends could be cold, they had eachother and they didn’t need much more than that.

once they had finished and left the warmth of the building, into the snow in the middle of the street he dragged her towards him ever so lightly using his scarf. cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kissed her as soft as ever. lasting much longer this time, there mouthes seemed to move in sync. he tasted sweet, just like the first time, and undescribable. they would kissed there in the middle of hogsmeade village for hours if their lungs didn’t need so much air. so instead they stood there forheads pressed together. eventually there hands found the others and they made their way back to the school, hearts and smiles as big as ever. 

-

draco saw her room for the first time that day, he had been in the hufflepuff common room twice, but never to her room. it was much brighter and got more sunlight. y/n had shelves full of books and many plants around the room. the wall around the window was lined with poloroids of her and her friends. he sat on her bed and wasted no time pulling her onto it with him. they fell asleep that night wrapped in eachothers arms, kissing the others face once in a while, complete with the fact that they had eachother, and for real.

the next morning they woke up at 10, thankfully they didn’t have classes, but they had still missed breakfast. fortunately y/n was not only friends with the house elves, but extraordinarily good cook. she was currently making pancakes, in dracos green jumper, his chin on her shoulder and hands on her hips.

“I cannot believe almost four months ago i started fake dating you and now your cooking breakfast in my sweater” he said practically mumbling into her cheek before kissing it, and dragging her away from the stove, to dance. right there in the middle of the kitchen, and he was suprisingly amazing at it.

-

the engines of the hogwarts express were rumbling and y/n had settled into the compartment with draco. she had owled her parents informing her she would be going to the malfoy manor for the first weeks of summer, and the nerves were filling her mind.

“what’s wrong darling” he said kindly as she leaned into his shoulder.

“im just nervous, what if they don’t like me?”

“they will, there is nothing about you that isn’t likeable. and even if they don’t like you immediately, it’s not like i could stop loving you, ever”

what? theyd never actually said the “L” word to the other- at least while they were awake. yes they had been dating for six months already but had draco ever said he loved them to anyone? it didn’t matter, she knew how she felt.

“y-you love me?”

he waited another second. “i mean, uh- er, i-i-“

“draco?” he hummed in response, still clearly embarrassed “i love you too”

————

a/n: ive never written anything, so i hope it’s okay. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! stay tuned for future writing.

[goaskaliceinchains]

If I could only put into words how honest-to-God terrified I am right now, if I could only lay out the gruesome and unjust details, the police harassment, the organized stalking that [REDACTED] and I have endured months of late. The long nights of sleeping on the asphalt, the days when we were badly strung out on heavy narcotics and the thrill of self-destruction, are a memory that I never thought would be so fleeting, so nostalgic. We had it easy then, wouldn't you know it, and I really thought I was suffering.

I just got out of the joint. Three weeks on bullshit charges, felony, for destruction of property that I did not commit. The son-of-a-bitch lied on me, and now I'm out on bond with no court date. The state has another 180 days, because it's a felony, to schedule said court date; a misdemeanor and it usually just gets thrown out within 33 days.

But it gets worse; who do I see, on the way to the release lobby fresh off the elevator, my mind still racing with all the things I'm going to say to my fiance when I finally hug him again after almost a month?

Said fiance, in a holding cell, slamming on the glass and screaming above the corrections officer trying desperately and furiously to shut him up. It does my partner no good, I can't hear anything at all through the thick panes, and without my glasses I can't see him well enough to read his lips. I think for a minute he was afraid I couldn't see him at all, and truth be told I was squinting to ID his face, but it didn't matter. I know that hair anywhere. It's white, not grey and not blonde but white, the color of snow. I knew it was him the minute I caught a glimpse of that ivory hue out of the corner of my (blurry) eye. I pulled my mask down off my face long enough to mouth a question, a "What did you do?" that did no justice to the insurmountable dismay I felt staring back at him, but there were half a dozen other inmates on the way to BRC and one pissed-off CO hurrying us along, and by then another CO was moving to restrain him. I tried to look back over my shoulder. My partner had already disappeared in all the chaos.

He looked awful. Skin dull and pale and sickly, and I think he really was sick, he had the yellow-grey undertones and the telltale sweat drenching his face and his neck. He doesn't get sick all that easy, and even with an ER-worthy fever (once before I've had to call him a medic, even though he hates hospitals) there's always some color to his face, some life in his eyes. When I saw him in that cell, I saw a dead man walking.

I had my brother look up the charges as soon as I left the jail. He seemed only half-surprised when he asked me, "[REDACTED] is in there? Like, you just saw him?"

My fiance, currently, is in jail for one count, misdemeanor, first degree.

Resisting an officer without violence.

Nothing else.

No crime, no initial warrant or probable cause that gave reason to detain him to begin with. The cop cited his mere existence in a "high crime, high drug, high prostitution area" as justification to have stopped, detained, and searched him. Well, Orlando Police are the ones responsible for the prostitution (although lately they prefer selling forcibly-enslaved east Asians and gay and transgender children, "prostitution" is a rather nice way of putting it; where I come from, we just call that rape and child sex trafficking), and of course it's an area rife with drugs; it's the only area the homeless can exist with minimal fear of attacks from the police, and unfortunately, many of them are drug users.

Resisting without violence and he was never under arrest to begin with.

The affidavit lists specific names and addresses of suspected drug dealers, then goes on to accuse my partner, on a publically-searchable court document, of offering to sell those specific named people��names and addresses that only the police and other investigators would know, certainly not information that either my fiance nor myself have ever been privy to—out in exchange for his own freedom.

My own arrest affidavit, also accessible to the public through a quick search, makes note of the fact that I'm transgender. This detail has nothing to do with the allegations against me but was tacked on anyway, in no uncertain terms. I can think of no reason to have included such a statement in the arrest report except to incite violence or at least public scorn against me. Seeing my partner portrayed as a would-be informant by the very same arresting agency only confirms this, as far as I (and common sense, which sadly holds up in the court of public opinion but not of law) am concerned.

I strongly believe (rather, I know it to be true but I lack the concrete evidence that any semblance of help, justice, or protection requires) Orlando Police Department and the Orange County Courts are trying to kill my partner and I.

I cannot afford to bond him out, and I'm out on bond myself anyway. Can't sign for him.

We are homeless. Innocent, as innocent as any mortal person can hope to consider themselves. Completely harmless by all accounts. We have hurt nobody, inconvenienced a few I'm sure, but we've never hurt anyone. And yet repeatedly we've been harassed and singled out. Sometimes assaulted. I broke a flowerpot and got a felony charge and a $2000 bond, the affidavit falsely claiming I vandalized a car. My fiance did nothing wrong. The things written in both our arrest documents make us targets. They are bold-faced, deliberate attempts at inciting violence against two people whose only real offense to the state was being homeless, being gay, and whistleblowing on state- and police-backed human traffickers and child abusers.

And it was I and I alone, not my partner, that did the whistleblowing. And it was never on any known or suspected dope boys, mind you; the only criminals I've ever sold out to the public are the ones whose squad cars say "Orlando Police" or occasionally the ones who work for the psych wards or courts. The ones who were granted authority and who chose to use that authority to actively hurt, silence, traffic, oppress, and kill.

On the off-chance that anyone of OPD, the Sherriff's Department, or Orange County Courts/Corrections are reading this (especially you, Blinn, and you, Stewart, and Amanda Green and Andy Tran and Eric Young and even John Mina himself), I implore you: leave my partner alone.

It's me you're after, not him.

I'm the tattle-tale who ratted on you sickos. Let the innocent man go.

[wackapedia]

Shall We?

Kim Taehyung x Reader

You get bullied by life and decide to return to your mum’s place in Daegu when a handsome stranger rudely kicks you in the shin and offers you a better deal.

WC: 1.6k

You dump your duffel bag on the cushioned seat before dumping yourself next to it, exhaling a sigh of relief. Grabbing a handkerchief from your pocket, you blow your nose and wipe your tears while making yourself comfortable on the barely populated train car. It was the Thursday 11:42pm trip to Daegu. No one leaves Seoul except on weekends. You wallow in the deep hum of the waiting train, distracting yourself from your anger and self-pity from an extremely awful week at work. So awful that its driving you back home to your mom's place at this time of the night. "Excuse me, this is my seat." a young man in a loose jacket and a baseball cap nudges your leg with his ridiculously clean Chuck Taylor shoes. "Are-?" you gasp in disbelief. "There's literally 12 people in this car and you want to sit here!?! Is this your first time in a train?!" You raise your head to look at the stranger through your tear-glossed eyes. The young stranger's surprise was evident on his face.

"A-as a matter of fact, yes, it is." He pouts. A few awkward beats pass between you before sighing in disbelief. "... I'm sorry, that was rude. I'll just sit somewhere else." You apologize while collecting your bag from the seat, feeling your tears well up again, feeling absolutely shitty. "Omo, are you crying? Its fine, you can have this seat!" He worries, moving to stop you from getting up. "Its not- This isn't about the seat. Its fine, I'm okay" you reassure the young stranger as tears fall from your eyes. "Please..." He pulls the handle of your bag down, keeping you in your seat. He sits on the vacant seat beside you. You nod at him, not trusting your voice.

"I'm Taehyung by the way.." He introduces himself after a few moments to let you calm yourself. The train begins to move away from the platform. The rest of the passengers settle themselves for the six hour trip. "I'm Y/n. Sorry about that thing..." "Psh. I was being rude too. Lets forget about it." He smiles and takes off his cap, freeing his soft brown hair.

"Now why were you crying? Bad breakup?" Taehyung's cheerful tone makes you chuckle. "No, my boss yelled at me. I think I'll be jobless by next week." You recall that fateful moment inside your boss' office earlier today. "Oh. Sorry. What do you do?" Taehyung's boxy smile turns into a frown. "I want to write a mystery novel, but I'm nowhere near that right now." You chuckle at how that sounded. "Sure you are. And you'll get there one day. I'm sure of it" He kindly offers, settling himself like a child on his seat.

"Thanks. How about you? Why are you running away?" You ask, plucking your water bottle from your duffel bag in the seat between you and Taehyung. "Wh- what makes you think I'm running?" He stutters nervously. "Well," you begin, stretching your arms in front of you as if preparing for a fist fight- "You're traveling with no bag, no phone, you only have your ID and you only pay cash. You're always checking if you're being followed and you made sure your cap covers your face back at the platform, and you flinched at the sound of the camera shutter from that lady in front. I'd say you're running."

"Whoa you noticed all that? You're gonna be a great writer" Taehyung's eyes gleam in amazement. "So which one is it? Cops? Mafia? Crazy ex?" You ask, bringing your feet on top of your bag to face him. "Its complicated." He supplies. You nod in understanding.

"So what's the story of this mystery novel you're planning to write?" Taehyung copies your form, bringing his feet on the seat between in order to face you. You begin to discuss the story plot you've daydreamed too often, the hero of your story witnessing a crime and uncovering a darker conspiracy. Taehyung enthusiastically listens, and would often butt in to provide commentary or suggestions to the character's decisions. You are appalled by how Taehyung's thought process is very different to anyone you've ever met. You spend the next few hours of the trip designing the narrative to your novel instead of sleeping.

"But what if, instead of finding the clue in the basement, its hidden in the-" "Hold that thought, I need to pee." You interrupt your enthusiastic seatmate from his idea as you slide your numbing legs off your duffel bag, and get up from the seat to jog to the restrooms. A muffled thump makes Taehyung look at the item that dropped from your bag. He picks up the tangled green cord from the floor to return it to you when he realizes it was your company ID.

"You work at Dispatch?" Taehyung's stern voice greets you as soon as you returned. "Next week I probably wont be" You shrug nonchalantly, Squeezing yourself in front of him to get back to your window seat. "So you know me?" He continues harshly, slamming the item on the seat between you. "Well, You guys' faces are literally everywhere Mr. Kim." You grab your identification, stuffing it in the pocket of your bag. "Oh so I'm Mister Kim now?" Taehyung scoffs. "What are you gonna do, sell my story? Were you recording our conversation?" He shoves his hand in a pocket of your bag. "Dude I was literally just trying to sleep all the way to Daegu until you kicked me in the shin. If I were trying to get your story I should've pried it out of you by now, right?" You let him riffle through your bag of wrinkled clothes you hastily stuffed in. "You're not...?" His glossy eyes stare into your sleepy ones. "You know why I got yelled at today?" You sigh. "They wanted me to write some bullshit story about you and dig on your dating rumour. And I said no, this wasn't what I signed up for. So my boss threw a whole fit about it. And I still refused." You finally tell him. Both of you were silent for a few beats, letting the train arrival announcement settle. Then Taehyung speaks. "I ran away from BigHit because they want me to deny the dating rumour." Taehyung remains silent, gauging your reaction. "So its true then? N-not that I-, well.. If it is true, I got yelled at for nothing." You shift awkwardly in your seat. "Not that it matters..." You mutter to yourself. "Its not true. I did it just to piss off our boss." He mischievously tells you, his smile gradually growing, causing you to laugh. "That's the spirit! Its not like you're gonna get fired anyway!" You cheer him. "You on the other hand.." He clears his throat and gives you a concerned look. "I think I'm staying in Daegu. I'm good with plants, I can learn how to farm." You said, half-jokingly. "Absolutely not! You have to write your mystery novel and get it published!" He says before getting interrupted by an announcement, signaling your arrival. "You know I noticed you at the platform but I never realized who you were until you kicked me in the shin." You say while hoisting your bag to your shoulder. "Hey I said I'm sorry!" Taehyung looks up to you as you stand up.

"Well, this is it." Taehyung speaks from the threshold of the train car, stuffing his hands in his pockets, stretching his jacket down. "Wait you're not getting off?" You ask, facing him after stepping off the train. "No, I figured I have to go back. They must be worried about me." He shrugs and gives you a tight-lipped smile. "Okay, well. Apologize to your boss. And deny the dating rumours. I want to read about it on Dispatch first thing in the morning." You smile back, teasing him. "Or I could just make it real..." Taehyung toes with an invisible pebble from his place in the train door. "Hmm?" You ask, doubting what he means. "Get back on board, lets finish your mystery novel." "What do you mean?" You ask, stepping on the yellow line to be closer to him. "I mean you show up at work today, tell your boss 'shove it I quit' and then get the novel published." He nervously chews at his lower lip after answering.

You take a shaky breath in, considering your options. Taehyung interrupts your thoughts once more. "Or I could just stay here and start a farm with you. I've always liked to be a strawberry farmer." "Are you sure?" You laugh at the notion of Kim Taehyung, worldwide idol turned strawberry farmer. "Look, y/n. I've never been more sure in my life than the last six hours I've spent with you on this train. I wanna take you out on a date, y/n." Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. "Hmm?" You ask again, this time a little sharper. "Lets grab some breakfast. We can catch the 7:15 back to Seoul." Taehyung hops off the train car and puts his arm around you while adjusting his baseball cap on his head. "Shall we?" He drives you through the empty Daegu West Interconnection terminal at 4:38 am, feeling as lively as ever, occasionally skipping in his steps, content to spend another six hours with you. "On the train back, we should get some sleep, don't you think?" You ask, chuckling nervously while sliding your hand up and down your bag strap.

[leiascully]

5 Conversations Between Maggie and Mulder

By @agirlcalledNarelle - I think Maggie and Mulder had a complicated relationship. Here’s my take on a few shared moments between them….

4,7k words. Here on AO3. 

1. 1995

The Glasgow room, otherwise known as events room B, is empty and cavernous when he arrives. Sound bounces off the walls from the other early guests and is presented back to them in an awkward offering.  Helium balloons dance timidly from their weights along the outskirt of the room. Mulder slinks in like a cat and nurses a beer as he watches the room fill. He did not go to the graveyard.

Thankfully the event grows into the space, and the hum of conversation encourages more of the same. There is laughter. Recent friends wear brightly coloured outfits, paisley shirts and ethereal skirts. The family wear black, but wicked humour sparkles through their sad smiles. Scully and Maggie arrive, accompanied by a smattering of aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s strange to see Scully with a support network which excludes him. He doesn’t feel like he can approach her; he will wait for her. They make eye contact briefly, and she moves towards him before being intercepted by someone. Maggie smiles as she speaks, but he sees her glance frequently around the room for her remaining daughter as if proving to herself that she is still here, that she hasn’t lost Dana too. 

There is never enough food at events like this. Out of some misguided sense of chivalry which no one witnesses, he is late to the buffet and picks at the remaining trays. Having made small talk with some cousins from Wisconsin, he sits furtively at a table for two, hoping his vibes deter anyone from making any further effort.

‘Fox.’ He looks up, mid-room temperature shrimp half-way to his mouth, to see Maggie standing at his elbow with Scully behind her. Mulder can see foundation gathering in the creases around her eyes. Her cheeks have has sunk, no longer blooming from happy memories. Mulder stands and wipes his mouth on a napkin.

‘Mrs Scully,’ he kisses Maggie on the cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry about Melissa.’

‘Thank you.’ Her eyes are shiny pebbles from the bottom of a stream, clear and hard. Mulder gulps, his mouth dry, and wipes his hands on his napkin, frustrated he has nothing of value to offer when she suddenly speaks, low and forcefully. ‘Tell me, Fox. Was it worth it? Was what you found worth it?’

‘Come on, Mom, let’s go say hi to the Denman’s. I see them over there.’ Scully puts her hand on her mother’s arm and pushes her gently away. He watches them, relieved to avoid further interrogation, and considers making a quiet exit when Scully turns and mouths ‘don’t go.’ Damn. Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushes his plate to the opposite place setting and waits. He watches.

Scully and Maggie work the room, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They are the only members of the immediate Scully family representing Melissa to her mourners. The extended family, comprising of short women and tall men, make sure that Scully’s wine glass never fully empties. Maggie favours brandy. She remembers the names of Melissa’s childhood friends and greets her adult friends with generous hugs. Laughter abounds as family reacquaints and friends rediscover commonalities.  Each table hosts a framed photo of Melissa, and on this table, there is a photo of the Scully children in front of a big fish that Bill Junior has caught. Melissa is tall, beautiful with early-teen self-consciousness, smiling without teeth. Dana is at least 6 inches smaller, her face chubby and framed with bangs, and excitedly pointing at the fish with her two index fingers, her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’.

The sun takes polite grief with it as it sets, and the mood of the room shifts towards a more frantic, unrestrained celebration. Ties are loosened, music starts to play, and voices grow louder as the guests realise their hours for remembering Melissa together will soon draw to a close. Scully sits opposite him, pushing aside the remaining plate of food. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink. A tissue peeks out of her cardigan sleeve, and her mascara is slightly smudged under her left eye. She smiles languidly and rests her chin in her hand. They hear Maggie laugh across the room with the cousins from Wisconsin. They are both taller than her, and one wraps her into a bear hug. She has the effusiveness of a dinner party host, eager to inform everyone where the food is and to help themselves to drinks. In the gap between conversation, Mulder sees Maggie staring into the middle distance, steeling herself to share the next anecdote.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mulder remarks.

‘This is the fun part,’ Scully says, her s’s slightly stretched. ‘Remembering Missy with all her favourite people. And some of her not-so-favourite people.’ They watch Maggie take another brandy from the waitress. ‘She’ll crash later once we’re in the cab. I’m staying with her tonight.’

‘Can I take you both home?’ Mulder asks, suddenly wanting to do at least this for Scully and her mother.

‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mulder.’

‘Please, I’d like to.

Scully appraises him, draining her wine. ‘She’s not herself today, you know. Don’t give it another thought.’

No apology, Mulder notes.

‘I know. She was right to ask. She has the right to ask, I mean. She should ask.’

‘She does. She should.’ Scully gazes lovingly at her mom, eyes misting with tears before someone else catches her eye, causing her to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl. ‘Oh no. Missy would be devastated to know that Sam Charleston is here. She had the biggest crush on him when she started her first job, and he kept her well and truly in the friend zone.’

‘Go say hi. Go mingle.’

She leans on her knuckles to steady herself as she stands. ‘If that offer is still open…. That would be nice. We would love a lift back.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, and Mulder,’ she says as she starts to totter away. ‘We’re Irish. This is going to be a late one.’

‘I’ll be here.’

2. 1997

Mulder wakes to the shadow of someone standing over him. Blinking, his back burns as he sits up in his plastic chair.

‘Go home, Fox,’ Maggie says. ‘You should get some rest. In a proper bed.’

Her eyes are bright, too wide, like a child who has eaten all their Halloween candy in one sitting, twitchy and hyper. The hall is quiet, the bustle of the day replaced with a cloak of calm inevitability as some patients gather their strength for another day, and some succumb to the everlasting sleep which floats through these rooms like a genie, offering to grant the most desperate wishes.

‘Uh, I can’t seem to leave.’ He rubs his neck. ‘Is Scully ok?’

‘She’s just fallen asleep.’ Maggie sits beside him. She rubs her hands over her face and reaches for his hand. It’s an intimate move, but a hospital at 3am is an intimate, almost holy place and those who witness it are bound by their understanding of this. He covers her hand with his, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Maggie, Bill and Mulder haven’t slept properly in days; Scully sleeps too much for all of them. She can’t smell, can’t taste, doesn’t eat. Her headaches are sudden and vicious, the only respite being ever-stronger painkillers and sleep. Suddenly her teeth start to grind. She loses track of conversation, eyes, fingers and face all clenched, and Mulder presses her painkiller button in frustration that this is all he can do. All the road signs are pointing towards morphine. No one mentions it explicitly, knowing it will likely be the last landmark for Scully.

‘Where’s Bill?’

‘He’s gone back. To pick up some clothes, pick up my copy of Little Women for Dana.’ Maggie rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘When she’s awake I’m worried that she’s not getting enough rest, and when she’s asleep I just want to wake her. It’s like she’s 2 weeks old all over again.’

Mulder stays quiet.

‘She’s stopped arguing with me, have you noticed? She doesn’t have the energy. I just want to see her eyes flash at me again, I want that ‘here we go again’ feeling one more time. I’m trying to remember the last time we did that. I’m trying to remember.’

‘Mrs Scully, you can’t give up hope, not yet.’ Mulder teeters of the edge of acceptance but hasn’t fallen into that hole just yet: its depth is too deep, too dark, and he’s not sure he would recognise the man who comes out the other side. He needs his anger to stay on track for Scully, to keep going, and more importantly in this moment now, to stay awake.

‘Fox, I haven’t given up hope, far from it,’ Maggie’s voice is tired and resigned. ‘But you can’t deny what we’re seeing. We can’t expect things from Dana that she can’t give us. Then it’s not fair on her.’

Mulder feels this new perspective like a splash of cold water on his face. He hadn’t considered the impact of his unending fight on Scully. Did she feel like she had to perform for him? Did she gather her strength every time he entered the room to protect him from what was happening, to allow him his little charade? Does the energy needed for his visits mean more frequent headaches, more pain? His shoulders slump further as more guilt settles across them.

Maggie’s head suddenly brushes his shoulder, and she looks up in surprise, blinking. A microsleep.

‘Mrs Scully, you should take your own advice.’ He squeezes her hand where it still rests in his. ‘Get some proper rest.’

Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s the meeting with Dana’s doctor first thing. And then the Priest is stopping by.’

The meeting is to learn the consultant recommendation after examining the chip that Mulder had offered him like frankincense. They had scanned it, taken photos, made notes, but the chip itself remained in Mulder’s pocket at his insistence.

‘I hope you know I respect the work of the priest.’ Mulder clears his throat, not sure of his next words. ‘I’m not exactly what you’d call a good disciple, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. And I know what it means to Dana.’

‘I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of this chip, Fox. But you’ve earned the right to an opinion here. And anyway, Dana will do what she thinks is best: she won’t have anyone else make this choice for her.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know that … I just want to make sure we’ve tried everything.’

Maggie stands and puts a hand to his cheek, her hand soft against his stubble. It’s a move he’s done to Scully before, but he had underestimated how much comfort it brings. He wants to nuzzle into her hand, to close his eyes and rest in the warmth.

‘I know you love her, Fox. You love her as she deserves to be loved. I do wish you might show it with roses instead of computer chips,’ she smiles ruefully. ‘But there aren’t words to convey how grateful I’ve been to see your love for my daughter over these past few weeks.’

He watches her go back into Scully’s dark room. They both wait, in different rooms, for the sun to rise on the day when Scully’s holy trinity of faith, family and work will entwine around her like the roots of a tree in a final attempt to nourish her back to health.

3. 1998

It is still dark when they pull up outside the house, but someone has clocked their arrival and the front door flings open. Maggie waves, wrapping her cardigan around her, and gestures inwards.

‘You have to come in now, you realise,’ Scully says as she unbuckles her belt.

‘Oh, no, Scully, I don’t want to do that. You be with your family. It’s 6:30am.’

‘Come on, you’ll offend her. You don’t want to offend my mother on Christmas morning, do you Mulder?’ Scully teases. ‘Or do you? Is that what you want?’

He sighs and walks with her towards the house. Modest fairy lights twinkle on the porch, and the Christmas tree glows from the front window. Mulder can see tasteful, coordinated ornaments and the outline of people in the front room. Already the Scully Christmas is in stark contrast to Christmas at his mother’s house: a quiet affair with two lonely presents under a tree that never seems to stand straight, decorated with all Fox and Samantha’s homemade decorations from over the years. A roast chicken that would invariably burn as Teena became engrossed in a Christmas movie and Mulder slept on the couch. They would end the day with a quiet game of Scrabble. He feels a protective pang in his chest: it’s not much of a Christmas, but it’s their Christmas. Teena is never outwardly demonstrative, but he knows he is loved. She has saved all his crafts, every homemade Mother’s Day and Christmas card. I’ll call her later, he promises to himself as he walks to the porch, swallowing the bitter taste of treachery as he crosses another mother’s threshold on Christmas morning.

‘Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!’ Maggie exclaims as they stamp the snow from their shoes. They are her first gifts of the day as she unwraps their coats and scarves. ‘Fox, what an unexpected surprise.’

‘Uh, Scully’s car didn’t start, so I gave her a lift,’ he said lamely, hoping the explanation doesn’t lead to more questions.

‘Well, you can at least stay for breakfast.’ She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He is uncomfortable, unused to meeting Maggie outside of a crisis. He doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even a Christmas card, and he almost regrets offering Scully a lift this morning. He had been high on infatuation, waking after their late-night ghost hunt to find Scully snuffling under the covers next to him like a grumpy guinea pig, her scruffy red hair poking out from under the covers.

‘Thank you, Mrs Scully, that would be great. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.’

‘Please, Fox, it’s a last-minute invite. It’s enough that you’re here.’ Mulder smiles, and sends a thought remembering his mother at the Vineyard on her own. It might be called a prayer, if he was a man of any sort of religious faith.

‘Sorry we’re late, Mom.’

‘Don’t be silly, Dana, I don’t know why we have to meet at such an ungodly time anyway.’ She ushers them into the living room. Bill sits in front of the tree wearing a Santa hat, his son perched in his lap lifting and shaking any gift in his proximity. Scully hugs her sister-in-law affectionately, and Mulder notes that something has thawed between them since San Diego.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Bill asks in surprise, quickly removing his Santa hat.

‘Hush now, Bill,’ Maggie says easily, entering with a tray of mugs and a cafetière full of coffee. ‘It’s too early to be so contrary.’

‘I just think it’s odd that her work colleague is in our living room at 6:30am.‘

‘Bill, please. Fox is Dana’s partner, and they get to decide the context of that. Not us.’

Mulder glances at Scully. He’s not sure what Maggie has just insinuated, or what Scully has been saying to make Maggie to make her think that way. They’re still walking this path cautiously, and yet Mulder feels like Maggie has just confirmed something fundamental that neither had fully acknowledged yet.  Scully reflects his surprise, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her brother.

‘Admit it, Bill,’ Scully says, ‘you’re just embarrassed that Mulder’s seen you in your jimmy jams.’

There is a pause in the room before Bill spreads his hands and laughs.

‘Guilty. Grab a seat, Mulder, let’s see if there’s a lump of coal under here somewhere for you.’ Scully squeezes his arm in solidarity. Mulder sees the steel under Bill’s smile and nods, accepting the tentative olive branch.

‘Excellent.’ Maggie sits beside the tree and pulls Matthew onto her lap, who desperately reaches towards the tree. ‘My grandson has been patient enough. Now that we’re all here, and caffeinated, how about we open some presents?’

4. 2001

Mulder stares through the nursery glass at the eight babies wriggling in their little beds. It’s like a very small and very strange zoo exhibition. I’m sorry guys, he thinks, visiting hours have just started for you. His baby is back row left, wearing a blue hat and sleeping with his mouth slightly open, oblivious to all the motion and emotion surrounding him.

Scully needed stitches. The doctors were not happy with her delivery in general, and Mulder felt them glance suspiciously in his direction when he wasn’t looking. They had also given Scully a sedative: she had been shaking with shock and exhaustion, having had no sleep during the 16 hours since the delivery. In the helicopter she had gripped her son with a haunted look in her eyes, only reluctantly handing him to the nurse when the desire to have him checked over outweighed her instinct to hold tight. Go with him, she’d begged, the force of his hand squashing his fingers, don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s ok. Please, Mulder. He’d wanted to stay until she slept, but his continued presence only made her more anxious. He had left her, weak and weepy with her legs in stirrups, as exposed and vulnerable as a person could find themselves. The nurse had offered to bring the baby to Mulder to hold, but without Scully it feels like a betrayal somehow. He is satisfied just peering through the window, admiring his perfect lips and nose.

‘Fox,’ he turns to see Maggie standing at his shoulder. Her face is tight, her clenched teeth barely restraining her anger. His stomach drops as he feels himself ride over the crest of a rollercoaster.

‘Mrs Scully. Did you just arrive?’

‘I tried to visit Dana but they said she’s sleeping.’ Maggie has yet to put her overnight bag down, her knuckles white as she grips the handles. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened? How my daughter got to Georgia?’

‘Scully, uh, she was in danger and so we thought it safest if she left DC.’ Maggie purses her lips. Mulder’s palms are sweaty. What had made perfect sense at the time was now sounding reckless and stupid.

‘I see. And why Georgia?’

‘We needed somewhere unexpected, somewhere that no one would know.’

‘How exactly did she get here?’

‘One of her colleagues drove her. Special Agent Reyes, you may have met her, she’s been working with Scully for the last, well really for the last 6 months now.’ Mulder felt with each answer Maggie was coiling tighter and tighter, preparing to strike.  ‘Scully likes her, trusts her, so it seemed like the best choice.’

‘I see. Where were you?’

‘I was trying to make sure that the people who were trying to get Scully didn’t. Couldn’t.

‘And did you succeed?’

‘No, no I didn’t. But they didn’t get her, thank god.’

‘You didn’t succeed,’ Maggie says, shaking her head slowly. ‘You sent my little girl to some abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, running water, or even any antibacterial spray, to give birth on her own with only a colleague she’s known for 6 months for support. Is any of this inaccurate?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Mulder’s voice is quiet in contrast to Maggie’s increasing volume.

‘Do you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?’ Maggie finally shouts, throwing her jacket at him. He catches it clumsily. ‘How could you do this, Fox? In what possible way was this the best solution?’

The tiredness, anxiety and fear which Mulder had been suppressing for the last 72 hours bursts forth, and he is suddenly possessed by rage.

‘Excuse me, Maggie, can I call you Maggie? I think it’s about time, don’t you?’ His voice is quiet but violent. Maggie blinks in surprise and takes a step back. ‘This is my son we’re talking about here. My –‘ he falters as he thinks of Scully in the third room down the corridor, sleeping while her injuries are stitched. His chest hurts with the ferocity of his love for her. ‘This is my whole world. I didn’t just send them away for a jaunt down South. It wasn’t for the fun of it. If we hadn’t have sent them away, in all likelihood we wouldn’t have either of them right now.’

Maggie presses her fingers to her lips as tears slide down her cheeks. Mulder immediately hates himself for shouting at her, she who has already lost so much as a result of Scully’s dogged insistence to stay by his side. He too blinks away tears as he realises what is about to happen next: Scully isn’t going to see her mother meet her grandchild, Scully’s miracle son. She will miss their introduction.

‘I daresay you’re right,’ Maggie mutters. ‘Everything you’ve said matches what Mr Skinner told me. I know you had no choice. But, my god Fox, another phone call, another panicked rush to a hospital, this time in Georgia. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.’

‘I know, Mrs Scully,’ Mulder rubs her shoulder tentatively, taking her bag from her.

‘Please, you’re right, you should call me Maggie,’ she huffs, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. But I can’t pretend I understand or agree with it. I think I have to ask you for a little more time before we’re in the same room together.’

Mulder nods. ‘I understand, Maggie. I want to check on Scully anyway, make sure she’s ok. Before I go, let me show you your grandson. There he is: he’s the champ in the top left. See him?’

Mulder sees her face soften, and she places her fingers lightly on the glass window, drinking in every detail of the baby.

‘Oh Fox…’, she murmurs, ‘he’s beautiful. Look at him. He looks like you, you know.’

‘You think?’

‘That bottom lip, there’s no doubt.’ She sighs. ‘He’s wonderful.’

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘Can I? Have you?’

‘No��� no. I’m going to wait for Scully… But you really should. You know how angry she’ll be if she wakes up to learn that neither of us held him this whole time. She would want you to.’

Maggie nods. Without speaking, without eye contact, she holds his hand briefly in thanks. Mulder recognises her resolve; he knows Maggie is happier now she has something practical to focus on. Her face betrays her excitement as she flags down a nurse. He carries her bag with him and opens the third door down the corridor where he is greeted by Scully’s pale face, her anxiety having vanished in sleep.

5. 2005

Mulder hears the gravel crunch under the car as Scully pulls up into the drive. He turns on the grill but stubbornly keeps his back turned as Scully and her mother enter the house. This is Maggie’s first visit to their unremarkable house, their little haven. For the last six months, Scully has met her in the city, at neutral settings or at Maggie’s place. They told each other it was for safety, that it was better for both Mulder and Maggie that they didn’t put Maggie in a position of consorting with a fugitive, but they both knew the truth: they were scared of what Maggie might say. Of how she might react to seeing Mulder again, after so many years on the run.

Scully arrived home from her first meeting with Maggie with red eyes and a stuffy nose.

How was it? Mulder had asked.

It was great. Amazing. It was so good to see her again. Her replies were short, and Mulder heard her unspoken words. They had gone to bed without speaking any further that night.

After six months, Maggie had finally asked to see where Dana and her outlaw partner were living. A Fourth of July barbeque seemed like a good occasion, the external focus distracting from any tension. Scully bought fireworks and s’mores ingredients; Mulder built a bonfire ready for the evening.

He hears footsteps on the deck and turns to see Maggie. They study each other quietly: her white hair, wrists tightly covered by crepe-paper skin, his lined face and wider jaw. He’s been waiting for this moment since Scully floated the idea with him. Now it had arrived, he realised how many lost years sat between them. Maggie stands a metre away, but the distance is a metal spring that stretches wider and wider and wider.

‘Hello Fox,’ she says, and her voice takes him back to hospitals, to phone calls, to missing people and conversations haunted by death.

‘Hi Maggie.’ He doesn’t move, and neither does she. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to accept sole responsibility. He wants to ask for forgiveness, but he isn’t afraid of defending his choices. He wants to ask how she’s been, what their absence felt like for her, but surely the hole they left in her life is too great for him to think about patching up now. Behind him, the barbeque hisses as the fat drips from the meat.

‘Dana tells me you built this deck.’

‘I did, yes. It was my first project when we moved in. Where is Scully?’

‘She’s getting the potato salad ready.’ Mulder looks towards the house and cringes inwardly when he sees no sign of her. ‘It’s lovely out here.’

‘It is.’ Suddenly he’s sick of this dance. ‘Maggie, I want you to know –‘

‘Fox, I think we’ve had enough.’ Her assertiveness catches him unawares and he stops. ‘Don’t you agree? Enough anger, enough apologies, enough guilt.’

He nods cautiously.

‘What did Scully say about our time away?’ He asks. Maggie sighs and looks at her hands.

‘She didn’t say a lot. She mentioned motels, some kitchen work. You know how she is. She stopped talking before she got in over her head.’

‘Are you…. Mad?’

‘Oh, I’ve been mad alright. Father McCue can attest to that.’ Mulder turns back to the meat, and Maggie stands beside him. She looks so like her daughter out of the corner of his eye; there’s a familiarity between Mulder and Maggie that he’d forgotten about. All the fear they’ve shared together sits within a current of energy between them. ‘But I don’t want to be mad anymore.’

The spring suddenly snaps back into shape.

‘That’s good to hear,’ Mulder turns the meat. ‘I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked.’

Maggie chuckles and Mulder suddenly sees that their bonfire, fireworks and s’mores will be genuinely delightful.

‘Just stay, though, please?’ She asks tentatively. He realises that their détente is quick but delicate, in need of nurture. ‘Stay here. Let me visit occasionally. Maybe there’s a room that I might one day come to think of as being mine. Just let me see you both.’

‘Maggie… Of course we will. You’re welcome here any time. At any time.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ They both turn to see Scully approaching with a tray of salad and iced tea. Her small smile is cautious and there’s apprehension in her eyes.

‘I was just about to ask Fox why the deck slants to the left.’ Maggie takes the tray from Scully and kisses her cheek.

‘Maggie, I’ll have you know this is excellent craftsmanship. It slants so the water can drain off effectively.’ They sit at the table together, with Scully looking from her mother and her partner. Her face glows in a way he hasn’t seen for years, and he squeezes her hand under the table. He is pleased to have brought her back, happy to have given her a home. She is starting to thrive. She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

‘Look at me, I’m being ridiculous,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes.  ‘I’m just so glad we’re all here together.’

[electricbluebutterflies]

Ways to say I Love You: 44 - Garcy

Usual canon-divergent ‘verse. Content warning for pregnancy / childbirth. PG-ish and also on ao3.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

It is, perhaps, just as well that Flynn doesn’t sleep much.When his phone goes off a little past eleven on a Thursday night, he’s stillwide awake, barely any shifting of energy at all when he sees the caller ID.Exactly three people have this number, all former coworkers he values more thananyone else currently in the world, and he’d answer for anyone but-

“Yes?”

“Can you get over here? Like, now?”

“Here as in the house?”

“Where the hell else do you think I’d be at-“

Lucy’s voice cuts off, and the sound she makes is bothhorrific and… alarmingly familiar. Oh. No.

He’ll have this panic when he gets there and knows for sure,he tells himself as he grabs his jacket and checks to make sure the pockets areproperly equipped. The house is seventeen minutes from his apartment ifstoplights are in his favor, and yes he did time it, and… he hasn’t seen her inclose to eight months. Not since that fight. Not since, in typical fashion, hemanaged to ruin something that could’ve been good for him.

“What do you need?” he asks as he gets in the car, still clutchinghis phone like a lifeline. “Lucy. Talk to me.”

“You can be mad at me later, but…”

“That is not-“

“I am not giving birth alone. I am not that far intomy pool of self-loathing.”

Fuck.

Of all the times he had to be right.

He won’t, can’t ask questions – the most vital one beingwhose kid even is it, because the timing is just plausible enough to concernhim – until this is over with. Three people in the world he loves, he remindshimself, and one of them needs him right now. He can have this crisis, inwhichever direction it falls, once he’s seen whether this tiny human that’sabout to enter the world has echoes of his angular features.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital. I don’t… do you need me tostay on the line?”

“No. I’ll call you if… just get here, Flynn. Please. You’rethe only person I have.”

Seventeen minutes in theory, fifteen in practice because it’slate and almost no one is on the road and yes he runs two red lights but whatever.He knows, would like to forget but he knows, that childbirth has no schedule.It is possible, albeit unlikely, that Lucy will have given birth in her livingroom by the time he gets there. He doesn’t want to think about that either.

They were good as friends, he reminds himself, andinteresting as lovers, and… he fucked it up. She wanted permanence and hefucked it up because the idea of her being his was still too frightening.At the time, he could not imagine tethering her to him in any kind of tangibleway.

Depending on how tonight plays out, however, what he intendedmay not mean a goddamn thing.

He is half prepared to break down her front door, ispleasantly surprised to find it unlocked, is even more so to see her standingin easy view. Lucy is swollen and looks unusually homicidal right now, but sheis still beautiful and he has missed her so much and-

“Just get me through tonight,” she murmurs, half collapsingagainst him. “You can hate me when it’s over.”

“I have never hated you. I can’t start now.”

Somehow, he gets her into the car. He is not asking whichhospital she wants to go to; phone GPS can solve that problem, it is close tomidnight and he is not taking any unnecessary risks here. He runs the nearestname by her and supposes her chirpy sigh is confirmation enough that yes heshould take her there, and then she makes that screaming sound again. Gettingcloser. Tick tock.

“How are we… will you be alright alone in there?” he asks asthe building comes into view.

“You’re gonna fucking ditch me?”

“Is it mine?” He wasn’t going to ask, but consideringthat detail decides whether he gets to spend the night in an uncomfortablewaiting-room chair or holding his ex-lover’s hand…

“Yeah. Wasn’t screwing anyone else around that time, anddidn’t after, so… yeah. It’s yours. You can hate me once it isn’t wreakinghavoc on my body anymore, okay?”

Flynn pulls into a parking spot marked for some administrativeoffice-holder who he cannot imagine will need it for a few hours yet, thenleans over and kisses the top of Lucy’s head. “You could’ve told me.”

“Considering how well you handled me asking if you possiblywanted to move in… can you blame me for not telling you?”

He’ll let her have that point. It’s late and he’s about tospend the night threatening people in her honor, just like old times, becauseeven in more comfortable clothes some things don’t change.

The next few hours are a blur. He feels his minddisconnecting from his body and he allows it, lets the fear wash over him evenas he refuses to let go of her hand. In a better world, one where he was morecapable of keeping calm when it mattered, he would’ve had months to accept thisturn of events. In this one, he has hours. It’s not enough. Here he is withthis miracle of an undeserved second chance, this woman who should hate him forwhat happened but instead digs her fingernails into his palm, and he is scaredhe will lose them. He has already failed them once. He will do it again. Hewill-

His second child, a son who definitely takes after his sideof the family, is born twenty minutes after sunrise. He finally lets go of hispartner’s hand.

“Do you hate me yet?” Lucy murmurs.

“Could I say I love you?”

“Only if you mean it.”

[warningimmental]

You made your choice. It's not to be a mother so....... Congratulations you're free!!!. Your Wish came true.

Yes this is public so people can see.#TRUTH

***See below as im not repeating again and again.***

My side of life.

P.s

Yeah I'll be fine. I always am in the end.

( Heres what needs to be said and has been said so not to repeat myself. From in PMs )

Sad thing is she knows ill forgive her just like I forgave dad and EVERYONE and EVERYTHING else. I care so no one else has to. I'm the one who picked up the pieces of everything but was tormented daily. She wonders why I was the way I was it was due to parenting and fobbing me off to anyone who would take me.

Anne and Bob should of kept me. They couldn't have kids they could of had me though. (neighbours I adopted as grandparents no blood but love ) My father was a shit most of my life my mother was everyones mother bar mine. They kept me quite with gadgets and as long as I went to school fed and watered job done.

Favourite quote was "it's your fault" and dads was "your making me ill"

Christ for someone who knows everyone elses business she never saw what was happening to her own daughter.

29 years im done. Sick of being a leighton.

I said Stockholm syndrome I loved my captives just happened to be the people I called mum and dad....

I still love them both but what I was "known as normal" was not remotely normal.

Eg. I was appendicitis and born 8 months in mum had no clue and I was "hiding" behind her ribs. It's medically impossible.

Not to mention lived in New York every other year from age of 6 months till I was 13. Dad would take me over and over and over mum came ONCE for my 13th.

I have no memories of New York. It's kind of a huge thing and place to have been wiped out of a memory.

Now im clear-minded im having pseudoseizures because my subconscious doesn't want me to remember what happened.

What mother would let a new born or toddler a child that can't speak fly to the other side of the world to only be with men. My dad and my fucked up uncle who sends stuff to "favourite" niece

I've tried so hard to get better and it's not even my family who acknowledged it.

There's so much you don't know.

She used to have me go in the house before her in case dad had killed himself so id find him first from the ages of 7 onwards. When dad past I went behind the curtain first. So I kept the is see him first. On 29th April 2018

I was always on eggshells she would say people die of lack of breath so EVERY NIGHT id check on mum and dad every hour. She would hold her breath to screw with me. Then say im not dead go to bed.

The house was toxic. For once in my life im actually sane.

She is not who you think she is.

If I've lost my mind it's because my environment sucked. I'm finally out. Sober can think clear and don't harm because I don't have to deal with the toxicity that I dealt with ALL my life.

If I told you everything you wouldn't believe me. Which is fine know one does because but it's true.

Always ask why or what causes someone to go off the rails and self destruct. I never felt safe, I was always told I was a mistake and everything was my fault. As long as I kept the family secrets mum was happy.

Dad was toxic. Mum the same. She wants drama so I finally said enough.

When I say mum knows everything I mean she saw it all and NEVER had it stop or put me safe. I can finally talk now dad is gone. I could write every TRUTH down and write a book. People would wonder how the hell did this girl cope and live to tell. I lived because I care about everything and everyone else. But im done now.

I doubt you'd believe me if im honest. My inbox is full of people defending her and my dad. If only they knew. its been a long time coming but im finally speaking out.

I know people don't understand but I don't want to burden with it. If You like my mum and dad id rather I let you keep the illusion. I know it's out there now that's enough.

If you want to see my life keep reading otherwise STOP HERE.

I'm fine and im safe finally. I just needed more as a child than fear of what should of been my safe place a home.

I don't want us to be strangers to the people who read this and thin sarahs lost it.

I don't want to cause a riff, I just couldn't not say it finally. Mum says always go to counselling but I couldn't. I couldn't tell anyone the truth about dad or mum. Or the truth on why I had to have a very intrusive operation due to assault by 3 at Halloween party. Mum now knows that. Dad was arrested for hitting the wrong lad. Dad and mum would have gone down for murder if I spoke out.

On the other hand there was also my home life in general. I was made to stay quiet about having a revolving door of strangers. Huge boozy parties after a night out. Mum and me being treat like muck on a shoe.

A abusive uncle who would have me and my cusion be "kissing cusions" .Every night when I was 15 to 26 I drank took sleeping pills and hid away in my room self destructive harm anything so not to deal.

I look like wolferrines attacked me because of the arguments or threats. Mum couldnt leave the house quick enough. I gave up on a career to care for my dad but I was always looked down on.

****** golden girl. left was I was guilt tripped saying "your still dads girl you won't leave me" while dad would cry. Every night.

Mum swears I was an appendicitis 8 months in term. I'd be handed to anyone and everyone. Every year or every other from birth id end up in america. Mum would say her holidays where when me and dad would leave. From 6 months old id always go back and forth to New York. I couldnt talk yet "apparently" begged to go with dad.

Mum would say after blazing rows im leaving.

Then just walk out the door. I was left with a highly angry father and confused were mum had gone and if she would come back for me. I'd stay up all night waiting. I'd hide crying and scream in a pillow so not to be to loud so dad didn't shout.

I was told my face doesn't fit. My nick name was ferret face or panda. I would hurt my self so not to hurt others. I wanted and trained to be a counsellor so one to understand what I did wrong and two and most importantly to be there for the people who needed support.

I went to rehab to be identified when found so my parents wouldn't have to. If it wasn't for craig I doubt if be here.

Craig saved my life. Mum has always put others before me or ignored it so it didn't exist.

Important in here (ears) none important (over your head)

I was terrified everyday of my life. I loved and do love my parents it's just I can't stay quite any longer.

Money or game consoles chocolate sweets where hush money. Dad would buy crates of spirits and beer and supple my / his pills so I was always foggy minded.

I'm finally sober clean and harm free my mind is the most composed it ever been.

No one knows what goes on behind closed doors.

Mum is a star and has a heart of gold to others but from age 7 onwards everyone else came first.

I pride my self on protecting, comforting trying to be there and support everyone, hell even risked my life enough times to save some. because I never had it. No one to fight for me protect me.

I wanted parents love encouragement happy I archived or even tried. But it never came.

Even my graduation was ruined.

I wasn't allowed to get a job they made me be sick and have PTSD mum still to this day loves to make me jump. I have terrifying nightmares.

I'd hear conversations no child should hear because they either didn't notice I was there or care. When ***** killed him self when *** did when dad tried and I was left with a random man being told "your dads took to many sweets"

The same man who later tried it on with me sending dirty pictures or dads other "mates" who would try there luck. I gained a shit ton of weight 21 stone so NO guy would come near me because the strangers who would come to the house used to try and feel me up or perv if door was unlocked as I was a kid.

She saw everything but wouldn't believe it. Or me. I phone our ***** one night years ago because she said I could and she yelled at me because she had work. I was silently screaming for help.

It was only at dads funeral she saw and realised and was so genuinely sorry for not believing me the night I phoned.

I wish every single thing I've said and keep telling was a lie but it's not it's 25/26 years of fear.

I'm 29 now. For the first time in my life im not on eggshells. I have a safe home. I can lock the door and not fear.

I wish these were lies I swear!!!!! I do but there not.

Yet NO ONE will even consider it's the TRUTH.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: 

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

[durrzerker]

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 7: Play The Fools

As the ragtag party of children and their eclectic assortment of guardians climbed the stairs leading to the roof of the old Masters of Evil mansion, Wolverine was starting up a conversation with Akeja, who had been openly admiring her fighting style and claws all night. Eric, somehow, had become the favorite of almost all of the other kids; the Scions were warming up to him, whatever crime that Mara claimed that he and Taskmaster had committed against them all but forgotten as they asked him about what it was like to shrink, how it felt to be a giant, and if any of them would ever be twenty feet tall.

"Maybe!" Eric replied. "I've seen crazier things." He was clearly enjoying the attention, carrying the wounded boy whose name Tony had already lost across his shoulder like a sandbag, yet even taking the time to ensure his broken leg wasn't bouncing around. He was clearly enjoying the positive attention, and Taskmaster didn't blame him; there wasn't a whole lot of that in Bagalia.

For his part, though? Tony wasn't taking his eyes off of Spymaster, and it wasn't just because she had a sweet can (she did). He wondered if she knew, like Black Ant seemed to, that The Hub was apparently his wife. How common was this? Was it even a secret, or were they all laughing behind his back? Resisting the urge to corner Eric about it right this moment - not the time - Tony glanced back over his shoulder. The only one of the children who wasn't with the rest of the group was Cassandra, who was watching him as intently as he was Spymaster.

"What?"

"Waiting for ya tae run away."

"Very funny, and not happening," he scolded her.

"Did last time."

Not having a response to that, he fell silent until they reached the helipad. With a button on her wrist, Spymaster de-cloaked the quinjet that she had waiting for them; sleek and black, it looked to Taskmaster like a stolen SHIELD prototype; he could even get a sense of the missing markings on the wings. "You appropriate this yourself?" He asked curiously.

"Maybe. Not like SHIELD's intact anymore, what use is it sitting in some hanger?"

"I'm sure Uncle Sam would find use for it."

"Considering our current situation, I don't really give a fuck what Uncle Sam finds a use for," she replied harshly. "You've been thinking about what I told you, right?" Opening the kamikaze door of the quinjet, she started gesturing the children closer. To Tony's surprise, Mara stopped in front of him.

"You think we should go with her?"

"I think so, yeah." He didn't hesitate; it seemed clear enough.

"...You're a weird guy, Taskmaster. I mean, the costume really gave it away, but...I hope you understand that what's coming next for you isn't your fault. That doesn't mean you can't take responsibility for it, though." The way she stared up at him as she spoke took the witty retort right out of Tony's throat. He lingered for a moment, watching this strange little child with the wisdom that she had no business displaying like this, before she turned and promptly boarded the quinjet.

When Taskmaster and Eric went to follow, Spymaster stopped in front of the both of them. "We need to split up. Taskmaster, I have a location for you to go after Ross. He's going to send an extensive force after both of us; he's almost as angry at you as he is eager to get the kids."

"Now hold up a minute, lady," Taskmaster complained. "WHY? What the hell did I actually -do-?"

"I don't have time to explain, and a short version will just make you more curious," Spymaster replied. Before he could speak again, she cut him off by grabbing hold of Eric by the collar. "You and Wolverine are with me. Need your abilities, and the kids like you more." Laura didn't protest; it was obvious that she was always going to

"Yeah!" Black Ant cheered, hopping on board the quinjet. "Hear that, Tony? I'm the MvP."

"No, that's TESS-one, but she's too heavy for the plane," Spymaster assured him. As Eric slumped his shoulders, she brought the rest of the children aboard and turned her attention to Taskmaster. "Masters, this is important: You're going to find out what happened here soon. I -promise-. But trust me, because this comes straight from the Hub: You can't know until the children are safe. She asked me to relay that, and for you to keep believing she has your best interests in mind -- because she does." Ensuring that all the children were on the quinjet, Spymaster climbed on as well, grabbing the sliding door to start closing it until she was stopped by Taskmaster's harsh words.

"If she cares so much, why the hell hasn't she told me she's my WIFE?!" he snapped.

Glancing back at him, somehow sounding sad even through her voice scrambler, Spymaster shook her head. "...Oh, Tony. She has."

And then they were gone.

Standing there in the midst of a warm Bagalia night, clear skies offering a lovely view of stars that he had no interest in seeing, Taskmaster took a moment to collect himself. The violence and hedonism of his current lifestyle was effective at drowning it out, but in quiet moments like this, he could feel it; a deeper guilt, a hungry and gnawing void of self-loathing that threatened to consume him if he didn't feed it.

'Why do you think he takes these jobs?'

By the time he opened his eyes, the quinjet was gone. No Spymaster, no Wolverine, no Black Ant. He tried to reassure himself that this was a good thing. He worked better alone anyways, and the kids needed the backup the most.

"At least I got you, Tessie." He looked up to the gargantuan adamantium robot, who was still dressed like a twenty foot french maid. It was dusting the roof.

--

Taskmaster's mission, ultimately, was simple: he just had to follow the Wrecking Crew. Doing so with Tessie as his backup would be easier said than done, considering that even with the robot's prototype flight technology, it was still something of a massive and loud target. Instead assigning it to follow at a distance, he descended into the garage of the old Masters of Evil headquarters, heading for the vehicle bay that he'd had installed shortly after he had taken over. As tempting as his over-designed blue-and-orange motorcycle was, he needed to take a different approach; even idiots like the Wrecking Crew would know when they were being followed, if only because Ross was likely reminding them to check.

True to Spymaster's assessment, they were clearly hustling to get out of the city. The tracker she'd given him displayed them as making a beeline for the Marina; they were rapidly navigating the city's dense streets with superhuman jumps from the way the display 'bounced'. Considering his options, Taskmaster eventually left the garage not in one of his well-armored war wagons, but a simple and sleek black ferrari. This would require a different kind of approach.

--

Piledriver grumbled as he approached the marina's reception center; this place was pretty damn high security, which was unsurprising considering what kind of goods Bagalia both imported and exported. Checkpoint, checkpoint, ID card reader, ticket salesman, weird demon that only spoke backwards, checkpoint -- but after nearly half an hour, he was finally through and had passes for each of the rest of the Wrecking Crew. "You wouldn't believe the fucking wait out here," he grumbled as he started handing the entry badges to his companions. "Come on."

By the time he'd gone back to get the rest of the crew and headed into the marina, Piledriver could tell that something was amiss. "We're in Dock 3...wait. Whose is -that-?" What should have been their empty spot was occupied by an enormous and garish yacht, white and blue with a massive statue of a posing siren on the front.

"What an ugly piece of shit," Wrecker grunted. "Hey! Who the hell's in our spot?! We got a ride coming! You gotta move!"

"Tally HO there, friends!" Came a booming voice. Emerging from the deck of the yacht, a thin and older-looking man planted his hands on the rails. "Say I parked in your spot, eh? Didn't mean to! I've been making this my 'marina marination' center for the past ten years, though, ha ha! Didn't think they'd rent it out to anyone else!"

Exchanging looks with each other, the Wrecking Crew shook their heads before Piledriver spoke back up. "Hey, idiot! We ain't here to chat about it! Just move your ugly fucking ship unless you want us to destroy it!"

"Oh, I sure don't want that! Let me just come on out of here...." He started towards the steps.

"Don't come out here!" Wrecker complained. "Just -- just move, man! We're not kidding!" He sighed in frustration when the elderly gentleman ignored them entirely, making his way out from the yacht onto the ship and approaching the four supervillains with oblivious cheerfulness.

"Well now, I'd be remiss not to shake your hands for the warning first! No need to rush, no sir...name's Art Vanderbilt! Don't know art, never built a van, but I stand behind the nom de guerre nonetheless! You all attending a costume party, then? Why wait for your vessel? You should ride with me instead! The Painted Pomegranate's a class act of a ship, yes sir; once made it around the coast of Somalia in only four days!" He boasted.

"...That don't sound very fast, old timer," Bulldozer chimed in. "Look, you seem pretty nice, and we ain't in the business of beatin' up random old people, but you really got to go. Our ride's gonna be here any minute."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll see me and wait their turn!" The gent replied, dismissively waving a hand. "Come, come, you'll love the Pomegranate! Sweet as her namesake, and twice as juicy! You may be asking how a ship can be juicy, but no sir, I won't spoil the mystery! You'll just have to find out for yourselves!" Whirling a ruby-headed cane, he started back towards the yacht. Wrecker raised his weapon, eyes bulging with rage, but Piledriver stopped him with a hand.

"Wait. This old coot's clearly lost his damn mind," Piledriver whispered. "We follow him aboard, maybe we can rob that ship before we sink it. We got time before Ross shows up."

His irritation giving way to a smile, Wrecker nodded in agreement. "Best idea you've had all day. I could use some cheering up after that hide-tanning we got back at Zemo's. Come on, then. We'll knock him out when we get on board, then loot to our heart's content."

All feeling very smug, the Wrecking Crew boarded the yacht behind Art.

"This here's the deck, where I like to play shuffleboard with the missus," the elderly man droned on as they circled around towards the cabin. "Are you gents and ladies feeling parched? I've got a 1912 Vermouth that you wouldn't believe; goes down smoother than my morning medication, that's for sure!"

"I could use a drink," Demolisher eagerly replied. "You hear that, -gents-? I'm a lady. No one ever calls me a lady; I think I like this old guy!"

"Oh, I like you too!" Art replied, opening the door to the cabin. "Remind me of my daughter; professional weightlifter. Built sturdy like yourself." As they all filed into the luxurious room, with leather seats and a large navigator's table that seemed to meticulously track the location of every brothel between Bagalia and California, the garishly dressed elderly man retrieved a large bottle and five glasses, pouring each halfway full and passing them around.

"Classy place," Wrecker complimented, his eyes already roaming over an expensive-looking statue above the steering wheel. "All these trinkets must cost a fortune."

"Oh, you'd best believe it! Never settle for less than the best; that's what father always taught me," Art replied. "Four million dollars worth of furnishings in here alone!" He didn't seem to notice the greedy smiles traded by the Wrecking Crew at that. Raising his glass, Art toasted the group, then took a deep draw. Everyone else did as well, with only Piledriver hesitating briefly to make sure that the old man was actually swallowing his. Figuring that meant it was safe, he drained his glass.

"Wow, that's good stuff," Demolisher complimented. "I had my doubts considering this ugly ship, but you've got decent taste, grandpa."

"Thank you!" Art puffed out his chest happily.

"Shame we're gonna have to take it all from ya," Piledriver said ominously. "You offered us a ride - think we're gonna take it. This vessel's ours now. You gave us a drink, so if you ask real nice, we'll let you off without any broken...broken..." Mumbling a bit, the man touched his tongue. "...Ith numb...my tongue numb."

"Hey...yeah...I don't -- I don't feel good," Wrecker grunted, blinking rapidly. "Old...old bastard poisoned us. You son of a--" He took a swipe at the elderly man, but with surprising quickness, Art simply ducked back, smiling innocently.

"Oh my...has the wine gone bad?" He took a sniff, then sipped it. "No, seems good to me."

Collapsing against the table, Piledriver watched the rest of the Wrecking Crew start to go down. Demolisher sat heavily in the captain's chair, already unconscious; Bulldozer was trying to make himself throw up, but faceplanted before he could. "How...?" Piledriver asked. "I saw you...saw you drink."

"Sure did, slick. Didn't poison the wine. Like I said...it's fine." Dropping his disguise, the impression of an old, frail man giving way to the skull-masked visage of the Taskmaster, their host threw his head back and drained half the bottle in a single go, belching as Piledriver lost consciousness.

"It was your glasses. I told you D-listers not to fuck with me."

It had been about four years ago that Taskmaster had come up with the 'Art' persona. From body language to facial expressions, his photographic reflexes allowed him to impersonate just about anyone and anything he could physically copy; what most people didn't realize was that this allowed him to take on other identities. From the accent to the walk, he could become someone else entirely at the drop of the hat. With his image inducer, the design of which he'd been improving every year since the first time he'd picked it up, he could even alter how he felt or how much he seemed to weigh; it was amazing what you could accomplish with enough stolen Stark tech and a willingness to get your hands dirty with it.

Vanderbilt, specifically, was known as a bit of a ponce around these parts; that was just how Tony liked it. If there was one lesson that Taskmaster had taken from Deadpool - not that he would ever admit it to the lasagna-faced bastard - it was that people were inclined not to take you as seriously if you acted like a complete fucking idiot all the time. 'Art' was as close to Wade as Tony would ever act, and that was an act of great pain for him -- but the mission demanded it this time, and the Crew had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker; not that he'd ever consider fooling these morons a real achievement.

Crouching down to dig through Wrecker's pockets, he retrieved the tracker that Spymaster had placed and then swiped his cell phone, checking for text messages. Nothing. "Damn How am I supposed to know when Ross is comin--" He didn't even finish the thought before the yacht began to shake. "What the fuck?" He glanced out of the window; waves were rising far too fast to be natural, and nearly six other vessels, spaced out as far as half a mile away, were starting to capsize as if something under the surface was lashing out at them from below.

He knew better than to stick around; no sooner had the floorboards began to crack and snap than Taskmaster dove out the cabin window onto the deck, then sprang over the railing back towards the dock. His haste saved his life, as he'd barely made it in time to avoid an enormous metal form crashing through the edge of the walkway and through his very expensive, very nice Painted Pomegranate. In place of the wrecked ship, torn apart like so much paper, was a gargantuan nuclear submarine, pitch-black and twice again the size of an aircraft carrier, the likes of which Tony had never seen before.

Yet something about it felt incredibly familiar.

[ms31x129]

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 4! I had to make a another DJ! I felt compelled! I hope I have ideas for 3 more! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door  (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

After seeing the past through Dana Scully's eyes, Jackson decides he needs a cold one. With the letter remaining in his possession, he finds a motel room to stay for the night and heads out to check out the nightlife. Of course, the past decides to hitchhike a ride. Jackson's internal conflict reaches a fever pitch when he steps into his birth parent's past at a time when they were fighting the future.}

“All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.” -James Thurber

Jackson entered the motel room and tossed his knapsack off his shoulder, its buckles scraping along the surface of the small table as it came to a halt. Not ready for any type of sleep, he flopped on top of the bed with an arm cradling his head and flipped blindly through the channels to drown out the noise of the rest of the motel.

A lonely emptiness ate at his soul like the dying feasting on its last meal. There was nothing scarier to him than the idea that he could be sentenced to a purgatory of existing like this, nothing and no one with whom to speak. No compassion, no remorse, his soul had darkened to the point of charred coal without a hope for recovery. So why not embrace it? Why choose to be alone in madness?

Guiltily, he had found pleasure in cruelty, a joy in its power as a boy growing slowly into a man. Not for the first time, impossible questions riddled his mind. What if inside he was one of them? A bomb waiting to detonate; his existence serving its purpose to end it all. He thought he’d never be pure enough to make it through the gates of heaven anyway.

Why toggle the light and dark? He wondered while rubbing the barely there stubble along his chin. What was he afraid of besides loneliness? What was there to fear when you were the monster?

The springs of the sagging mattress creaked out a warning as he rose up and headed out to clear his head. At least he could find company in the loneliness of numbers.

The streets he walked were nothing like any he had traveled before. Yet they were etched in his head with a sharp knife, a scalpel scoring information deep into his DNA like some strange work of art. As he passed storefront windows and busy restaurants, there was a familiarity there that tickled at his brain akin to recognition. The insistent feeling led him to a bar and his height and a little illusion granted him a bar stool and a beer.

“You’ve got to train for that kind of heavy lifting,” said the bartender as the used beer glasses clinked, clanked, and stuttered against the highly polished, lacquered wooden bar. After several drinks, Jackson was barely able to steady his arm enough to prevent them from crashing to the floor. “Having a bad day?”

“You could say that,” Jackson sighed, chasing down a hiccup with what was left in his glass. “You come here often?” he smarted back.

“I’m the owner of this establishment actually,” she returned as she wiped up the last of the spilled beer. “Tonight’s been busy so I’ve been helping out.”

The other bartender finished doling out the last of the drinks to the customers and joined her to help clean up. He pointed at Jackson hunched over against the bar. “You look familiar... and I never forget a face.”  

He didn’t reply, afraid of it getting him tossed out, instead pointing at the bar for another round.

“So what brings you here?” The older woman asked, her short blond hair wisping over her forehead like bangs. She said it casually, but Jackson got the sinking feeling she was either testing his age or his blood alcohol level. Both of which were enough to refuse him any more service. It would only take a closer examination of his ID to uncover it was created courtesy of a man in a long trench coat in a dark alley.

The two bartenders were waiting for an answer and his depression overruled his logic. He opened his mouth intending on just feeding another lie to strangers who cared nothing for him, but carelessly started to ramble instead and the room spun without him.

“I’m part of an experiment to conceal the truth about the coming apocalypse,” he scoffed, wondering if that were even true anymore while he fingered the condensation on the beer glass. “Contagions, on a global scale to wipe out the planet except for the chosen few. I’m the atomic bomb: the savior and the sinner, and I can choose to destroy or save every man, woman, and child on this planet.”

Jackson chuckled to himself at how crazy his tale already sounded. His hands and arms were now animated as he spoke, staring at the bartenders straight in the eye.

“So of course they killed my parents. I’ve been forced to leave my girlfriends, drop out of school, I’m more of a bad joke than a friend. I’m Jackson, but they call me William…”

The man had the same look plastered on his face that most people had at hearing anything remotely “out there.” The older woman just look resigned, as if she’d heard this same shit on a different day. Maybe she had. Nothing surprised him anymore.

Noticing they both were still waiting for him to finish his spiel, he dove right back into the bullet point version of what he called his life.

“I realized I was part of the X-Men when I was just a kid,” he huffed at comparing himself to hero’s when he felt like a manifestation of evil. He leaned back with his hands gripping his knees, blowing a stream of air through puffed cheeks. “And now I chase after threads of sanity, trying to find who I really am, armed with a letter and a prayer hoping to find the courage to go to my birth mother, hoping she still wants me and has some answers. I’m shouting to the heavens or whoever is out there on the other side of my one-way sonar that the sky is falling. It’s goddamn Armageddon: earthquakes, flooding, fire, and disease.”

Jackson shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Knowing anyone else—anyone “normal” would consider this insanity, yet they were the building blocks of his life. They were what made him him . Saying them out loud as if he were confessing to his mom’s priest at their old church on Sunday mornings felt like a slap in the face.

“I’m the shitstorm of alllll time.”

“Well, that sure makes me feel better about myself,” the woman joked as she closed out his tab. “Looks like 86 is your lucky number, kid,” she told him, effectively ending his rant.

Jackson got the joke. She didn’t believe him and thought it was all some big hallucination from his consumption. Through her stimpering chastisement, she was throwing him out and refusing to serve. The depression and irritation at not being taken seriously yet again sunk from his heart into his stomach.

“You know, I’ve come to realize that one is the loneliest number,” he said, sulking with an arched brow and bathing in self-pity.

“That’s where I know this kid from,” the male bartender interrupted. “You remind me of that Spooky Mulder man. The woman passed him a curious look.

“You remember the FBI agent? Used to come in here years ago with his pretty redheaded partner.”

The female bartender smiled and nodded, a glimmer of recognition danced across her face and she added, “I hope the poor bastard realized she was crazy about him and grew a pair to finally ask her out.”

“Spooky Mulder?” Jackson questioned. That was them. Goddamnit! he thought, realization dawning. Once again following in the shadows of their history; literally it seemed.

“Yeah, I remember him bringing in his partner, what was her name?” she asked the other bartender.

“It was the same as the famous baseball announcer.” He snapped his fingers while Jackson gaped at the irony of it all. “Vin Scully—Scully was her name. Brought her in here after saving her life out in the arctic or some shit. Or she saved his life? I don’t know if they ever got that straight. Anyway, they would drink in here sometimes.”

The woman examined Jackson’s face. “Now that you mention it, he kind of looks like them.”

Jackson was afraid the jig was up. He tossed a couple fifties on the bar and stood, using the barstool to steady himself as he blinked twice to bring his doubled vision into focus.

While stumbling towards the door, a gang of bikers were making their way inside, marking out their turf like a wolf pack. They were rowdy and demanding, pushing the crowd aside as they grabbed their barstools and ordered drinks, harassing the patrons. Another younger, inexperienced bartender tried to settle them and it only appeared made them angry. One pulled him by his collared shirt to whisper something in his ear. Another one held out a knife, fingering it like he couldn’t wait to use it, while another man displayed the holster of his gun. If this was a bar frequented by the FBI, they were taking the night off.

Jackson’s heart pounded within his chest with what felt like a force hard enough to crack a rib as it yearned to beat free of its cage. His senses went on high alert and every color in the bar glowed brighter, every noise louder, smell stronger. With every movement anyone made he was prepared to react.

The song “Glitter and Gold” played through the bar’s sound system. Adrenaline and anger spiked in his veins like he had a double shot of caffeine. They were going to pay for their drinks and their disruption.  

In a dopamine rush, Jackson covered his frame in illusion, a monstrous form he invented as a child. Everyone froze at the sight of Ghouli before them. The eyes of the witnesses of Jackson’s transformation bulged and he could hear their strangled cries of mortal terror. Bulbs burst from the fixtures until there was barely enough light for shadows. The darkness fed his rage. Even the stars and moon seemed to cower behind clouds through the window preparing for Jackson’s storm. Everyone, everything, was now his prey.

Through the mirror at the bar, Jackson caught a reflection of a young boy with utter terror taking over his once innocent features, and his mother with her arms wrapped around him ready to give her life for his survival. In that moment, something inside Jackson snapped, or finally broke free perhaps. He heard it like a twig cracking in his mind, a subtle deafening sound. He ran. The bikers fled fearing he was headed their way, but Jackson was running away, not towards. Running to feel the sweet pain in his lungs, lactic acid building in his muscles, reminding him that he was real, he was human.  

Jackson “the monster” was no more. The old him really had died in the depths of the water on that cold night at the docks.

Now outside, the cars zoomed as they passed him, the drivers never taking notice of the monster running down the street, half human half Frankenstein as his illusion faded. People were too busy hurrying back to a welcoming home, eating their sirloin steaks and mashed potatoes with their family, making sure the children ate their vegetables. Somewhere parents beamed happily as they knelt down to tuck their kids into bed with a story in hand...

Would he ever know that comfort again?

Depression and self-loathing, like liquid death swarmed inside him, the blackness flooded and choked him begging his body to choose his future.

Heaving and gasping for breath with his avatar long gone, he slowed and finally stopped, leaning on his knees as he hunched over and concentrated on not vomiting. The sky spun and he heaved out the night’s libations. He wasn’t much of a successful drinker to begin with. Somehow he ended up on the damp ground, not certain how it happened, but he could feel the frigid water seeping into his jeans. His hands rested back into the soil as his feet dangled off the curb and into the street.

That monster was not him and it would not return.

[ssjkallion]

Remember that Time I said I would Show You that mock trope page I made?

Here it is. 

IT’S ALL FOR FUN! And I do include references to actual RP’s, so you might find yourself in here lol!

Might as well post it here too for mobile purposes.

Kallion: 

A Saiyan time patroller from Planet Vegeta.

Action Survivor: Just barely survived Planet Vegeta’s destruction due to being marooned on another planet.

Survivors Guilt: Big time, though she tends to play it off, if not outright denying that she has it. Kallion has…issues about the circumstances of her survival.

Innocent Blue Eyes: Compared to the more common dark eyes of other Saiyans, emphasizing her gentle nature.

Fish Out Of Temporal Water: Was born several years before Planet Vegeta’s destruction, but is now living in Conton City nearly a century later. Though she’s happy now, her early days at the time patrol made for a difficult adjustment.

Brooding Boy, Gentle Girl: Gentle girl to Giblet’s Brooding Boy.

Involuntary Shapeshifting: As any Saiyan who still has their tail, one look at the full moon will have her turning into a Great Ape in no time.

My Species Doth Protest Too Much: Downplayed, and largely averted. Kallion points out that while she was always far more gentle than what was typically expected of Saiyans, and she lacked that ruthless killer instinct, she is still a battle-crazed idiot. On the other hand, she theorizes that her experiences weren’t all that unique to begin with. I.e: Gine and Tarble.

All Girls Want Bad Boys: Between Giblet and, yes, technically Trunks as well, Kallion seems to have a type. The real kicker is that she doesn’t escape this platonically either– Bardock is a hell of a father figure to have. She even lampshades this herself; “How come I only ever get attached to emotionally constipated men?”

Scars are Forever: A prominent one on her left cheek. It’s unknown exactly what the circumstances were, but she assumed she got it while a Great Ape. Countless others are scattered all over her body as well.

Intergenerational Friendship: With Bardock, her mentor. He also happened to be her father’s best friend.

Proud Warrior Race Guy: Saiyan!

Sole Survivor: Of her crew, who left her behind and returned to planet Vegeta on Frieza’s orders. Needless to say, she was lucky to be abandoned.

Tyke Bomb: Typical of most Saiyan children.

Golden Super Power Mode: Super Saiyan, naturally

Did You Just Punch Out Cthulhu?: It’s in the job description.

Dating Catwoman: Her and Giblet.

Action Mom: In the future, having kids doesn’t slow her down at all.

Mama Bear: Becomes fiercely protective of her baby boy Keel, a trait which only continues to grow in the future.

All-Loving Hero: Willing to give most people and creatures alike the benefit of the doubt….save for Frieza, Mira, Cell, Towa…obvious villains aside. Also loves animals.

Bad Powers, Good People: Being a Saiyan, she has a natural unlimited potential for battle and power. Along with the added layer of being able to turn into a vicious giant ape. Yet, she’s kind and mellow.

She’s Got Legs: Muscular and flexible.

Nice Girl: In spite of being a full blooded Saiyan of the PTO age, she’s kind hearted and easy going. Kallion, in general, has a difficult time hurting people unless pushed. Granted, she can be surprisingly short tempered.

The Apprentice: To Chronoa, as well as Bardock, and eventually Shallot.

Archenemy: Considers hers to be Towa, Frieza, and Suuja.

Badass Adorable: 5ft of Saiyan rage.

Bare Your Midriff: Typically in her casual attire.

Berserk Button: Good hearted as she may be, Kallion is still a short tempered Saiyan. What gets her is usually picking at her insecurities, insulting Chronoa or Trunks, making even the slightest threat toward her children, or dragging innocent people into conflicts.  

Big Eater: Saiyan!

Blood Knight: Again, Saiyan!

Came Back Strong: As with every Saiyan, coming back from the brink of death brings with it a hefty power-up known as a zenkai boost.

11th-Hour Ranger: Her job as an elite time patroller.

Glass Cannon

Huge Guy, Tiny Girl: Being all of 5ft, she’s this standing next to most of the men she knows. Special mention goes to Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, Giblet, Bardock, Trunks…

Lightning Bruiser: Speed is her greatest advantage due to her size.

Platonic Life-Partners: With Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, and debatably Trunks.

UST: With Trunks. There’s an obvious attraction, and she trusts him more than anyone.

Slap Slap Kiss: However, her and Giblet….

Opposites Attract: Her and Giblet again.

Slasher Smile: Often right before a fight.

Tranquil Fury: The first time she went Super Saiyan.

Token Good Teammate: Didn’t end well…kind of.

Took a Level in Badass: Gained a significant amount of confidence during her time in Conton City.

Wild Child: From age 6 to 12, after being marooned on a swampy planet by her old crew. When it became obvious that no one else was left to come get her, she fended for herself.

Blue is Heroic: Blue eyes, blue clothing, blue armor…

Defends Against Their Own Kind: Technically, whenever she’s fighting against a rogue saiyan in history.

Determinator: Can get to wonderfully self destructive levels.

Pregnant Badass: Hell, she’s confused as to why she’s apparently supposed to stop fighting after finding out she’s pregnant with Keel.

Socially Awkward Hero: Spending your formative years as a feral child will do that to a girl.

Idiot Hero: Socially awkward, romantically oblivious, no sense of self preservation? Yeah.

Nice Job Fixing It, Villain: So, your crew abandons you to die. Then THEY end up dying, you live and get stronger, and end of recruited by an elite time force where you get to work with the greatest heroes in history. Thanks, old crew!

Recruited From The Gutter: Found as a wild 12 year old girl living on a backwater planet with little intelligent life besides herself.

Undying Loyalty/I Owe You My Life: To Chronoa, Trunks, and the Time Patrol. Kallion is incredibly grateful for the second chance they gave her.

Wacky Parent, Serious Child: The wacky parent to the much more serious minded Keel.

Because You Were Nice To Me: What sparks Giblet’s attraction to her, along with the fact that she was never afraid of him. This trope is also the initial reason for her crush on Trunks.

Villainous Crush: Again, Giblet.

First Kiss: Giblet again!

Friend to All Children: Even before having her own, she had a soft spot for children and got along with them well.

Child From the Future: Keel, her equivalent of the Toki Toki City/XV1 Hero. Not that she initially knows.

Back-To-Back Badass: With Arugla, Taeta, and Trunks typically.

Desperately Craves Affection: Downplayed, but still there.

The Power of Friendship: Comes with the territory

Remember That You Trust Me

All Of The Other Reindeer

Motor Mouth: Usually when she’s nervous or meeting someone new.

Lady of War: It’s in the blood, after all.

Four-Temperament Ensemble: Sanguine

Beware the Nice Ones

Like A Daughter To Me: Bardock refers to her like this almost word for word.

Freudian Trio: The Id

Innocent Fanservice Girl: Has no qualms with people seeing her naked, and doesn’t understand why others would be offended by her being nude in her own home or bathroom.

Attack! Attack! Attack!

Wide-Eyed Idealist: To a point.

Too Hungry To Be Polite

Stupid Good: Hooooooo boy.

The Pollyanna

Paralyzing Fear of Sexuality: Due to growing up alone, her knowledge of sex and things related to it is slim to none. As a result, actually experiencing those feelings causes her to momentarily freeze and panic. She gets better.

Oblivious to Love: Related to the above. Romantic gestures tend to fly over her head unless it’s spelled out.

Insecure Love Interest: Which directly feeds into the above two examples.

Battle Aura: Yellow or purple.

Strong Family Resemblance: Her mother’s spitting image. In teen Keel’s timeline, she has a daughter of her own who looks just like her as well.  

Stepford Smiler: Type 1: “The character seems to be happy, cheerful, is always smiling, and seems to live a perfect life - but inside they are melancholic, if not outright depressed.”

Sink-or-Swim Mentor: Bardock, who has no problem beating her into the dirt during their very first training session.

Verbal Tic: Has a habit of ending sentences with “yeah?” and “ya know?”, as well as starting with common sentence fillers like “well,” or “uh”. Ya know?

Obfuscating Stupidity: Kallion is a weird case. While she’s uneducated and misses innuendo, she can be very intuitive. There’s also her habit of dodging uncomfortable questions by acting like she doesn’t understand. To quote Mariko; “Sometimes I wonder if you play dumb, or…”

Did you think I can’t feel?: Rips into Giblet with this almost word for word after he still accuses her of using and manipulating him for the Time Patrol.  

Dead Guy Junior: Not her, but her son is named for the only member of her crew who was kind to her– and died as a result.

Book Dumb: She is very much uneducated, due to her circumstances. Learning to read was never a priority until she was 12.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: The red to Android 22's blue, but the blue to Mariko's red.

(To be added on continually whenever I think of another or as I see fit! FOR FUN!)

[tessa-woods]

General Counsel || Tess Self Para

She had the day after Frankie broke the news about Jacob to her off, so instead of calling her lawyers, she decided to go see them. A giant publishing company meant copyrights, which meant lawyers. And no, the corporate lawyers that made up her general counsel weren’t family court lawyers, but she knew at least one of them had prior experience with it. She’d had Frankie text her a screen shot of the message that Jacob had sent, and she’d dug Charlie’s birth certificate out of the safe to take with her. Coffee in hand, she gets there after dropping Charlie off at school and ducks her head so as to not draw the attention of the receptionists. 

In the elevator, she goes up to the 13th floor of her building. It’s quiet up there, the general counsel offices and HR taking up most of the space. There’s not a lot of traffic, not a lot of people she has to avoid. Swiping her ID, she enters the suite she needs, waving at the receptionist, glad he’s on the phone, heading to the person she needs.

“Hey,” She says, rounding the door. Brooke looks up, surprised. 

“Tess, hey. Wasn’t expecting to see you here...no ones getting fired, are they?” Brooke asks, and Tess shakes her head. 

“No, and it’s not a surprise inspection, either. I need some legal advice. Personal legal advice, not company related,” She clarifies, shutting the office door. 

“Alright...” The blonde trails off, clearly confused.

“I’m engaged. My fiancee and I, we have a daughter--it’s her biological daughter, she’s five. My fiancee was young when she had her, it was a one night stand and she never told the guy, there’s no father listed on her birth certificate, just Frankie--my fiancee.” Tess breathes out. “The one night stand saw our engagement picture, and saw Charlie through a mutual friend on Facebook. He put two and two together and messaged Frankie asking if she’s his. We want to know what to do...how to answer him while protecting our daughter. She’s ours, she’s happy, she’s loved and...we just want to make sure he can’t come after her,” Tess says, grateful for the word vomit for once in her life, taking out the birth certificate and print of the screenshot she’d made, handing them over. 

“Ok...wow, that’s a lot. Is this why you backed off here?” Brooke asks, clearly shocked. “I never had you pegged as a mother type, Woods,” She remarks. “Or a marriage type. What happened to just having fun?”

Tess sighs, irritated. “You were just having fun then, too, Brooke, it’s been four years and we slept together like four times. Can you help me, or not?” She snaps. 

“Yes, of course...sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, Tess, I’m just surprised,” Brooke says. “It’s good that he’s not on the birth certificate, it makes it harder for him if he’s looking for something. Even if your fiancee says yes, in order to change a birth certificate it would require a paternity test, court orders...it would be incredibly expensive, time consuming, and difficult for him to get anything.” 

“But not impossible?” Tess says. 

“Not impossible, no. But difficult.” Brooke says. “Unless he can prove abuse at the hands of your fiancee or you, it would make little sense for a court to take a child away. It would be easier for him to get joint custody, but again, we could fight it and it would be a long and expensive process for him. It would be pretty difficult for anyone to out lawyer or out money you,” Brooke says. 

Tess nods slowly, jaw tight. “So it would be safe for her to speak to him?” Tess asks, still hoping that Brooke will tell her no, she shouldn’t. 

“Yea, I would say so,” the blonde says with a small shrug. “Whoever this little girl and your fiancee are, Tess--they’re lucky to have you fighting for them. Have you considered a second parent adoption?”

“Yea...yea, it’s on our radar,” Tess says. 

“The sooner you do that, the more difficult it makes it for him.” Brooke shrugs. 

“Great. Thanks, Brooke,” She says, taking the papers back, sighing. 

“Of course. Let me know if I can do anything else.” 

“I will,” Tess says, waving as she heads out, really wishing that she’d gotten a different answer.