#it fills me with so many horrible lies and so many distressing thoughts and I hate it

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

TW ocd, SA - NS*W content mentioned

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I never once had s** with my ex. I had like one long makeout session with her once where the most we did was go topless. My anxiety was through the roof she would do anything and I would pull back and start apologising and asking if she was okay or if I did anything. I was the one shaking the whole time. She told me I was shaking like a leaf. I know I didn’t do anything. I know it was all good. But my OCD gets so bad about this stuff. I see people talk about their trauma over this stuff and I’m like did I do it. Did I r*p* this person. Is it all my fault. And I hate it so much. It hurts having these thoughts. And I feel the need to get clarification. To message people I’ve never spoken to in my life or to message my ex I haven’t spoken ti since I was 19 and ask. Even though I know what the answer will be it’s like this compulsive need to do it. And I hate it. Because I KNOW I didn’t do anything and I haven’t done anything to this random people I’ve never seen before. But this anxiety from my OCD just takes over me and I become so distressed and upset and I just don’t know what to do

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

[yn-dreamlife]

My Hero

Mirio Togata x reader 

Quirk: emotions; you can feel others emotions and project your own onto others around you, in dire situations you can even shut your own emotions off.

Description: Sir Nighteyes death not only changed Mirio but also your relationship, but are you just being oblivious or did he really mean what he said that day? 

Warnings: Fluff, low-key angst, cuteness, nicknames 

I sighed as I looked at the man in-front of me. The man I loved, once so happy and full of light and now... faded. He smiled still of course but, it was dimmer and more often than not fake. Im sure others have noticed but none of them like I have, how could they? I’m his girlfri- his EX girlfriend. A thought the still broke my heart. 

But that didn’t mater any longer, he was still my friend, just like he promised. He was always there and gave me the space I needed after the break up. But of course I would never allow that for more than a day at most, he had just lost Sir Nighteye, the man he looked up to the man who was like a father to him, wether he told me or not doesn't matter. I knew that was true, that that was how he felt about him.  

And now I watch him talk down to himself saying so many horrible untrue things. “Lemillion? Ha you could barely save one girl, you didn’t deserve your quirk its good it was taken away-” 

“Togata-san!” I called out as he hadn't answered me previously calling him. His head quickly snapped up to me as he wiped his tears. I shook my head cupping his cheek. “Why do you speak so lowly of yourself?” 

“Because I deserve it! I’m not a hero, I was never going to be! I let Eri go, it’s my fault that Sir is dead!” He cried moving my hand away from his face harshly. 

I let it drop to my side limply as I activated my quirk. Letting the calm peace I always felt around him seep into him. “Mirio-san you know that isn't true.”

“But how can I be a hero without a quirk?!” He said frustrated but he slowly calmed down. 

“You already are.” I whispered and he scoffed softly. “You are Mirio-san, to so many people. But most importantly your m- I mean your her hero.” 

He looked up at me then, “hers?” 

I smiled as I held my hand out to the side gesturing to the person he couldn't see because she was hidden by a wall. “Eri-chan~” I cooed softly to the girl. 

She walked out quietly and grabbed my hand I could feel her calm aura as she took my hand which pleased me, I’m glad Mirios earlier distress didn’t upset her. But I made sure to use my quirk once again to radiate the happiness I felt by her being here outwards into the two people around me. 

“Hello” she said softly. 

“Eri-chan!” Mirio said happily and moved and pulled the small girl into a hug, a gesture she had become more adjusted to the longer she was around people like me and him. She was still working on smiling and embracing others back but we slowly got there. 

It took a lot of work from all parties. “But I thought Aizawa-sensei said she had to-” he began but I stoped him.

“ah ah ah none of that, Eri-chan is perfectly fine. Besides with me around everything is fine! you forget you may be part of the top three but I’m the number four student in our school for a reason!” I said smiling as I did my signature two finger salute making sure to add a small flourish of my wrist knowing it made Eri feel happier even if she still couldn't express it. 

A quirk of my own quirk, it pays of being able to feel her emotions as well as to radiate my own. 

“Our quirks are compatible, hers being largely tied to her emotions and mine being well, emotions.” I said shrugging with a smile. I saw the tension leave his shoulders, just like the moment she stepped out from behind the wall. I even thought maybe there was a hint of light back in his eyes... just maybe. 

“So I got special permission from the hospital and the school so I have the day off to take her out and I want you to come with! Nothing to out there like I know you usually like, but Tamaki did give me a few great ideas!” I said beaming at him glad I could come up with a plan. 

Mirio smiled then and we set off to go about our fun outing with Eri. We first took her to a small market and her eyes absolutely glowed when we found the fruit stand, I never thought I would see someone get so happy over an apple. 

So I quickly bought her one and it was worth every last scent once I bought her a whole bag just to see that smile, money wasn't always the easiest thing to come by for my family but I knew if she asked I would gladly buy her the world. 

As we where walking through the little market I was happy to see my thoughts where correct. It was mostly empty due to it being the middle of a Wednesday morning. There was a slight chill but that changed once Mirio placed his scarf around me. 

“Here, I can see your shivering.” He said smiling at me his blue eyes sparkling closer to what they used to. 

My cheeks burned red but I shook it off, “t-thank you.” I stuttered. As we continued walking I saw the Ramen shop me, him and the other members of the top three used to go to. Instantly I had an idea. 

“Eri-chan,” I said smiling down at the girl who's eyes practically glowed in wonder at the market. She looked up at me waiting for me to continue “Have you ever had Ramen?” 

At the mention of his favorite food Mirio perked up, “Ramen? Oooo I love Ramen!” He said happily. 

Eri shook her head, “No but I would like to try it if Lemillion likes it.” she said and I smiled at her as I grabbed her hand as well as Mirios out of habit. But as if I had been burned I quickly ripped my hand away from him. 

“S-sorry.” I stuttered quickly about to go into a fit of apologies, an old habbit I had broken thanks to our relationship but had fallen back into since it had ended. 

“No need, its alright.” He said grabbing my hand, I smiled widely. We went into the Ramen shop ordering all of our food, Eri getting the same thing as me but Mirio and her ended up sharing quite a bit anyways, it was safe to say this food would be a new favorite for her. 

And after a long day walking around secluded parts of our city it was time to return home. You three walked back to UA without thinking, after all Mirio and you had called it home the past few months but he faltered upon entering. 

“Oh,” he let out a slightly nervous chuckle, “guess I actually go back to my own house huh?” I looked down sadly not ready for the day to end. 

I came up with an idea and quickly smiled, “Well im sure the rest of the big three would love to see you!” 

The thought of his best friends caused him to smile as well, “Yeah you’re right! I can visit them!” he said sounding slightly shocked. 

“You always sound so shocked when I come up with a good plan” I said as I bumped his arm playfully as I smiled. 

Out of habit he pinched my cheeks, “Aw can't help it sunshine you're always surprising me!” I basked in the familiarity of the intimate actions but it was quickly ruined as he snatched his hand away. “I-i’m sorry y/l/n-san!” He said quickly bowing I went to reassure him but before I knew it he had hugged Eri said his goodbyes and took off running. 

I sighed willing the tears in my eyes away knowing I needed to keep composure for Eri. You smile at her, and it is only tinted with sadness, as you hold a hand out to her. She takes it in her smaller one and squeezes it gently. Its a moment or two of silent walking before she shockingly speaks up first. 

“Do you love Lemillion?” She asks softly you look at her shocked, how did she know about that? Of course you all had expressed your love to her but no child should truly be able to understand it enough to pick it up from people who don't blatantly show it. 

You wanted to hide it and say no but you never lied to her before so you wouldn't start now, you answered with a simple yes.

“Then why don't you guys kiss and hold hands all the time?” She asks softly. 

“well because we-we can't anymore.” You stutter shyly, shocked she even knew of such actions. But you scolded yourself reminding you she was quiet, not dumb. 

She seemed greatly confused by your answer, “But why not?” 

“Well you see thats a thing couples do and Mirio-chan and I are no longer together romantically.” You stated trying to simplify it. 

“Why?” She asks again. Oh ever the child with her curiosity. But this stopped you, you paused mid step and just stood thinking. 

Why in-fact did you two break up? You remember driving at the hospital after the attack to find Mirio alone in his room crying, you had heard about his quirk and Sir Nighteyes death so you quickly ran to him pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry m-” but he cut you off. 

“Sunsh-” he paused “y/n, we need to talk.” Instant dread filled your stomach. Why would he use your first name? Had something happened and the doctors and Mr. Aizawa didnt inform you about? 

“O-okay Mirio, you know I’ll listen.” He tried to speak but closed his mouth, repeating this process several times. “It’s okay take your time.” You cupped his cheek but he shook his head removing your hand as his eyes turned steely and determined. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” He said seriously. 

“W-what?” The word left as noting but a whimper, “Mirio thats not funny stop joking around.” but I felt it, the determination, the coldness. Things I had never felt aimed my way from him. 

“I’m serious. I’m breaking up with you, we are no longer dating we will now be friends, nothing more.” You wanted to protest to scream at him to stop this nonsesne to say it was just the grief but you didnt. You nodded your head doing the thing you hated most. 

You shut down your emotions, a power only you had. But this was the only way you could be near him without breaking. “No y/n I need you to leave. I don't want you shutting yourself down.” He spoke as I tried to sit down on the chair. 

I stood up then looking to the door, “fine... but im going back tomorrow and theres nothing you can do to stop me, you're my friend,” you looked at him then allowing the smallest emotion through a cracked smile, “I’m not leaving you alone in this.” He nodded and with that you left. You weren't looking and bumped into something. 

Looking up you say your favorite loud yellow haired teacher as well as your favorite much quieter black haired teacher. 

“Hey hey little listener whats going on?” Instantly you collapsed into him and broke down sobbing, Mr Aizawa removing your quirk so his overly emotional friend didn't get sucked down into the void of your despair with you. After a moment or so he left to go and visit Mirio knowing what the source of your pain was thought the sobbed attempt at an explanation you gave to Present Mic. 

You then looked back to Eri and answered truthfully. “I dont know.” I whispered, “I suppose because he no longer felt the same way he did for me before, he had been though a lot of grief and pain its only natural for feelings to change.” I said to her as I tried to keep walking but now she stopped. 

“But Lemillion loves you too why would you not be?” You chuckle at her and before you can dismiss her she continues. “he looks at you like Uravity looks at Deku.” At this I stopped walking again, It was very clear the feelings those two held for each other, could she be telling the truth? 

“She's right you know?” I hear a deep voice behind me and jump as I throw a punch out behind me.”Woah!” I now realize the man holding my fist is Mr. Aizawa and I immdeatly apologize but his chuckles stops me. “You’re good kid, almost got me and that doesn't happen very often.” he paused “But she is right he does still care for you. While you where crying with Mic I went to him he was... in less than ideal shape.” 

“Sensei with all due respect, of course he wasn't in good shape he just lost a father figure and his quirk.” I said as I now picked up Eri to calm her down from my sudden outburst of movement. She cuddled into my neck with a soft hum. 

“And he lost his biggest support system. I know you've noticed how he’s been and unlike most I have as well, believe it or not I observe quite a few things. Like how your grades are slightly slipping and you’ve been staying up later and later and how you’ve been zoning out in class.” 

I stared at him mouth agape, “H-how?” 

“I care y/l/n. I care about all my students wether I admit it or not.” he paused “repeat that to anyone and they'll call you crazy.” I nodded my head smiling and then slowly realized everything he said. 

“He loves me.” I muttered to myself. “He loves me!” I said louder. Eri looked at me and I saw a small smile on her face. 

“yes he does.” 

“I-I have to go!” I said frantically. Eri leaned forward moving into Mr. Aizawas arms. 

“Hurry up now. He needs you,” I ran off not even worried about Eri knowing she was in good hands with Mr. Aizawa. “Now more than ever.” Aizawa whispered as he watched her run off thanking him. 

Bonus of this scene:

“come on Eri ill take you back.” 

“Thank you dad.” 

“... you’re welcome.”

*brushes away tears of happiness from cuteness* Anywho back to the story ~Author-chan (no one ever calls me that :( )

As I ran towards the dormitories tears welled in my eyes. I was still so confused and still hurt, why did he leave me? 

“Togata-san!” I yelled as I got closer, in my distress moving instantly to his surname. “Mirio-san!” I yelled again when I got no response. I now could see him talking to my other two best friends but I didnt care as I continued to run. 

“Mirio!” I yelled. I now saw him spin around and begin sprinting towards me. 

“Y/n?! Y/n whats wrong? Are you hurt?!” He asks frantically as he takes my face into his hands turning it each way. I nod my head. “Who hurt you?” He practically grows out. 

“Y-you.” I whimper wrapping my arms around him. I feel him tense. 

“M-me?” I nod my head. “Wha-what did I do?” He asks pulling away and wiping my tears. 

“Y-you left me.” I cried and his face dropped again. “Why? Why did you leave me? Did you not think I would be good for you anymore? Did I do something wrong?” He continues trying to wipe my tears before stopping and giving up. 

“I-I thought you deserved someone better, someone with a quirk like Tamaki.” He whispers looking down, “I thought you wouldn't like me anymore because I cant protect you.” 

“Mirio you idiot I haven't liked you for years.” I whispered but he didnt look shocked because he could feel what I was about to say it seeped out of every pore of my body, “I’ve always loved you.” I whisper. 

“But you loved me when I was Lemillion!” He said quickly and I shook my head. 

“No I didn’t, I loved you as Mirio Togata, and then as Lemillion. And you always forget this,” I whisper I pull his head down placing his forehead on my own, “You might not be a hero but you’ve always been mine, just you Mirio. Not Lemillion, just you.” 

“y/n I know I hurt you and I don't deserve it but please,” he cupped my cheeks pinching them slightly “please be my sunshine again.” 

I laughed showing him a bright smile “You act like you had a choice.” And with that I pulled him into a kiss enjoying the feeling I had been missing these past few weeks. 

“I love you.” He whispered against my lips. 

“And I love you.” 

[eframschweigersskincells]

So, Return to Hell was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions and I couldn't have asked for a better ending to the season three dlc missions.

SPOILER WARNING BY THE WAY!

Holy shit was this season a wild ride and with an absolute banger of an ending all I can say is well done rebellion you pulled it out the bag and held it high, I was so happy with everything and just my god its really hard to put down everything I'm so enthralled I can barely think straight.

I remember when the trailer dropped and I was so overcome with both excitement and sadness at seeing what the dlc entailed, I was so happy to see schweiger alive but devastated to see what was happening to him and originally I thought we were going to sacrifice him to help Umbra which terrified me, thank fuck I was wrong I dont think I could handle hurting my boy.

The intro was excellent, it really felt like distressing and that this was truly a moment of despair the way bruno spoke of it was absolutely amazing and I couldn't wait to get stick in. And when it finally gave way to the gameplay the opening area was absolutely stunning!

The way it's so familiar yet so foreign, like I'd seen it before but it had been so twisted that it was unrecognisable, lava around every corner and debris floating as if frozen in time the ground and walls cracked and crumbling and the fiery hues made this a fantastic yet haunting sight I hadn't even begun playing and I already fell in love with it.

When I finally moved on and the Baron began his tirade about the state of hell and how it was shaped and molded to fit the subconscious mind of schweiger I was shocked and saddened, to think that this was schweiger's fractured mind was frightening, all his guilt, fear, anger, confusion, sadness became reality and hell took its horrifying form filled with endless undead. I also found it really cool to see events play out from schweiger's perspective, meat locker, hell base and terror lab all playing out in schweiger's memories allowing us a glimpse in to everything that happened to him. He was betrayed so many times, I don't blame him at all for turning on us in deeper than hell, the amount of cruelty he suffered would drive anyone insane.

Being captured and forced to research the occult without any understanding of why, being tricked in to activating the relic allowing hitler to activate plan Z, working your hardest to try and make the world right then have your team infiltrated by nazi bastards who push you in to a hell tower and forcefully tear you from this plane of existence and left to rot in hell. Just when you think you can finally escape you're confronted with the fact you can not leave, only your closest comrades can leaving you in hell against everyone's will, then a voice manipulates you in to believing you were betrayed by your friends you're lied to and tricked in to believing this voice is your only friend who makes you do horrific rituals.

I remember how horrific I felt hearing this and then when Umbra revealed that he did all of this so he could break schweiger's will so he could steal his body I was filled with rage. Rebellion were amazing at putting emotion in to this one I genuinely went through constant emotional shifts realising that everything we had done up to this point was planned by Umbra and that everything we had done was only to fuel his plans. It was never schweiger's fault it was umbras and that knocked me on my arse.

The gameplay was a lot of fun, one of the best parts was that absolutely everything was randomised! The main sections of the map where always switched around no matter how many times you play it at first I went meat locker, hell base then terror lab then my second time I went hell base, terror lab then meat locker! I was shocked when everything cane out of order but it fits so well with everything! Schweiger's mind is so badly fractured that when hell took form as schweiger's subconscious not even hell itself could keep things in order.

I genuinely adore how the old familiar faces of these maps are destroyed, twisted and corrupted they are what we have seen before but warped till they look like different maps entirely, with so much more to explore in some areas it really gives you a sense of walking through broken memories like piecing together a memory Efram barely has a grip on anymore.

I loved how enemies were randomised too, getting attacked by a screamer around the corner then next time you go there prepared for a screamer you get blown up by suiciders or slaughtered by skeletons or an elite or in my favourite case being attacked by zombie alpha squad members! When zombie me jumped out and attacked I was so confused I didnt have time to respond when zombie jun popped out and killed me it was fucking awesome!

All our favourite enemy variations are here too, vampire creepers, electric suiciders, armored commanders, skeletons etc which really made for a really tough but good fight, never knowing what variation was coming to get you made everything even more fun.

And with the spitters now having a variant that spat magma it made what was usually an annoying inconvenience an actual proper threat and I love that so fucking much, maybe the spitters aren't so horrible after all.

That's a lie I still fucking hate them but oh well!

Once we successfully complete all three areas we now return to the main area with a very pissed off Umbra and schweiger who although conscious is barely alive. As soon as we arrive back to were we began we are immediately attacked and dragged off to an unknown place that we only know as the void as coined by Umbra.

Let me tell you when I say the void is creepy I fucking mean it, the void is of course pitch black you cant see anything not even your flash light does anything to the surrounding darkness, all you see when you spawn is the pitch black and eframs body of a slab surrounded by candles with Umbra looking over us and you really get the the sense of "holy shit, this is it!"

I genuinely adored the design of the void, the fact you only ever see your surroundings when a split second of bright red lighting strikes and even then you only see the faint outline of distant places, walking through the endless river of blood that stops you to a near snail's pace while fending of oncoming dead is genuinely spectacular! Holy fuck did rebellion pull it out the bag this round!

Just when you think you're about to have to do something to the incapacitated schweiger, Edie finally fucking shows up and does something useful for once, breaking schweiger out of his trance and giving him enough power to fend for himself when she realises Umbra has no defences! Thank fuck because now we know how to finally end The Baron and let me tell you I couldn't be happier to get the chance at killing the bastard.

The fights were challenging and had me cornered a few times and I'll admit I died a couple times but it was absolutely worth it, there was so much going on but it wasnt overbearing, with how large the areas you had to fight the hordes in were it made the fucking insane amounts of zombies absolutely balanced, I never felt like it was impossible but never felt it was too easy either just the right balance of insanity. And to make it even better I get to listen to schweiger shit talk the Baron as we help Efram regain strength while weakening Umbra.

Listening to Umbra beg and plead for mercy was great, it really felt like we were overpowering hell itself, no matter what Umbra threw our way it did absolutely nothing and listening to schweiger come to terms with what he's done and immediately work towards redemption by putting down Umbra was heartwarming. We were the winners not Umbra.

Then finally we get to what I've been wanting to do since the beginning of the DLC, after two whole hours I finally got to put an end to the Baron, activating that ending cutscene was so satisfying and I got to put down my controller and watch.

I'll admit I was confused when Umbea sprung back to life and actually attacked, where hitler failed to stop us during hell machine Umbra full pounced, he was going to take us with him and for a second I absolutely believed we were going to die with him, the fuck tries ripping our soul out rendering us absolutely useless. Its schweiger that saves us, pulling us away from Umbra then eviscerating the fuck out of him with ease and with that The Baron himself is dead, finally the tyrant is dead and everything we had worked towards was finally put to rest.

Just before that scene ends, we see schweiger smile! He's actually happy for once, free from Umbras grip, he's faced his fears and insecurities and in the end was the one who saved us and destroyed The Baron. To see him smile was one of the greatest things ever and I'm so glad we finally got to see that.

In last few moments of the ending, we wake up on the side of a cliff with Dr schweiger by our side and as the camera zooms out we see nothing but an endless sea of lava and I'm left thinking.

What the fuck is Projekt Ragnarok?

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 3

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Feel free to follow this story’s IG account (without spaces): ‘whenihaveyou . romione’

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Chapter 3

An argument broke out the next morning before breakfast, and it was over Ron and Hermione. Molly, who had woken up at four, had decided to distract herself from her thoughts by doing everyone’s washing. She had washed, dried with her wand, folded, and was sneaking into everyone’s rooms while they slept to hand-deliver them a neat pile of clothes. 

An innocent enough task, one she had apparently thought wouldn’t cause any distress. But upon entering Ron’s room, she’d gotten more than she bargained for.

Thankfully, much to Ron’s relief, he and Hermione had actually been sleeping at that time, and everyone was fully clothed (a different story to a few hours earlier), but the sight of her youngest son sharing his bed with another person had been too much for Molly. Her gasp had startled them both awake, which was then followed by Ron swearing at his mother and telling her to get out. The row had woken the rest of the house, which was now taking place in the kitchen, involving the rest of the family as well. 

What should have been the perfect morning for Ron, waking up feeling good about him and Hermione, was now one of misery for everyone. 

“Under my roof!” she bellowed at Ron, who shrunk into his chair despite the intense frustration surging through him at the same time. “Honestly, I thought better of you. Sneaking around, not even bothering to tell me… again… more lies...”

“Mum,” Percy said calmly, sitting a little straighter in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Mum, Ron is a legal adult and so is Hermione. They are at perfect liberty to —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said, ignoring Percy. “The pair of you… sneaking around...”

“They were just sleeping,” Ginny said, and both Ron and Hermione flushed a horrible red. 

Molly turned to Ginny, her eyes furious. “I suppose you knew about this! Encouraged it, even. Oh, and poor Harry. Where on Earth did he — ” If possible, her eyes narrowed even more. Steam was almost coming out of her ears. “You,” she cried, and Ginny shrunk away as well, turning back to the bench she’d been making her breakfast at. 

“Molly, dear, I think you’re overreacting,” Arthur said. “As Percy pointed out, Ron and Hermione are both of an age where they’re capable of making these decisions for themselves. If they wish for their sleeping arrangements to be… different, then I think —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said for a third time. “Neither you or Percy look surprised by this, Arthur. I suppose you knew of this arrangement our children had made?”

“Well,” Arthur spluttered, “I didn’t know, per se, but I —”

“No one bothered to tell me! How do you think it feels to be the only one to not know when her own son is… when her daughter…”

“Mum,” Ron said, his voice weak, “I said yesterday… you saw… we just thought… it would be too much for the moment.”

“Well, I know now!” Molly cried. “Is that how you wished for it to come out, Ronald?”

“Well, obviously not…”

Molly looked between everyone, having their full, terrified attention. “I am deeply hurt by this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “From all of you. Even those of you who thought you’d keep it from me, thinking I wouldn’t be happy for my own children, even in this time, to see that they were… happy.” And she stormed from the room, leaving everyone behind her, speechless. 

“Oh, I just feel awful,” Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping in the chair. 

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled, rubbing her back comfortingly. “In our defence, though, she told me off just yesterday about it being too soon, so I don’t think she would have been happy for us.”

“Ron —”

“No, he’s right, Hermione,” Ginny said. “But… maybe we should have… been a bit more direct about it.”

"We all thought it was for the best," Arthur said, his eyes following where Molly had gone. “I do think it was just the unexpected shock of… finding the two of you…”

Bill appeared in the kitchen suddenly, his clothes covered in soot and Floo powder. "Everything alright? I just saw Mum in —" He stopped, looking at everyone's ashen faces. "What happened?"

"Mum found Hermione in Ron's bed and lost it," Ginny said. 

Bill turned to Ron, eyes wide, and Ron felt himself go red, imagining what his brother was thinking. "We were only sleeping," he mumbled, turning away.

"Yeah, she carried on about being hurt no one told her, saying she would have been happy — though we all know she wouldn't have been — and stormed out," Ginny explained. "Was pretty bad, but at the same time, she has no right to be carrying on as she has about it. We're all adults here."

No one bothered to point out that Ginny wasn't quite an adult just yet. 

"I'll… go and see her then," Bill said. Ron heard him suppress a sigh. 

Everyone moved to busying themselves with breakfast after that, but the room was very quiet. Ron had never felt such guilt before, mixed with a burning anger. He got it, and it was why he'd tried to keep things from his mum for so long. Everyone got it. It seemed no one had anticipated the fall out of when she would find out. And Ron certainly hadn't anticipated her to walk into his room at five in the morning to drop off clothes. Usually, she used magic for that kind of thing. 

Still, he refused to feel guilty for having Hermione there. She was the best thing to happen to him since the end of the war, and he wasn't going to let his mother dictate that small bit of happiness for him. 

Last night had gone better than he'd hoped. The small moment he'd spent with Harry, having his mind off it, believing that it wasn't going to happen that night, had reduced his nerves. And then when he'd seen her and felt that overwhelming love for her, he hadn’t cared  about anything else. 

It had made the moment a whole lot easier, a whole lot more enjoyable, and he'd discovered with much satisfaction that he liked it. 

They may have fumbled their way through it, but that was over with now, and there'd been next to no awkwardness. It had felt right, like she'd always been more special than a friend to him; like he'd always known this was where they'd end up one day. 

Like he'd always loved her. 

He'd never kissed someone so much or loved someone so much in his life. Even now, hours later, he could still feel her lips against his, the way she had felt in his arms, the way she had looked… the way she had whispered his name...

And she had seemed rather happy afterwards as well, so it mustn't have been horrible for her either, which was good to kno. He’d been worried about her expectations and not fulfilling them. 

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Ron looked at her, realising she must have said something and he hadn't heard. 

She looked concerned. "I said, are you alright? You seemed to go somewhere else for a moment."

He smiled, nodding. "I'm alright. I was just thinking about… you.” 

She returned his smile, flushing, but said nothing else on the matter.  

The rest of breakfast went by in a blur. Molly and Bill had not returned, and everyone else ate in silence. Once finished, they hurried away to get themselves ready. They'd taken yesterday off, but today would be another day at the school. 

"I was thinking," Hermione said, coming to sit beside Ron on his bed just as he was putting his shoes on, "that I don't think it's a good idea to rub it in with your mum at the moment. I think we should —"

Ron kissed her, silencing her. He brought his hands to her face, deepening the kiss. She didn't fight him, didn't push him away, but when he looked at her, she seemed to be fighting an internal battle with herself as to whether she should throw herself at him or ask him to stop.

"She can't tell us what to do. I'll… apologise for keeping it from her, but I'm not going to stop being with you because she doesn't like it. I love you too much for that." He kissed her again. "I've wanted this for too long." Another kiss, and he felt her smile against him. "And you're the one bit of happiness in this dark time."

"I just feel so awful," she said. "She was so upset, and can we blame her? I mean, Fred's funeral is in two days…"

Ron let his hands fall into his lap, guilt creeping up on him. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her at some point today."

"Do you think maybe I should say something?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Ron said. "It's probably best if it's just me."

She nodded. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I ever am to set foot in that castle again." Which was not much. 

She offered a hand, smiling. "In this together, remember?"

He accepted it, squeezing her fingers tightly. "In this together," he repeated.

…

Going back each day to the place where so many people had died was not what anyone wanted to be doing. The memories were so raw in everyone's minds that it couldn't be helped to stop and lose oneself at a place where they had witnessed death. 

Many tears had been shed over the week, yet people kept showing up, day in and day out, almost as if it were their duty to help with the restoration of Hogwarts. 

Students, former and present, staff and Ministry members, attended every day, working tirelessly to move or repair crumbled walls, fix leaking plumbing, or trying to retain the magic that had once filled every nook and cranny. But magic could only do so much, and there was much physical exertion used on top of spells. 

Ron found himself in the Gryffindor common room today, one place that had remained fairly intact throughout the Battle. Stepping into his old dormitory hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn't expected to feel. It had been more than a year since he'd last slept in his bed. Much had changed since then; he'd grown up so much in such a short time. It didn't even feel right being there; like he no longer belonged at Hogwarts at all. The reality of war had taught him more than what any schooling could do.

"Feels weird, doesn't it?" 

Ron spun around."Hi, Neville," he said. 

Neville had been one of the hardest working among them, showing up every day and giving his all to this place. Ron admired his dedication. 

"Almost like this was another time." He came to stand beside Ron, who'd been staring at his four poster bed. "I guess they're someone else's beds now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess they are," Ron said. He watched the bed for a few more moments before Neville spoke again. 

"We're all about to head to the Great Hall for a break. Are you coming?"

Ron nodded, and without another word, he followed Neville down the staircase and into the common room. 

The portrait hole swung open before they had the chance to leave.

"Mum!" Ron said. "Wh—what are you doing here?" Molly had not been  to the castle once, the place where she had lost a son. No one had asked her to.

"Come to see you, Ronald. If you'd please." Her tone was neutral. 

Ron really didn't wish to have another argument, not in front of Neville, but he couldn't say no to her either. "I'll see you soon, Neville," he said instead. 

Neville nodded and disappeared from the common room, leaving Ron alone with his mother. It was the first time it had just been the two of them in almost two weeks. He shuffled his feet.

"Why don't we sit?" Molly suggested, indicating the armchairs by the fireplace. It had been their favourite spot over the years — Ron, Harry's and Hermione's. 

Ron shuffled over to them and sat down. He stared into the unlit fireplace, wondering just what she was going to say to him. Her stony expression didn't bode well. 

She sat beside him, her eyes boring into him, as if waiting for him to say something. He kept his gaze on the fireplace. Eventually, the silence must have become too much, because she spoke, and her voice was filled with anguish. "Horcruxes?"

Ron winced. He'd had a feeling, a part of him had always known, that Hermione had had nothing to do with his mum’s anger. It had been this; them leaving so abruptly after Bill’s wedding and not telling her where they were going. For going off the map for months, leaving her to worry. All to search for seven Horcruxes, the darkest of Dark magic. 

"All those months!" Molly went on. "All those times I forced myself to check that damned clock to make sure your name hadn't ticked over to 'dead'. Not even a message, a note, anything… Horcruxes, Ron? All three of you? Really?"

Ron sunk low into the armchair, wanting very much to disappear. His mother had a way of making anyone feel small, despite her own small stature. He had no desire to relive those horrendous months spent in a tent, the memories of Voldemort's soul speaking to him, preying on his deepest fears, and how worthless it had made him feel to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. It had been a truly awful time in his life.

“Harry was instructed by Dumbledore to not say anything,” he said weakly after a moment. 

“And yet he told you,” Molly said. 

“That was another instruction from Dumbledore.” Ron sucked in a breath and braved a look in his mother’s direction. Her expression had softened slightly, though he still wouldn’t want to have crossed her. 

“It wasn’t some big camping adventure, Mum. No doubt Bill has told you that I wasn’t exactly the best person during that time. We found them all, we destroyed them, but not before they almost destroyed us. Me. We had to do it. You know that, right? If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here, free of him.”

“Fred would still be alive,” Molly said, her voice barely audible. 

Ron looked away, unable to bear the look in his mother’s eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe we’d all be dead. Maybe he would have won the fight.”

“You were barely of age,” Molly whispered. “Ginny isn’t of age.”

Ron swallowed. He was so uncomfortable. His mother was on the brink of bursting into tears, and he’d have no idea what to do if she did. Usually, someone else was around to comfort her if that happened. His dad. Bill. Someone who was much better at dealing with these sorts of things. 

“It… just shows, I guess…” he said. “The way you’ve raised us all. What you’ve taught us. Never to back down from a fight.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. She burst into a wail of tears, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Ron,” she sobbed. “Oh, Ron. How could you?”

Ron watched her, completely lost for words. He shifted, contemplating whether to hug her or not. He settled for patting her shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Molly started crying harder. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For… leaving like I did. For not being able to tell you. For… Fred.”

“Sorry for being brave?” Molly wailed. “For doing what is right? Don’t be sorry for that!” And she threw herself into Ron’s arms, hugging him so tight that she almost suffocated him. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Er… thanks.” Ron patted her back. 

“My children,” Molly sobbed. “All true Gryffindors, if I’ve ever seen one. Brave, loyal, and stupidly careless about their own mortality. The Sorting Hat never gets it wrong.”

And there the two of them sat, Molly sobbing into Ron’s shoulder, mumbling words about being proud, about how stupid they all were, but emphasising how she was still 'so proud' of him. Ron could only sit there, allowing her to cry, as uncomfortable as it made him. 

After what felt like forever, Molly finally pulled back, wiping her red eyes. Ron looked away again; he was really bothered by seeing her cry so much. 

“Just no more secrets, Ron,” she said after a while. “I don’t care if you thought you were sparing my feelings; no more secrets. If something — or someone — makes you happy during this time, then I want to know about it.”

Ron nodded, but said nothing. 

Molly started sobbing again. Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. What was it now? 

“You and Hermione,” she sniffed. “How lovely. Such a nice, young woman… so lovely...”

At the same moment, the portrait hole swung open again and Hermione climbed through. Spotting Ron and Molly by the fireplace, her calm expression changed to one of alarm, and it looked as if she’d much rather be out there hunting for Horcruxes again. 

“It’s alright,” Ron said, standing up and going over to her. “Mum’s got it all off her chest now. Everything’s fine.”

Hermione eyed Molly nervously. “Mrs Weasley, I just want to say I’m really —”

“Oh, it’s Molly, dear!” She jumped to her feet and took Hermione into a crushing hug. 

“Alright,” Ron said after a moment. “I think maybe we should, er, go and get something to eat. I don’t think I could lift another boulder — magic or otherwise — without food.”

Molly let go of a startled Hermione, smiling between them. 

Sensing she might start crying again, Ron urged Hermione through the portrait hole and into the corridor, whispering, “She’s a bit sensitive at the moment. Was very uncomfortable.”

But at least one good thing had come from that discussion. As they walked through the corridor, his mum trailing a little behind them, he slipped his hand into Hermione’s. He no longer had to keep his feelings hidden. If he wanted to hold Hermione’s hand, sure as hell no one was going to stop him. 

[dfcfanfics]

A Big Ol' Season Four Plot Bunny For You To Raise: Miraculous Prompt of the Day

So... here we are. Truth has aired. Lies has aired. In an imaginary show with Serial Storytelling Continuity, which is not something Miraculous is particularly known for, where ought we to go from here?

The first tentative attempt at actual romance for both Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste... didn't go quite as either of them had intended, both with whom they gave it a try with and how it ended up. Needless to say, this brings on a lot of emotions in each of them, and as much as certain friends of theirs would like to see newly-single-again classmates hook up... neither one of them is ready for that.

- - -

Marinette knows that Adrien and Kagami broke up... but no matter what Alya may think, that doesn't mean that it's time to make her move on him. Quite the opposite, in fact. To move on Adrien now would likely put a major strain on her friendship with Kagami... making her think that Marinette might have been undermining things behind her back to get Adrien for herself, which is the last thing Marinette wants her to believe. (Largely because it isn't true.) She is second-guessing herself over how things ended with Luka... here was a boy who was sweet, caring, sensitive, eager to please and very much into her, and she couldn't find a way to make that work due to everything else in her life. So how can she even think about going after the boy she gets tongue-tied around on the regular? And, most importantly... all of the stresses and responsibilities that torpedoed Lukanette are still right there in her life. Breaking up with Luka was hard enough for her to do... but if she tried to start something with Adrien and then broke _his_ heart as well... that would destroy her.

But she is seeing Adrien moping around, obviously unhappy, weathering the strain of all that's going on his life, and she knows one thing for sure...

He needs a friend. A GOOD friend. Someone to comfort him, to be his anchor, to be the best friend they can possibly be to him.

That may be all that he's ever wanted from me... and if that's what he needs from me, he's damned sure going to get it.

- - -

All things considered... Adrien isn't any happier with his situation. His default response to most problems is "what did I do to cause this"; the fact that he _does_ bear some responsibility for Adrigami not working out makes that weigh all the more upon him. He thinks about all the other couples in his peer group, and how most of them seem perfectly stable... and his brain spends far too many cycles trying to work out what made him incapable of that.

There is a certain pretty classmate, sitting right in back of him, who might seem like a good choice for an emotional rebound... but Adrien can't do that to her. She's told him, straight to his face on multiple occasions, that she doesn't think of him romantically. Whenever the subject even comes up, she reacts awkwardly... and causing one of his favorite people emotional distress just eats away at Adrien. Some Stormy Weather 2-era thoughts do cross his mind... the unsigned Valentine that he's now sure was from her, for instance... and she DOESN'T have Luka now, as he was sure that she did then. But the last thing he'd want to do is pressure Marinette, who is amazing but can be a little fragile at times, with something that he's sure that she doesn't want.

But he watches her every day in school, and it's obvious to him... Marinette is hurting. She's being stretched thin by something in her life, and it's wearing on her, and her normal good cheer and pleasant smile just don't seem to want to show up very often any more. And he knows one thing for sure...

That girl needs a friend. A GOOD friend. Someone to comfort her, someone she can rely upon, someone to be the best friend they can possibly be to her.

And maybe that's all that she'll ever want from me... but I'll always want to be what it is that she needs most.

- - -

And so... a friendship finally begins to blossom properly. When Adrien begins asking Marinette if she'd like to walk and talk for a bit, if he could hang out with her after school, if she'd like to come over and spend a little time with him at his house... at first, Marinette is more than a little bit startled and hesitant. Her friends think that Adrien is finally making his move on her... but his words don't seem to match up with what Adrien tells her when they're alone. He seems genuine about simply wanting to know her better, to wipe out whatever awkwardness that he thinks he's caused in the past... and, lord, she thinks, he needs someone to connect to and he's reaching out to her and how can she not respond to that?

And, slowly, the two become largely inseparable. They eat lunch together, they spend what little free time they have together, they text and call each other at night... the yin has finally met the yang, and this time they fit together perfectly. If you were to ask either one of them, of course, "we're NOT a couple" would be what you'd hear... because neither one even brings up the subject of romance or kissing or officially dating. But anyone watching the two of them together couldn't possibly imagine either of them dating anyone else.

Not to mention that, when Akumas threaten and they need to make a quick escape and an unexplained disappearance... Marinette and Adrien soon discover that each other might be the ONLY people that seem just as evasive as they are. When danger appears, they don't face twenty questions when they need to separate OR when they get back. Not that they don't care about each other's welfare... more like that neither one seems to want to push the question of "where did you go and what did you do" very hard, as long as the other ends up okay.

And THAT is a major comfort for both of them.

- - -

It doesn't take THAT long, however... for Adrien to find himself wanting more. He had found himself attracted to nervous, tongue-tied, awkward Marinette over time; relaxed, chatty, comfortable friend Marinette starts taking up more and more space in his dreams each night. He's conscious that he's missed out on what might've been opportunity for this to happen "for real"... but he can feel their closeness growing daily. He can't be the only one who feels it, right? Maybe she's got some feelings slowly growing... just like he knows that his are?

He pulls Alya aside one afternoon, feeling desperate, and asks her... has Marinette ever hinted to HER that she's had romantic feelings for him? And Alya hesitates momentarily... but sees the opening that might FINALLY bring the two of them together, and spills. Of _course_ she has, she says. She's been crazy about you since the second day you met. She's nervous around you because she likes you that much, and she always has. She kept pulling back because she was always sure that you would say "no." How could you not tell any of that, you dum-dum?

And, so... Adrien begins to slowly escalate things. A "let's hang out after school" invite becomes "would you like to join me for dinner at my house?", and then "what are you doing Saturday night?" Friendly hugs begin to linger, just a little bit. Marinette sees a light in Adrien's eyes that wasn't there before... and it's a light that she's desperately wanted to see, a spark that filled her own dreams for over a year, the answer to her prayers.

But... her internal nightmares haven't gone away. She's still Ladybug, she's still the Guardian, she's still playing zookeeper for a menagerie of Kwamis that are more than a headache to manage sometimes. She's still stressed, she's still being pulled thin... and she's still got that vision in her head of starting things with Adrien, them falling apart just like they did with Luka... and THEN what? She'd have screwed things up with her One True Love, broken his heart, and she'd have to live with that forever.

So her answer to his slowly-escalating requests for Actual Dates... is 'no.' And it stays that way.

- - -

Adrien is highly confused. It's not that he doesn't understand what 'no' means; he's heard it enough times from Ladybug, after all. She's feeling fragile, and he doesn't want to press too hard and break what they've built up together as friends. But on the other hand, his feelings are growing every day. He can SEE and FEEL Marinette's growing bond with him. Alya told him and keeps telling him, look, she IS crazy about you, I know she is!

...So what is it that he's doing horribly wrong _now_?

Their friends are bewildered... especially Alya. These two are made for each other; Martians staring at the Earth through telescopes can tell that. They are pining for each other; Nino hears about it from Adrien every day, when they're alone; he's so sure that he's doing something wrong, but he can't figure out what. Marinette admits it to Alya, when THEY'RE alone; she feels Adrien reaching out and she is soooooo tempted to reach back.

"So what in the world is STOPPING you?" Alya and Nino both say.

Each of them is startled when their close friend makes a decision, one fateful afternoon. Marinette faces Alya, while across town, Adrien faces Nino.

"There's something that's in the way. Something major," each says. "Something that I've been hiding from everyone... and especially from THEM."

Their friends look startled as they speak. "What I am about to tell you... cannot leave this room. EVER. You must never tell another living soul. Not your parents, not our friends, ESPECIALLY not your boy/girlfriend. If this gets out and becomes public knowledge, my life will be ruined!"

"Then why are you telling me this?" they ask, simultaneously.

"Because if I am ever going to have any kind of life... or a relationship with anyone... I need help figuring this out. And right now... that means you. Do I have your WORD?"

"You do..."

[broken-n-discarded]

Narcissists just keep moving

I was thinking about this lately, how narcissists keep moving like you don't exist while you are left wounded and struggling to keep going. Some days I find myself wishing that I could be as cold as my narcissist ex and forget he exits and keep moving. I also blame myself a lot for what has happened to me, I think I was too nice, to forgiving, to naïve, to deeply in love to see reason. I have been here before with him, broken and left behind for another woman. Over 16yrs ago when we were first in a relationship, he lied and manipulated me and then left me for another woman. I was young and had no clue what a narcissist was or that there was even such a thing as narcissist abuse. In fact if it had not been for joining tik tok, I would have still not know what he was or what he was doing. I was always so confused by the things that he did and his reactions and sudden disappearances. His words and actions never matched. Nothing made sense and he would explain away so many things. We even stayed in contact after the devastating break up the first time. My mind convincing me that it was better to have a little bit of him in my life rather than nothing at all. It hurt especially when he married the woman he had left me for. 

After he was married I did my best to stay away, I would hide myself online from him although I would check up on his social media from time to time to see what he was up to and looking for cracks that his life was not the fairy tale he wanted me to believe that it was. It was hard, I would hear from him out of the blue usually once a year until finally I got the courage to cut him off completely because he wanted to talk daily instead of yearly and I knew he was married and that nothing good could come from that. The 2 yrs without him in my life at all felt like I was treading water, hoping that he would find me. It was the weirdest feeling that I could not understand why I felt like I needed him to live even though I knew he was not the nicest person and had gone out of his way many times to put me down or make me feel bad about myself or anything that I perceived as an achievement. Those 2 yrs were so hard and finally I couldn't take the silence and not knowing anymore and I had to find him. It didn't take long, there he was on Instagram. I thought about it for a month before finally reaching out. He answered instantly and it felt like a hole in my heart was immediately filled and  I could breath after holding my breath for so long. He was so happy to have me back and he missed me so much and I missed him. I thought I had my friend back and that I was strong enough to keep it on a friend level, but I was not. I over estimated my strength and underestimated his charm and  within a month he had pulled me back in with confessions of a broken marriage and years of regret that he had not picked me. It all felt like a dream and I was shook. 

Not to long after he claimed to have left his wife and we started to talk more about us and if we really wanted to be together and get to know each other again after so long. It was a long distance reconnection because he lives in England and I live in California. I wish I had of known at this time that he was a narcissist and that I felt all the things I felt after years of being trauma bonded to him. That all those things were from his manipulation and charm, but I didn't know and what followed was 2 years of lies, future faking, cheating, disappearing, lots of anger on his part and finally him leaving me for a new woman. In the end I found out that the first year we were together that he actually was still very much with his wife (the time difference and distance made that easy I suppose) so he was carrying on a long distance relationship with me while still being a husband and father. He was so good at lying and covering his tracks, although I would question him a lot he always had a good answer or reason or excuse for everything. How I found out he had been lying it was by accident when his wife’s Instagram popped up on my suggestions list and I was curious and clicked. Suddenly I was flooded with pictures of him on trips with her and their kids all the times that he would disappear or be less talkative which he would blame on work or being a single father. When confronted he never once apologized but said instead that I should have known what he was doing and put all the blame on me for not being smarter. I should of cut him off then and there but something in me could not and we carried on as friends. Eventually he softened towards me again and for a month said that he was still in love with me and that he would leave his wife for me eventually I just had to wait. 5 months later however, his wife caught him messaging her sister and she ended the marriage because she didn't believe that it was only messages. He had told me about talking to the sister, but he had such a good story for that, or at least I convinced myself it was a good story. I warned him to not talk to her (embarrassingly more out of jealously than for his wife sake) but he didn't listen because he knew I was jealous and it eventually broke his marriage. I now see that he triangulated it that he would get caught so his wife could end the marriage and he could claim he was merely helping a woman in distress and his wife the “monster” wouldn't listen to reason. A week later we were back together because stupidly I let my eagerness for him to be mine overpower logic and reason. It was good 2 months of daily video chats, assurance that he was really split this time with picture proof and numerous phone calls (all things he denied me before). Sadly it did not last long.

After 2 months he started to be cold, mean and distant. He was always at his ex wifes house or at some new lady that he had claimed was a friend through his sons. The single mother of one of their friends to be exact. Suddenly I was accused of not trusting him and being paranode and crazy because he would spend the night at both ladies houses and shut off his phone or block me off and on to be with them. I was so confused how his love could disappear over night. After so much time of claiming I was the one and how much he loved me in spite of all the pain he was inflicting on me with lies and cheating. That month our 3rd and last together ended with him fighting daily with me for time alone with the new lady and me begging him to understand why that was wrong and to either let me go or act nice again. Finally he just ended it. I was devastated and so confused. The month that followed that was me asking what happened trying to figure out the lies and why he was doing what he was doing and keeping me around and in his life if he was going to be like this. No answers were really given and the ones that were made no sense. It was horrible I was broken trying to figure out what happened and he was running around with lord only knows how many women at that point. He would still disappear and block me on occasion and turn off his phone. 

Dec of last year was the worst part, he would still tell me that there was hope for us that he just need some time to think, so of course not really understanding and hopelessly in love I stayed around. Out of the blue after about 2 years of asking he finally let me follow his Instagram and low and behold there was a woman posting comments that made her sound like she was his gf. Apparently this was triangulation ( I didn't know that at the time) this of course set me off emotionally and hurt so much, he got mad that I was hurt and used that to disappear for a week to punish me for being upset that he had a new woman in his life after he swore he didn't. When we finally started to talk again I stupidly had to apologize for being hurt (he hated when I felt anything, was always angry when I would tell him he hurt my feelings). We started to talk like friends again and even discussed me going to visit him ( I failed to mention that he had claimed he wanted me to move to England to be with him from the beginning of him claiming to be separated from his wife and this last time we had looked at houses together so I could move to be with him in January). He made it seem like we were back on track all the way up to the day he cut me out of his life. He got angry with me on a Saturday because when I texted him after I woke up like usual he didn't answer and finally at like 2am his time he wrote back saying he had been driving all night to clear his head. I knew it was a lie because he had told me the day before how bad the roads were with snow and he always hated driving at night. I called him on it and asked if it was really a date he blew up and that was it. The next 2 days he would not reply to my texts and finally I asked what was happening that he was acting weird and he simply texted “sorry, busy, message later” and that was it. With those 4 words he was gone and I was devastated. 

Weirdly enough he still follows me on Instagram and I still follow him but he never posts, when I do he doesn't write or like them and when I try to comment on his or write him a message they go unanswered. I am pretty sure that I am restricted, why he doesn't just block me I don't know. He now has a new gf, the 3rd since me but this one is the one that gets everything he denied me and has been introduced to his family. I put it all together and figure that he cut me out of his life to avoid all the questions that would I would ask just like with his gf after me. Cutting me out saved him the annoyance of being accountable.

I found out about narcissist's on tik tok while scrolling to distract myself from the silence and everything they described sounded like him and made so many things make sense. Sadly knowing what he is doesn't make the pain go away. It was all real for me, and just realizing that it was all a game to him is devastating. The horrible thing is that even as write this and am aware that he is a monster and only cares about himself, I still very much love this man. I know that it is a trauma bond and for the last month I was franticly trying to find a way to reach him, but then I realized how crazy that did make me seem. Its weird how narcissist's can cause you to act and do things you would never have thought possible. That they rewire your brain and take away logic and reason so slowly and strategic that you don't even recognize yourself when they leave you. I tell myself some days that his new relationship wont last, they never do and when they end, he usually comes back looking for me, I think I do this to try and comfort myself some how. Before I knew what he was this always seemed romantic that he couldn't get over me like I couldn't get over him, sadly I now know that I am just an easy supply target for him and that is why he always came back. I want to heal from this and not be his target anymore but my brain still hears his words and promises echo like a ghost that haunts me and I feel paralyzed. Its not fair that a narcissist burns down you and your world and moves onto a next like nothing while you are left lost, confused, paralyzed and broken. Some days I still find myself questioning if he really is a narcissist, but apparently that is normal as a survivor who is still trauma bonded. I hope this trauma doesn't last forever. 

[my-miraculous-headcanons]

Stand-In Journalist

“You want me to do what?”

Marinette’s vaguely aware that her voice may have been a tad too loud, especially considering the fact that Alya had been attempting to whisper to her just moments ago. She’s also vaguely aware that’s she’s attracted the attention of most students currently walking up the school steps, including that of her crush, Adrien Agreste. Surprisingly, she finds herself unbothered. And more than a little distracted.

“Alya, you’re joking, right? You have to be.”

“Girl, shush,” Alya hisses out, wrapping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders and taking glances around them. It seems a little on the paranoid side, but Marinette isn’t one to judge.

“Listen, my grandma has to go into surgery, so me and my family have to take off for a week. I really, really, wish I could do this myself, but I’ve got no other choice right now. I know you’re busy with all your commissions, and the bakery, and class president stuff, but Nino sucks at talking professionally, and Adrien’s, like, never allowed out of the mansion.”

“What makes you think I’d be a better choice in comparison to literally every other student in our class?”

Alya rolls her eyes at all.

“Marinette, I’ve heard your customer service voice.”

“Ah.”

Right. Helping out her parents at the bakery meant an awful lot of occasions where she’d had to deploy the infamous customer service voice. After all, they do own one of the most popular bakeries in all of Paris, which meant attracting quite a lot of tourists.

Unlike America, the Dupain-Cheng bakery doesn’t take bullshit. She makes sure to let rude customers know that just from the tone of her voice.

If she tells you to leave, you leave. She only needs to say it once.

“Besides,” Alya continues on. “If you do this for me, you can consider all of your IOUs paid off.”

“Do what?”

The two girls look away from each other in surprise, now noticing they had the attention of their resident model. Despite teasingly calling out Marinette as an eavesdropper, everyone’s rather aware of his nosy tendencies. (Not many can blame him, though. He’s not socially incompetent, but boundaries are still not his strong point. Really, considering his only friend for years was Chloé, well… It’s understandable, to a point.)

“And what makes you think that’s your business, Agreste?” Alya smirks, placing a hand on her hip and using the other occupied one to pull Marinette closer.

She’s been doing that around Adrien a lot, testing some theory about Adrien and his touchy-feely habits. Marinette decided she didn’t want any part of that and didn’t ask any further.

“Well,” Adrien playfully smirks back. “I overheard―”

“Eavesdropped,” Alya loudly whispers into Marinette’s ear, who giggles in response.

“Overheard,” Adrien corrects, though he’s clearly smiling. “You pressuring poor Marinette into doing something that she doesn’t seem to want to do. So I was just curious, is all.”

He pauses, glancing back and forth between the two girls.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Lila, would it?”

Alya bursts out into a short laugh, not realising the fond look Marinette shoots Adrien’s way or how his shoulders are tensed, maybe even worried.

“No way! This is way more important than that! Marinette’s just filling in for me for one of my, uh… Ladyblog duties.”

Adrien relaxes, then smiles almost knowingly.

“Ah, I see. Nino said you’re going out of town in two days, right?”

“Yup! But you’re not getting any more than that. Now shoo, we got a lot to talk about.”

“Wait, hey,” Marinette protests. “I didn’t agree yet!”

“So you’re not going to take the opportunity to pay off all your IOUs in one sitting?”

The designer snaps her mouth shut and stares off into space for a moment, brows knit together and cheeks puffed up in what seems to be intense consideration.

“… Okay, deal.”

“Yes! Let’s go, then! Bye, Adrien!”

And with that, Alya drags Marinette away before the poor girl realises who she was standing in front of, and accidentally makes a fool of herself as a result.

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Alya had given Marinette most of the material she would need to do the job. Not only that, but she had coached Marinette through lines and responses, and how to use her customer service voice and morph it into a similar but distinctly different interviewer voice.

With all that, you would think that Marinette would be prepared for what she was about to do. But the truth of the matter is that no, she was not prepared. In fact, she was the opposite of prepared. While, yes, the chairs and cameras were all set up, and everything looked neat and tidy, and she was wearing her best professional clothing— a ruffled pink top and grey pencil skirt— Marinette was...

Well, she was freaking out. She had never practiced with the blinding light fixtures or with a camera pointed directly at her face. She never practiced her lines with anyone other than Alya. She only learned how to turn the cameras on today, right when Nino had finished up putting the cameras in place and was about to go home before curfew. 

It was just the push of a simple button, so that shouldn’t be something to worry about, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t even considered she would be the one responsible for the cameras. Which left the question― What else was she responsible for, that she hadn’t even anticipated?

“Well, this is a surprise.”

Oh god, he’s already here.

Plastering on a forced smile, Marinette turns her attention to a silhouette crouching on a high window. The crescent moon is hovering just behind his head, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness of the corner he was in. He’s clearly already putting on a show, and Marinette realises with some panic that she doesn’t have a camera lined up in that direction.

Was... Was she supposed to move it? No, no, what if she accidentally breaks it? No, she can’t move it. But what if Alya wants this footage?

“Hello, Chat Noir,” Marinette forces out, stopping herself from prematurely pressing the record button. She... She’s supposed to do something first before doing that, but she’s forgotten what.

The superhero jumps down from his perch and walks into the artificial lighting, smiling easily and swinging his lower body over the back of the velvety red armchair, sinking into the seat cushions. 

“I was under the assumption that our favourite ladyblogger would be conducting the interview.”

“She had a family emergency, so I’ll be taking her place this time.”

His smile twitches down a bit, then completely fades away. His gaze grows more intense.

“... I see.”

An awkward silence stretches between them, and Marinette feels her face gradually heat up in embarrassment. Her mind is completely blank. 

“Marinette, are you alright?”

It takes her more than a couple seconds to process that question, and when she does, her embarrassment increases tenfold.

“I’m fine, sorry about that. Just got lost in thought. Anyways, are you prepared for the interview?”

Apparently, her response displeases him, because he stands up and walks around the table between them, stopping just beside her. His eyes never leave her face.

“... Marinette, I think you’re either having an anxiety attack right now, or you’re dissociating.”

“Am I,” is her automatic response. He doesn’t say anything, only frowning as though he was given a rather unfortunate answer. He reaches for his baton and opens it up, kneeling down beside her legs. He takes several minutes to check something up, reads through it, then puts the baton away.

“Okay, definitely dissociating,” he mumbles to himself. He stands up again then goes over to the equipment, and Marinette doesn’t do anything to stop him from messing with it. 

Abruptly, the lights shut off. 

“Marinette, you okay? Do you hear me?”

His voice is soft in the darkness, which is comforting, but it’s still distressing that she can’t see. Yes, the lights were horrible, but now the only thing in her vision is the imprint of a bright, blueish hue, fixed in place no matter how many times she blinks or where she looks.

“Marinette?”

His voice is closer, now, but even softer, just shy of a whisper. She hums in response, then blinks a few more times. One of the light fixtures is moved out of the way, allowing for moonlight to splash over the table and chair in front of her. Her shoulders untense, just a little. There’s still spots in her vision, but she can see now, so it doesn’t matter.

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

Yes, yes, she would very much like that. Her body is beginning to feel a little shaky, but she manages to give the voice a sharp nod. The voice? Who was she talking to again? She couldn’t—

“You know, I lied when I said I was surprised,” the voice says, interrupting her spiralling thoughts. “I knew that Alya was gonna be out of town, I had overheard about it. I also know you’re her best friend, so I kind of expected to see you. I was really excited about it.”

A figure moves in front of her, briefly, before once again getting comfortable in the plush red seat. His lips move in time with the voice.

“I really enjoy talking with you. It’s really easy to trust you with things I wouldn’t tell others, because you’re very respectful and kind. I’m honestly amazed that you never told Alya about that whole balcony thing, the day Glaciator attacked. I didn’t even have to tell you not to say anything, you just naturally understand boundaries like that.”

Chat Noir smiles in a way that’s nothing like all the previous smiles she’s ever seen on his face.

Right. Chat Noir. She’s talking to Chat Noir, because she was supposed to be filling in for Alya, who is out of town, for an exclusive one-on-one interview with Chat Noir. And she...

And she already messed up.

“Oh, God,” she says with sudden realisation. She quickly raises both hands to squish them against the front of her face, covering up her burning cheeks. “Oh, God, I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Hey, it’s alright—”

“No, it’s not alright, because I promised Alya I would get this done, and that it would be perfect, but I totally messed up everything because I couldn’t keep my stupid feelings in check, again, and Alya had worked so hard and deserves—”

“Marinette, stop.”

She flinches back, and sees Chat Noir now seated down on the table, his knees just barely bumping into hers on either side. He leans forward and takes hold of both her hands, placing them on her lap.

“You need to stop thinking about what Alya will think or how she would do this. You’re not Alya. You may be the stand-in journalist, but that doesn’t mean to have to do everything by her rules.”

“But, no, this is Alya’s interview, she—”

“She’s not here right now. You are. Listen Marinette, you can’t do this by pretending to be some imitation of Alya. If you want an authentic, smooth-going interview, you’ll need to go about this your own way. Everything you learned from Alya is going to be your base template. A resource for you to borrow from. You with me so far?”

Marinette presses her lips together and nods. Chat smiles and cups her cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away tears she hadn’t even known she’d shed.

“Good. Now then, tell me how Marinette Dupain-Cheng would interview a superhero.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The light fixtures were back in place, now at a much lower level than they were previously. The table had been moved out of the way, allowing for the chairs to be close enough that either one of them could stick their leg out to kick the other, easily. The cameras were rearranged to film at different angles, now, and no camera view excluded either of the two out of the shot.

Most importantly, Marinette had ditched the file Alya had provided her. She already knew the questions by heart, anyways, in case she needed to use one of them.

“You ready to begin?”

It’s funny, really, that the interviewee was asking that, and not the interviewer. 

“Yeah,” Marinette responds. “Let’s get this show started.”

And with that, the cameras start rolling. Marinette grins at camera A, placed to have a perfect side-view recording of both parties from a distance.

“Bonjour, Paris! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and while I’ve literally never done an interview in my life, Alya Césaire decided that I would be the purrfect replacement in her absence. So, really, you should blame her for this.”

Chat snorts loudly at that.

“Continuing on, today we’ll be asking our favourite feline superhero, Puss in Boots, a few questions. Say hello, kitty!”

“Oh, God,” Chat says in-between a short bout of laughter. “Bonjour, Paris. Just so you know, I did nothing to deserve this blatant mistreatment.”

“Hush,” Marinette says, giving him a light kick in the shin. “I punned for you. I get a pass.”

“What? No way, you can’t get passes for animal cruelty.”

“Oh, you’re an animal now? Way to start this interview off strong for your lady fans, Chat Noir. Please, do go on.”

The interview goes by smoothly. There’s never a lull in conversation, boundaries remain untouched, and the atmosphere remains playful, warm, personal, and overall enjoyable.

But, it isn’t the end.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Marinette?”

She sighs, picking up the file she had previously discarded, squinting due to the bright lights. 

“I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy doing things my way, but I did promise Alya that I’d do it the way she planned it. So, we might as well film this version as well, right? She can decide for herself which one she likes better. Besides, I...”

She smiles.

“I feel a lot better now. I think I can do this.”

“Alright then,” Chat concedes. “Let’s take it from the top, then.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alya has watched both videos at least ten times each, and she has to admit, the superior one is rather clear. As much as she doesn’t like it, Marinette was clearly more in her element in the first one filmed, which went on to further charge the chemistry between her and Chat.

And boy, was there chemistry. 

That leads to the next problem. If she posts the first video, Paris would practically erupt, a new brand of shippers will jump into the scene, and Hawkmoth may very well place a target on her best friend’s back.

If she posts the second video, her followers would find the interviewer rather lackluster, and possibly make a lot of rude comments that she doesn’t want her best friend to be subjected to.

… Really, the answer to her dilemma would be pretty obvious. Marinette can handle a few internet jerks. It’s no big deal, and, most importantly, it won’t get her targeted by Hawkmoth. 

But the thing is... Marinette and Chat Noir want her to post the first video. They wouldn’t have filmed it and given it to her if they hadn’t wanted it to go public.

The ladyblogger leans back into her desk chair and sighs, glancing towards the bedside digital clock while biting down on her thumb. 1:53. She really needs to make a decision, otherwise she’ll never be able to actually go to bed.

Her sleep deprived mind suddenly gets an idea. She latches on to it, posting both videos with different captions, then collapses into her bed with a sigh of relief. She’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

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Chat Noir is a little shit and he’s going to pay. 

She feels fooled. Bamboozled. A few nights ago, he had been gentle and kind, had given her good advice, and encouraged her to do her best without sacrificing the way she is. That Chat Noir was an inspiration. A friend and an ally. Someone she trusts and could count on. 

The Chat Noir of today made her realise that, yes, while he can be all those things, he’s still a little storm of trouble, mischief, and utter bullshit. 

And she was not prepared for this. 

It’s only been a day since the interviews have been posted, but almost immediately after they had gone public, Chat Noir decided to post a link to it on his social media and make comments.

Ones specifically made to rile up every shipper, analyst, and hero fan in Paris.

If she gets stopped one more time by some creepy adult fan who thinks it’s perfectly okay to grab a little teenager by the wrist, she’s going to kick their fucking ass. 

She eyes the expensive fabric scissors with an expression that screams murder. She wonders if it could tear through a magical catsuit. Probably not. Besides, she’d have to pay for it if she gets blood on it, and she only brought enough money to get herself some fabric.

Ugh.

She feels her hands twitch as her phone dings with another update on Chat Noir’s twitter. Begrudgingly, she shoves her hand into her purse and fishes it out, wondering what he could possibly be saying now. Seriously, how has he not exhausted himself yet? Wasn’t he awake at, like, 2 in the morning?

Marinette is not a toy. Quit grabbing her and asking her questions on the street. She’s a person. I SEE you, lady in the blue cardigan at the fabric store. She's 13. Back. Off.

Quickly, she whips her head around to look over her shoulder, catching sight of a middle-aged woman in a navy blue cardigan. The woman is looking down at her phone, silently walking away in embarrassment.

Her phone dings thrice again.

Hey Paris, remember when I DIDN’T need to play bodyguard because you guys were respectful towards teenaged girls who were lucky enough to interact with superheroes? Let’s go back to that.

Seriously, I only noticed like 30 minutes ago when I saw some university guy corner her on the street. What the hell’s going on? @ladyblogger Was this a normal occurrence and me and Ladybug just didn’t know?

I admit I was joking around and maybe fueling some ship wars but I didn’t expect grown adults to take that as a sign to harass a young girl. Knock it off and wake up, real life isn’t the internet. 

...

Well, Marinette decides. She supposes the cat will live to see another day.

Ding!

To the TV crew hanging out at the entrance of the fabric store: Filming and interrogating a 13 year old without parental consent is illegal. I WILL apprehend you. Leave.

A minute later, Marinette hears about a dozen curses from multiple people at the front of the store, and the rushed packing of equipment.

With a smirk, Marinette sends out a tweet of her own.

Wassup, Paris, thanks for landing me my very own furry stalker, @therealchatnoir. Much appreciated. Always wanted one of those.

Ding!

?!?!?!? FURRY?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!

Marinette cackles and pockets her phone, ignoring the resulting dings.

DON’T PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY ON ME, HEY!!! HEYYYY!!!!

I’M NOT A FURRY TAKE YOUR PHONE OUT YOU COWARD

dcvgthgrfCFRVGTBHYGVRFCDEX F I G H T M E

I’LL SPAM YOU DON’T THINK I WON’T DO IT. HEY LADYBLOGGER GIVE ME HER NUMBER I JUST WANNA TALK

Marineeeeetttteeeeee don’t ignore me pleeaaaaseeee ;(((((

He’s a dork. He’s sweet and kind, but ultimately he’s a total dork. 

And maybe a little her type.

...

She buys black fabric, that day.

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“Please? Pleaaase?”

“No, Alya.”

“Oh come on, just one with Ladybug!”

“I can’t, Alya. I’m busy that day. Ask Adrien to do it or something.”

“... You know what? I will. He’s free Wednesday morning, right?”

[isisparker]

Candid

[The Rookie - Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen - Chenford fanfic]

word count: 3k a/n: first attempt at a Tucy/Chenford fanfic, so I apologize for mistakes and whatnot in advance! this was inspired by the latest episode as I wonder just how many humiliating pictures has Tim taken of Lucy and whether those are the only ones? also this takes place post- 2x12 “Now and Then” and, well, a bit canon divergence as have you...

~~

Therein -- according to Jackson -- a folder of incriminating pictures of Lucy on Tim Bradford’s phone. Confirmed by Lopez that such files of Bradford’s rookies exist, Lucy reasoned it is all Jackson’s fault that she’s sitting in a bar bathroom trying to find said folder of herself. A folder on her T.O’s phone that she... borrowed...

Or what happens when Lucy steals Tim’s phone, Jackson becomes a frustrated accomplice [and a good soundboard-slash-wingman], and Tim does what does best: taking unwitting pictures of Lucy Chen.

~~~

It was all Jackson’s fault.

No, really it was!

It was all Jackson’s fault that Lucy Chen had locked herself in a bar bathroom, hunting down an elusive folder that legend says majority of young, bright eyed cops lost countless sleep over: Officer Tim Bradford’s Incriminating Photos of His Rookies.

Hell, she would have laughed off the very mention of such a thing had fellow officer-slash-roommate Jackson West not open his stupid mouth and verified its existence. 

(Okay, to be fair, it all started because of a 488 and Lucy chasing the damn kid through a park where Surprise! a pie eating competition was being held and, well… after a spectacular header into the contestant table resulted in an arrest despite finding herself covered in meringue and whip cream, when her training officer held his phone up, gave his signature shit-eating smirk before saying “Geez, Chen, I’ll run out of space soon…”, which Jackson later speculated that Bradford probably kept a folder filled with Lucy-inspired exploits, and followed shortly by having Jackson’s own T.O., Angela Lopez, confirming that “Oh yeah! Bradford has folders of all his trainees’... uh… mishaps? Incidents?” “Humiliating moments?” “Your words, Boot, not mine.”; so you can imagine why her paranoia placed the entirety of this adventure all on her friend!)

Because let’s be real: no amount of sanity on her end would have resulted in talking a few unsuspecting colleagues into a night out at a relatively unknown (well, to everyone but Lucy, who had the foresight to check the area out) bar and pool hall, proceeding to needle her fellow rookies to distract her T.O., and then coming into possession of Tim’s phone (that she had discreetly, uh, borrowed from his person) in an attempt to break into-- no, wait, unlock it and save her future self from potential blackmail.

“Just say ‘deleting embarrassing photos,’ Luce.”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my idea for you to steal--”

“Borrow! I’m not keeping it. Just borrowing it…”

“Right…” She didn’t need to glance up at her friend to notice the disbelief oozing out of him. “It wasn’t my idea for you to ‘borrow’,” damn Jackson, she didn’t need to look up to feel his quotation marks, “his phone, just so you can delete the pictures he has of you. So why do I have to be your accomplice--”

“It’s not a crime to borrow a friend’s phone.”

“It is if he’s your T.O. and, oh yeah, he doesn’t know that you lifted it from him!”

Lucy waved her hand, “Schematics…” she murmured, trying to limit her attempts at his passcode lest she end up locking the phone for hours. She could feel Jackson’s eyes roll as she added, “And you’re not my accomplice. You’re my lookout. I just… need…” The distinct sound of a phone being unlocked briefly pierced the gender neutral bathroom that the pair of rookies were camped in, causing the young woman to do a soft congratulatory fist pump. “Aha! Got it!”

Another cellphone ping crisped the air, causing Jackson to make an inquired hum before emitting a small sound of distress.

Which meant that Lucy’s window of opportunity was closing faster than she anticipated.

“Luce,” Jackson started, “Nolan can’t keep Bradford preoccupied for long!”

Lucy’s eyes were focused on the cell screen, her fingers scrolling and tapping to find the folder that started this utterly insane journey. “Tim loves knocking Nolan down a peg or two. As long as Nolan keeps up the charade of losing, we have time!”

“But that was before Lopez and Harper cajoled them into involving money, Luce! Plus Harper is Nolan’s T.O! She’ll be able to sniff out his act faster than the other two!”

“Well then Nolan would be shitty at undercover work if he’s unable to keep his part up!” Lucy growled, “Just like you’re doing a horrible job at being my back-up! You’re supposed to keep quiet, communicate with Nolan, and let me find what I need to-- Oh my God, yes! I found it!” She felt Jackson jump immediately to her side, his curiosity gleaming out as strongly as her own.

Figuring on a longshot when she had seen a folder simply titled The Boots, inside of it produced multiple other folders labeled with various numbers that an ordinary citizen wouldn’t comprehend. But Lucy knew a badge ID when she saw one and quickly located her own as she scrolled through the column of numbers. Before she clicked on it to see just how many photos she’ll have to terminate, Lucy prayed that there wasn’t a lot of memory she’d have to delete, at least enough for Bradford to notice. Oh she figured on leaving a few (c’mon, her mama didn’t raise an idiot), but for her own dignity she hoped Tim didn’t gleefully capture that many embarrassing moments!

“Okay,” she breathed, adding a bit of levity, “let’s see exactly how sadistic my T.O. is…”

Lucy clicked on the folder… and blinked at it in shock.

One photo.

“What the--?” she gasped, staring at the single picture in her folder.

Jackson muttered a few curse words as he too stared at the folder’s content, knowing that they were in fact screwed.

The anxiety that had built up in Lucy’s stomach quickly twisted into dread as she took in the lone picture; an image of her uniformed T.O., one Tim Bradford, scowling and holding up a piece of paper that seemingly foretold what lied ahead beyond that bathroom door: BUSTED.

“Goddamn it!” Lucy groaned, slumping backwards until her head hit the stall with a defeated thud.

Jackson’s phone pinged a text message and Lucy didn’t need to glance over to know who sent it nor what it said. Her friend’s pale reaction spoke volumes.

“How screwed are we?” she asked, closing her eyes and truly not looking forward to all the burpees that man out there will be barking at her for the foreseeable future.

“We?” Jackson gasped, astonished, “Oh, Luce, there is no ‘we’ involved in this half-baked plan you concocted--”

“Hey--” she sat up, eyes blazing to defend herself only to shut her mouth over his continued tirade.

“--because of your desperate need to prove that your superior officer is either that big of an asshole to collect incriminating photos like trading cards…”

Yeah, if her eyes were lit to defend herself, they were definitely ablaze at the mere mention of her partner. “Tim is not--”she started to growl, only to still be bulldozed by her friend.

“--or, depending on how many photos he has of you, has some sort of underlying feelings beyond the professional that you may or may not be feeling yourself!”

“I… uh… What?!” Lucy felt sufficiently gobsmacked by Jackson’s words. She quickly picked up her jaw, lest she keep it open in surprise. Where the hell did that come from?! She even managed  to utter her bafflement as much.

Jackson crossed his arms and leveled her with a look that was a mix between bemusement and pity. “Three words: Sad, Drunk Lucy.” 

Lucy blinked up at him, genuinely confused save for the gnawing piece of her gut that says there is truth to his words. “Jackson, I…”

Jackson’s phone thrilled, interrupting whatever excuse seemed to want to slip from Lucy’s mouth. She had never been more grateful for it, especially as he reacted to whomever was on the other end, giving tense responses to them until he hung up. He regarded Lucy, more resigned than anything. “That was Lopez. She talked Tim into giving you a five minute reprieve before he barged in here demanding his phone back. She suggests we take it.”

“We?” Lucy echoed his reply, this time with mirth versus his own frustration. She looked down at Tim’s phone, fiddling with it nervously. “She called to save your ass, West. I think you should take it and leave me to my punishment.” Lucy heard Jackson’s steps reluctantly head towards the door. Her mind was already shuffling through various thoughts before she realized that the heavy sigh she heard wasn’t her own but from Jackson. She looked up, surprised to see him with his back resolutely against the door. He had his head tilt, curious, as he said, “You didn’t know.”

“Know what, Jackson?”

With a small smile, “That Tim Bradford and his -- quote -- ‘frustrating smirk that I don’t know whether to kiss or smack off his handsome face’ was the cause of Sad, Drunk Lucy.”

Lucy felt herself flush and knew immediately that the crush she had for her T.O., the man that had not too long ago literally pulled her up and out from a grave into light, wasn’t hidden quite as much as she had thought. Oh her mother would have a field day that she was susceptible to the Savior Complex!

She nodded her head sadly, “I was… slightly… aware of my crush on Bradford.” Lucy gave her friend a determined look, “It’s just a small thing, Jackson. Unrequited and easily managed.”

When Jackson snorted at her last few words, she narrowed her gaze and implored for an explanation. The man shook his own head, refusing to utter another word. Lucy stood up, about to demand for him to explain himself when Jackson gripped the door knob and said, “I’m going to do you a favor, Luce, and buy you some more time.”

Confused, “What? More time? For what?”

“To look for your folder.”

Lucy scoffed, holding up Tim’s phone. “But there is no folder, remember? This was yet another one of his stupid Tim Bradford tests! One that I failed, by the way!”

Jackson gave her a knowing look, “Lopez said that she saw it. But that it’s not what you think it is.” He opened the door slightly and proceeded to set the lock before he turned and added, “I can probably hold him back for another five minutes, Luce, but then I’m afraid he’ll end up kicking the door down.” He winked, “Good luck,” before disappearing from her sight.

What? The folder wasn’t what she thought it was? What was she to make of that?!

Lucy scrolled through the folders in The Boots, nodding as she concluded that she wasn’t mistaking them for other than badge numbers-- Wait a sec… She paused at a sequence that screamed out in haunting familiarity.

12919

Her hand unconsciously ghosted over a spot on the lower left side of her body. No. No... He wouldn’t. There is no way he’d use those numbers! No way that he’d use that particular date as a label to a folder of her most humiliating moments on the job! Tim wouldn’t be so cruel!

Lucy’s hands shook as she opened the folder, only to find to her dismay that it was indeed filled with pictures of her! She perused through, noting all the various moments of hilarity at her expense, and trying her best to remain calm and refrain from wanting to kick her T.O’s ass! Oh, she really didn’t need an extra five minutes, especially with her sudden urge to punch Tim’s face, no matter how infuriatingly handsome he is!

She intended to close the folder, the desire to verbally assault Bradford so strong, when her eyes caught a few abnormalities to her supposed gallery of shame. One was the photo they took at the hospital with the young boy that those two Instagramers had harangued. Another photo was of the two of them when Tim had gotten his commendation. There were a few more group pics scattered throughout and with the common trait being of the two of them sitting or standing next to each other.

And then there were the pictures that Lucy wasn’t aware had been taken of her! Some of them were taken in their shop, angled almost as if he had taken his phone from his pocket and took it with ninja-like discretion. Lucy noted that she was mostly gazing out the window in those pictures. A few had the light of the California sun emit a soft glow to her profile. Another batch of those had the shadows of the night sky cast around but never swallowing her. There was one that was taken while she was studying up on codes in the break room. A hard look of concentration with a hint of quirkiness when she had a pencil dangling from her lips. One picture had her talking with Nolan before roll call, her eyes sparkled as she was caught mid-laugh. Another picture was taken while they had answered a call near an animal shelter. Lucy couldn’t believe her luck when she talked Tim into letting her take a minute to look in on the canines! She must have been so enamored with the little creatures that her partner snuck a photo of her joy while she was cooing at one of the fur babies. On and on the different shots of her ranged; beyond the laughable moments to more delicate and lovely candids. Photos that exposed her in such a soft and unflinchingly human light that Lucy couldn’t help but feel her eyes water as she looked through them.

Lucy would have gotten lost staring at all these pictures had she not stumbled on a picture of herself in the hospital bed after one of the most traumatic experiences of her life. Or at least she assumed it was of her after the event, for the picture itself wasn’t a full body profile but merely a prominent shot of her hospital admittance band wrapped around her wrist. She held her gaze on the band, wondering why, of all things, it compelled Tim to focus on that particular shot.

Her eyes bounced back to the date featured on her folder and Tim’s voice weaved through her stream of thoughts. She remembered them to the point it became a mantra she buried within her heart.

“It wasn’t your day of death, Officer Chen. It was the first day of the rest of your life…”

Lucy mused on that, wondering… maybe even hoping? But hoping for what? Would she really, honestly, want what a piece of her heart is denying for fear of losing so much? She could stop. Just chalk it up to her T.O. having a secretive photography skill. Nothing more to ponder on. She really could stop despite the gallery of evidence literally in the palm of her hand. But Lucy couldn’t help but speculate if Tim himself saw that date not as a reminder of trauma but of feelings that was, maybe? possibly? born from that incident.

And boy did that thought take her breath away!

A little giddy at the idea that her feelings weren’t unrequited afterall, Lucy nearly missed the two harsh raps against the bathroom door. She, however, didn’t miss the bark of said man of current adoration as he called for her attention.

“I won’t hesitate to kick this door down, Boot, if you don’t get your ass out here! Now, Chen!”

Oh shit, she thought as she knew that he truly would cause such damage. She exited out of the photo app and swiftly shut his phone down. She quickened a glance at herself in the mirror, realized that she was presentable enough, and scrambled towards the door just as she heard him growl a countdown.

“--4, 3, 2…”

She swung the door open, looking up at him with her most dazzling smile. With the knowledge that she had gained, she wasn’t at all intimidated by his imposing scowl as he towered over her smaller frame. “Hi!” she squeaked, and wincing a bit at that sound. Okay so maybe he still instilled a bit of fear despite the fact that she knew how truly soft he was towards her.

Tim had one hand braced against the door frame while his other was on his hip as he leaned a little closer to her. His eyes darted up and down her person and she knew it was his way of making sure that she was physically fine. When he seemed okay with his assessment, his eyes pierced into her own and, well, Lucy tried her best to not look as guilty as she felt.

But there was a reason Tim was amazing at his job. “Chen…” he started, narrowing his eyes and holding his hand up, palm out. “My phone.”

Lucy was torn between acting petulant and feigning ignorance or just outright owning up to her misdeed. As she found herself in a staring contest with her seasoned colleague, Lucy realized that she had a better chance at coming out unscathed if she were honest versus dishonesty, no matter how playful an act she could put on. With a cheeky grin that she knew he found both infuriating and amusing, she pulled his phone from her back pocket and handed it over, and said, “Here you go… sir.” She hadn’t meant to add the address, nor meant to make it sound as sultry as she did if she had to go by his eyes briefly widening before becoming predatory.

He pocketed his phone but kept his gaze solely on her. The calculating look he had made her squirm and wow, she was in trouble, wasn’t she?

And because he knew her so well, Tim allowed a small smirk to slowly grace his face as he said, “You’re trouble.”

Lucy blinked, thinking she misheard him. She was about to voice as such before Tim shook his head, leaned in closer and clarified, “You heard me just fine, Officer Chen.”

She will utterly deny it to Jackson, goddamn it, that a small shiver fell through her when Tim used his authoritative voice on her. Just as she will deny the effect he had as he pulled back and grinned openly at her when he added, “Hope those photos were worth it. I know they are.”

Lucy gaped at his bravado, her mind racing as to how to properly respond to Tim openly candid with her. Before she could form a cohesive response, a flash nearly blinded… Oh no, he did not!

“Yep,” Tim smiled at his phone, already saving it into its designated Lucy folder, “That’s going into the Favorites.” He turned to head back towards the pool hall, but not before glancing back at his partner with a genuinely soft smile as he asked, “You coming, Lucy?”

Oh yeah, Lucy grinned, this was all Jackson’s fault, and she couldn’t be happier for it!

~fin~

[livsoulsecrets]

Fictober Day 4 - That didn’t stop you before

Prompt number: 4

Fandom: Supergirl

Rating: General Audiences

Warning/tags: Post-Canon, Talks about death

Summary: Brainy wakes up in the DEO medical center after being rescued from the Leviathan ship, shocked he is still alive. 

-

 Brainy is convinced it is the end when he opens his eyes again. He watched many movies about death: a strong light on his face and an all white imensity around him looks just like what is described in those. 

 The only thing he didn’t expect was the pain. Every part of him is hurting, his head feels heavy and sweat is falling down his face. He thought that the one good thing about dying was being free from pain, but that was not the case here. If he was still hurting… That could only mean his body wasn’t done fighting. Brainy’s used to drawing conclusions rather quickly, but his mind is not working as usual. It is like a fog is clouding his judgment, making everything harder to understand. He tries to fall back into a familiar thought pattern: collecting evidence to prove a point.

 First, he blinks, adjusting his eyes to the light and taking in the white ceiling. Second, he feels the texture of the bed he’s in, realizing it is a hospital bed. Then, he smells the familiar ether scent and recognizes the place as the DEO medical area.

 Evidence number 1 of not being dead, he thinks: A dead person would be sent to the morgue, not the hospital. 

 He looks around his room to find that he is alone in there. The thought produces more of a reaction that he was expecting. He blames it on his system’s malfunction due to radiation overload. He had been lying to all his friends for months, working with the enemy, it would be stupid to believe his almost death would be enough to earn their forgiveness, especially Nia’s.

 Nia. She was the last thing on his mind when he passed out in the Leviathan’s ship. The curve of her lips every time he bowed down to kiss her, the gentle touch of her hands on his neck when she hugged him, the soft strands of hair falling down his chest when they slept together. He was dying and the only one on his mind was her.

 Evidence number 2 of not being dead, he files: Dead people can’t feel pain like the one he is experiencing now.

 He feels like he might pass out again until he hears some noise outside of his room. Brainy makes an effort to sit up on his bed, but it takes such a tool on him that he can’t properly breathe after that. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on hearing what is being talked about near the door.

— Nia, you should go home. Take a shower, change into something else and, then, come back. — He can make out Kara’s voice and is relieved to realize she’s talking to Nia. That means both of them are okay and safe.

— Kara, I already ate like you asked me to. I’m okay. I just want to stay until he wakes up, alright? Then, I will go home. I just- I really need to know he is okay. — Nia’s voice is trembling, but he could recognize it anywhere, in any way.

 Evidence number 3 of not being dead, he finishes: Nia is waiting for him.

 That is the one thing that convinces him in the end. Nia Nal wants him to come back to her. That is probably the only thing that makes sense to him in the middle of this chaos.

— Fine. I understand. Look, I need to give my statement about what happened. Will you be okay until I come back? — Kara asks, concern clear in her voice.

— Yes, I promise I will. Don’t worry. — Nia answers. He can’t hear anything after that, so he assumes it means Kara left. Nothing happens for a couple of minutes and he starts wondering if Nia changed her mind and left. He is proven wrong when the door is suddenly open, revealing Nia in her Dreamer outfit, eyes red and watery even under the mask. Brainy has to swallow the lump in his throat caused by how devastated she looks.

— Brainy, oh my god. You’re awake. — She rushes to his side, seeming to want to hold him. Still, she stops in the middle of the act, furrowing her brow. — Are you okay? I think I should call a doctor, I will do it right now-

— No! — He says, reaching for Nia’s arm to stop her. She doesn’t move. He waits, not knowing if he should let go or not. — I’m okay, for real. Can you just wait a moment before you do it? I just… I just want to see you for a moment. 

 She looks at him, biting her lip. After a moment, she slides her hand through his arm to hold his hand. Then, she squeezes it.

— I want to see you too. — Brainy feels like those words may be the reason he actually dies. 

 After everything he did, he didn’t dare to think of any chances of earning Nia back. Part of him just knew he had gone too far, lied for too long to take anything back. Now, despite every part of his brain warning him against it, he dares to hope for that anyway. Nia’s hand is shaking, even when she lets go of him after some seconds. She clears her throat, crossing her arms.

— I really thought you were gone. For a moment, when they brought you in, I was convinced that… That it-

— It was the end? — Brainy completes, noticing her distress.

— Yeah, I thought so. When they told us that you made it, I couldn’t even begin to understand how. Still, I’m really glad you did. — Nia finishes, her lips quivering.

— Nia, I’m really sorry, for everything. I don’t even know where to start, to be honest. The way I lied to you, to everyone, is just awful. I will understand if you never wish to speak to me again and-

— Stop! Brainy, just stop. — Nia raises her voice in the most unusual way and he immediately stops talking, surprised. — Look, I can’t do this right now. Our city was in danger. Again. People almost died. Again. You almost died. I can’t just sit down and listen to your apology like we got into a stupid argument. It’s completely different. Our world was at risk and you decided to lie and push me away instead of asking for help. It sucks and we’llI need to talk about it, but not now. — She takes a deep breath, fixing the hair that’s falling on her face. — I need everything to stop for a damn minute, so I can actually breathe. — Her eyes are filled with water now and her cheeks are flushed with red, exhaustion clear in her features. 

— So, do it. — She looks at him, confused. — Take a minute, breathe. We have time. I understand what you are saying. I’m not the person you want to talk to right now, but I can still listen. Tell me what’s in your mind. — Nia doesn’t take her eyes away from him, pondering on his offer.

— I’m just really afraid… Not just now, but all the time. I’m so afraid all the damn time and I’m just tired of it. I’m afraid of someone else trying to stop me from being Dreamer. I’m afraid you won’t make it out of this mess. I’m afraid- No, I’m fucking terrified that I’m not strong enough to handle all the horrible things that keep happening to us and this city. I try to be strong like Kara, but I don’t think I can do it anymore. — Nia sits down after that, tears falling down her face, her head buried in her hands. Her whole body is shaking now and Brainy doesn’t know what to do to make her feel better. So he does the only thing he can think of: reaches for her hands and holds them tightly while she cries. 

— It’s okay, it’s okay. — He whispers, feeling Nia’s hand shaking despite his strong hold of them. — Just let it out. — Brainy speaks softly, hoping it helps Nia calm down. He is on the edge of breaking down just by watching the woman he loves suffering like that, especially knowing part of that responsibility is his. — I’m here, I’m right here. I wasn’t here before, but I’m now. — He promises.

 Nia looks at him now, an unusual serious look on her face. She wiped the tears from her cheek, breathing more calmly now.

— There you go. Just keep breathing, it will be fine. — He hesitantly touches her cheek, caressing her face gently. He tucks her hair behind her ear, hoping the touch offers Nia some comfort. She closes her eyes, leaning in to him. When she opens them again, she’s standing so close to him Brainy can feel her breath.

— You don’t need to be strong like Kara. You just have to be strong like you. That’s more than enough. — She looks down, not seeming to be convinced by his words. — I understand why you’re scared. But what you need to understand is that didn’t stop you before and it won’t stop you now. That is what makes you so incredible: Fear doesn’t make you back down, it only pushes you forward. That is how I know you’ll be fine, no matter what happens. You’re a hero, Nia Nal, and you’re meant for great things. I know it is terrifying, but nobody in the world can stop you, nobody can take Dreamer away from you. Who you are is something you fought for every single day and that means everything you have is yours and yours only. — Brainy doesn’t even know where all of this is coming from. He’s not at his full functioning capacity yet, so that means he’s being more honest than usual.

— Oh, Brainy. — Nia whispers. — Do you really think all of that? 

— Of course I do. How could I not, with everything I know about you? — He answers. She shakes her head, still incredulous. 

— Thank you. I really needed to hear someone that believed in me today. — Nia murmurs, a small smile on her face. He can’t help but smile back. 

— No, thank you for trusting me with all of this, despite- Well, despite everything. — He adds.

— Shiu, not talking of this today. — She quickly answers. Nia moves to the edge of her seat and reaches for his hand again. Brainy is so surprised he can’t move. Then, she puts her head on his shoulder. — You are gonna stay quiet and rest now. — She commands.

— Wouldn’t think of disobeying. — He assures. 

— Good, you scared me enough for a lifetime. — The way her voice breaks shows the words are sincere.

 Brainy doesn’t know how it’s possible that Nia still cares for him in such a way when he doesn’t deserve it, but he is not going to start overthinking now. Instead, he kisses the top of her head and buries his nose in her hair. 

 It still smells just like he remembered.

 Evidence number 4 of not being dead, he thinks one last time: Only someone that is alive could feel as much love  for somebody as he does right now.

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 4)

(chapter 4)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairing: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: mentions of prostitution, language, violent deaths, fighting, angst, fluff, + possible nsfw.

previous | next

"So, each of the districts get their own floors. Since you're from two, you get the second floor." Doyoung explains as we step out of the elevator.

As we walk into the apartment, I stare in awe at the glamorous quarters.  There are many giant glass columns and a random display of silver trees and rocks.

"Here is the living room and your rooms are over here. How about you freshen up for dinner?" suggests Doyoung. 

In my room, I am met by a bed with a silky, soft comforter. I make my way into the spacious bathroom and hop into the shower. Inside, there was a panel with hundreds of buttons that regulated water temperature, pressure, and even provided massaging sponges.

After finishing, a heater dried my hair and body completely. I pressed another button and a box began sending electrical currents through my scalp, instantly untangling my hair.

Returning the bedroom in comfortable clothes, I see a strange-looking remote on the bed-side table. Intrigued, I begin pressing random buttons. As a result, the window showcasing the lights and building of the Capitol changes into different sceneries.

First, there was a city street filled with cheerful families walking together. After pressing a different button, a dry and deserted desert appeared on the screen.

Switching it once again, a scene showing several mountains peaking through behind a forest of trees. I felt a pulling-feeling in my chest. My throat also feeling slightly choked-up.

During the holidays, every year Taeyong would take me into the mountains of our district. He would pretend to be my knight in shining armor, while I was the princess in distress.  He'd never tell anyone, but sometimes it was even the other way around.

It's also where he taught me how to hunt and find my own food. How to determine between what is the good food and what is the not so very good food.

It was the only time I remember us ever truly being kids. Not soldiers, just a thirteen and seven year old exploring the big, exciting world together.

Then everything went to shit after Taeyong went to the games.  That year, the Gamemakers had chosen a forest for the terrain. However, it was filled with dangerous wild dogs, wolves, and spiders. The spiders had enhanced speed and were extremely venomous. However, the wild dogs were capable of changing their form and copying the voices of the tributes.

Because of this, the entire Career pack was slaughtered alive. Taeyong was the only one who managed to escape. Wounded and without supplies, a twelve year old boy from District 11 named Dong Sicheng had found and formed a alliance with him. Sicheng had shared all of his supplies and even nursed him back to health.

On the last day, they were approached by the last remaining tribute. Taeyong, spotted him and fired an arrow straight into his heart. As he turned around to check on Sicheng, he was met with the boy clutching a harpoon, longed deep in his chest.

Dong Sicheng slowly died in Taeyong's arms.

After the cannon went off, the Captitol announced over the speakers that Lee Taeyong of District 2 was the winner of the 64th Hunger Games.

No longer did he take me to the mountains. Honestly, we never did anything together. Since then, the closest I ever got to be to him was the one time when the rest of my family stood by him during his stop in District 2 during his press tour.

I've always wondered how he felt. Wondered if  he blames himself for what happened. However, I never wanted to intrude. It's not like I ever got the opportunity to ask him, anyways.

However, since I'm going in the games soon. I hope to eventually work up the courage to sit down and have a real talk with him. The real Taeyong, not the victor or mentor he acts like in front of everyone else.

I opened the door to see Doyoung, Renjun, and Taeyong sitting at the dining room table.

Once I sat down in the acid-green chair, Taeyong began talking, "The plan for tomorrow is the same for the both of you. You go to group training. Spend time practicing something your weakest at. Swing a mace. Throw a spear. Tie a decent knot. It doesn't really matter, just save showing off for the private session with the Gamemakers. Are we clear?"

Renjun and I both nod our heads at him.

"Well, have the two of you gotten to know any of the other tributes yet?" pries an interested Doyoung.

"I haven't. Although, Athena seems to be checking out the competition, already."  Renjun answers, nonchalantly.

"Wonderful!" Doyoung innocently chimed, "It's never too early to start considering possible alliances. Are you going to ask anyone to join the two of you?"

"Oh, we're not-" Renjun and I said at the same time. We're laughing as if he's said the funniest joke in the world.

"We've always maintained our own completely different strategies. Renjun prefers to be the predator. There's no doubt in my mind that if he does want to work with others, it'll end up being an alliance with the other Careers. " Renjun just silently nods in agreement.

"And what about you?" asked Doyoung.

"Let's just say I prefer not to walk around with a huge target on my head. I want to team up with someone well-liked, so we can get resources through sponsors." I explained.

"Like Na Jaemin?" sneers Renjun.

"You know people have been calling him the Prince of Panem. He's made quite the impression, already." Doyoung chimes, "And he's not the only one. People have been raving about you, Athena. They've even started calling you, the Golden Girl."

"That's good." Taeyong quietly adds to the conversion, "If you keep this up you'll get lots of sponsors."

Doyoung suddenly blurts, "In fact, most people think Jaemin and you would make a good couple."

At this remark, Taeyong drops his knife loudly on the table, while Renjun chokes on his drink. My mouth begins opening and closing like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply.

"We're done for tonight. You two should go to bed now." Taeyong orders, not hiding his agitation.

Quickly, we all return to our rooms. I crash on my bed and stare up at ceiling.

Jaemin and I as a couple?

Where did they even dream up that possibility from? I mean, we only had one barely two-minute conversation. People really do amaze me sometimes.

My thoughts are broken by a barely-there knock at my door. I groan and force myself off the bed.

I roll my eyes, before opening the door and saying, "Renjun, would you kindly please fuck off?"

However, the person standing there was definitely not Renjun. I tilt my chin up to see no other than Lee Taeyong, towering over me.

"Oh, sorry." I frown, embarrassed.

"Can I come in?" He politely asks me.

I step to the side and allow him inside. Once he's fully in, I closed the door behind him.

"Finally decided to talk to me, huh?"

He just stays silent, just letting me say whatever I please.

"You know, I thought you'd at least be happy for me. I mean, you of all people should know that this is the best thing that could ever happen to me." The emotions I've been holding in for the past 10 years are finally coming to the surface.

Taeyong looks at me with pity, "Athena, there are some things you don't know. Things that the school or our parents never taught us."

"What are you even talking about?" I pressure.

"After the games, you couldn't see me for a reason." He took a heavy breath, "Sometimes, if a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for money. It’s not just me either, the same thing happened to Finnick Odair a year later."

"What do you mean, 'buy'?" I swallow.

"For sex."

It’s quiet.

"I was given no choice. He said that he would kill both of our parents and even you if I didn't obey." His eyes begin tearing up, "Athena, you don't know how much I wanted to come see you and teach you things."

"Taeyong." I whimper.

I felt sick to my stomach. How could they do that to him? He was just a thirteen year old kid. Even worse, how could I let myself hate and be jealous of him, when all along he was the reason I was still even living?

"I know I'm a horrible brother, but please listen to me when I say the Capitol uses everyone, including you. You have been taught that this, the games, are normal and something to be proud of. You haven't even seen how horrible it is for the lower districts. They can barely make it through one day without starving. They have basically nothing, while the Capitol is feeding off them."

Anger rises up in me. I look around at all the expensive things in the room. Think about the large amount of fancy food I've consumed while in the Capitol. I'm furious, because I've been lied to and tricked. Furious for Taeyong and all the others the Capitol has taken advantage of.

I jump into my brothers arms and completely break down. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said Taeyong. It was stupid. I'm stupid."

"It's okay. You didn’t know." He shushes, while holding me.

“Listen to me. If you-“ he corrects himself, “When you win this thing, I’m not going to let him do anything to you, okay?”

“Taeyong, can I tell you something? I’ve just never got the chance to.” I ask.

He nods.

“What happened to Sicheng wasn’t your fault. You understand that, right?”

He painfully looks down at the floor, before slowly nodding.

“I’m serious, Taeyong. It’s not your fault.”

By the time he looks up, I am able to clearly see him. Underneath the years of pain, hidden away was a vulnerable boy. The tears come falling down his cheeks.

We spend the rest of the night talking about our past, telling stories. Both laughing and crying together.

My brother and I.

[bethesky]

Broken Bodies and Broken Minds

Ed Moustis

I wonder if other people can feel time like I do - like how I can feel how wet a single tear droplet is as it falls down my face second by second. In specific instances in life, these moments become proportionally more abundant to me. I cherish those moments that specificity and nonspecificity meet - where someone can experience everything and nothing all at once. It means that I can feel.

I felt a single tear slide down my left cheek. It wasn’t due to anything I felt. I cried on behalf of my mom. She stood ten feet in front of me and held back the sorrow of a thousand widows. I didn’t even know how to feel. I wish I did but the person I looked to for that guidance wasn’t here. I had been the odd one out my entire life. Being unique was supposed to be a good thing but I despised it. It was like I had always been a chameleon mimicking another’s reaction.

Based on her broken response, I knew what was happening. The first time that this happened, I fell into a black hole so dense that the only way to crawl out was by tooth and nail. There were battle wounds deeper than scars could show. The teeth and nails - they weren’t mine. They belonged to my friends and family that stuck by my side on the battlefield when they didn’t have to. 

This time around, hearing those dreadful words was a tank shell that shot to the depths of my soul. The fallout was too large, my psyche shattered into another million broken pieces when I hadn't even finished scrounging up the pieces from the last time. This was the beginning of the end. The cancer was back and I would soon be deployed back into a war that I am not meant for.

After my doctor finished the discussion with my mother, his sorrowful eyes turned towards me. I would hate to be in his shoes - telling a sixteen-year-old boy that he would go back into hell. The demons he fought still cursed him and his last fight were futile - dying was for nothing. The first time his heart stopped was not the end of the war. The battle rages on and he will be sent to the front lines. Again.

Time was still. I began to experience a new level again. I noticed, my medical doctor has these exceptional specs in his eyes that made me feel warm. I had always been oblivious to their pungency. His words, as if bullets which left no visible battle wounds were undetectable to my brain. I knew I was going to go through this again - my brain was filtering the painful dialogue that accompanied the truth. Would it be another few years of chemo or a year's worth of surgeries? This drug of distress that I was on, it burned through me. His lips flopped around like a fish looking for water. My attempts to decode his foreign language were unsurprisingly useless. Even if I could understand what he was saying, I don’t think I would want to hear it. I had been using all the shrapnel from the tank shell to build an impenetrable wall that even my mother couldn’t tear down.

Once the doctor concluded his script, I noticed my mom approach me. She had always been so wonderful - a personal Joan of Arc by my side. The ferocity of this woman was simply unmatched by even an Amazonian warrior. Also, her vitality was that of a dragon. To mirror that further, she was as independent as a one as well. The troubling similarity between Joan of Arc, a dragon, and my mother was their extremely troubling tendency with being caught up in flames. 

The first time I was diagnosed, my mother became a baron of light. She crafted her whole universe for me and I was the sun - that was until she fell into her own black hole. One son was crippled with cancer while the other was crippled from a car accident. Torn in two, like her life was one brilliantly, horribly crafted medieval trap, she crumbled upon the weight of two. The broken puzzle that was my family was limited to a post-war Joan of Arc, a collapsed sun, but more fittingly, a collection of black holes.

My mother grabbed my hand. I was drafted back into reality. As small of a woman as she was, I required her to use a pinch less of her strength for the sake of my hands. I made a prolonged look at her and her hand ironically tightened. A sense of relief flushed through me though. I wanted to control this twisted world and I couldn’t. I knew she thought that she was trying to comfort me. In my heart, I recognized that she needed me as much as I needed her. The equality of our relationship was comfortable enough. 

In the auditory section, my brain still seemed to be malfunctioning. Once again, I sat in anticipation to see how my mother would react. As expected, upon the conclusion of the doctor’s final remarks, she approached him and wrapped her little arms around him. He gave a gentle, half-smile to me while she hugged him. I suppose, if I was going to be diagnosed with cancer again by anyone, I would want it to be him.

The white halls of the hospital were endless. I knew every twist and turn of this maze. I recognized the faces of too many nurses as I passed by. Children my age and younger flooded the floor. Those same children were fighting the fight I did - and will again. We were the children at war. The casualty rates were always too high and friends made here were in vain. The sudden loss of a fellow soldier would be too much of a burden to carry along with the rest. As we approached the exit of this underage morgue, a light stuck through the doors. It was always sunny when I left this bleak building. I wonder if I will see a light like this when I die someday. I hope I will. I didn’t see anything last time. 

The chatter of the world came back to me and the noise pierced through my brain. It grew louder and louder until it quickly overwhelmed me. I tried to keep my reaction to a minimum to ensure that my mom didn’t attempt to cradle me. I had a subtle feeling, under my special circumstances, I wouldn’t mind that. I could never grow the strength to let that myself succumb to my feelings. Every day I want to collapse but then I’m giving in.

Like two brick walls, we walked over to the filled parking lot. It was only when in private, in the security of our personal chariot, that she began to speak to me. I wasn’t looking at her, but I could sense the movement of her eyes dart back and forth. She was searching for the right words to say - a needle in a haystack. I began to worry she might bring up what happened inside right away. I was not processing. It would make everything too real for me to handle. I knew my mother like the back of the hand and I was well aware of the conversation we were about to have; even if I desired otherwise. As anticipated she said, “Finn, how do you feel about the procedure next week?”

I slowly turned my head toward her. I usually heard vital words like “procedure” when I spaced out. How did I miss that? “The procedure?” My face looked extremely puzzled. As soon as I noticed it, she did as well. It was my grave error that I let that slip.

A despairing breath slipped out of my chemo-damaged lungs as she questioned, “Oh… you blanked out, didn’t you? I thought that you were going to work on that with Doctor Graham?” Hearing the doctor’s name zoned me back into reality. It was to no surprise she would bring up Graham. That genius of a man was an on-site engineer, my on-site medic, that would dig me out of the debris that I got lost in. He was capable of telling me of truths that seemed so far gone, yet were true, that even Schrödinger’s cat couldn’t find. My mom sought out treatment from him after my dad passed away in a car crash. It was that same car crash that made my brother into a temporary pile of jelly. She only could pick one topic to mourn for at once. She decided to choose my brother, Parker’s, injuries since I was on the final days of my tour. Due to the raging success that Doctor Graham had with my mother, my brother Parker and I see him regularly. I quickly snap out of my personal solar system and hear my mom speak to me, “Finn?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re working on it,” I said with bated breath, “What procedure?” I felt my body now firmly planted into the seat. My skin laid on my bones - a feeling only a cancer patient could appreciate. It wasn’t crawling. The thought of a procedure kept me slightly hopeful - something I rarely was. The tank shell that was shot into me earlier began to digress. The pieces slip back into me. A year of surgeries would be much better than three years of chemo. I have had plenty of procedures that called for me being surrounded by the brightest minds in the world - the one percentile of geniuses.

“They said that the procedure… it uh… it will… “ she stopped speaking. I couldn’t tell if she was choking up but the concept frightened me. My head was screwed forward onto the road. The hope I had mustered up lied in the balance of her next words. She had never had an issue breaking grim news to me and I had never experienced a situation so dark and brutal that my mother had stumbled over her words. 

This was the woman that stumbled into her dying son’s room to tell him that while they were at chemo earlier this morning his dad and brother were t-boned by a truck that ran a red light. She spoke to me, with the stillness of a mountain to not frighten me, that my father, her husband since the age of nineteen, died on impact and my brother was in critical condition with lady luck favoring him not to make it. And, if he does, then he will never take another step in his life.

“Mom, what is it?” I asked quickly. I recognized my dimwitted curiosity. My naiveness took control while I should have been bracing. Whatever came next, I was sure I was strong enough for it. I was my mom’s sun. Nothing could be fiercer than that.

“The procedure is the only way to eliminate the remaining cancer threat in your body,” she slowly whispered.

“And? That’s wonderful! I don’t have to do any more chemo or worry about relapsing again!” I said. My words grew in strength after each breath. The debris cleared completely. 

She immediately said, “The procedure has a ten percent survival rate.” The joy that came from my words was vanquished. The world stopped spinning. I flew a million miles per hour. My speed shredded my hope down to its finest atom. I had been alive for only sixteen years and six of those prime years were taken by cancer already. Now it was destined to steal my life. Even the suns have to die but at least they get to live a real life.

Time stopped when my Earth stood still. I had reached that same moment of singularity as earlier. Every lamppost, every sign, it spoke to me. I was attuned to the universe. Everything I had experienced on this Earth told me that I had already been unlikely my entire life and that, in this case now, there would be no difference in this procedure. Signing on to do this procedure is no different than making a deal with death. I wanted to be able to write my own destiny but it was road blocked by ten-percent. I would become nothing more than a statistic.

I was still in shock by the time we arrived at the house. Our car pulled up to the driveway and my mother ushered me by the arm into the house. My face was perfectly blank. She quickly sat me on the couch. 

A life I would never have flashed in my mind. I would never get to walk arm-by-arm with my mother at my wedding. That though meant she would never get to see me get married. She would never see my children and become a grandmother. I could never give a remarkable, memorable best man’s speech to Charlie, the only girl that has ever shown interest in my brother, and Parker at their wedding.

Worst of all, I would never be able to kiss Robin. The only woman in my entire life that I am sure that I have ever loved. Leaving her will be the worst. Parker and I were supposed to marry those sisters. Robin is the fourth amigo in our broken bunch. We are all supposed to get drinks with Doctor Graham when we reach twenty-one to thank him for keeping us under his umbrella of helpful advice and correctly appointed sympathy. 

As the memories of the future came and went, my mom was telling Parker. I was so convinced that he was going to rise from his wheelchair and hug me. His wheels were still on the living room carpet. He looked at my shaking hands on my knees where fingers were tapping like machine guns - bang bang bang. My consciousness was grasping at any reality that wasn’t this one. All feeling viscously vanished. I kept questioning “Do I even breathe anymore?”. 

With all the courage that I could find, I stood up. Instantly, I stole the attention, any words that floated in the room settled in the air. My feet moved for me. I wondered if this is what robots felt. In a blink, I was in my messy, teenage room. I grabbed my alarm, set it for three hours from now, and I laid down. Doctor Graham always told me that a beneficial way to relieve stress was by sleeping. After testing so many methods, that was the one that spoke to me the most. My eyes shut. Just for an instant, I felt real peace. The image of darkness reminded me of death. I was not going to come back again. I was already undead and there is no resurrection for those who have come back once. Hopefully, it would be quick and painless. The thoughts panned to troubled and painful ones in a flash. I began questioning too much about the life that was stripped away from me. I didn’t want to go. How long until I’m not talked about? That’s when I really die.

An ethereal hand shot from the sky in my dream. I was pulled into my unwelcoming reality. The alarm blared. My hand floated over it to stop the blaring. I sat up on the bed and felt my body and the sweat that covered it. I had one week to live. For once, in many years, I felt real hope. I knew what I was going to do with my last week on this Earth. I would make a death list for my broken self to live out - a scrambled last-ditch effort to achieve the things in life I haven’t had a chance to do quite yet. I scrambled over to my notebook sitting on my desk. It flew open. I couldn’t tell if it was denial that struck me or something real. I could run away and perform all these tasks. A brave adventure awaited me.

As I wrote down my last will and testament, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. After trying so hard, I couldn’t keep fighting so reluctantly, I began to sob. I didn’t want to go! My brother heard me as soon as I hit the floor and rolled into the room. From seeing his fallen, fellow soldier down in the ditches, he used any strength he could muster to leap from his throne. He crawled through his trenches to hold me. I just cried; and he just cradled me.

For a whole hour, I was laying down there as my brother comforted me. He let me cry in his arms until all of the water in my system had been flushed out. He knew there was no point in telling me to stop. I had only one week to live. When the tears were finished, we both sat up against my wooden bed frame. We sat in silence for another hour. He was next to me and that was all that mattered - my battle buddy had my back. No words needed to be spoken because the actions were loud enough. After the time had slipped away, I helped him back into his cushioned chair. When I noticed that he was looking at my notebook, my face began to flush red. He couldn’t see that. 

“What’s that?” Parker questioned immediately. He wheeled over to the notebook before I could walk over there. He was surprisingly fast in that chair.

“Nothing! Shit! Don’t look!” I pleaded. He skimmed the page with his finger. His chair was perfect reading height, unfortunately. I was expecting a long banter with him but when he was finished, he just looked at me in shock.

“Okay. But mom would let you do this,” he nonchalantly said. His words threw me off guard.

“I know. I was thinking of…”

He quickly interrupted me. I could hear the appalled tone in his voice, “Running away? Mom will find you.”

“I know. It sounds really stupid but I need this week. I need to live for once. No chemo. No cancer. Just me.”

“There is so much that could go wrong! You want to go to a high school party and go cliff diving and…”

“I’m doing it. I’m doing all of it. Me against the world,” I said with a smile on my face. I wanted to be a warrior like my mom - braving the world one step at a time. He wasn’t going to stop me.

“No,” he bluntly said.

“You literally can’t stop me,” I chuckled.

“Us against the world,” he sighed, “someone needs to keep you safe. If something happens to you, mom will kill me.”

I was surprised but seemingly not surprised at the same time. This wasn’t a solo journey. Someone would have to tell my story. A broken body and a broken mind running off to war together. This time I would be choosing and that felt freeing. I felt free.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Miscommunications

The impact of hitting the door reverberated through Virgil’s palms. He heard it slam but he was already through, bolting through the mindscape, feeling his thin, armoured limbs scraping the walls as they dragged behind him. There went Patton’s wallpaper. Just the cherry on top of a fucked-up day.

“VIRGIL!” Roman bellowed from behind him, and the loudness of it made Virgil stumble and trip, barely catching himself with the spindly legs that protruded through the back of his hoodie. They were normally folded against his body, but now alert and twitching with terror, they were too big for the hallway. Virgil ran desperately for the junction that would take him back.

Back. The word itself was nearly enough to make him hesitate in his headlong dash. Back, to where he used to be, with the Dark Sides he used to acquaint with and now hated him with a burning passion. But that hate was expected – warranted, if anything – and infinitely better than a fresh, betrayed hate from the Sides he’d tried to be friends with.

“Virgil!” Patton shouted.

Curse the fickle layout of the Mindscape. Usually navigateable halls were now twisted and convoluted. Was this Roman’s influence? Was he trying to slow Virgil down, making sure they could catch him? The thought made Virgil’s mouth taste bitter with fear and he picked up the pace. The sharpness of his vision made him dizzy, but that was better than hiding his extra eyes and run the risk of someone sneaking up on him.

­­­­­

  It wasn’t that Virgil set out to hide it. At first he assumed that they already knew. After all, why else would there be so much fear and distaste when he stepped into a room? All of the Others were… different. Eyes, legs, scales, animalistic and frightening. That was their job. Virgil had assumed that they knew he was no different.

The bangs across his face obscured the cluster of black eyes, because seeing that sharply was hard to handle and sometimes sent him into sensory overload.

He mumbled a lot, which led to him not opening his mouth much – his fangs just didn’t show unless he presented them, which he didn’t often feel like doing.

His hoodie with big and soft, perfect to hide in, and also keep his extra limbs curled around his body for comfort and practicality.

But everything changed on a Tuesday. You wouldn’t think big, monumental changes would ever happen on a Tuesday afternoon. It was so… Tuesday. But the foundations of his world shook, and Virgil realized that he had to be much more careful about the inadvertent secret he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping

The memory left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d been persuaded by Patton to hang out with them in the kitchen and taste-test some new cookies. It was relaxed. Jovial. Kind of… fun. But that was what Virgil had come to expect from hanging with the Light Sides. They were fun, and kind, and they smiled – not in the cruel way Deceit smiled, or Remus’s unhinged grin. They smiled genuinely, happily. At him. Despite his worries everything seemed fine.

Until Roman caught a glimpse of scales slithering down the hallway, and his mouth twisted in revulsion.

“What’s that, kiddo?” Patton asked from the kitchen. Virgil rolled his eyes and prepared for another speech on shiftiness, how Roman just knew Deceit was stealing all his left shoes, more of the same.

He didn’t expect Roman to just mutter, “It’s really creepy how they do that.”

“Do what?” Logan asked.

“The whole – animal thing.” Roman pulled a face and Virgil felt a cold shiver down his spine. “It’s weird. Why would you choose to look like that?”

“Don’t be mean, Roman.” Patton valiantly attempted. “I’m sure they have… reasons.”

“Yeah, Remus has a reason. To use all those arms of his to strangle me in bed.” Roman shivered. “I mean really, an octopus? It’s creepy. Now I know just to start swinging when a big gross monster comes at me, because it’s usually him – or one of the others. They like to play tricks.” He explained at Patton’s curious frown. “Discorperation usually puts a stop to it though.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” Patton mumbled. “But I suppose if there’s no other way…”

“It doesn’t make a difference to them, they’ll reform eventually.” Roman whined. “Specs, you think so too, right? It’s weird!”

Logan frowned and pushed up his glasses from where he sat on his stool. “Well, I personally find the inhuman appearance of the Dark Sides to be… unsettling, on occasion.”

“Well, in any case!” Patton clapped his hands loudly, making Virgil jump. Sweat trickled down his back and he hunched further into his jacket, hyper aware of the spidery limbs curled up under it. “We have nicer things to talk about than Dark Sides. How are my cookies? Do you think I need to add more banana? I was thinking about adding chocolate chips but I think banana-peanut butter-chocolate cookies is a bit much.”

As soon as Virgil had been able to free himself, he bolted to his room and locked the door. So that was what they thought. How hadn’t they noticed him before??? He wasn’t exactly subtle. God, if one of them found out about him he could say goodbye to any hopes of acceptance. He had to start being more careful.

To start with, he had to stop stress-fidgeting with his silken threads. Too spider-like, and at some point one of the Sides might see him spitting them out. No. No no no no no, that could not happen. Comb his hair down just right, be careful not to smile, don’t touch one of them in case they could feel his twitching limbs…

  Virgil bit down on his lip as he ran – no, more like scrambled – for the junction. For his room. For the safety of familiar hatred and morningstars, not horrified looks and roman’s gleaming katana. The taste of iron filled his mouth.

Fuck it. He’d been so close. He hadn’t meant for everything to come out like that – the stove had lit on fire, he hadn’t been thinking, when Roman yelled of course he’d come running. He was anxiety. He hadn’t noticed his bangs getting displaced as he grabbed the fire blanket and hurried to smother the flames. He hadn’t noticed anything until he turned to Patton with wide eyes and clear vision, and Patton had screamed.

Virgil stumbled back, trying to cover his face, only to trip over a chair and go crashing to the kitchen floor. His jacket tore open at the back with a horrible rip and his limbs spilled out, scrabbling for purchase on the slick floor. Patton was still screaming – spiders, of course, he hated spiders – and Roman grabbed for his sword.

That was all Virgil needed to see before he started running.

Hallways passed in a blur. Was he even going anywhere? He was lost, the mindscape seemed to be twisting back in on itself like a labyrinth. Was this him? Was it Roman? Whoever did it he couldn’t find his way out.

A dead end, a locked door. Virgil grabbed the knob and shook it desperately but it was stuck fast. What was this the door to, repressed memories maybe? He didn’t care. The footsteps behind him grew nearer as he struggled with the door. Open, open, open! In frustration Virgil slammed his fists against it and screamed.

Skidding as the footsteps came to a halt. Virgil whirled around to stare at the figures blocking the hallway, one with his hand to the sword at his belt. Their silhouettes blurred from the tears in Virgil’s eyes. Roman stepped forward and Virgil flattened his back against the door.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” He slid down into a ball and curled his legs around himself tightly, a pathetic shield against the blow that was sure to follow. Roman yanked out his sword. “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied, I’ll go away, I’ll be quiet, please don’t kill me!” Virgil hid his face behind his arms. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

“Virgil!” There was a loud clang that made him flinch – but no pain. Virgil peered over his arms warily, only to see Roman’s sword lying flat on the ground. Roman stood pale and staring with his hands upturned, Patton and Logan behind him. Patton was crying and distressed, being held in place by Logan, and the sight made Virgil’s heart ache. Just let him run away, because Virgil couldn’t bear to see him this afraid.

But Patton didn’t look – frightened? No, Logan was holding him back from rushing forward, not away, eyebrows furrowed with his lips pressed tightly together.

“Virgil, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Roman said softly. Virgil curled up tighter, disbelievingly. Why wouldn’t he? Virgil was a Dark Side – a creepy monster with spider eyes and too many legs, fangs that could rip out a person’s throat. His legs twitched around him. Roman stepped forward once and Virgil flinched. “Virgil, please, I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.”

Virgil peered at Roman suspiciously. He looked earnest – in fact he looked almost tortured, which was odd. A trick, maybe? Or maybe… he was being truthful.

“Oh, kiddo.” Patton stopped struggling against Logan’s grip and stared at him with wet eyes. “Virgil, it’s okay. We don’t – we don’t hate you, and we certainly don’t want to hurt you. What would ever give you that idea?”

Virgil pressed his back harder against the wall, drawing himself into a ball. His voice was rough and scratchy when he finally managed to whisper, “…you said you hated… this. The way Dark Sides are.” A sudden ray of hope. Maybe, if they weren’t going to kick him out, “I-I swear I can hide it better! We can forget this whole thing ever happened and you won’t ever have to see me like this again-”

Logan’s grip slipped and Patton surged forward and threw himself at Virgil, who flinched – only to find himself being hugged as Patton clung to him around spindly arachnid legs that should have sent him running and screaming.

“Oh Virgil no, it’s not like that. We love you, you’re family, you should never be ashamed of who you are and what you looked like, I’m so sorry that we made you think that Virge. Please don’t leave. I can be better.”

Virgil was being hugged. With his legs twitching and his creepy fucking eyes and his fangs bared as he gasped for breath, inches from a Side’s neck. And that Side didn’t give a fuck. Patton only clung harder.

“It appears we’ve allowed a severe miscommunication to go uncorrected.” Logan stepped forward carefully and knelt next to the lump that was Virgil and Patton. “And for that I apologize, Virgil. If at any point we gave you the impression that we would cast you out or hate you, simply for showing this side of yourself, rest assured that this idea is false. You are an accepted member of our friend group-”

“Family.” Patton sniffed.

“And your extra appendages have no impact on this fact. I am… very sorry that we caused you to think differently.”

Virgil sucked in a shaky breath. This was… not going as he’d thought it would. “But… you said it ‘unsettled’ you.”

“Virgil,” Roman stepped forward again, “A lot of things about you unsettle me. Your dark disposition, your emo style, your insistence on always-”

Logan cleared his throat, and Roman quickly continued.

“That doesn’t make you less of a person. It’s just something that I need to adjust to. Because you are important, and valid, and a part of this team. And we will never cast you aside for being different, or for being yourself.”

“Indeed.” Logan nodded. “Another point I agree with.”

“Will you stay with us? Just for a bit longer?” Patton begged. “If you want to, of course. I promise we can be better.”

Virgil swallowed hard. “I… I want to stay.”

“Excellent!” Roman clapped his hands louder than necessary, making Virgil jump. He winced apologetically. “Shall we take our emo friend back home? I feel like we could all use something to calm down – a movie marathon, perhaps? We can watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

Virgil sniffed and nodded. Patton stood reluctantly, then held down a held to help Virgil up. He accepted and was pulled to his feet – and fuck if it didn’t feel weird to stand in front of the Light Sides with his gleaming black eyes and legs sprawling out behind him. He tucked them against his back self-consciously.

“I, um… sorry about the wallpaper. Sometimes I can’t, um…”

“Wallpaper?” Patton laughed and linked an arm through Virgil’s, leaving him standing stiffly in shock. “Oh Virge, don’t worry about that. I was thinking about changing it anyway.”

Suddenly Logan was in front of him, peering with undisguised interest at his eyes. “I must say, I am very intrigued by this development, as well as your having hidden them for as long as you did. Would you mind if I studied-”

“Logan.” Patton hissed. “Not the time!”

Logan swallowed and straightened. “Ah. Yes. Virgil, would you mind if I studied your arachnoid qualities – another time?”

“Err. Sure.” Virgil mumbled, and Logan gave a beaming smile.

“Excellent. Now, to find our way back. Roman, did you really need to go about changing the layout of the Mindscape?”

“I didn’t mean to do it!” Roman protested. “It was an accident. Hang on, I’ll straighten it out – well, gay it out.”

Virgil snorted into his fist, and no one snapped at him. Later, when they’d found their way back to the common room and put on a movie, Roman leaned back against him with a yawn, barely sparing a thought to the spider legs. Patton cuddled up against his other side and Logan sat comfortably on the other side of the couch. Patton didn’t argue against the wall of gleaming limbs that arched over him like a protective shell. He just hummed happily.

And everything was okay.

Apart from the time that Roman asked if Virgil could roast marshmallows on his spindly legs. But that was a good few hours away.

[rabbitsparklez]

✨sorry Im kinda late if you're still doing the ask thingy. anyway, what are some of your UNPOPULAR opinions?

No, it’s fine! I’m happy to get asks whenever :)

First of all, I’d like to apologize for the delay. It took me like 3 days to answer this because I added a lot. This was a LOT more elaborate than you asked for so uh...... enjoy?

I have a lot of conflicted opinions that I wouldn’t exactly call “unpopular”, but I also have several that I would. There is negativity in this post, and if you’d rather not read it, then please don’t.

Please do not comment or message me about these if you disagree. This is my blog, and if you generally disagree with my than I don’t know what you are doing here.

Thank you for the ask!

1. I kinda... almost.... hated “Buddy”.

 Yes, it’s a really catchy song and a great blend of Zach and James’ voices, but it also serves as a reminder that the writers prioritized Cassandra’s importance over Eugene’s. I’m already not a fan of it when people use strong and mature characters in overly silly scenarios, but it makes my stomach churn to think that they would actually dare to ridicule Eugene to such a far extent in order to give Cassandra the spotlight, when her entire arc was written poorly despite all their costly efforts to give it to her. I know that Eugene didn’t intentionally fall under the influence of those flowers and he certainly would’ve done something had he been there when Rapunzel discovered the Moon Incantation, but honestly that just bothers me even more because Eugene had so much potential and they wasted it.

2. (I don’t know what’s gonna come of this) I don’t hate King Frederick. I’m very disappointed in him, but I don’t hate him. Everyone hates him because of his failure to handle a threat to the kingdom, and his rashness and dishonestly toward his daughter, and I both agree to a lot of it, but I don’t hate him.

I have no excuses for the fact that he lied about having the black rocks under control because he didn’t know what to do about them. As the king, it is his responsibility to consider what is best for his kingdom, and by lying about a major threat, he only caused the problem to get worse. The reason the black rocks came in the first place, however, is because he took the Sundrop to heal his dying wife and unborn child. I know it wasn’t the most prudent decision, and he did a horrible job cleaning up the mess he made afterwards, but he was desperate to save his family, and chances are likely that he didn’t have time to consider every aspect and consequence that taking the Sundrop would cause.

Regarding his actions towards Rapunzel, I hate the fact that he would dare consider locking his own daughter in her room to protect her from something that he’s not making any effort to fix. Treating people immorally harshly while saying it’s for their own good is toxic, and I want to make it clear that I am the last person to defend abusers, but I highly doubt that Frederick gingerly considered every aspect of locking his daughter in her room and how it would affect her. Rapunzel was kidnapped as a baby, and that gives two reasons why Frederick is so protective of her: the fact that he is her father and the pain and trauma in itself. Everyone takes trauma differently, depending on the person and the weight of the situation. I hate it when people who are clearly smart and strong enough to understand the situation use their traumas as an excuse to justify their actions, but some people are so devastated by their traumas that they completely lose themselves. Again, he logically wouldn’t have thought about every single thing he was doing and the trouble it would cause. He lost his baby girl. I’ve heard many times that losing a child is the worst pain imaginable, and you could only understand that pain if you experienced it. Perhaps he even felt responsible for the fact that his daughter was kidnapped because he thought that he wasn’t as protective as he should’ve been, and the idea of “making things right again” and protecting her was drilled so deeply into his mind. In addition to the pain that he went through and how that affected his judgments, Frederick had no parental experience whatsoever. All parents have to figure out who their children are and how they should handle situations. Doing this involves trial and error, tears and pain. As seen in the episode “You’re Kidding Me”, Rapunzel and Eugene both thought they knew how to treat children but both of them made errors due to the cooperation and sensitivity of the kids they were looking after - this applies to every parent and every child. Frederick was completely ad-libbed into parenthood, and his trauma from losing his child did not mix well with Rapunzel’s spirit of adventure and independence.

As a king, Frederick failed in his responsibility to do what is best for the kingdom, and I agree that he wasn’t justified for the actions he took (or didn’t take), and he was a jerk for lying about it; but as a father, I feel more sympathy for him because in his eyes, he was doing the right thing, even though we know that he wasn’t. People are so quick to justify Varian for his actions following his traumas, when he’s admittedly intelligent enough to understand them; but people are so quick to demonize Frederick for his actions following his traumas, when he’s clearly not intelligent enough to understand them. I don’t think that’s fair in the minimal sense and it still irks me how biased a lot of people were in this situation.

3. I’m not sure how “popular” or “unpopular” this one is considered, but I hated both Stalyan and Brock Thunderstrike. It takes a lot for me to actually hate a character, but considering how much they wronged Eugene, I can’t ever see them in a positive perspective.

Aside from almost killing Lance, Stalyan abused Eugene. When he was only 16, she tried to marry him so that he could be her partner in crime, and judging by the way she talked to him in BTCW, it’s likely that she manipulated him and constantly belittled his choices. (which is another reason I hate how they did that with the Cass arc, because he should be entitled to such a valid opinion). She called him by his fake last name and tried to pull him back into the past, showing that she gave no importance to his persona and development as a character. When he refuses to marry her, her dad poisons his best friend and forces Eugene to either let his best friend from childhood die, or leave his girlfriend - his closest companion who filled in his missing parts and helped him to know that he mattered. Afterwards, she brushed it of with “that was my dad’s idea, but bad guys have a flair for drama”, in the least sympathetic tone imaginable. She then locked him and his dying friend in prison until the wedding, and tried to convince him that he wasn’t good enough for the woman he loved. The writers could’ve used her as a way to understand Eugene’s insecurities and pain a little bit better, but they freaking REDEEMED her. She just went with Rapunzel on a little road trip where she decided “y’know what, you can have my ex boyfriend and I’ll move on! Tell him I said hi!”. We didn’t get a proper address that Stalyan likely had a role in damaging Eugene’s sense of importance and trust, but even worse, we didn’t get an apology. I can’t believe that they made Rapunzel deal with someone else’s abusive relationship, where she hardly understood what was actually going on. Stalyan never said another word to Eugene or apologized to him or Lance for what she had done to both of them. She married a guy that looks exactly like him in the end too! Instead of looking for someone new, she chose a guy who looks exactly like her ex, showing that she cared more about his looks than his inner self.

Speaking of her new boyfriend, I hated Brock Thunderstrike. Let’s just pretend that Eugene hasn’t already been sidelined and ridiculed for Cass, and make an almost exact copy of him, only without his flaws and development! Let’s make him look exactly like him, make him repeat every iconic action and line that he made in the movie in a flawless way, and make him steal his entire former identity!  - THAT WAS SO STUPID! I can’t believe they actually did that! Eugene is one of the most meticulously created, personified, and multifaceted characters that Disney has ever created, but not only did they push him in the mud to give Cassandra space, but they created this idiot Mary Sue copy of him with no personification otherwise! In the end, just like Stalyan, he decided with no redeeming deeds or apologies that he would make a new person of himself.

They really make a good match, and that’s not a compliment.

4. I love Lance as a person, but not as a character - If that makes any sense.

I love that wholesome boy a lot, but I don’t like the way he was used in the show. I think that even he pitched in to the factors that flattened Eugene as a character in the show. First of all, it takes away some of the meaning of love and it’s necessity to Eugene’s life. We always thought that Eugene was a lonely, rejected child who needed love more than he realized, but it turns out he did, in fact, have a buddy who wasn’t just his partner in crime for years, but a close, brotherly figure. That contradicts the significance of Eugene’s childhood and life as an orphan. Secondly, Lance was often used as an object to distract Eugene and drag him into the stupid and nonsensical scenarios that prevented him from interfering with Rapunzel and Cassandra’s overly prioritized involvement to the plot of the episode. Don’t get me wrong. I love Lance and have nothing against him, but his role as a character could’ve been used in better ways.

5. Adira should have either had a larger or smaller role in the show.

When we were introduced to Adira in Season 2, she was the fairy godmother  that always came when the squad was in distress. She could do everything: she is superhumanly strong and agile, can cook, can effortlessly cut down trees, can survive in the wilderness, knows everything, and is practically perfect. But considering her knowledge of the Sundrop and Moonstone and her past with the Dark Kingdom, I was disappointed that we couldn’t explore more of her character and personality. In Season 3, she just kind of vanished. Considering her amazing abilities, we could’ve explored her character and learned of her weaknesses and backstory in season 3, but we didn’t. She played a lot of parts in Season 2 but almost none in Season 3. I thought Adira was sort of a Mary Sue. She’s perfect on the outside, but we have little knowledge of the inside. To make her a better character, she could’ve either been brought into the light in Season 3, or not given as much attention in Season 2. Either way, she’s an unbalanced character. I like her, but she’s hollow.

6. I like Shorty. 

He’s kind of pointless and it made me roll my eyes when he unintentionally saved the day when other characters *cough* Eugene *cough* could’ve done so, but he also made me laugh a lot. He’s an idiot but fairly harmless otherwise. Also, unlike a lot of things in the show, he’s in character. In the movie, it wasn’t out of character for Shorty to pop up in weird places or save the day without really knowing it (he was one of the ones who helped Eugene break out of prison). The Snuggly Duckling was a major point in the movie and we didn’t see a lot it in the show. While Shorty’s tagging along didn’t contribute anything to society, it kept the Snuggly Duckling present in the show.

7. As much as I love him, I’m not attracted to Eugene.

I think he’s handsome and charming, but I ship him with Rapunzel too much to be in love with him :). I would give anything to have a platonic friend like him, but maybe not a husband.

To be frank, I’m a little creeped out by people who seem to “fall romantically in love” with characters, because they sometimes........well let’s just say that they portray them in a way that makes me incredibly uncomfortable - if you know what I mean. This applies to all characters, but especially to the ones that I like.

8. Varian’s role was too invasive. You’re probably surprised at this, because a lot of fans seem to think that he didn’t get enough of a role and wasn’t put to his full potential. I agree that he is a very elaborate character with a lot of potential, but he was never intended to be a main character, and he shouldn’t have been given a larger perspective and more angst factors than the actual main characters.

After his villain arc, fans started hating Rapunzel because they had sympathy for Varian and accused her of not treating him well, which I hated. It is true that he was in a situation worth having pity on him for, but they expressed a lot more emotional impact from his perspective than from anyone else’s, thus fans only considered his feelings. Rapunzel was going through an extremely difficult time at that moment, too, but it was shown in a less dramatic and sympathyzable way. She almost lost her parents and the man she loved in a snowstorm, while for the first time when she had to make prudent decisions as a leader, the kingdom was in a state of distress. After the storm, her father continued to lie to her, and the reason she never helped him was because he convinced her that Old Corona was under control. All she wanted to do was stabilize herself in a calm state of mind, which was ok, because she didn’t realize that there was more trouble. Even so, she could hardly do so because she was still stressed and traumatized. If these things from her perspective were more clearly presented to the audience, there would’ve been less of a war in the fandom and there probably would’ve been sympathy from both sides. But they wanted to show things from Varian’s point of view, which was valid until he went feral. {He stated in the episode before the finale that he understood that Rapunzel “did what she had to”, and he is clearly intelligent enough to pull things together, but everyone used trauma as an excuse. If he could connive that entire plot where he would kidnap the queen, use a dummy of him, extract the Sundrop’s power, etc. then he clearly was in a sane enough state of mind to put things together, but he didn’t. In Season 3, he admitted that the reason he became a villain was because he had taken his anger too far, after realizing that he was wrong. }

Considering that Rapunzel is the main character and the writers expect us to feel sympathy for her, they should’ve at least made the situation less dramatic from Varian’s point of view. Chris Sonnenburg himself was annoyed with fans who sympathized more for Varian and watched the show for him instead of Rapunzel - but in a way it was his fault for the way he portrayed the situation. I agree with him in the sense that I was annoyed with Varian fans taking over the fandom and demonizing Rapunzel, but it was the crew’s own choice to make Varian such a likable character to so many people.

Although his redemption arc was handled well in my opinion, it was more focused on and important to the show than that of the Father of Tangled Redemption Arc’s - Eugene’s. His redemption arc is the backbone to the entire franchise, but the series didn’t take him seriously, so even though his redemption subtly fell in place in Season 1 especially, I was disappointed that he didn’t have a nice serious episode where his redeemed self shined in the light, while Varian, a secondary character, did. Although not to such an extent, Varian’s role, similar to Cassandra’s was prioritized in the show above the main characters’ and that bothers me.

9. I’d say this one is more under-acknowledged than unpopular, but Cassandra’s existence contradicted Rapunzel’s development rather than bringing out her characteristic “compassion”

Even after all of the horrible things Cassandra did to Rapunzel, to Eugene, and to the kingdom of Corona after deciding to turn evil, she was redeemed. Anyone would’ve stopped pitying her and left her behind, but Rapunzel still cared for her and let her be her friend again. Why? Because the writers tried so hard to convey the message that Rapunzel has compassion for everyone and anything that comes in her path.

It is true and in her character for Rapunzel to be compassionate and humane. The movie conveyed the message that Rapunzel, even after spending so many years unloved and mistreated, loves and has sympathy for everyone. She sees the good in everyone and everything, thus she is capable of redeeming those who have strayed. This characteristic of hers is what caused Eugene to leave behind his past self and find a new life. She didn’t fix him; she opened his soul and brought out the good person who had been hiding inside him for the longest time. The same thing happened to the thugs, other former thieves, and many others. Rapunzel’s compassion and love for others brings the best out of the unlikeliest of people. The way Glen Keane described it, Rapunzel is the representation of humanity.

However, Mother Gothel is the representation of everything that is an obstacle to Rapunzel and her freedom. She gaslight and objectified her by passively claiming that she loved her, and used her as an object to satisfy her own vanity. She never let her express her energetic and adventurous self by locking her inside, and when Rapunzel rebelled, she locked her in chains and took her to the dungeon. Rapunzel’s development can only grow if she is not stifled by chains and abuse, therefore she should avoid Mother Gothel at all costs. But who is this person who, three years later, Rapunzel tries to redeem? The very daughter of Mother Gothel, who is more like a reincarnation of her to be frank. She brought back what Rapunzel was supposed to leave behind. She condescended over her and shamed her for her underdeveloped tendencies before she even betrayed her. She constantly wanted more from her instead of accepting her who she was. She blamed her for her problems and victimized herself. Rapunzel is supposed to be past these things so that she can grow to be a strong and independent woman. Using Cassandra as a permanent villain who Rapunzel would fight against would define her as a developed woman who has moved on from her traumatic past - but it wasn’t like that. Rapunzel pined onto Cassandra despite everything she put her through. The writers tried to use this situation as a way to bring out Rapunzel’s compassion, but it contradicted her self independence and strength.

Rapunzel and Cassandra’s relationship was a toxic one, and it shouldn’t have been portrayed as a good thing at any time in the show, because of it’s disintegration of Rapunzel’s development. Rapunzel is both compassionate and resilient, but because of how poorly the writers handled this, they contradicted both of her character tendencies. It looked more like schizophrenia to be honest: One day Rapunzel resents Cassandra for her actions and fights her with a powerful incantation to keep her away from Eugene; the next day, she sings a song mourning their friendship and expressing how much she wanted her to come back.The way a character’s personality traits are presented is very important. Imagine that you’re at a restaurant where every item uses the same ingredients, but is arranged and composed in a different way. A burger on a bun with lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and ketchup would be delicious and appealing; however, a hamburger and cheese smoothie with chunks of lettuce and tomatoes floating in it and ketchup drizzled on top would be nauseating and a horrible idea (sorry for the ridiculous comparison but hopefully it gets the point across). Even though the two items have the same composition, one of them works and the other doesn’t. Rapunzel is both compassionate and resilient, but the writers made a contradicting mess out of these two tendencies because they made them clash.

10.. It annoys me when people think Eugene overreacts to things. He’s neither whiny nor childish. He’s a realistic person in a crazy world, who can’t help but be upset about certain things.

Let’s face it, he’s been through a lot, and all things considered, he’s very tolerant and resilient. He’s the most realistic character in terms of skepticism and trust issues, and that’s something I’ve always loved about him. In situations where nobody’s in danger and things are fairly normal, he tends to “overreact” to minor things, but in dangerous and serious situations, he is the first person to stand up and help people. If he was a shrimpy, whiny wimp who can’t handle things, he wouldn’t have willingly died to save someone, led a rescue squad to save the king and queen in a dangerous situation, decided to live with his former abuser to save someone who was dying, or willingly accepted his role as a captain and lead the safety of the kingdom.

If you were abandoned by your father and ended up as a poor orphan who became a criminal to fend for yourself, it’s only human to not immediately feel inclined to accept him into your life, especially considering his apparently whimsical and unconcerned personality. By the end of the episode, he himself realized that his father kept in touch with him and by the end of the show, came to understand his motive for abandoning him. Nobody forced him to see the good in his father. He realized it by his own effort. When his father gave him a gift at the end, he was the first to hug him, showing that he had come to accept him willingly.

If for generations, your family has dedicated and lost their lives to destroying a dangerous object that has caused a lot of deaths and destruction, and you break your trust with your girlfriend to protect her from it; then when you finally allow her to take it when her jealousy-driven handmaiden takes it with every intention to kill her - of course you are going to resent that woman and be upset that your girlfriend still cares about bringing her back, (especially considering you weren’t keen on her in the first place). Even though Cass didn’t deserve it, he still patiently put up with and respected Rapunzel’s opinion of her despite obviously still disliking her. That doesn’t show that he was happy about it, but that he patiently tolerated situations that he didn’t agree with.

Imagine that the only comfort and security that you had for 15 years was your fake reputation as a different character, despite knowing it wasn’t a good one, and you find it difficult to let him go because you still can’t help but wish you were as established and “successful” as he was. Then some cocky twerp that looks exactly like you comes along, dresses exactly like you and uses the same name as you did, and repeated everything that you were proud to accomplish but only better, and is liked by your friends better than you ever were. Despite the fact that your former identity wasn’t a good one, it was the only thing you had and the only thing you could find pride and joy in because you had a low self esteem about your actual self. I can certainly say that if I met someone like Brock Thunderstrike but a copy of me instead of him, I wouldn’t be happy at all. But in the end, although he obviously resented and was jealous of him, Eugene disinterestedly told him that he saw potential in him, and allowed him to find his own identity.

Eugene is one of the most realistic characters that I’ve ever seen, but he lives in unusual circumstances that he’s not used to. There’s nothing wrong with the fact that he can’t immediately see something, because all’s well that ends well - and in the end, he always makes a just decision.

{There was one more that I wanted to post but I thought it would be too conflicting so I didn’t.}

If you agree with some of these but not others, that’s fine! After all, these are unpopular opinions and I’d be lucky if anyone agreed with them.

Again, thanks for the ask!

[jane-the-zombie]

Untrust Us || Marley & Jane

TIMING: Present-ish LOCATION: Cece, Jane, & Camille’s House PARTIES: @detectivedreameater & @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Jane and Marley talk, finally. It goes.  CONTENT: Mentions of gun use.

Marley stood outside of Jane’s door for longer than she anticipated. She lived with Cece and someone else now and having others around for a conversation Marley knew was going to be rough didn’t sound fun. If they were even home. But that wasn’t what was keeping her from knocking. From going in. It was what it meant when she did. If they talked, it meant she’d have to actually confront the real reason she was mad at Jane. And she didn’t know how to explain that. But they were partners, they needed to be on the same page about things. Being mad at each other meant stupid shit could happen. If they didn’t trust each other, then there was no reason for them to be partners. And what if that’s what Jane wanted? Marley swallowed back the lump in her throat and finally raised her hand to knock. She knew what she was feeling wasn’t quite fear-- she understood fear on a visceral level, after all, she consumed it-- but saying it was simply nerves didn’t seem to fit. Maybe it was just...something she didn’t know yet. Maybe her mind was still too clouded with the loss of Sarge. There was a hole and she didn’t know how to fill it. But whatever it was, she needed to figure it out. She knocked on the door, and waited.

Jane swung Cece’s door open after what felt like forever. She had seen Marley from her room coming up the walkway, and she went down to meet her… Except she took so long that Jane was fairly certain she was just going to walk away. Her suspension hadn’t been going well - that damned counselor could shove his head up his ass -  and with her returning to active duty next week, Jane knew they needed to talk far more than they had in the past. So much had happened since she had died. Marley got attacked by a bear, Erin had lost her home, and in the same incident, Roland had died, and he wasn ever, ever coming back. Jane shouldn’t have been as broken up about Roland as she was - people were going to die. People died. And she would still be here, eating brains. That was how this whole thing worked. Jane stood to the side to let Marley in. “Cece and Camille aren’t here right now,” Jane said, shutting the door behind her. She turned to examine Marley, try and get some semblance to how she was feeling, how she was, what was happening… And Jane realized the only thing she could really register was the low feeling of panic in her chest where her heart should have been racing. Jane shook it off, running her hands along the denim of her jeans nervously. “Do you want to sit?” Jane gestured to the living room.

Jane looked...normal. Paler, but so...normal. No bags beneath her eyes, no disheveled hair, no weariness. Marley had always imagined dying would make you look like death, but the reality was that it made you look more alive, possibly. If you couldn’t get tired, you couldn’t look tired. She shuffled inside behind Jane and watched her close the door. It was a relief to know it was just them for the night, but Marley still felt that tightness in her chest. She glanced around the house-- she’d never been to Cece’s place before, but it somehow looked exactly like she thought it would-- before looking back at Jane. Her offer hung in the air. “Not really,” she said. The bandages on her face suddenly felt so much more apparent when Jane’s eyes fell on her. She furrowed her brows. “You look...okay,” she said suddenly, turning to face her. Jane’s body language was nervous, sweaty palms wiped on pants, taught muscles making her move stiffly. Marley tilted her head slightly. “I sorta figured dying would make you look, I dunno...not good.”

She refused to stare at the bandages on Marley’s face . When Jane had first gotten the horrible scar on her neck, she had been all too aware of people staring at her and her neck and she didn’t want Marley to think like that. So she turned to get a glass of water. Neither of them needed water anymore - at least, she was pretty sure Marley didn’t need to drink water - but the action and the feeling of the water sliding down her dead throat made her feel a little better. Jane gave Marley a shrug. “Nothing a really long shower can’t fix.” Jane thought about the burning hot shower she had taken in Felix and Bea’s apartment, and wondered vaguely if she owed them money for how much hot water she used to scrub the blood and dirt off her skin. Absentmindedly, she touched the spot over her heart, where she got shot. “Maybe a scar or two,” she conceded. Jane had been shot a long time ago. Well, her and Daniel joked - she had been grazed. There was no need to be dramatic, it was just a flesh wound. She looked at Marley, shoulder’s slumping slightly as she sipped her water, trying to think of something she was supposed to say. “How’s work?” Jane finally settled on.

“Right,” Marley mumbled, looking away as Jane turned to grab the glass of water, “a shower.” She was sure there was more to it than that. You could wash away the blood and grime, but you couldn’t wash away the memories. There was something Jane wasn’t saying. “Seriously?” Marley suddenly said, “that’s what you’re asking? After everything that’s happened, you’re just asking me how work is?” She grit her teeth. Her anger didn’t feel justified-- she was essentially mad at Jane for things she herself did. Erin had very thoroughly pointed that out to her. “If you must know, it’s shit. I’m missing my partner, my face hurts all the time, people keep staring at me, and now Sarge is--” she stopped mid sentence, snapping her jaw shut. Glared at Jane. “It’s not good, Jane. None of this is. I’m--” she forced her to wipe away the anger in her eyes, “--I’m mad at you and I don’t want to be. I just don’t know...why I’m angry.”

Jane was strangely unfazed by Marley’s anger. Everyone reacted to grief and misfortune in their own way, after all, and they were both trying to make their way through it. “You can be angry,” Jane said with a shrug, leaning against the counter. “It makes sense. I figured work was the easiest thing to talk about right now. Unless you want to talk about…” There were so many unsaid things they could talk about. Jane’s disappearance and death, Marley’s fist fight with a bear, Roland’s death… They could cherrypick any of them out of the air and still be worse for wear afterwards. She touched the scar on her neck, fingertips tracing the indented skin almost a little nervously. “Anything else.” Jane finally finished her sentence after a moment, looking at Marley closely. “But if you want to yell or be angry, I don’t think I have that right to stop you.”

Anger was easy. It was so easy to just yell and be upset and get mad. Even easier when Jane wasn’t even protesting or trying to stop her. But Marley looked at her leaning against the counter and suddenly knew that it wasn’t anger she was feeling-- even if she did still want to yell a little bit. It was grief. It was rushing and painful and it was trying to choke her. Why wasn’t Jane more upset? Why wasn’t she angry or hurt or sad? Why couldn’t Marley read her as easily as everyone else? “See? That’s just it, Jane. You’re not-- you’re acting like you don’t feel anything! Like you’re just fine! And I know you’re not! You-- you died. I can’t possibly know what that’s like, but you went off by yourself on some stupid kamikaze mission and got yourself killed, and I thought--” she hadn’t realized she was waving her arms around until the pain set in, a little too late. Bruises healed, but apparently bruises one acquired from getting crushed by a bear took longer to heal. “--I had no idea if you were going to come back or not. I didn’t know if Roy knew what you were. I didn’t know what had happened. You didn’t tell me anything. And we’re supposed to be partners, and tell each other these things, and you-- I didn’t know if you were ever coming back and that scared the shit out of me, Jane. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I'm sorry, Marley.” But maybe she was sorry for the wrong reasons. She was sorry for scaring her, and she felt horrible for putting her through that unknown process, but she wasn't sorry for not taking her with her to investigate the warehouse. Marley wasn't as invincible as she thought, and the incident with the bear - bugbear, she reminded herself - proved that. Jane wouldn't let anyone else get hurt, and she especially wouldn't let another partner get hurt. Marley was right, though, and in more than one way, too. “I know I'm not okay,” Jane said, quietly. Finally she looked away, sipping more of her water. “Things feel different. I can’t hear my heart beat, and it’s…” Jane wasn’t sure what to say. “Strange.” It was strange how much that bothered her. The dulled feeling of material objects had been strange, but it didn't cause her distress like not being able to feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins or hear her hurt pounding in her ears. All she felt was terror. “But I will be. Okay, I mean,” Jane said, looking back at her as she repeated Felix’s words like she had been since that night in the woods. In her own way Jane supposed she was going through her own grieving process, and she settled somewhere between acceptance of the inevitable and anger at herself and everyone else. “Not now. Maybe not even this year. But I will be. And that might be the only thing that has me grounded right now. With what happened to me, with Sarge and you and everything.”

“You lied to me, Jane,” Marley said, but the wind from her anger was quickly dying out. It wasn’t that Jane looked sad or pitiful, but hearing her say the words made Marley’s heart constrict, like how she felt when she’d seen the tears on Anita’s face that she’d cried when she thought Marley was dead. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, but she’d been feeling it more every day. “You said you had a plan, but you didn’t. And it-- you didn’t trust me to help with that and you didn’t trust me to check out that lead with you. I get it, alright? I kept the Erin thing from you, but I just thought-- I thought we were good.” She felt that pulling inside of her again. She unfurled her arms, but was then wholly unsure of what to do with them next. Of course Jane wasn’t okay, but Marley didn’t know how to comfort people. That wasn’t anything she did. “I think...it’d be worse if you were okay. I-- fuck, Jane.” She went over to the couch and sank down, pressing her palms to her eyes, wincing all the more. “This is all so fucked.” She remembered the men that she and Felix had overheard, had dragged into the alley. She remembered the satisfaction in feeling their breath leave their bodies, and she looked up at Jane. When had she come to care so much about another person? Enough that she’d kill for them? And now it wasn’t just one, it was three. “I just-- I know you’re not okay. No one is right now. I just wish I could do something about it.”

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry, Marley. If I could do it again, I would. The only thing I get to do again is… well…” Jane fell silent, knowing Marley could follow her train of thought without her needing to say the horrible cliche out loud. Jane was wrong about a lot of things, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Her fate was decided from the moment she climbed in through the window - from the moment she found the location in Erin Nichols’ journal. She let out a low sigh. “What happened - me following up on that lead… it wasn’t a matter of trust. Of course I trust you. You’re my partner.” Even if Marley keeping Erin’s secret had hurt a little more than she wanted to admit, Jane could still see the logic behind why she did it. “It was a matter of…” She pressed her lips together, knowing that Marley wasn’t going to like what she had to say. But it was better than keeping secrets, wasn’t it? It was better than Marley thinking that she didn’t trust her. “It was a matter of you not being able to come back after getting shot in the head, Marley. What I did was stupid and dangerous and -” And done for the feeling she missed most. Jane was still coming to terms with never feeling the raw adrenaline pumping through her veins ever again. “- I didn’t want you to get hurt or worse because of something stupid and dangerous.” Jane finished. She sucked in a deep breath she no longer needed, and wondered how long she could hold her breath. If it was forever - it had to be forever, right? - Jane could go scuba diving as low as she wanted. Weird time to think about that, though. Jane closed her eyes tightly, trying to reorient herself so she would stop deflecting. “And now the only thing I can do…” Jane said quietly. “The only thing we all can do is to get through all of this.” All of it. Roy, Roland’s death, Erin, Bears, and whatever other misfortune was waiting for them. Where the rush was supposed to be at the thought of danger was pure terror. Her hands tightened on the glass. “Together, this time.”

Marley, admittedly, hadn’t thought of it like that. Up until her encounter with Tommy, she’d thought herself pretty much invincible, so long as she made sure to go out at night, but-- no, it was before that, wasn’t it? The thing that still haunted her. The monster, that house, the narrow hallways they’d sloshed down. And now she was alone with those memories. Marley clenched her jaw, refocused. “If you’d trusted me enough, you never would’ve gone there in the first place,” she found herself saying quietly, “we could’ve worked out a plan together. You know that I’m invincible at night, and yet you still--” she paused, shaking her head. “It wasn’t even about trust or anything, was it?” She had a hunch why Jane had opted to go alone, but she wasn’t going to say it outloud. Jane could tell her herself if she wanted, and if she didn’t, well-- then Marley would understand that. She also didn’t like to talk about her emotions or her bad habits or the fact that she still often felt like a monster, placed on this Earth only to suffer and make others suffer. She deflated, sinking onto the couch. Put her head in her hands. Her whole body felt exhausted and the lines on her face burned. What she would give for some of Jane’s infinite energy right now. “Next time just…talk to me, okay?” she said quietly, her voice stiff, “I can’t go through that again.”

There was more to say, but perhaps it would be better to wait. They were both exhausted, and if they pushed any further it might lead to a fight. Jane was certain neither of them wanted that. They could hash through the details of that night and Jane’s decisions another time. It was more important to Jane that Marley felt comfortable enough to flop down onto the couch - it meant she would stay. Even if they totally weren’t okay, Marley would stay. “I will,” Jane promised, settling down onto the couch next to her, putting her water down on a coaster. “I won’t be the cause of that again.” There was so much to think about, especially since her suspension was up and she was heading back into work. Roland was gone. Jane wouldn’t spend time thinking about it. She couldn’t. She would change it if she could. If she could give her life up again… Well, that was a foolish thought, wasn’t it? It was what got her into this horrible mess in the first place. Marley and her… Well, they weren’t necessarily okay yet, but they could at least repair what was broken, and they could take a moment’s rest from the fire surrounding this godforsaken town.

[holidaywishes]

not all monsters do monstrous things...

Part 4: Her Hesitation

  Summary of Series: Delly Cartwright lost her best friend, Peeta, to the games. Now, the one that took him seems to have a soft spot for her.

  Summary of Chapter: “Why am I here?” you asked, confused, your breath had become so thick that it had turned to panting. It was the only sound filling the empty space of Cato’s large marble foyer. “Snow brought you here. To stay with me. Only for a few days.” He replied “I don’t understand. Why here?” she repeated. “Because I asked him to.”

  Warning: Fluff, some angst

  Author’s Note: This one started out as a much shorter chapter but I kind of just kept writing. Again, story idea goes to Ophelia Tate of fanfiction.net fame. Eventually I’ll put like a general disclaimer somewhere but for now, here it will be. Or maybe this is where it will stay, we’ll see! Hope you enjoy :D

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Delly’s P.O.V

  Gale and Prim hadn’t spoken to you since your outburst in the Apothecary. You didn’t blame them but you couldn’t deny how awful it was making you feel, a feeling your parents soon caught on to.

  “Delly...” your father’s voice was gentle and you knew the conversation was not going to be a happy one, “your mother and I have been talking. We’re worried about you, you don’t seem like you’re regular cheery self.”

  “Dad...” you groaned, “I’m just ha--”

  “Sweetheart, we want what’s best for you. We think that... you might benefit from this facility. in District 9″

  “Facility? What kind of facility?” you whined

  “They’ll help you feel less... alone. They’ll help you grieve Peeta,” he said, trying to sound comforting but it came across as belittling, “which, quite frankly Delilah, we don’t think you’ve done.”

  “You don’t think I’ve grieved my best friend’s death?” you said angrily

  “You haven’t talked about him since it happened, Delly. You watched him jump to his death and you didn’t say anything. You cried, like the rest of us, but you haven’t said anything... to any of us. And then Gale tells us you’re defending the boy who killed him?”

  “It’s not like that,” you countered, “Gale was asleep. Delirious too! After all that Morphling and those lashes.”

  “Prim told us as well”

  “Yeah, well...” you tried but came up with nothing, “fine. But it’s still not as easy as me ‘defending’ him. I was talking to him, that’s it.”

  “That would be fine, if he weren’t as cruel as he has proven himself to be. Delly, we want our girl back. Our happy little sunflower.” He said softly, placing his hand gently on your cheek, “that is why we’ve made arrangements for you to go to this facility”

  “What?!” you shouted, “NO!”

  “Tonight” he added

  “What if I don’t want to go?” you tried, angry tears filling your eyes

  “I have to use the parent card here, Delilah”

  “Dad, please,” you begged, “don’t make me go. I’m fine. I just need a couple more days. Please..”

  “Delly...” he sighed but before either of you could say anymore to each other, the sound of heavy footsteps were stomping up your steps toward your bedroom. The familiar sound of the Peacekeepers March

  “Dad...” you sobbed, tilting your head at him

  “I’m sorry, baby girl. It’s only for a few days. I promise. They’re going to help you.” He pleaded, clearly distressed at this turn of events. You tried running but it was useless; they were too strong and too many. You kicked and screamed as they practically threw you into the Humvee that they had parked outside your father’s shoe shop, driving quickly to the train stop. When they gave you over to the person on the train, you looked back to see no one around. Not even the Peacekeepers. It was just you and the darkness in front of a train that was waiting to take you away. You sobbed as they sat you down in a small train car that was surprisingly elegant for a short trip to District 9

  “It’s alright, dear,” a high voice spoke to you but you didn’t see a face, “the ride is quicker than you think.” When you finally saw her, you were more confused than ever, what was Effie Trinket doing on this train?

  “What’s happening? Why are you here?”

  “I’m the District 12 Escort--”

  “For the games...”

  “Yes, well,” she cleared her throat as she sat across from you, “this is a special trip and I was requested to escort you to your destination.”

  “What is my destination?” you quizzed, skeptical now that you were on your way to the facility that your father spoke of

  “Why, district 9 of course!” she lied

  “No,” you said, contemplatively, “you wouldn’t be here if I were going to District 9. Am I going to the Capitol? What do they want me for?”

  “Little lady,” she tried, her voice more soothing now than the shrill tone she’d started with, “I promise, all with be made clear shortly.”

  “Why can’t you just answer me?” you begged, “please. I’m so confused and scared. No one has told me anything...” As tears rolled down your cheeks, you crumpled into the soft cushion of the booth that you were in, sitting in silence with Effie has the train shot through Panem. The trained stopped suddenly and you stood up to look out the window, trying to figure out where you were when a blindfold was thrown over your eyes causing you to scream in panic.

  “Delly, it’s alright. I’m here. Everything is fine” Effie tried to soothe you

  “Get this off of me!” you yelled

  “Stop moving!” A voice cried out

  “Don’t hurt her! You were told not to hurt her!”

  “She’s fussing!”

  “It was his only request!” You heard Effie say and you wondered who she was talking about and why he requested you not be hurt. After what felt like ages, you were brought out of a car and led up a long pathway, someone’s house? you thought to yourself, still trying to figure out where you were. The Peacekeepers rang the doorbell

  “Let her go!” Effie said and you could hear her swatting the Peacekeepers arms with her paper fan before someone answered the door, “she hasn’t been harmed. Just as you asked.” You were brought inside and set down, rather abruptly, onto a small cushioned surface, probably a bench, and waited for what would happen next.

  “Thank you” a new voice replied, sending the Peacekeepers on their way

  “You’ll be fine here, darling,” Effie reassured, her voice steady but caring in an almost maternal way, “I’ll be back in a couple of days to pick you up.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Trinket.” The voice repeated. It was familiar to you but you couldn’t quite place it because of the damn blindfold, “I’m going to remove your blindfold now. I don’t want you to panic okay?” As he lifted the blindfold from your eyes, you tried to gather your senses but were overwhelmed by the bright lights surrounding you

  “You...” you finally said when your eyes adjusted to the lights

  “I don’t believe we’ve been officially introduced,” his smile was bright and almost sweet, not like the cocky one he’d had during his interviews, “I’m Cato.”

  “Delilah... Delly,” you corrected yourself, “everyone calls me Delly.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Delly,” he said, kneeling down in front of you “I’m sorry for how they brought you here. They didn’t hurt you did they?” You shook your head, unable to form a coherent sentence, “good. I’m glad. I asked them not to but I wasn’t sure if they’d listen. I’ve met your Peacekeepers before.”

  “Do my parents know I’m here? And not in District 9?” you finally asked

  “No” he confessed. You didn’t know what to say, your confusion was growing more by the instant. Why did your parents send you away? Why didn’t they know you were going to be here, with the victor of the 74th Hunger Games? Why? Why? Why? Why?

  “Why am I here?” you asked, confused, your breath had become so thick that it had turned to panting. It was the only sound filling the empty space of Cato’s large marble foyer

  “Snow brought you here. To stay with me. Only for a few days.” He replied

  “I don’t understand. Why here?” she repeated

  “Because I asked him to.”

xx

  “I don’t--” you began pacing around the space, trying not to get to close to you, “what do you want with me? I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I am not that girl...”

  “What girl is that?” he asked and you furrowed your brow, contemplating an answer

  “The girl who’s going to fall all over you just because you’re a victor..” He laughed at your remark

  “Delly,” he said, “I want to get to know you. I liked talking to you but given the circumstances, we couldn’t get to know each other. Will you please try to get to know me?”

  “I suppose..” you said hesitantly, taking his outstretched hand as he led you to the couch but you redirected to the table and he smiled before nodding understandingly.

  “So, tell me about yourself” he asked, leaning his forearms on the table

  “What do you wanna know?”

  “Everything. Anything”

  “My dad’s a shoemaker,” you said, raising the end of your sentence as if you weren’t sure if it was interesting enough, “he tried to teach me how to cobble shoes when I was like 8. He thought it would be useful but I was horribly clumsy and kept hitting my fingers with the hammer...”

  “I bet the customers love coming to the store to talk to you” he smiled and you blushed, shaking your head to yourself

  “We don’t get too many customers these days.” You stated plainly, thinking about how the last time you actually made a new pair of shoes was for Gale’s little brother on his first day of elementary school, “it’s too much of a luxury for most of the district.”

  “Oh,” he said, straightening his posture before continuing, “well.. what about your childhood?” He asked, changing the subject, and you wondered how much you should say, considering almost everything revolved around Peeta

  “Uhm..” you hesitated, “it was pretty normal. As normal as it can be I guess, I have a younger brother so he was always kinda hanging around. I made friends easily because I always smiled at people. Peeta was the first boy that ever talked to me...” As soon as you said his name, you looked down at your lap and Cato tried to change the subject

  “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t ha--”

  “No, it’s okay..” you interrupted, “I should talk about him. He was my best friend and his death is the whole reason my parents sent me away right?” you laughed uncomfortably

  “You don’t have to”

  “It’s okay,” you smiled as you looked up at him, “I met Peeta when I was maybe 6 and he was drawing with chalk outside of the Bakery. He was drawing these beautiful flowers that I had never seen in nature before, when I asked him what they were he said he’d only seen them once -- during a broadcast of the Games. I said they were such a bright blue and his drawing really made me feel like they were really there. He smiled at me, said in a higher voice than you’d remember it, ‘Hi I’m Peeta.’ After that, he became the centre of my world...” Cato frowned as you spoke but you smiled as you recalled your memories with the boy you loved and lost, “I remember one time, when we were 13, 3 years ago now. We hadn’t seen the sun in nearly a year. The sky was always shrouded with Coal dust but for some reason the sun was so bright this day that it cut through everything. Peeta and I spent the entire day in the street, letting the sun soak into our skin. It wasn’t until the end of the day that we realized the sun had practically dyed his hair!” You laughed, for the first time in a long time, “he went from a dusty blonde, almost brown colour to the little blonde baker’s son.”

  “You really loved him” Cato said

  “I did. I always thought that we’d grow old together. Maybe get married, have a kid. People expected it of us. But I knew,” you added, “that he didn’t feel the same. I knew he always loved Katniss and he would’ve done anything for her.”

  “So it was true? Their love story?” he asked, sitting back in his chair

  “Not entirely. Not the way they explained it, I mean,” you corrected, “Peeta loved Katniss, his crush on her was all he’d ever known. That much was true. But Katniss... I think she cared about him. He was easy to grow attached to, so I think she could’ve fallen in love with him but I don’t think she was in love with him during the Games. It was all just too sudden. And she had Gale back home...”

  “Her cousin?”

  “Cousin? No that was just a story, to make the star-crossed lovers thing seem more real. Gale and her were... hunting partners. They were like me and Peeta, they grew up together.” You could see thoughts racing through his mind and you could only imagine that they were guilt-ridden, “I don’t blame you. I know I probably should because if you hadn’t fought with Katniss and thrown her to the mutts, Peeta might still be here, right? That’s what everyone tells me. That’s what everyone would have me believe. But I knew Peeta.”

  “What do you mean?” he quizzed and you smirked to yourself before propping an elbow on the table and resting your head in your hand

  “If Katniss died, what would Peeta have to come back to? A girl he didn’t love who lived across the street from him? Two brothers who wouldn’t have gained any more respect for him even though he’d won the games? A mother who got angry with him at every little thing and had no faith he’d win in the first place?” you rambled, “I loved Peeta but I knew what his life was like here. He didn’t want to die, nobody does, but he always had Katniss to brighten up his day. To give him something to look forward to. Without her, what was the point?”

  “He was always going to jump...” he said quietly

  “Or poison himself or surrender... he was never going to leave that arena without her. I knew that. I said goodbye to him long before he faced you on the Cornucopia that day.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his lap, “I don’t think I’ll ever not be sorry.” You watched him for a few moments, twiddling his thumbs back and forth, not making eye contact with you; you smiled to yourself.

  “What about you?” you said, “what do I need to know?”

  “I think you probably already know more than you need to about me” he smirked

  “Those interviews are all about showmanship. Who are you really?”

  “I’m a Career Tribute. I trained until I was 18 and then I volunteered with my childhood friend..”

  “No,” you stopped him, “tell me something real. Something true.”

  “My favourite colour is red”

  “Like the colour of blood?” you asked, pinching your eyebrows together

  “No, no,” he scoffed, stretching his arms back on the table, “more like a poppy. That bright red.. What else do you want to know?”

  “How about... your childhood?” you asked

  “I’m a Career Tribute. I trained every day until I wa--” he started to repeat, forcing you to laugh and interrupt him again

  “Fine fine, okay!” you giggled, catching him smile before you let your eyes wander as you thought about your next question, “can you tell me about her?” You were hesitant to even ask, knowing the pain that you had when you remembered Peeta, but you wanted to know how he felt about her.

  “Clove and I grew up together,” he said, knowing that you were talking about the girl he’d lost in the games, “She was two years younger than I me but she was... talented with those knives of hers. She was fast and she was brutal. So, everyone agreed to let her volunteer before the rest of us. Aside from that she was smart and funny; It was always easy to just sit in a room and talk with her until the sun came up.” He spoke with such a grin on his face, you couldn’t help but smile, “our families used to get together at the end of every training year, before the Games, and have these huge Firework displays. It was their way of congratulating themselves on what they’d done. Anyway, one year, Clove stole half of the fireworks and didn’t tell me but we went to a party at a friends house and she busts out these giant fireworks and runs to the yard to light them up.”

  “If you loved her... why didn’t you--”

  “I wanted to run to her,” he answered, knowing your question, “but I was hurt and too far away. By the time I heard her call for me, I was too late. I called out to her and she didn’t hear me. Plus, if I had run to her, even after she’d been hit, I would’ve been seen as weak. I couldn’t save her. There was no point in showing Panem that I would cry over her, not with the image I’d created for myself. I needed to avenge her.”

  “Because you loved her”

  “I cared for her. Love was a weakness I couldn’t afford” his tone changed quickly and you got nervous about what his reaction might be to any more questions, especially about Clove.

  “I’m tired,” you said, “where should I sleep tonight?” He stood up and led you to a guest room that spanned almost two of your bedrooms and you gasped at the sight of it

  “I hope you’ll be okay in here.”

  “Are you kidding?” you scoffed, a smile on your face that you couldn’t hide, “I think I’ll be just fine in here.”

  “Goodnight, Delly.” He said but before he could walk away, you stopped him. This whole night had been a lot to take in and you weren’t sure how to feel about him asking for you to be brought here; you could tell he had a temper and you weren’t sure what would set him off but still, there was something about him that you were sure you could connect to.

  “Goodnight, Cato” you said as you propped yourself on the tips of your toes to kiss his cheek softly, squeezing his hand as you steadied yourself back on the ground, noticing a blush creep across his cheeks as he closed the door.