#older melinda

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

To some others, were the others still trying to take the kids? What about you Melinda?

@demon-blood-youths

"........" Melinda said nothing but she knew the other girls were worried sensing her being silent. Remembering how some thieves have been trying to kidnap the children.

"Lets just say it was.....scary but angry at the same time. Those fools kept trying to take who ever they can. Even at the time, the kids are still worried but won't show it." Melinda looks down but she only sighed that her silver eyes glowed but dimmed light red.

"Even when some kidnapped my pups.." she hissed.

"Uh oh.." the vixens knew she was angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She remembers one time when she and Jaron found out some others were in their home but it still was painful with their eyes wide seeing two guys grabbing Abigail and Benjamin.

"Mommy!! Daddy!! Help!!!" Abi struggles.

"Mama!! Papa!!" Ben cries reaching for his parents crying. Melinda quickly tries to summon her friends but the lung dragon and jackal sees them quickly jumps from the window with the two.

"NO!!!" both parents runs over to the window seeing the two disappear but Melinda was shaking screaming. Her eyes were wide but she was covering her face sobbing. Jaron quickly summons the pack.

"Find Abi and Ben quickly!" he said seeing the jackals going to find them. Even seeing three lung dragons following as well as Jaron tries calming his wife down.

"...M..My puppies...my puppies.." she whispered.

"We'll find them Melinda....they won't get away with this-" that's when he stops seeing Melinda glowing but he senses the air getting heavy to see his wife. "Mel?"

".......They...won't...get away with this.....they will pay for this." she hissed but her tears still ran down her cheeks but her eyes were now light red. "We need to find them Jaron." she said.

"..You got it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, we told the others but they helped up look for Abi and Ben. But...in the end we did find them but......it was scary after what me and Jaron saw."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They got to be in here somewhere! Kids!! Kids where are you!?" Melinda was worried about her two little pups ones but seeing everyone looking and beating up the bad guys. They really might need to find a way to stop them from being kidnapped.

Melinda shoves two away after making them crash into the wall but she was more worried about her kids right now. Jinx punches one in the face but sends him flying before she looks seeing everything in chaos.

"Where the heck are they?! They might have moved them!" Jinx said ducking a guy from shooting her till she burns him hearing the screaming.

"I don't know but they got to be here somewhere!" Jaron said even if he was worried. However, as everyone kept looking around, a sudden scream was heard making Jaron and Melinda tense.

"What the heck was that!?" Maggie said but the two knew.

"A...abi..that was abi!" Melinda quickly goes to follow the scream with Jaron behind her.

"Melinda wait!" Jaron rushes to follow her with everyone else. The two worried parents runs through trying to find the scream. During that time, in another room......

"Let us go!! You big meanies!" the guards were looking to Abi after taking her away but Ben was crying while one was holding him by the shirt.

"Tch, why did the boss even want this brat. She's loud and he won't stop crying!" one guy said as Ben was crying wanting his mama and papa.

"Let my baby brother go!" She struggles but the guard sighed to throw her to the ground as Abi winces from that. She tenses seeing the guard look at her while Ben was shaking scared.

"If you don't shut up I'll be sure you get killed for that!" he said angry. Abi had to save her baby brother even if he was scared. She hated when someone messes with her baby brother!

"Let him go!!!! Let him go!" she shouted but the guard only sighed to smirk. That's when he drops Ben as he was shaking scared. Tears running down his little cheeks whimpering. Abi didn't want them to hurt him but she sees them only start trying to.

He was reaching for her but Abi saw the guy about to hurt him! That did it for Abi.

"I said...STOP!!" Suddenly something shows to stop the guys while she was glaring at them. Her almond color eyes were glowing but showing the same orange color with a wisp leaving her lips like her father! They couldn't move while they look at the little girl but she was slowly standing up but she was having a headache.

"What the hell!?" both said not able to move.

"Don't talk!! Bring my baby brother to me and when you do, get away from him and me.." she said seeing the guys slowly walking over but sets Ben down by her. Ben was shaking with hic ups due to feeling a bit sore. Abi still kept looking at them but she was holding her head.

"Now step away...and stay in the corner away from u..us." she hissed seeing them doing just that even if they tried to move they couldn't stop listening to her. However, she sees them struggling but this was hurting Abi's head as she was crying.

That's when she shuts her eyes wincing a little but that's when the glow leaves the two guys who gasps struggling.

"Tch...why you little-" He aims his gun to shoot at the two but Abi quickly held her hands showing a silver glow up to see the guns caught and turned facing them but as the bad guys pulled the trigger.

Two loud bangs were heard with Abi shaking lowering her arms seeing something splatter against the wall behind them. Something warm hits her face and a little on Ben's face. The two bodies fall to the ground with a thud.

"........" She sat there with eyes wide terrified but she only felt Ben grabbing her arm that she goes to pull him close to hold him close now crying. Then a pair of running footsteps were heard to the door opening.

"Abigail! Benjamin! Are you two-" Melinda stops seeing her babies in the room but she goes to them quickly worried. "Abi? Abi, are you okay? What happened? And...why is their blood on..." she sees her daughter crying shaking.

"I..I didn't mean to mama and papa..I didn't mean to." she sobs but Melinda didn't know what was wrong till Jaron looks with his eyes widen. The two guys that kidnapped them. They were shot. Wait, did Abi do this?

"..Abigail-"

"I..I don't know what happened..I just....I got angry when they were hurting Ben a..and...I looked at them and they were listening t..to what I was telling them. T..then I got a headache before they tried to..*sob* use the guns but my hands were glowing t...to..." she started crying more but Melinda and Jaron was worried only for Melinda to hold her kids close.

"Shhhhh...don't. Right now, we need to get you out of here....it's going to be okay sweetie...Were just happy you both are safe.." she whispered but Melinda was holding her babies in tears but Jaron said nothing having a feeling of what happened. All he did was hold his family close as the others were making their way to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When we got back, we got them both cleaned up and treated. Turns out, Abi used her power or it showed at that bad moment. She does indeed have me and her father's power but combined..it's pretty dangerous. Right now, after that she was scared but...we were helping with calming her down none the less. I don't know why these kidnappers are still trying to get our kids but.....it seems because of that their powers are showing. I just hope we can give a warning to these monsters to leave our babies alone." Melinda sighed but felt Jinx resting a hand on her shoulder worried.

"And before you ask, Jaron wasn't happy either when seeing how our kids looked. Scared, messy, tired, and just....hurt. That was something scary but we were happy to have them safe in our arms again."

[the-blueprint-robin]

in another life i could've grown up an only child. thats so very odd to think about

[rainintheevening]

🍁🍁Comfy-vember 🍁🍁

Day 9: Scars

Grant Ward & Phil Coulson, Agents of SHIELD, Saving Grant Ward AU, aftermath of torture, non-sexualized bathing/washing, the author does not recommend postponing medical care for a shower

---------

The first thing Grant demanded was a shower.

"It's been three weeks, okay? You don't want me in your medbay like this."

Simmons stood with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning down at him where he sat on the Quinjet, which had just touched down in the Playground's hanger. "Just because Trip splinted your leg and I gave you some anesthetic, doesn't mean it isn't serious. You need to get the bone set, and I'm worried about infection. Never mind your shoulder—heaven only knows what those x-rays are going to look like."

Phil stayed seated, feeling Grant's weight leaning into him, though it was less than it had been before. Before Garrett, before HYDRA, before he'd been on the run. There was no denying Grant was a mess—greasy hair grown too long and falling in his eyes, ragged jacket and jeans bearing mud and tree sap smears, a fading black eye, and that nasty red scar in front of one ear that ran down to his neck. But he was here! He was safe, he was home, he was back where he belonged. Phil's kid was home again, and the joy of that overwhelmed any grief or fear for now.

"Medbay is built for messes, man." Trip grinned down at his old buddy. "Think about how many people puke in there."

"I'm with Ward," Fitz put in, hovering over Jemma's shoulder. "He should- um- er–"

"Shower." Jemma's whisper was barely audible.

"–shower if he wa-would like to."

"Thank you, Fitz." Grant opened his eyes to smile at the younger agent. "I'm taking a shower," he said again to Simmons. "I'll get back to you in an hour. In the medbay."

Phil knew that tone, and smiled up at the agents clustered in front of them, now including May; Skye lingered warily in the cockpit. It hit him suddenly that they were all here. Grant, May, Fitzsimmons, Skye, Trip. The whole team, reunited.

But he shook off the warm surge of emotion. Grant had to be cared for. "You're not budging him, guys, sorry."

"And what if you fall and break something else?" Simmons argued. "Splitting your skull open in the shower isn't exactly unheard of, and you're not exactly stable."

Grant sighed, sitting straighter so he could turn his head to look at Phil. "Dad?"

That tired little murmur had Phil swallowing hard, nodding before he answered: "Of course. Don't worry," to Simmons. "I'll go with him."

Grant shifted his weight to stand, and Phil moved quickly, ducking under the good right arm, as he levered himself up on the good left leg.

"At least let us get you a stretcher or a wheelchair." Simmons's hands fluttered out in a helpless gesture.

Stiffly, Grant patted her arm with his free hand, made more awkward by the damaged shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Jemma. But I'm walking in there."

"He's not unconscious," Trip shrugged, moving to Grant's other side, but Fitz had beat him to it.

"Alright, we've got you," Fitz said, his arm joining Coulson's around Grant's waist.

Grant's smile was soft, and he nudged his chin against the curly hair at his shoulder. "Thanks, Leo."

The pure love and hero worship in Fitz's answering look would have melted anyone's heart.

By the time they made it to the bottom of the ramp, though, Phil was wishing Grant had taken Jemma's offer. Even with the local anesthetic in his leg, and the age of his shoulder wound, he moved slow and painful, only the hiss of his breathing betraying what must have been agony. He'd lost enough weight that Phil could have comfortably carried him, but he doubted Grant would agree to that with such an entourage.

That thought was cemented when the second set of heavy doors slid open to the main hall, and instantly a wave of applause washed over them.

Dozens of agents of all ranks and duties lined both sides of the hall, clapping and cheering as Grant stood frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw him go first white, then red under the dirt and sweat.

"They're all the ones you saved," came May's calm voice behind them. "At Rabbit's Run and Carlton Place and Foxhole. They know what you did for them."

Most of them were hostages released in the wake of Grant's silent but deadly run on the HYDRA ranks. He'd assassinated almost a hundred HYDRA agents and operatives in the US and Europe, all in the span of two months, and while carrying a bullet in his shoulder. Not even Natasha could match that, Phil thought, pride welling in his chest.

As they came down into the hall, Agent Morse stepped forward, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

"Baby Bird." Grant nodded at her.

"Baby Hawk." She grinned. "Welcome back."

Phil wanted to chuckle at the normalcy of their friendly banter, but he could feel Grant's arm trembling around his neck, Grant using all his strength to stand tall in front of the crowd.

"I suppose I have you to blame for this circus."

"Nah, it was Mack's idea."

"Mack." Grant smiled faintly over toward the big man. "Now if you'll excuse me, Birdy, I need a shower."

"And then medical attention," Simmons piped up rather crossly.

"Yeah, that's obvious." Concern creased Bobbi's forehead as she took in his current state. "Well, I certainly won't stand in your way." She stepped back into the line of agents on the left.

"Showers are down two levels with the bunks," Phil said softly, as they stepped forward again. "We'll take the elevator. Straight ahead, then to the right."

Grant did not reply, he was exerting every effort to limp as strongly and steadily as possible down that hall. Some of the agents they passed stood to attention and saluted, some just nodded or tapped a fist over their heart.

What a contrast to the outrage and anger that had gripped the surviving SHIELD members after they saw the footage from the Treehouse massacre—Grant Ward following John Garrett as obediently as a leashed dog. Phil, had been one of his only defenders, along with Fitzsimmons. Even when Grant had betrayed Providence, Phil had clung to his belief that his kid was just playing the game, keeping his cover by giving information that may or may not result in deaths. It was a far better idea than the alternative.

And Phil's belief had been vindicated.

Just Phil, Grant, Fitz, and Trip stepped into the elevator, and the second the doors closed, Grant sagged heavily into Phil, almost falling.

"Steady, steady!" Fitz exclaimed, then froze as his frantic tug on Grant's injured arm elicited a deep groan from him.

"Just– gimme a minute," Grant squeezed out.

"It's okay, Fitz," Phil said, hooking his fingers under Grant's belt to support him better.

It was... different sticking with an injured member of his team this far. Usually by now he'd stepped back, taking the team leader's long view, taking stock and planning what to do next, while other more qualified people did their jobs. Especially now that he was Director Coulson, and not just another agent. But this was Grant, this was his son. Grant trusted him like no one else. And Phil was more than grateful to have this time with Grant, after so long.

"I wanna sleep for a week," Grant whispered, somewhere around Phil's collar.

"That can be arranged." Trip looked both concerned and amused. "Are you sure you're up to this, man?"

Grant did not lift his head from Phil's shoulder, even as the elevator halted, and Phil barely caught his whisper: "I just want to get him off me."

Phil stiffened, and Grant straightened hastily, shaking his head. "No, no! That's not what I– I just–" He made a frustrated sound. "I smell like HYDRA," he said at last.

"You smell like shit," Trip said dryly.

"Exactly."

Phil had been blocking it out best he could, but in the narrow space of the elevator, it was impossible not to notice the reek of sweat and blood and something rotten that clung to Grant. Phil did not blame him at all for wanting that shower.

It took them another ten minutes to reach the men's showers; a long narrow space, with benches along one wall facing a row of shower heads, half enclosed, half not.

Fitz was sent for a chair, while Trip helped Phil remove the splint from Grant's leg and cut the bottom of his pant leg off so it could be put back on over bare skin.

"Are you sure you don't want me to-?" Trip held up a hand against Grant's glare. "Nah, it's okay, man. I'll leave you two to it." He glanced at Phil. "Want me and Fitz to stand guard outside?"

"One of you at least, if you wouldn't mind." He was about to ask if Trip could fetch something clean for Grant to wear, when Fitz came in, carrying the chair, and a handful of clothes.

"Agent May brought these." He held out the clothing: Grant's old Seahawks sweatshirt, a SHIELD-issue t-shirt and underwear, and a pair of flannels Phil didn't recognize. "Agent MacKenzie, er, gave the trousers."

Phil smiled, noting how Fitz's transitions from a word he couldn't remember to one he did were getting smoother. "Tell them both thanks."

"Clearing out now, sir." Trip patted Fitz's shoulder in a way that served to steer him back toward the door. "Holler if you need anything."

The clank of the door shutting echoed in the sparsely outfitted room, and then there was silence, except for a pipe gurgling, and the harsh sound of Grant's breathing.

Phil knelt beside him, involuntarily reaching to push back the shaggy hair from his forehead. They'd laid him flat on the floor for stability while they moved the splint around, but Phil couldn't help thinking he looked nearly dead, stretched out like that.

Grant opened his eyes, squinted up at him.

"You ready?" Phil asked softly.

"Think the granola bars are kicking in." Grant sighed, sat up carefully. "Let's get this over with."

They started with peeling off Grant's jacket, and two button-down shirts. "Haven't worn a t-shirt since Anchorage," he muttered, letting his left arm fall back into his lap.

Phil nodded silently. He remembered the shock of Grant's body hitting his, in time with the crack of Garrett's gun. That bullet had ended up in Grant's shoulder, rather than Phil's brain.

He frowned at Grant's torso, counting three puckered spots of skin, obvious gunshot scars. "Where'd you get those?"

Grant had already started to shiver slightly, and sat forward instead of back against the cold cinderblock wall. He took a moment to reply. "Garrett. On the Bus. Trying to get Fitzsimmons."

Phil was kneeling in front of him where he sat on the bench, so he could look up into Grant's face. There was a distance in Grant's gaze he understood, but didn't like. "Jemma was sure you were dead. She said you got shot at least six times. Fitz was heartbroken."

A spark in the dark brown eyes, a twitch of the lips. "He's a good kid. Leo the lion, bravest of them all."

"But Garrett kept you alive."

A nod, and Grant looked away.

Phil took a deep breath, quelling the anger and sadness that welled in him, and reached slowly to cup Grant's cheek, press his fingers to sweat-sticky too-warm skin.

"I'm glad you're alive."

A glance at him, before Grant's eyes welled up, and he covered them with one hand. Phil's heart cracked a little; four hours since rescue and this was the first time he’d seen tears from from Grant.

Grant slid his hand over on top of Phil's, now hiding his face behind both of them, but he gripped Phil's fingers painfully tight. He said nothing, but a few deep breaths later, he let go, sat straighter, rubbed his eyes.

"Okay, let's move."

They had to cut the waistbands of his jeans and underwear above the injured leg to get those off anywhere close to comfortably, and then Phil turned on the water, giving it time to warm. Grant would need that; Phil hated hearing the little teeth chatters and quick breaths behind him as he collected the company-issue soap and shampoo from a shelf, along with washcloths and a clean towel. Koenig deserved a raise for keeping this place so well-stocked, Phil thought.

At last he helped Grant gently to his feet, and half-carried him into the now-steaming shower, lowering him to sit in the chair Fitz had brought.

A little gasp escaped Grant as the warm water hit him, before he relaxed, tilted his head back to let it wash over his face. Phil moved back to the curtained entrance, awkward and uncertain now. He'd set the soap and things within Grant's reach, but it wouldn't be easy for him to wash himself in his current state. He decided to wait for Grant to ask before he tried to help any further.

He had a sudden sharp recollection of being a child in the bathroom doorway, watching his mother help his father bathe, near the end when the cancer had robbed him of his strength. It was the same mixture of embarrassment, helplessness, and love that filled Phil now.

Sweat beaded on his brow, and he became aware of his heavy jacket and boots, and the water splashing on the cement floor. He left the coat, socks, and boots on the bench, along with his watch, rolling up his sleeves as he walked back to the shower stall.

That was when Phil finally saw the bullet scar clearly, stark on Grant's flushed skin. A dent the size of a quarter in his left shoulder, red and purple lines radiating outward in a strange sort of shatter pattern.

In the narrow space, Grant's back was only an arm's length away, but Phil hesitated to touch him, afraid to startle him. He'd carried that wound for two months– How had he ever survived? How had he kept going? Kept spying and shooting and moving.

"Coulson," Grant was saying. "Dad!"

He blinked, shook his head, cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Grant had his head down, turned, but not quite looking back at him. His hand holding the shampoo bottle was trembling. "Can you-?"

"Of course."

Water droplets pattered against his arms, darkened his sleeves as he worked a lather into Grant's hair, careful and awkward at first, before settling down to the job. He could feel Grant relaxing under his hands, and bit back a smile.

"Feeling better?" he murmured, as soapy grey water slid down the drain.

Grant's only reply was a grunt.

"Just don't fall asleep," Phil warned. "You can do that when they knock you out in the med bay."

"Won't need to knock me out," Grant mumbled.

No, they probably wouldn't, Phil thought. At this rate, he'd be carrying Grant down to the med bay.

"Anything else I can do?" he asked aloud, dropping his right hand to Grant's shoulder.

Grant said nothing, just held up a washcloth, and Phil silently took it.

He eased back a step, as Grant leaned forward, and was thinking of how gentle he'd have to be when he paused, staring at Grant's back.

The bullet hole wasn't the only scar there. There were other, older lines, cuts, burns that almost looked like finger prints, and... was that-?

"Grant. What is this?" He could barely hear his own whisper over the running water.

"What-?" Grant started, before he froze under Phil's touch.

Phil's stomach churned as he traced the raised flesh, the hollow-eyed skull and the eight curling tentacles. Bile rose in his throat, hot and scalding, but he swallowed it back. "Who did this to you?" He hated how his voice broke, how tears burned behind his eyes.

"Sorry, Garrett's already dead."

With a curse, Phil turned away, slammed a fist into the metal wall, but Grant's flinch yanked him back from the anger better than the pain in his knuckles did.

A deep breath, before he found a word. "Why?"

Grant seemed to shrink under his gaze, curling under the weight of that awful brand. But his words came as steadily as they would in any debriefing. "He said I was his. After I– I tried to escape. They tortured me, but he wouldn't let me die. And then he had me branded. To make sure everyone knew which master to send the mutt back to.

"Did you know?" He sat straighter, as if the bitter words gave him strength, glanced over his shoulder up at Phil. "Did he tell you he came to recruit me? In juvie? He got to the detention centre ten minutes after we left. He wanted me for HYDRA. But you beat him to it." A rusty laugh. "The way he harped on that, you would have thought you'd done it on purpose." He sighed, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "After- after I broke, after I shot Firenze... he said he won. He said he got me in the end."

The warmth on Phil's cheeks was not water; it stung in his eyes, burned in his throat. Words, where were they? What was he supposed to say?

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. We should have searched harder, we should have found you, I should have saved you. But when he opened his mouth, no sound came.

Blinking away tears, he looked down to where his hands rested on Grant's shoulders, water pattering over his fingers and dripping steadily down from his wrists... washing over those scars. On the right, the brand of HYDRA. On the left, the shattered mark earned from saving Coulson. He wished suddenly that the brand could have been on the left, could have been punched through by that bullet. Because which one had been Grant's choice?

"He didn't."

It came out in a croak, and Phil cleared his throat.

"He didn't get you in the end. You were willing to die to save me. The whole time he thought he had you, you were waiting to turn it back on him. He might have had your hands tied, but he didn't have you."

Grant sat quite still in front of him, head bowed, and suddenly Phil needed to see his face, to make sure Grant understood the truth. He ignored how water soaked his shirt as he stepped around to turn the shower off, and in the ringing hush, sank into a crouch in front of Grant.

Naked, dripping, hungry, exhausted, scarred, and in pain—this was Grant Ward at his most vulnerable. Phil only hoped he could get it right, could say and be whatever it was Grant needed most right now.

"Grant," he murmured.

A sniff, a shaky exhale, a hand rubbed across his face, but Grant did not look up.

Phil shifted to one knee, reaching up to cup the back of Grant's neck, rest their heads together. "You did what you had to do to survive."

Grant shook his head, drew back. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed and wet. "You taught me a long time ago there was more to life than survival."

"I trust your judgement on the cost. You're a good man, Grant. Making the hard choices doesn't change that."

Tears brimmed over, and he turned his face away again.

"You stayed alive," Phil whispered. "And I'm grateful."

A shudder under Phil's hand, and then a sob broke out, Grant shaking his head hard. "But I didn't! I didn't try to survive! He wouldn't let me die."

How could his heart hurt anymore? Phil wondered. Not that he could really pretend surprise. Torture could push people in all kinds of directions. But he needed to keep Grant talking, dig out whatever was festering in his heart.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"This scar," Grant gulped, lifted a shaking hand to the pink line running down from in front of his right ear to under his jaw. "That wasn't Garrett. That was me."

And now he was sobbing, slumping forward against Phil's chest. As gently as he could, Phil wrapped an arm over Grant's back, their positions making it awkward to offer more physical comfort.

He wished he had a towel to wrap around Grant's shoulders, knowing the chill would get to him sooner or later. Cool water was dripping down inside his collar, and the hard floor was hurting his knee, but Grant had a fistful of his shirt, and Phil would not have pulled away for the world. He pressed his cheek against wet hair, and closed his eyes.

"What happened, Grant? Talk to me. This is our debriefing. Just us. Talk to me."

"He told me they were dead," Grant choked out. "Fitzsimmons. But he kept me alive. Tortured me. No food. No water. Alone. In the dark. For weeks." A last sob shuddered through him, and he subsided to ragged breathing. He was collecting himself, trying to explain coherently. "Garrett wanted to break me. I tried to escape, but–" a deep shaky inhale "–they caught me. Beat me. When I woke up... he branded me. And I..." His voice caught, and he shook his head, shivered.

"I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry."

That tearful whisper tore at Phil's heart, and a couple warm drops slipped down his own cheeks.

"For what?" Even though he knew the answer.

"I was supposed to die bravely. But I couldn't. I wanted it to end! I just wanted... it to stop, so I tried. I stole a knife, went for the carotid. When I woke up... Garrett said I wouldn't get away that easy.

"I gave in, Dad." Another round of sobs threatened, but he fought them back. "I wasn't trying to be a double agent, I just... wanted to eat every day. I wanted to wake up and not hurt. I don't even remember the Treehouse. Because he was right. I was no better than a dog."

"Grant Douglas Ward." His voice came out too loud, and he tried to soften it with a hand on Grant's cheek. "Look at me." He stared into bloodshot brown eyes, gripped Grant's face gently. "Sometimes heroes have to start by saving their own lives. And yours is worth it." A thumb stroked deliberately down the knife's old path. "So thank you. Thank you for surviving. I'm proud of you, son."

More tears, but quieter now, both of them worn and chilled.

Phil leaned in to press a warm kiss to Grant's forehead. "Come on," he murmured. "We better finish up and get you in some dry clothes."

"Okay."

As he stood though, Grant caught his hand, squeezed it. "I love you, Dad." His tiny tired smile was like the sun breaking through clouds.

It took a moment before Phil could answer.

"I love you, son."

He tried to move quickly, cleaning Grant's back, and helping him wash around the splint. The little gasps from Grant at any movement of his leg, told him the anesthetic had run his course, and his kid belonged in the med bay ten minutes ago.

But at the same time there seemed to be something lighter in Grant's eyes, in his air, and Phil was certain their conversation had been a good thing. What was that saying? The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable? Well, they'd gotten some of the misery out of the way.

Getting Grant dry and dressed was an arduous process, but at last he sat on the bench, clad in the borrowed flannels and Phil's jacket, preferable because of its zipper. Phil discarded his soaked button down, and took the t-shirt and sweater. May had forgotten socks, so he gave Grant his own, kneeling in front of him to gently ease on one and then the other, at least as far as it could go on the wounded leg.

As Phil hastily laced his boots, he glanced sideways at Grant's pale face, and closed eyes, the way he slumped back against the wall, still shivering.

"I'm carrying you." Not a question, a decision.

"You always carry me."

The words were barely audible, and he wondered if Grant had meant to say that aloud. But he clearly meant for Phil to hear him as he was set gently on the elevator floor, Fitz and Trip fussing around his leg. As Phil made to stand, Grant caught his sleeve, spoke soft but steady. "I'm glad I'm alive too."

Phil could only nod and smile.

Grant was asleep on his shoulder by the time the elevator stopped.

[earthmoonz]

WIFEY. | EPISODE TWO (2.3)

start / previous / next

(transcript below)

[eight weeks earlier]

(MELINDA): I know this will have been difficult to hear and I’m more than happy to discuss next steps with you but-

(MAX): Oh fuck this.

door swings open, max stomps down the hallway

(SIMONE): Max!

(MAX): Leave me alone!

(outside the law office)

(SIMONE): Maxie love, you need to come back inside and hear what the solicitor has to say.

(DANIELLE): Mum’s right. You storming out like that makes us look crazy.

(MAX): Get fucked Danielle. 

(DANIELLE): kisses her teeth

(MAX): gritted teeth - I’m not gonna sit there and listen to that woman chat shit when I could be finding out the truth instead.

(SIMONE): Max please. We are all hurting, but we need to stick together. Your mum was inside for so long…we don’t know what she was going through. Not really.

(MAX): She had one week left! Why would she throw that away?  *small* Why wouldn’t she leave a note?

(SIMONE): Darling I-

(MAX): No! 

(MAX): Look, you lot can do what you want, but I’m not letting this go. Someone didn’t want mum released from prison. I’m going to find out who and why. And no one’s gonna stop me.

[wanderingmind867]

Me and my dad watched a Christmas Story last night. And you know...maybe it's because my mom's gone (so it's just the two of us), or maybe it's because i'm growing up, but this was the first time i really focused on the whole film. I didn't really do much on here or with my phone or tablet in general. I mean, I used them. But i was pretty intently focused on the film.

Now with that out of the way: my god, that movie is impressive. It's really only got four or five actors, but wow. They really emote. I was stunned by the mother and father, especially. Melinda Dillon and Darren McGavin really express so much, often with just their physical expressions and vocal tones. It's impressive. And Jean Shepherd is a great narrator, too. I can see why he was a popular humorist at one point. His delivery of his lines is amazing. So although i always saw this film as a kid and loved it, now i think i noticed more stuff to appreciate.

[imliterallyjustsittinghere]

begging someone to write a lesbian fiona frost fic. preferably melinda desmond/fiona frost. i just think it has the potential to be really compelling

[philtatosbuck]

was wyatt being a boy stupid? yes was it an interesting dynamic for wyatt and chris anyway? absolutely would i have liked for the eldest to be a girl named melinda? you betcha

[winloseorcharmed]

So all the old stuffed toys Melinda had growing up, her little Round Table and the toybox that she dubbed as "Toybox of Despair", she has all of that stuff still. It's in a small room in her cabin. She had meant to give them to her children but after getting the news that there is just so much damage to her womb (from battles with the forces of evil) its unlikely she can have children.

[cosmogyros]

i'm not crying you're crying

(this is my grandma now. I've just decided. I have no living grandparents, so she will be my grandma now <3)

[inkquillery]

hey remember this

my brain’s smashing together agents of shield and daredevil and jessica jones and life unexpected and it’s all coming together but also nothing is coming together but it’s happening in my head and i can’t stop it—

so like

has no one written a fic where may is the one who’s mind controlled

and attacks daisy

like

no one??

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 6

Part 6 – Supporting character musings – Eden kids

In the first three parts of this post series, I talked in detail about how each of the Forgers' specific ways of speaking in the Japanese version helps shape their character. Now I want to analyze the supporting SxF characters in terms of their speech and see what traits we can infer. I'll discuss the Eden kids first, and then the supporting adult characters like Yuri, Fiona, etc, in the next post.

I'm going to start with Damian since I feel he has the most complexity in terms of what can be analyzed from his speech. While there's nothing about his speech that really stands out to me, at least compared to the Forgers, there's still little telling nuances based on his choice of words and honorifics. He uses casual speech for fellow kids his age, and polite speech for (most) adults, which is normal…I say "most" adults though because, while he uses keigo (the standard polite form of Japanese speech) for Eden teachers and the adults in his family, he doesn't use it at all during his first encounter with Loid. He even calls Loid おっさん("ossan"), which is basically "mister" but for middle-aged or older men, instead of 兄さん("niisan"), which is the same, but for a younger man akin to Loid's age.

Later, as Loid's goody-goody act gets on his nerves, his speech becomes a bit vulgar. He adamantly shouts that he "won't hang out with that peasant girl," using the "crude" conjugation of "won't be friends with/hang out with", 相手にしねー! ("aitei ni shine!") instead of the casual 相手にしない ("aitei ni shinai"). He even says うるせー ("urusee") which means "shut up" and is even more rude than うるさい ("urusai"). I'm actually surprised he let himself talk like that in front of Donovan. I suppose it shows how passionate he is about his "aversion" to Anya.

Speaking of Anya, he's never addressed her by name in the Japanese version, opting instead to call her, at best, the casual form of "you," "omae" ("お前") and at worst, some rude name like "temee" ("手前"), the derogatory form of "you."

When it comes to his family, he addresses Donovan and Melinda as 父上 ("chichi-ue") and 母上("haha-ue") respectively. These are more formal terms for the standard polite ones typically used to address your father and mother, "o-tou-san" (お父さん) and "o-kaa-san" (お母さん). For Demetris though, he's more casual. Not only does he use plain speech, but he also calls Demetris 兄貴 ("aniki"), which is a term of endearment, like "Big Bro."

He uses casual speech with Jeeves as well, which makes sense since Jeeves is a butler and thus "lower" than anyone in the Desmond household.

To me, all of this implies that Damian is a fairly normal kid in terms of how he addresses those around him, with the exception being his extreme formality with his parents. Terms like "chichi-ue" and "haha-ue" are mostly used in uptight, flatulent families, and obviously families like the Desmonds match that description. But it also shows how this is forcing Damian to rarely get the affection and bonding he craves from his parents.

As a side note, I don't have much to say about Bill and George, since they're such minor characters and nothing about their speech stood out to me in the few chapters they appeared in. But I found it interesting that they both call Damian "Damian-kun," with "-kun" in this case being an honorific to show endearment for a male equal, similar to "-chan" for females. However, Damian doesn't use "-kun" with any of the other male students, which is another indication of his comparatively standoffish personality.

Ewen and Emile speak similarly to Damian, using casual speech for fellow kids and keigo for adults. The exception with them, however, is that they address Damian with keigo as well. Not only that, but they call him "Damian-sama," which is unusual among friends their age. The honorific "-sama" is more humbling than "-san" and is often translated as "Lord" or "Master." I wonder what Damian has done to make them think so highly of him.

Moving onto Becky, she uses feminine speech in most situations. This speech is defined by adding softening interjections at the end of sentences, like "ne" (ね), "no" (の), and especially "wa" (わ). She also uses a variety of honorifics for the other characters. She calls Anya "Anya-chan," with "-chan" being a term that shows affection between female friends. She uses the feminine "I/me" pronoun "atashi" as well.

Because of her infatuation with Loid, she calls him "Loid-sama," with "-sama," as I just discussed, being a very polite honorific used for someone you're subservient to, or at least someone you look up to immensely.   

She's actually never called Yor by her name – at first she calls Yor 奥さま ("oku-sama"), which is a polite way of addressing someone else's wife, typically translated as something like "honorable wife." But after she sees how strong Yor is and "officially" decides to be her mentee (in her mind anyway), she calls Yor 師匠 ("shishou") which means "master" or "teacher" in a trainee to trainer sense.

But despite her high social status as a Blackbell, Becky uses the most childish terms for her mother and father, "papa" (パパ) and "mama" (ママ) respectively.

It's not uncommon for very young kids to address their parents in such a way, but it is ironic that everything else about Becky makes her seem like she wants to be more "grown-up" than she actually is, but she's still just a kid deep down, at least when it comes to her relationship with her parents.

<- Return to Part 5

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||An Officer's corruption part five||

Hi dears, It's time for another part to this short au: Officer and criminals Au with demon mun's muses and mine. X3 So here you go with a new chapter added to this. I hope you like.

||Chapters||

Part one

Part two ((NSFW warning))

Part three

Part four ((NSFW warning))

((Your reading part five))

||OVA Chapters|| ((My friend Demon mun is writing for the series))

OVA part one

||Drabble summary||

Jaron and Melinda have got to their new prison building but it seems it was being the same one having Warden Finn Reer. Right now, they just arrived and it was already a mad house. It seems he has two new prisoners and they was causing a rucus. Who could they be? Read to find out.

||Warning||

~Violence or a fight is present in this drabble

~Possessive behavior will be present

||Guests in Drabble||

Jaron Jackal, Fin Reer belongs to my amazing Rp partner @demon-blood-youths

Melinda brooks, Rex oxford mills, and Winter are my OCs that belong to me and the same for Sukuna Ryomen comes from Jujutsu Kaisen but also me due to having him as a muse.

((Note: Their will be grammar mistakes and errors in this drabble as others have this warning. But like I state before, this is written for fun. So I hope you like it and my friend too. Enjoy))

"Do you think he is expecting us?"

Officer Jackal blinks hearing his partner Officer Melinda brooks ask while they were making their way to Harlem where the lupins police station was but beyond that they were looking for Warden Finn Reer.

"I think he was. Even the fact we were told by Mr. Henderson we would be coming to help him out along with his policemen and woman." Jaron sighed driving down the road but Melinda thinks about it while he was driving.

"Though, it's rather strange to the idea. I wonder what could be the reason..." she said thinking about it.

"I don't know..but we'll find out soon." Jaron said seeing they have arrived to the prison house. The prison house was pretty big but both officers Melinda and Jaron can tell it's a wild place. Even seeing the back yard where most of the prisoners had animal features but werewolves were more noticed here.

After her parks, both Jaron and Melinda gets out of the car to look at the front gates then at one another.

"Ready?" he said seeing her nod.

"Yeah.."

With that said, both head to the gates to meet with Warden Fin. Inside, it was pretty big with other officers around or keeping a eye on the prisoners here. Or some being moved to a new location with others. Yeah, this was a bit big and yet, the two keeps looking around holding to find someone.

"Hey you two made it!" Both Jaron and Melinda blinks to look seeing the Warden. Fin Reed was smiling welcoming the two but they saw Officer warden Ahmed as well.

"Welcome to our prison. I take it your here because of Mr. Henderson." he asked.

"Yes. He said he has many others scattered around New York to help other prisons with the more difficult prisoners." Melinda said but Ahmed sighed.

"Well, he's not wrong. Because we have two of them here with us." he said.

"Hold up, two of them?" Jaron asked but he turns to let them follow with Fin and Melinda following.

"Yes. We have two of them but I'm watching one and Fin is looking after the other. Though, let me ask you a question first: Have you heard of the hidden gang the season demon warriors?" he asked but Jaron and Melinda thinks.

"Season demon warriors? Hold on, wasn't it that hidden black market group that sells items that's bought through the world? You mean them?" she asked seeing Fin nod.

"Yep; the very same. Turns out the leader was caught and arrested way back but now his team is caught as well. Though, I don't know where their leader was but me and Ahmed got two members from his group. The Fallen summer maiden and the fallen winter maiden." Fin explains as they walk down the hall. Melinda saw the other males howling due to smelling a new woman but she had the guess it was her. Though, what of the two new prisoners?

"I take it theirs not many females in your prison?" Melinda asked.

"Not really. I have some from my team here and you Melinda. However, the fallen maidens are here too but...lets just say they give off a dangerous smell that none of these guys wanna mess with them. Two tried to but..lets say they ended up killed. That was a big fight to break up." Fin walks to the stairs with Ahmed leading.

"So far, they don't know their in the same prison due to keeping them apart but it didn't stop them from trying to escape." he explains seeing one were cat reaching to grab for Melinda's ankle but Fin stomps on the hand hearing a pained yelp.

"I told ya no touching other female officers!" he said that Melinda noticed seeing the other snarl at him that Fin growls back making the prisoner silent.

"I see....but wasn't their four of the fallen maidens?" Jaron asked.

"Their is. We have two here. I got one and Ahmed has one but we keep a eye on them due to being sneaky. They have gotten out a few times but we get them back. But one is at Kali's prison being watched by Bernard and the other fallen maiden is watched over at Joshua's prison. Mr. Henderson said he was hoping to make some deal with the leader but he refuses to speak to him. So, the team is a lot more aggressive wanting to get out and free him." Fin sighed but they keep on walking.

"So....."

"Right now, we are being sure they don't meet up to cause trouble again." Fin said as they get to the main office. However, Jaron heard more howls or flirting from some prisoners towards Melinda but she ignores them while looking and heading into the office.

"So, that's why we were hoping to ask you two to help us out with the prison. Due to a few of our police members quitting because of the reckless behavior of the others." Fin explains as Jaron and Melinda sits down.

"I see...well, we can give it our best to help you Fin and Ahmend." she said.

"Yeah. We can give a hand." Jaron said.

"Huh, thanks guys." he said smiling. While he was happy about this, that's when an alarm goes off making the four blink.

"What the heck?"

"Uhhhhh..."

"Fin.." Ahmend said but he goes to check it out. He saw that some of the police was running off showing some gust of ice wind forming near a door way. The others backs up from the chill winds to see a woman walking out. She had Mid Ivory color skin, blonde hair in a tight bun. Melinda and Jaron noticed she had Cobalt blue ice eyes looking ahead as she was smiling.

"You know, you should get that fixed..you don't know what might come out." she laughed seeing the police surrounding her but they tried to get her only to get punched in the face, kicked as well as she was fighting them off.

"Get her back in her prison cell!"

"Hurry before she tries something else!"

"We can't get close to her!"

"Hurry up!"

The other officers tried to get her only to get blasted back by a strong gust of wind landing in a pile wincing. The woman only smiled looking as she walks forward since she was barefoot as well.

"Awwww what's wrong? Your done? So boring. Oh well, maybe I can find out where my team is..and my sensei..so..." as she was about to run, a ice wall shows to make her stop but she knew who it was to giggle.

"Oh? Wanna play again Warden?" she knew who it was hearing something land near by showing Fin there. He looks glaring at her as she looks back.

"Your going back to your cell Winter......" he said but she only smiled more.

"Awww but I just got out. I wanna play some more!" she said before he rushes to try and stop her while Winter was dodging his grabs to fight back.

"We need to do something!" Melinda said but Ahmed felt a tremor looking to the right. Something else was going on. "Oh you have got to be kidding me.." He looks to the other two. "Seems we might be having a-"

"RIOT!!!" One prisoner said as they were now fighting trying to get out. Jaron, Melinda and other officers were shocked before trying to stop them from destroying everything.

~~~~~Meanwhile at Kinie Ger's prison~~~~~

Rex was meditating in his cell but he was looking silent wondering of his team. True, he and the fallen maidens were dangerous and strong but it seems his team was split up so stop them from getting out. He slowly opens his eyes feeling another near his cell. Some of the officers were too scared to be near it but knowing the danger vibes he gives off, it was scary.

He sighed to relax again but he was thinking to check something. ".....Seems Winter is having a bit too much fun again....knowing her she might end up destroying that place.." he said to himself but a few police walks by his cell again.

"...I wonder if the other three are close or far?" he mutters before hearing someone bang at his cell.

"HEY! Quiet in there!" One guard said but as he said that, Rex turns his head to show one white eye. The guard got silent but scared seeing the murder look in his eye.

"....."

"I'm sorry..did you say something?" Rex said to the now terrified guard.

"N..No, continue your business!" he said scared but Rex looks away while the guard was pissing his pants now. However, Rex remains calm to look and hope his team was good or thinking of a way to get out.

~~~~Back at Fin's prison~~~~

After a while, Fin and his officers was able to stop the Riot but also had Winter tied up and in hand cuffs by him. She struggles but he keeps her still. "Stop squirming. You'll end up hurting yourself." he said.

"You always seem to ruin the fun you know, sweetheart. Why can't you let me have a bit of fun? I promise I won't bite." she pouts to Fin. "Or do you prefer that type of fun?" she winks that Fin sweatdrops to sigh.

"No, now come on..back to your cell." He said taking her back but looks to Ahmed. "I'll be back." he said seeing the other nod. Both Jaron and Melinda was a bit tired after helping with the riot.

"You both alright?" he asked.

"I'm alright. You Melinda?" Jaron said.

"Yeah, I'm alright." she said.

"Good to hear. Also, thank you for helping us with the Riot." he said seeing the two waving their hands not minding it. "Though, that was intense. Are all the fallen maidens that dangerous?" Melinda asked.

"Yes. I hope Bernard is doing alright with the fallen maiden of fall and Angel with the fallen spring maiden. All four of these women are dangerous and together it's worse. Even so, we haven't heard from them so I assume they are okay." he said but Jaron and Melinda looked worried before seeing the cleaning crew show up.

However, some of the prisoners were seeing Melinda but they only were curious about her like the other female officers here. Most were weres like Fin and some of his group. However, Melinda was not but she smelled different. Maybe due to her own blood having the mix of Nagu blood too. Even so, she and the other two leave the area while they keep eyeing her to her tensing.

"You okay Melinda?" Jaron asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm alright.." she said softly to him but quickly follows Ahmed from the area. However, Jaron was wondering if she was alright. For now, they would take it easy before resting up for that time.

~~~~At Winter's prison Cell~~~~~

"There, now get back in." Fin said getting her inside but Winter pouts to look at him while she was in her cell once more.

"You really are no fun Fin. I just wanted to have a little fun since being in this cell makes one bored. You think I'll do something bad?" she said but Fin looks to cross his arms.

"Knowing you, yes. Forgot what you did the last time you got out?" he asked to see her thinking about it.

"Oh come on, a few heads rolled loose. I can't help it." she said shrugging her shoulders.

"You killed them!" he said but she only smiled.

"Again, not my fault handsome. Besides, they got in my way......you should know that right?" she asked to look at him but he sighed to close his eyes.

"Even so, stop trying to get out and behave. I'll check on you later." Fin said but Winter looks to him.

"Fine, it's not my fault I love being bad but maybe it's due to getting your attention. You are pretty handsome.....even if your a lycan. It's fun to tease you...even if you have a wild side yourself...right?" she teased rubbing her neck. Fin said nothing to hear this but looks away.

Knowing this prison held were types, it was still dangerous to be around others that could be at risk or wants to be changed. He only sighed and yet Winter smiled looking at him.

"Though....you are pretty smart and fun to play with, Fin. Why not have more fun? You use ice and I use both ice and heated winds. We could really go wild if you like. It's almost like our blood is calling to one another..isn't it?" she purrs but he closed his hand to a fist not responding.

"......."

Winter looks to wonder what he will do but he walks off to leave her. She sees him go but smiled leaning against the cell metal bars. Yeah, he was so precious to tease like this. Though, she still wonders of her fallen sisters and their sensei. That's when she goes to sit down but touches her ear.

".....Seems he's still strong willed Sensei. But no worries, I'll find a way to get out and help with finding the other fallen maidens."

'I know you will Winter. Just try to not kill too many like the others. Though, have you heard of anything else from either one?' Rex asked though a blue tooth piece he had hidden with him. None of the officers found it.

"No, not yet. Seems they were split up so we can't find one another. But they are close.....I'll see if I can trace or find something else. Then we can go and help break you out Sensei." she smiled that Rex chuckled.

'I know. Even so, keep your guard up and eyes too. I'll hope to see you and the maidens soon.'

"Same to you too, Sensei." Winter said ending the conversation. She leans back now happily thinking of Fin but was humming to herself. In the hallway, Fin was out of the area but he sighed closing his eyes. Yeah, she was getting tricky but he'll have to watch out for that.

As he was heading back, some of the prisoners were speaking.

"You really think she is? Her blood isn't were so.." One prisoner asked.

"It's true. She smells different and given she's from another police group, it's a lot. I know that guy she's with smells like one. A jackal of some sort but her?..she smells tasty." one said with arms crossed. He looks from his cell seeing Melinda speaking with Haliee about the job. Both were happily talking but he looks to Melinda who was smiling.

Yeah, she was cute and like many woman, they were up for grabs. "..I think we need to welcome our new guest. Along with the other females in this dump...but lets not be too crazy. Can't scare them off. We need to see what their like first...including that one." he said pointing to Melinda.

Seems the first day was crazy but what else might happen here?

[decentwritings]

Chapter 1

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

next part

The game you were playing was beginning to bore you. The music wasn't even all that and your butt feels sore after sitting on these steps for the last three hours. A couple of drunk teenagers stumble by you again and you can't help but scoff in annoyance.

The extra battery pack you brought was dead and you had about seventeen percent left on your phone. You knew the idea of bringing a backpack was smart, but what was stupid was not bringing an extra charger.

You're stuck here as designated driver for your roommate and her friends. You got the short end of the stick because Anika claims she wants you to get along with her girlfriend. Something about her girlfriend having trust issues with people she doesn't know.

You can't even recall her name.

Miranda? Martha? Melinda?

It starts with an M.

Also, she kicked your ass in ten games of rock-paper-scissors.

The last hour there have been people coming out, not coming in anymore. The costumes were sad this year, and that's coming from someone who doesn't even celebrate. You think you saw one of Anika's friends as a slutty pirate? Maybe it was just a regular pirate; either way, it was lacking creativity.

She is pretty, though.

“Hey!”

You pick your head up, eyebrows connecting at the random outburst. You look around, suddenly aware no one else is sober enough or free to pay attention. So this woman must be calling you out.

And stupidly, you point at yourself and ask, “Me?”

The woman stalks over, and you stand, ready to fight to defend yourself. You lift your fists up but then they fall to your side at the taser in her hand.

“Where's my sister?” She asks, the taser sparks and you can't seem to find an escape with the house pressing against your back.

“I...I don't know,” you stutter, eyes on the taser and watching it move as she speaks.

“Let me through.”

You jump over the ledge and fall into the bushes, allowing the woman entrance to the home. You fall with a thud and groan, spitting leaves out of your mouth in the process. When you stand, the couple making out by the bushes stare at you with a mix of concern and irritation.

“Joker, Black Widow,” you say, stumbling out of the bush with a grunt. “Nice crossover. As you were,” you brush the remaining leaves off your clothes.

You attempt to enter the home, to warn Anika and her friends of some lunatic with a taser. But that same lunatic comes out with Anika and her friends in tow.

Anika tugs you along with her as they stalk out of the property. You groan at the pull, the grip she has on you is causing a pinching pain.

“My car!” you shout, glancing back at your parked car in the distance.

“We'll get it later,” Anika mutters, releasing you a second later.

The lunatic, who you learned is named Sam, shouts after the sister she was looking for, Tara. You follow behind with your shoulders slumped, solemn at the thought of your car parked in a street you don't know.

You're unaware of the group stopping to watch the sisters argue and you continue sulking past them. Hands tucked in your pockets, you kick a rock gently, turning and stopping in your tracks.

You regret ever allowing Anika to convince you to be designated driver. You're going to ask for a change of roommate when you get back.

But it goes to the back of your mind when you overhear someone behind you say, “is that the murderer?”

You raise a brow and look at the voice, tilting your head when you lock eyes with the stranger. And the stranger is throwing something at Sam before you can even comprehend her words.

“Murderer!”

The liquid hits Sam dead on, angering the older woman and unleashing the built up anger she most likely held back during the argument with her sister. Chad has to grab ahold of Sam then Tara to avoid a bigger fight from occurring.

Something in you shouts to get away from these people. It's a loud voice that you know belongs to your parents, who always told you to stay away from the wrong crowd. And maybe, this is what they meant by wrong crowd.

You stay back as they all walk away, just a few feet away from a sad, soaked and tired Sam. You exhale a breath, waiting for Ethan to walk away from his awkward interaction with the older woman. You take off your backpack and unzip it to grab the towel you packed.

While your parents raised you to run from danger, they also taught you manners. You step up to Sam cautiously, extending the towel towards her slowly.

Sam looks between you and the towel. It takes her a minute to decide if she can trust you, or maybe trust the towel. You aren't sure, but you reassure her. "It's better than whatever was on the napkins Ethan gave you," you shrug.

Sam takes the towel, or rather snatches it. She doesn't say anything, and you take that as her silently telling you to leave her alone. You turn and walk the other direction, away from the group. For once, you're listening to your parents' advice.

You decide it's a good night to be away from your roommate. So you head to your cousin's place, knowing his place was just a few blocks away. That way, you could wake up and pick up your car on your way back to your dorm.

You text your cousin to warn him of your presence at his apartment, to avoid interrupting any activities occurring. He texts back informing you he was on his way there, too, to wait for him by the door.

You hear a chuckle to your left a few minutes after arriving to his apartment building. As he gets closer, he points to the name tag on your shirt.

“Dennis?” He asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

You shrug. “The party I was at wouldn't let me stay if I didn't have a costume,” you wait patiently for him to unlock the door.

You follow him in, listening to him as he speaks. “And they allowed the fake name tag as a costume?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

You pause at the entrance, freezing when you see Sam at the bottom of the stairwell. You face your cousin with wide eyes. “I'm being followed,” you whisper, eyes filled with panic.

He looks behind you and locks eyes with Sam. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Head on up, I'll meet you there,” he tells you, handing you his keys.

You pause and stare at him like he's crazy, but don't question it, snatching the keys from his hands. You practically sprint past Sam, but pause at the first step to tell your cousin, “she's got a taser, Danny.” you warn him.

Sam glances back at you with narrowed eyes. You scurry off without another word.

You aren't sure how long you wait for your cousin, hoping he's still alive. All you know is, when he does return, you run up to him and immediately ask questions.

“How do you know taser girl?” You ask first, unaware of his worried state. You follow him into his kitchen, questions still flying out of your mouth. “How long have you known taser girl? Did she always live in this building? Why are people calling her a murderer? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?” You ask when you finally notice his state.

Danny leans against the counter. “She's leaving,” he mumbles, as if he is just now realizing this.

You raise a brow. “What?”

Danny looks at you, and he thinks about all the possible outcomes of telling you the truth. Sam may have passed over a little of her skepticism to him. He's found himself questioning everyone's intentions at times, even at the smallest things like when his coworker ask him to pass him the salt one day at lunch.

“Sam is the girl I'm seeing,” Danny finally says, a weight falling off his shoulders after the words come out of his mouth. All you do is raise a brow. “We've been keeping it secret from her sister and her friends...”

“And me apparently,” you mutter.

Danny sends you an apologetic look, then he sighs sadly. “She's leaving,” he says again. “There was a murder of some students at Blackmore, your school.”

You frown. “Lucky bastards,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest childishly.

Danny's expression goes blank, a deadpan look crossing his face. He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“It was a joke,” you say, eyes casting down to avoid his look. “What's the big deal of the murder anyway? It's New York. People die. We move on. It's the circle of life.”

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, your parents really did shield you from the world,” he mutters, huffing a breath afterward. “Do you watch the news? Check the internet–do you even know who Sam Carpenter is?” He asks you after a beat.

You shrug. “Relative of Jesus? I don't know, Danny– can't you just tell me instead of having me guess?” You give up, patience gone along with your interest in his love life.

And so Danny begins to explain, about Sam Carpenter's past. He tells you she's not just anyone—and you think he was going drone on about how amazing she is but no, he tells you she's tied to a dark legacy, one that involves a string of murders that happened in Woodsboro. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, one of the original killers from those infamous Ghostface murders.

You don't watch the news, so he has to explain the Woodsboro murders. He tells you there's movies about it and you remind him you don't watch horror movies. It leads to a long argument of what movie genre is the best–man, ADHD is in everyone in the family.

Your head spins as Danny returns to his explanation. And you try to piece it all together, figuring out the whole relative thing, the murders and the murderers. You decide to suck it up and watch the Stab movies when you get the time.

Right now, you have bigger things to think about. “Wait, you're telling me your girlfriend is related to some psychopath who went on a killing spree? And people think she might be involved in this new murder at Blackmore?”

Danny looks exhausted but nods. “That's why they're calling her a murderer. She's been trying to escape all of this, but it's followed her here.”

You scoff. “Man, you know how to pick 'em,” you laugh gently, going back to the living room to sit on the couch.

Danny follows behind you, glaring.

You sink into the couch, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. Geez,” you mutter. “So you're dating a woman who might be the next Ghostface? Or worse, the target of another psycho?”

Danny shrugs, taking a seat beside you on the couch, shaking his head. “She's not the killer. I know her. She's just... trying to live a normal life. But people won't let her. You saw what happened tonight.”

You groan and lean back. “Great. Now I'm stuck in the middle of some horror movie drama.”

Danny frowns at that, worry lines deepening on his face. “Listen, just stay out of it, okay?”

“Believe me, I'm trying,” you huff.

“Sam's trying to leave all this behind. She's not dangerous. Just... misunderstood,” Danny defends.

You're quiet for a while, processing. “So, what now? She's leaving, but what about you?”

He shrugs, looking defeated. “I don't know. Maybe it's better this way.”

You let out a long sigh, not sure what to think anymore. Everything seems so absurd, like you've just been pulled into some twisted movie plot. “This better not end with me getting stabbed,” you mutter, half-joking but half-serious.

Danny gives you a tired smile. “I'll make sure it doesn't.” But his tone doesn't inspire much confidence, and you're left wondering just how deep this whole thing goes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you assume it's your mom checking in on you. You had told her of your plans and she was adamant of you not going to the party. You should have listened.

You also shouldn't have picked up the phone.

“Sweet mother,” you answer the phone, grinning at your cousin. He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips tells you he found it funny.

You expect an answer but nothing comes. You look at your phone screen and tilt your head at the lack of caller ID on it.

“Hello?” You say, waiting for some kind of response.

“Hello, Dennis,” your eyebrows raise, looking at your cousin. “Welcome to the party. Are you having fun?”

You pause to really think of an honest answer for the question. The voice isn't one you recognize, then again, this person did call you by your fake name; he may not know you either.

“Well, not really,” you reply, shoulders sagging as you continue, “and I'm not Dennis. You either got the wrong number or you assume my name is Dennis 'cause you saw me at the party.”

“Oh but I have the right number,” the voice responds, almost giddily.

“Who is it?” Danny whispers, scooting closer to you.

You wave him off, listening to them continue.

“Your cousin thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?” The voice says, menacingly. “Always two steps ahead. But he'll never see me coming. Neither of you will,” then the line goes dead.

You shake your head when you hear the tone signaling the end of the call. You huff and drop your phone to your lap. Danny waits for you to explain the call.

“Some dude called,” you start, nonchalantly. “Said we're not gonna see him coming.”

Danny's eyes widen, standing to grab his phone in the kitchen. You're lost at his sudden rush and concern, following him slowly. He has his phone pressed to his ear, waiting anxiously for someone to answer.

He slams his phone on the counter a few seconds later. He grabs his keys then turns to you. “Let's go. I need your help.”

He doesn't explain and you stupidly follow him, wondering what exactly he needs help with. When you exit the apartment building, he turns to you, eyes wide, frantic, and filled with worry.

“Can you handle this?”

“Handle what? You haven't explained anything,” you reply, an unsettling feeling growing in your gut. “You're freaking me out, Danny.”

“We have to split up, but don't stop looking over your shoulder,” he grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his frantic eyes. “These GhostFace fanatics are freaks and you have to watch out for yourself. Can you handle this?”

The look on your cousin's face worries you, but your need to always help him—because he's always helped you, no matter what—makes you decide. You nod, confident and determined. You want your cousin to know he can count on you, just like you can count on him.

Not that you ever expected to chase after a killer to help your girlfriend. You're pretty sure you'd never get in a situation like this. You don't have fight in you; only flight.

But hell, if Danny needs you to search for that inner fight, you'll do it for him.

“You go that way, I'll go this way,” he points to the left then the right. “You knocked me out once when we were younger, think you can do that to a freak in a mask?”

You stare at him blankly. “I was ten and hyped up on sugar,” he sighs, regret crossing his face for bringing you into this. You shake your head, wanting to reassure him. “I got a knife,” you say as you pull out the box cutter your brother gave you for work.

Danny stares at it but doesn't comment. “Be careful,” he says, lifting his phone. “And call when you find them.”

You raise your hand to your forehead, saluting. He sprints off after doing a quick look around your surroundings. You do the same, gripping the box cutter in your hand like a lifeline.

You peek into every alley before passing it, making sure there isn't anyone lurking. You're not exactly sure how far you are from Danny's apartment when you reach the bodega at the corner. You come to a slow stop as several people run screaming out of the store.

“Please be a robbery,” you mutter, summoning the courage to fight instead of run. You bounce on your feet a few times, hyping yourself up before you finally walk up to the bodega's doors.

A bell chimes when you open the door, and the scene before you immediately makes you rethink your bravado.

GhostFace turns with the shotgun pointed at you. You've seen the mask before at stores, and you find it ridiculous that people are using a Halloween costume as a way to kill people.

“Wrong store, I'll come back late—”

You duck just in time to avoid the bullet and crawl toward the closest thing you can find for cover. You've played enough video games to know how to survive someone shooting at you.

You press your back against the shelf, heart pounding as you catch your breath. The bodega aisles stretch out in front of you, offering minimal coverage. You glance at the door–running seems like a bad idea. You could make a run for it, but you know bullets fly faster than you run.

His footsteps echo throughout the bodega, slow and deliberate; like he has all the time in the world. But he can't be stupid, someone must have called 911 by now. Right?

You peek around the shelf, catching a glimpse of the mirror hanging from the ceiling. You watch it to see what direction GhostFace is walking to. You see him step over a body, and you're aware it was cashier who probably tried to play hero.

Then, you see them and you roll your head in annoyance. Danny was not lying. Her past follows her so of course Sam and Tara are here, hiding from the freak in the mask.

“I could be in bed,” you mumble, looking at the shelf you're hiding behind for something to use. “But noooo...the one time you rebel against your parents' wishes, you get stuck in some shitty fanfiction a weirdo is writing,” you grab a can, then a jar of olives.

You glance at the mirror, GhostFace is steps away from discovering Sam and Tara so you don't even acknowledge Sam's attempt to get your attention–you toss the can towards the door. He quickly turns and reacts with shooting a nonexistent figure.

You stand now that his back was turned, lifting your arm to throw the jar at his head. As the jar flies in the air, you whistle to get his attention and timed it well to hit him square in the face. The shotgun falls out of his hands and you shout at the sisters to run.

They don't need to be told twice. Sam grabs Tara's arm, pulling her along as they run out of the store. You can hear sirens in the distance but you keep your eyes on GhostFace, who finally regains his composure. He looks out the bodega's windows and sees the flashing lights, then looks back at you with a look that tells you he is not happy.

He runs away and disappears towards the back, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

Did you just face off with a murderer?

You exit the store with your hands up, not wanting the cops to assume you're a threat. Either way, you're handled roughly by an officer as he grips your hands to cuff.

Sam and Tara appear out of nowhere, pulling you out of the replay of the events that occurred in the store. You blink, feeling the cuffs bite your wrists with a tight pinch.

“Stop, they helped us,” Sam says first, voice firm as she glares at the officer. Tara doesn't wait long to support her statement.

“Helped how?” The officer asks, eyeing you and now them suspiciously. Still, he doesn't even loosen his grip on your wrists.

“New York's finest,” you mumble with a head shake. You grimace when his grips tightens. “Oww,” you drawl out.

“They distracted GhostFace long enough for us to get out,” Tara adds, sending you a warning glare to keep your mouth shut. You duck your head, pursing your lips into a thin line. “If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gotten out,” she jumps to your defense again.

The officer eyes you all, eyes squinting as he stares. He grunts then, “wait here.”

“Am I under arrest?” You asks as he walks away. You groan at his lack of response.

You tap your foot, aware of the presence of the sisters. You can feel the tension from the Carpenters without even looking at them. The last time you were alone with Sam, you ended up in a bush. Last time you saw Tara, she was wearing a pirate costume and laughing about it. Now, here you are. Life, huh?

“Nice night,” you mumble, because apparently, you never learn when to keep your mouth shut.

Both sisters look at you, deadpan. If looks could slap, you'd be on the ground. You shut up, but only for a second, because now Danny comes running up, and you know this is going to be great.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Danny hisses, eyes darting between you and the sisters.

“Saved your girlfriend,” you snarl, feeling deeply insulted that he automatically assumes you did something stupid. Danny freezes, eyes widening in horror at the worst-kept secret in the room.

You walk up to the officer as makes his way over to you. “Please say I'm under arrest,” you practically plead, wanting to escape from this reality.

The officer shakes his head, signaling for you to turn around. You do as you're told, feeling him unlock the cuffs from around your wrists. The stares from the three of them make you shift uncomfortably, keeping your head down until you're able to feel your wrists, holding them against your chest to soothe the ache.

Tara snaps her neck towards her sister, her gaze sharp. “Girlfriend?” she asks, voice icy.

Sam winces, like she knew this was coming. “Not now, Tara,” she nods in the direction a detective walking over to them.

The man smiles crookedly, stepping up to them almost awkwardly. “Care to explain?” He starts, then looks between you and Danny. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm detective Bailey.”

“Danny,” your cousin introduces himself, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a tension between them and he feels it thickening with each second passing.

Bailey turns to you. You tap on the fake name tag still on your shirt. “Dennis,” you lie, earning yourself an elbow to your side. You glare at Danny before returning to look at the detective. “Y/N,” you mumble, huffing.

Bailey nods, then sighs as his gaze returns to the Carpenter sisters. “I think you know what I'm going to say,” he says.

Sam nods, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “Let's go then,” she makes her way to the car the detective came in, her sister following.

Danny does the same but you, however, don't move. You didn't sign up for whatever this is. This is your chance to finally step away from this situation. Then, like they all practiced, they turn back to look at you.

“I'm fine here,” you say dismissively. “I appreciate the invite though–”

“Get in the car,” Danny orders with a glare, pointing to the vehicle.

You didn't plan to, you really didn't. But when you look at Tara–when Tara looks back at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer—vulnerability, maybe. For a second, she's not the girl who just stared down a serial killer; she's just... someone who doesn't want to be alone.

That gets you. You barely know the girl but those eyes draw you in. Screw you and your inability to walk away from a pretty girl. You shuffle toward the car, muttering under your breath several complaints.

You squish in the back seat, Tara seated between you and Sam. The drive to the police station drives by the house the whole night started at. You frown at the sight of your car, lonesome and abandoned.

You sigh dramatically, your mind suddenly reminding you of the one thing that truly matters. “Ahh, fuck,” you groan, earning immediate side-eyes from everyone in the car. “I've got a paper due at midnight.”

Danny turns, his expression a perfect blend of exhaustion and disbelief. “Stop talking.”

And for once, you do.

As you approach the police station, the lights flickering in the night like a beacon of both hope and uncertainty, you realize that whatever happens next, you're not alone. You might be just a regular person caught in a slasher film, but now you're part of something bigger. You were here for Danny, and were further dragged in by Tara's doe eyes, and maybe—just maybe—this wild ride will lead to something unexpected. Hell, this may turn out for a good final senior thesis.

You take a deep breath, feeling that flicker of determination ignite within you. No matter how this night ends, you won't let fear hold you back. After all, survival is a team sport, and you're ready to play.

The car rolls to a stop, and as you all step out into the bright lights of the police station, you can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a very messy adventure. But at least you'll face it with someone.

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Prompt by anon + Idea for reader's nationality by anon

Synopsis: After more than 10 years with the same hairdresser, Melissa Schemmenti must change salons.

Tag list: (Since this is my first time writing for this character, I thought it best not to tag anyone. So if you want to be tagged just let me know.)

Warning: MELISSA AND Y/N ARE MAaaaD *in Ava's voice*

Words: 4k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Enjoy!

Link on AO3

Chapter 1 - Changes

Barbara Howard's friendship had a transformative impact on Melissa Schemmenti's personal life from the beginning.

The religious woman's friendship at the beginning of the redhead's career made the Italian woman rethink many things about herself. Regardless of their moral differences, how their individual relationships with religion are almost opposite, or even their small disagreements, one thing right at the beginning turned Melissa's world upside down.

The once chaotic and disorganized woman discovered the calming practicality of being hostage to well-established standards with a Christmas gift from her black coworker in her second year working at Abbott Elementary.

A schedule with a small calendar.

The year she received that gift, the redhead was furious with what was left written between the lines.

Disorganization.

After all, Melissa had absolutely everything under control.

She always had.

In her own way.

And Melissa also thought it was stupid to waste precious time that could be spent working by just planning to work, but after a terribly inconsistent semester (with more art, music and physical education teachers being fired than she can count on one hand), the redhead decided to give it a try.

So, 22 years ago Melissa started to use a schedule and a calendar every year faithfully and never looked back.

As she got older, the certainty of her upcoming appointments and how easy was to change what was needed on that sheet of paper to make better use of her time kept Melissa calm even during all the chaos that continued to live in her head and in her classroom every day. But everything changed when the spaces on pages that were reserved especially for her monthly visits to her family's hairdresser were now blank.

Rationally, the redhead knew that the hairdresser who had taken care of her grandmother's hair for the last twenty years of her life, two of her aunts out of town, washed and cared for her mother's hair every week, and three of her sisters periodically couldn't last long. But Melissa couldn't help but feel fooled and betrayed when Andrea Rossi announced her retirement.

The redhead hadn't been Andrea's client for her entire life, after all, the older hairdresser's regular clients had always been her priority. However, Melissa began to be part of the select group of Schemmenti women helped by Andrea when her former hairdresser (the one who had a Greek accent and many opinions that she hated but didn't discuss because he was her brother-in-law's friend), decided to call her Melinda, even after having her as a client for over three years.

Melinda.

Even though it was seventeen years ago, Barb still remembers the angry redheaded hurricane that entered the teachers’ lounge that week and still manages to make jokes about it whenever she gets the chance.

Monthly visits to the older woman had started with a simple hair color, but unlike her old hairdresser, Andrea had become much more than that for Melissa.

It was a ritual, a moment of care that for a long time brought her joy and confidence. It was talking animatedly with an Italian woman who showed her affection and care, something neither of them would admit out loud but was lacking in the Schemmenti family when it came to recognizing Melissa’s efforts and personal victories.

And now it was over.

“Ragazza (girl), don’t be like that… I’m old now, my hands hurt more than I can handle after a busy weekend,” Andrea tried to justify, stroking Melissa’s head with a tender smile as she finished coloring her hair that day, but which did not hide the weight of the decision.

“And what am I going to do now? Let the gray hair give me another 30 years in less than 6 months?”

“Don’t be silly! I’ve already transferred all my clients to hairdressers that I trust. You included! So stop it now!”

“I don’t want someone new.” Turning uncertainty into resistance is like armor for the redhead, even though she knows she has no choice, her brain still tries to break the meaning of Andrea’s retirement, “It’s going to mess up my entire schedule, Andrea! Two classes and now with you gone? I almost went crazy with the first semester of the year alone, now I know I’ll as soon as classes start after winter break!”

“I know that, Melissa. That’s why I talked to the hairdressers I know, and the best choice for you is Y/N, my last trainee. She’s great, hard-working, very talented and was willing to easily change her own clients’ schedule to see you at the same time I see you every month, she also works just five minutes away from here. You’ll like her.”

“But I don’t know her.” Even though she didn’t admit it, the idea of ​​a stranger touching her hair disturbed Melissa deeply, and the murmur that left her mouth made a point of emphasizing this.

The change came too quickly, and with it, a wave of anxiety took over Melissa's heart. This feeling was temporarily drowned out by her more than exhausting end-of-year routine. She was the hostess of the Schemmenti family's Thanksgiving dinner, and this, along with the end of the year, drained her ability to think about her other problems. But when the following month arrived, and along with the return to school after winter break, her colorless hair also started to show again, so Melissa swallowed her pride and went to the salon that Andrea had recommended to her.

Riverfront Roots.

The name was silly, a clear reference to the Delaware River that Melissa preferred not to think about too much as she looked at the large letters printed on the facade of the place. As soon as she entered the new salon, the smell of hair products and the sound of blow dryers buzzing caught her attention. The place was modern and well-decorated, but Melissa couldn't feel completely at ease. The smell was different, the decor was different, the voices were different, and the redhead hated each of these things.

She wasn't so reluctant to little changes in her daily life, but that week was so exhausting. The two classes together made a point of actively getting on her nerves, Gary also changed some of the lemonade brands in the vending machine and none of the new ones lived up to the taste of the old ones. The man made a point of telling the redhead that it wasn't done on purpose, thanks to the end of their relationship, and she genuinely believed him, but even so, such a change in such a tiring week only made the teacher's discomfort that Saturday morning turn into a gratuitous and deep antipathy towards the new place.

The woman of Italian descent approached the counter, where a receptionist graced her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, how can I help you today?", was the question that greeted Melissa, with a kindness that, in the redhead's mind, was completely unnecessary.

The teacher hesitated for a moment before answering sharply, ignoring the hello offered to her.

"Schemmenti. Melissa Schemmenti, please. I have a coloring booked here. A recommendation from Andrea Rossi." While the receptionist checked her information, Melissa looked around, trying to get used to the new habitat, but she barely had time to do so because, in less than thirty seconds, the receptionist escorted Melissa to a chair in front of one of the largest mirrors in the salon.

The chair that was chosen for the redhead was a little isolated from the other people present, who were laughing and talking without worrying about the noise, but if the redhead was being honest with herself, she actually preferred it that way.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Y/N and it’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you fell welcome and comfortable here with me. Andrea has told me wonderful things about you and I have her notes in my hand to make sure you leave here satisfied.”, a younger woman with a thick accent appeared out of nowhere, vomiting the words at Melissa with a smile and a sweet voice that were already starting to give the redhead a headache.

The speech seemed rehearsed, still genuine, but her voice seemed too practiced to instill comfort in the redhead. And if that wasn't enough, the younger woman was enthusiastically waving a note in her hand like a triumph, making Melissa even more insecure about Y/N's talent than she already was.

The teacher knows she's not an idiot but… This hairdresser wasn't even thirty years old. This Y/N was clearly in her early twenties, with rich hair and a quick smile that probably lit up the room more than those stupid ringlights that surrounded the chairs in that place.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

A part of Melissa, hyper-aware of her own age, felt the bitter taste of envy take over her tongue as she looked at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror in front of her, but another part, even more recklessly, awakened a dormant desire in her mind.

However, even with that spark hidden behind Melissa's eyes, their initial interaction couldn't have been worse.

Y/N seemed excited, first asking Melissa for permission to touch her hair – something the redhead almost said no to, just to see if that smile would die on her lips – but quickly the hairdresser started discussing ideas for Melissa's hair, something that forced the redhead's voice to sound cutting:

"I just dyed my hair red for years.", Melissa made sure her voice sounded as sharp as she intended, "Get those ideas out of ya head and just do what Andrea used to."

The lack of niceness caused Y/N to feel strange, but the hairdresser tried to remain calm despite the discomfort.

New clients were always a little insecure, so the Brazilian woman would just prove to the one in front of her that she had talent.

Y/N always had magical hands. When she was still a girl, on the hot afternoons in her hometown, she would have fun braiding the hair of her school friends. Long locks of hair shiny thanks to the summer sun and strands yellowed by the chemicals of several women in the city often passed through Y/N's hands as if she were an artist molding a sculpture.

Her friends loved the hairstyles she did. At first, they were not at all sophisticated due to her young age, but they were done with so much love and dedication that they always seemed to transform any hair into something unique. For Y/N, it was more than just fun.

It was a passion.

When she reached her teen years, that passion became something more serious. Y/N was not satisfied with just doing the hair of her friends and family. The Brazilian woman wanted to learn, she wanted to master the art of transforming people's hair into something even more special.

That's why when she graduated from high school, Y/N started studying, and within a few months, she was already working professionally at a salon in her city. It didn't take long for her to be recognized for the quality of her work. Her skill with scissors and dye made her quickly stand out among other professionals. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to transform people into more beautiful versions of themselves, she knew what her clients wanted and, most importantly, she knew how to make them feel good.

Little by little, Y/N began to stand out even more and her life began to change.

She knew that her talent could not be limited, and so, when some close friends who had already moved to the United States began to encourage her to try her luck in Philadelphia, Y/N was scared at first. But if the chance to start over in another country meant more opportunities, she couldn't let this pass, even if the exciting idea had the power to scare her. But even though she was frightened, she was soon embarking on a new chapter in her life in a plane.

It was hard to save money for the travel, it was hard to get all the necessary documents to enter the USA legally, it was hard to leave loyal clients behind, and it was even harder to leave her country and its traditions. But the youthfulness of her soul and the hope of a new life embraced her heart and the hairdresser decided to give herself this chance.

Wen she arrived in Philadelphia, Y/N felt, at the same time, small and full of possibilities. The city was big, the competition was powerful, and she was seen as just another foolish immigrant.

But she was determined.

The Brazilian woman knew that her skill could be the key to a promising future. She just didn’t expect that her future would be shaped by Andrea Rossi, an older and more experienced Italian hairdresser who worked at a well-known salon nearby.

The story happened by chance. One of Andrea’s regular clients mentioned that her son had gotten a haircut from a really new Brazilian hairdresser.

“It was something very different… Like those stupid things we see on TikTok, but it was exactly what James wanted, and we had never found anyone willing to do it. What this young woman did perfectly and without thinking twice, and my son loved it!”, the woman commented in admiration before giving the older woman an idea, “You should meet her!”

Andrea was curious and, figuring she had nothing to lose, asked for more information about the Brazilian woman. The client was enthusiastic and told the Italian one everything she knew and, even though she was skeptical, Andrea let her curiosity get the best of her and decided to see it for herself.

The next day, she went to the salon where Y/N was working and, observing closely, immediately noticed the young woman’s skill. The Brazilian woman had the touch of someone who knew what she was doing, an eye for beauty trends, and the needs of her clients, but she also had more than that.

Y/N had a natural connection with people, a charisma that, combined with her smile and strong accent, made any client feel at ease, and Andrea saw that.

So the Italian woman wasted no time. She called Y/N for a chat at the end of her shift and, soon, took her on as her last pupil before announcing her retirement.

Normally, hearing Andrea Rissi's name made Y/N happy. All the advice, recommendations, affection, and wisdom shared by the older woman were a pleasant memory for the Brazilian woman.

But there, while she tried in vain to be nice to what was Andrea's transfer, having her work compared to the older woman's began to annoy her.

First, the owner of those pretty green eyes began to verbalize her dissatisfaction with the work tools Y/N used, telling her how much she preferred Andrea's work tools, which were always on display for her clients to see. Then the redhead started rolling her eyes at Y/N's coworkers, who, since they had no clients, were chatting spiritedly while planning to get their nails done at the end of the day, muttering how much she would appreciate some peace and quiet.

But the first sign Y/N gave that she was definitely not the type of person who would just ignore or shrink from Melissa's bad mood was when the redhead made a point of directly comparing her work to Andrea's before Y/N even started dyeing her hair.

"Andrea, don't part my hair like that. You'll leave my hair full of spots!"

Trying to preserve the good mood she had woken up in that morning, the hairdresser chose to be sneaky and ironic. Y/N looked around theatrically and curiously, as if she was searching for something important, and Melissa, unable to contain her fear and confusion, made her voice present.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just looking for Andrea Rossi since you want to talk about her so badly.”

Receiving only silence as an answer, and thinking that the unhappy attitude of that client was over, the hairdresser continues her journey. Y/N measures the dye with all the care in the world, making sure to double-check on the scale in front of her that the weight is correct when compared to what Andrea gave her over the phone before applying the dye accurately, fearing giving Melissa another reason to complain. The Brazilian woman divides Melissa’s hair locks with the focus of a professional with much more experience, doing everything she can to not lose a single gray hair, and when she goes to wash it, she does so with a gentleness that surprises Melissa.

But the teacher doesn’t want to admit it, so she continues to stare sullenly at the mirror, even while Y/N gently untangles her wet hair.

When the redhead’s hair is nice and completely ready to be dried, Y/N looks at her hair curiously before turning once more to Melissa’s reflection in the mirror.

“I usually do this before dyeing, but what do you think about maybe cutting a few inches? The ends are starting to lose their shape.”

“I don’t want to cut anything.”, the words are said low enough for no one but the hairdresser to hear but Y/N, but with a hint of anger that surprised the young woman, “And stop talking, your voice is too annoying for the kind of mediocre work ya deliver, kid.”

It was insensitive. Even to Melissa.

The redhead knows that Andrea would never send her to a bad hairdresser. She knows she is being harsh and critical to someone who gave her no reason to do so, but before she realizes it the words have already escaped her mouth.

But the teacher simply has no idea what was coming.

The hairdresser’s eyes widened, large pupils full of rage meeting the teacher’s gaze through the mirror, shocked by the words said by Melissa. And, before Melissa's mind can even work on instigating any remorseful reflexes, Y/N grabs a large chunk of hair from the redhead's bangs and takes a pair of scissors out of her pocket with her free hand, quickly placing them right on Melissa's forehead, exactly where her hair grows, like a more than concrete threat.

“Listen to me Philadelphia's beauty, I don't know what kind of hairdresser you expected when Andrea transferred you to me but as long as you sit in my chair you will respect my work and listen to my fucking suggestions.”, it is said as a whisper, but the hairdresser's anger and her thick accent along with the slight pull she gives the redhead's hair make the whole interaction sound indescribably scary, even to Melissa, “I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, but I'm starting to regret accepting someone so unfortunate in my char that they think they can criticize my work without even knowing me.”

There, locking eyes with Y/N ​​in the salon mirror, Melissa understood how much she had crossed the line.

Melissa took a deep breath, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing the top part of her hair, before nodding her head, causing Y/N to put down the scissors and let go of her bangs as she returned to work normally.

And then silence.

Dead silence.

The silence between the two women was so thick that it seemed to fill every corner of the room, making the sound of the dryer and the conversations around them sound muffled and filling the air with a corrosive feeling.

The scene from minutes ago was still boiling in Melissa's mind, repeating itself like a scratched record. Now, as if Melissa had finally come to her senses, the redhead wanted to disappear. She wanted to jump out of the chair and run away from the mirror which reflected her own guilt and shame. But she couldn't. Her anxiety combined with the idea of ​​leaving now, before the end of her service (something that could be even more disrespectful than her words), did a magnificent job holding her body in place, like an invisible chain that kept her feet on the floor and her mouth gagged.

With her fingers drumming on her apron-covered leg as the Brazilian woman prepared to style her hair, the teacher wanted to believe that it hadn't been so bad, that maybe Y/N had already forgotten what was said. But she knew that wasn't true. The weight of the moment still hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Y/N doesn't cut her hair or even mention the idea once again. The hairdresser just dries her red hair perfectly, but now with a serious gaze and a hurt look on her face. The Brazilian woman vehemently ignores Melissa's green eyes throughout the entire process, and the teacher stupidly decides too late that she prefers the incessant smile that remained on the hairdresser's lips minutes ago.

Melissa thought about apologizing, but the idea of ​​speaking made her breathing quick and shallow, along with the fear of seeming too desperate.

It was then that her eyes fell on the small ceramic jar in the corner of the counter next to her chair. It was decorated with hand-painted flowers and had, in crooked but legible letters, the words: "Tips for Y/N" next to a QR code. Even with the virtual possibility of compensation, the jar was open and with a significant amount of dollars, coins, and two lollipops, which Melissa just knew had been left there by a child.

And so, an idea formed, hesitant but clear in the teacher's mind.

A good tip seemed perfect, silent, indirect, but still meaningful. As the minutes passed, anxiety whispered again in Melissa's mind, wondering if Y/N would believe that she was doing this because of the guilt she felt at that very moment and not because of the regret that was now eating her mind. But the alternative of doing nothing was simply unbearable for Melissa.

The redhead knew she couldn't leave without at least trying, even if in her own way, to make amends.

When Y/N finished applying a light-smelling oil to the teacher's hair and walked away, silently letting her know that her work was done, Melissa tried to meet the hairdresser's eyes and give her a small smile, which she knew would be nervous, but which could give her an idea of ​​what was going on in Y/N's head.

But Y/N didn't look at Melissa.

When Melissa got up from the salon chair, her racing heart didn't stop her from taking two generous bills from her wallet — much more than she would usually give for just an appointment to dye her hair— and walking over to the pot. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but before anything could be done, she was interrupted:

“I don’t want your tip.” Before the two hundred dollars could enter the ceramic pot with the Brazilian’s name written on it, Y/N placed her own hand over the top to the object, successfully blocking Melissa from doing what she intended.

“M'kay. Now you’re being ridiculous!”

With those words, the hairdresser's eyes finally focus on the green ones again, still filled with an anger that Melissa rarely sees in people who have a disagreement with her (too used to the regretful and submissive ones) and the redhead was shocked by this when Y/N actively chooses to ignore her accusation by saying:

"I'm willing to give you the exact coloring mixture that Andrea developed for your hair so you can find a hairdresser who is like the silent imitation of Andrea that you are looking for.", and before the redhead even has a chance to answer her with an apology that would apparently be necessary, the hairdresser quickly collects everything that was used in the teacher's service and directs Melissa a few more words before walking away without looking back, "Call the salon when you want the measurements and the receptionist will share them with you with pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

[just-absolutely-super]

As many people have pointed out already in chapter 106, the Forgers—a fake family—act more authentic than the Desmonds—the actual family.

But really…the Desmonds aren’t a “real” family, not to me. Not in a way that matters...

SxF is really good at showing relationship dynamics and how blood doesn’t always make a family. This is so true now that you read chapter 106 and compare the Desmonds and their interactions to the Forgers and how they act with one another.

With the Desmonds, there is no warmth shown in how they interact. I'd say there's barely any love either (we know Melinda does care for Damian despite the conflicting thoughts, but it seems she's not allowed to show it). Damian tries to form connections but no one in the family is receptive of it. The parents have a hands-off parenting style. The older brother keeps to himself and doesn’t open himself up. Damian literally finds more affection in his dog and butler than his actual family and that’s so heartbreaking!

The Desmonds may be a family in all sense and purposes, but they don't present in a way that all families are meant to.

On the other side are the Forgers. Loid and Yor married for convenience. Anya is adopted. They’re only together because of Anya due to her mind reading abilities. It’s all a sham for WISE’s mission and to lower suspicion from the secret police.

But despite the intentions behind forming this persona of a perfect family unit…you can tell that there is a genuity to their relationship with one another. You see love, care, emotion, respect, and protectiveness. The family may be fake but the feelings they exhibit are so real despite the motives not exactly being pure. Loid, Yor, and Anya experiencing life together led to them forming bonds that they cherish. They Forgers managed to create a warm place they can comfortably call home.

idk I just find it so fascinating to see how a family brought together for convenience and ulterior motives can develop true familial bonds compared to an “official” and “real” family. I want to write a thesis paper about it lmao

I do wonder what the future holds for the Desmonds. In Damian's case, I hope he and Anya can grow more together so she can show him what a real loving family is. If Donovan really is as evil as the narrative is making him out to be, my hope is that he can be taken out of the picture so the rest of the family can heal from their respective traumas, then grow back together on what little familial love is left over. But we'll just have to wait and see when it comes to that...

[northoftheroad]

Variations of Dick Grayson’s and Robin’s origin, part 2

Since DC can't stop publishing new versions and AU:s I’ve decided to start a new post instead of endless updating of my first post (see here).

Batman and Robin: Year One

Writer Mark Waid, art Chris Samnee. In # 1 (2024), Dick has come to live with Bruce, has started as Robin and helped to catch his parents’ killer in three weeks after the murder, according to Bruce’s thought bubble. Which must be a new record and indicates that Dick came to Wayne manor pretty much straight after the murder. (As he did in the original comics, but he had to train for some months before starting to fight crime.)

Batman: Justice Buster

A 32 chapter manga by Eiichi Shimizu and Tomohiro Shimoguchi (started publishing in English 2023). In this version, R.O.B.I.N. is the name Batman gives the AI he constructs to help him fight crime. It starts taking action by itself and decides human’s sense of justice is the problem.

Dick’s parents dies at the circus, as per usual, but he is taken from the circus by Sam Reynaud, the clown, who says it was murder. Sam is soon after murdered by Joe Chill, who murdered the Wayne’s and possibly also the Graysons. Chill uses drugs and some thingy for a hypnotic spell to get Dick to believe he is Sam. (For fun, he later tells Jason.)

Jason Todd is older than Dick, works as a private detective and is a vigilante called The Joker on the side. He lets Dick train to become a detective, looking to find the man who murdered his parents (the guy he’s unknowingly living with). Jason manages to weedle Batman into a partnership. Somewhat later, he is (apparently) killed by Chill, beaten by a crowbar. Chill says he’s going to take over the moniker Joker.

As I publish this post, the last chapters are still not published in English, so I can't say how the story will end.

Batman: Dark Ages

6 issues limited series (2024). Writer Mark Russel, art Michael Allred.

A limited series set in an alternate universe. Gotham's underground is run by False Face society which takes control of Wayne Enterprises after Thomas and Martha are murdered and use it to, for instance, spread drug addiction. Bruce has a very different road to becoming Batman; so has Dick to becoming Robin.

He's from a family of acrobats and is working for the Falcone crime family, as the only way to support himself and his parents. When he is part of kidnapping Jim Gordon he is shot, Batman takes him home but he escapes after a few days. By then, his parents are murdered by the Falcone's and he would have been too, if Batman hadn't turned up. Bruce makes him take an oath and he takes on the code name Robin (nothing is said about why Robin.) He later becomes Nightwing, working with Barbara as Batgirl. They marry and have a daughter that we see as Dr. Grayson with an old Bruce in the part of the story that takes place in the future (2030). Dick dies, in Nightwing suit, during a fight with the Joker. Batman tries to catch Dick when he and the Joker falls, but he gets hold of Joker.

Nightwing vol # 4, Tom Taylor’s run (#117)

Tom Taylor wrote Nightwing 2021-2024 and took the chance to tweak Dick’s origin. He gave Dick an older and previously unknown half-sister, Melinda Grayson-Lin, from a short relationship John had before his marriage to Mary. And he wrote that Tony Zucco had actually wanted to kill Dick, not his parents. How much of this will survive later writers remains to be seen.