#pit girl has to be mari right

[llycaons]

oh a little while ago I speculated (based on another person's tags) that the opening scene in ep1 took place after the rescue and there were girls still there in the mountains, but I rewatched that episode recently and misty took her mask off so we know it was the girls who survived

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Character sightings in the 1998 rescue scene

(slowed down because each one is insanely brief)

Misty

Clearly relishing in the attention and press.

Taissa

Hiding as much as possible with the hat and the hood drawn tight around her face.

Natalie

Angrily pushing her hood down. And those grown out roooots (we can still see a little bit of blonde peeking out at the ends though).

Shauna

Highly reactive, pushes a reporter away and has to be held back.

Lottie

Sullen, checked out (until she screams of course).

Group shot

We can see Shauna and Lottie at the front (with Natalie possibly right behind Lottie with her head down?) and two other unknown people following them (Van and Travis?). We can’t see Van and Travis at all in the rescue scene, but we know they are both rescued, as well. I don’t think Liv Hewson and Kevin Alves were even on set that day because they aren’t featured in any of the BTS videos of shooting this scene.

Bonus: Mari??

This brief shot of one of the unknown girls definitely looks a whole lot like Mari, but it’s important to note that this scene definitely could have used random extras (other than the obvious main cast that we already know survive) to avoid spoilers similar to what they did with the opening Pit Girl scene. Some people have also pointed out that she appears to have blonde hair. But it’s interesting and I can certainly see the resemblance!

[twola]

Passerine : Chapter 4

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Green-scarved attackers leave you and Arthur in a precarious place - forced to address the impasse between you.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

Told you it wouldn't be a year between updates :)

But seriously - I love hearing from you guys - that really helped push me to get this out more timely.

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You wipe your brow against the heat. If you thought Clemens was hot, Shady Belle was goddamn sweltering. The nape of your neck was never dry, and the ends of your hair curled around your face from the humidity.

“Hey there.” 

You look up from the tub of dishes you were scrubbing behind Pearson’s wagon. Susan has finally given you some leeway, and the tub was dragged to a shady spot to give you at least a little bit of a reprieve from the heat.

But not much.

“Hey.”

Arthur stands in front of you, heaving a heavy sack of corn off his shoulder to the dirt below. He grunts slightly, circling his shoulder, before righting his hat and moving closer into your personal space.

“How’re you feelin’ this morning?” He asks, dipping his hands into the water quickly and shaking the wetness from his fingers. He stuffs his hand into his satchel and grabs his worn leather riding gloves, pulling them on.

“Same as yesterday. Hot and fat.” You respond, sighing as you roll your shoulders with a near-imperceptible wince. Your gaze settles on the tub of dirty dishes in front of you.

That gets a small smile out of him. A silence settles between the two of you as he wriggles his fingers on one hand, the leather sticking and whining with each stretch of his digits.

“How’s your shoulder?” You nod up to him, still not making eye contact.

“Feelin’ fine, you ain’t gotta worry about me.” He nods, intently staring at the soapy water in front of you.

You frown before looking back in the tub as well.

It’s a strange space you’re in right now. Your stomach is swollen up and your back starting to sway. You still had a couple of months before the child’s arrival. You’ve had to shed your layers even further from Clemens, where an old cotton shift is nearly all you can fit in at this point. Tilly and Mary Beth were working on a few dresses for you, but they weren’t done yet.

“You was up early.” He says, searching for words to continue the conversation - unfortunately, it wasn’t going well.

“Ain’t sleeping much these days.”

Arthur simply murmurs in response.

Up in the room of that old plantation house, Arthur’s bedroll remains on the floor, to which you complained, but he would hear none of you sleeping on the ground in your condition.

Sharing a bed was never brought up. It was a canyon between the two of you - the more your belly grew, the more you withdrew from him. You didn’t talk about it. About the baby. About the future. Arthur was unfortunately relegated to watch you grow and not address any of it. He didn’t know what to do - were you going to stay this way until the day you gave birth?

“I’m sure Abigail is grateful to John and you and Dutch for bringing Jack back.” You whisper quietly, looking at the boy running around the old abandoned fountain, an unfortunate breeding pit for mosquitos.

“Maybe John will step up after this.” Arthur eyes the shadow behind Jack.

John sits in the decrepit gazebo, carving what looks like a child’s toy in his hand. It was comical in some ways, fearsome looking, scarred John, working on a toy for his son. Finally, after so long, it seems that he is starting to acknowledge the poor boy - having gone through some kind of terror when he was taken.

He and Abigail hadn’t yelled at each other in a day - there’s a secret wager among the girls about how long it is that is going to last.

Karen bet the high end, having kept the knowledge that Abigail was in John’s room this morning to herself.

You breathe out heavily through your knows and let a low groan out, one hand on your lower back swayed under the weight of the child growing within.

He wants to reach out and touch you. He almost does, for a moment, spread his hand out over your belly, to try and feel for movement. He wants to pull your chemise up and press against your bare skin. He wants to worship your changing body.

But every time he tries to bring up the baby, you shut down. That darkness under your eyes returns. This chasm widens.

He steps one step closer, his hand moving to his gun belt, as was apt to happen in times of discomfort.

“Y’ want to go into town? I’ll take you.”

Your eyes move back to the dishes, and you fish the next dirty one from the tub.

“Not really. I��m fine.”

Arthur frowns but acquiesces. He bids you a good day before heading out to the hitching post, off to head back into town to meet Trelawney to discuss the next job.

-

Your spry gelding has been woefully neglected, you being unable to ride the way you want. He stands bored amongst the other horses, listless while you can’t give him a good run.

“Kieran.”

The poor boy almost drops his coffee, fear alight in his eyes for a moment. “Y-yes ma’am? Does Mr. Morgan need anythin’?”

“What, Arthur? No. I’m asking for a favor.”

“O-oh! Of course! What d’ya need?”

“It’s been a while since my boy’s had a hard ride… obviously I can’t-” you motion to your abdomen.

“Oh, oh! A-absolutely. I can take ‘im out for a ride.”

“Well I was wondering if I could come along… maybe just to get out of camp and watch you run him in the field. I’m so bored here.” You sigh. 

“You sure that Arthur ain’t gonna come after us?” Kieran asks concernedly.

“I’m sure it ain’t any of Arthur’s business. Besides, it won’t be like we’re going far. Maybe on the other side of that old battlefield near the Braithewaite’s land. Plenty of room out there.” You scowl, offended that Kieran insinuated you needed Arthur’s permission to function. God, you were pregnant, not an invalid.

Kieran looks hurriedly to the ground before quickly shuffling over toward your horse, who finally picks up his head and whinnies excitedly as his reins are untied from the hitching post.

You follow, smiling and brushing down your horse’s mane, whispering sweet affections to him as Kieran adjusts the saddle. After a few moments, he steps back to allow you to get yourself up on the horse.

Okay, maybe you were a bit invalid right now.

“Uh, can you… help me a bit?” 

Kieran blazes red for a moment before nodding, awkwardly placing his hands on your waist and helping heave you up on the horse’s rump. He climbs into the saddle and meekly leads the two of you toward the old battlefield and the road toward Braithwaite Manor. 

After a slow, hot walk to the open meadow, the two of you finally reach it. He quietly helps you slide off the horse’s rump and into the long grass of the meadow, where you take a few steps to stand under the shade of a tree.

Kieran then digs his spurs into your gelding’s side and the horse bolts, rearing before galloping off through the meadow. You lean against the tree, idly rubbing your hand over your growing stomach as you watch Kieran ride your horse hard, getting a good run out of him. It’s a good half hour of circling the meadow at various speeds before they slowly plod back to you.

“Ah, there’s my boy!” You pat his mane affectionately as your gelding pants, satisfied. Kieran leans on the pommel with one arm, smiling for once.

“He’s a good boy. I can make sure I take ‘im out every couple days for a run-” The man frowns slightly again, “with your permission, of course, ma’am.”

You nearly roll your eyes at him. 

“First, you’re doin’ me a favor, stop calling me ma’am. Second-”

A gunshot cracks far too close to you and your gelding rears, screeching as Kieran tries to calm him. You’ve stumbled back a few steps, clutching at your belly with one hand.

“Kieran Duffy, you’re a goddamn dead man!” 

Cold steel is pressed between your shoulder blades and your stomach drops to your feet.

One, two, three, four armed men encircle you and Kieran, who hushes your gelding. For a moment, his hand hovers over the gun on his hip, but you groan in pain as the barrel of a repeater digs into your back. A large hand clamps down on your arm roughly.

Two men muscle their way over to your horse and proceed to drag Kieran down from him, his face slamming against the red Lemoyne dirt.  The men start to kick at the adopted Van der Linde, and the unfortunate man tries to curl up in a fetal position but it is of no help. His gasps and moans of pain start to fill the air, overpowering the cicadas in the humid afternoon.

You just stare at the green scarves around their necks and bite your lip hard enough to make yourself bleed.

“C’mon, Colm’s waiting.”

-

The ropes chafe around your wrists as the O’Driscoll pushes you forward. You try your damndest not to stumble, and it is some small mercy that your wrists are bound in front of you as compared to behind you. Your dress, the old short-sleeved shift, is now dirty beyond any salvation and covered in horse hair and mud. Your captors were kind enough to place you on a horse sitting up, as compared to slinging you over the horse’s rump as they did to Kieran.

“This boy you’re associating with here… he’s done some real wrongs against us. Gotta assume that you have too if you’re with him.” The man grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

A few hours of riding later, you’re out of the swamps before the men stop, guiding their horses off the northward road and into a small wooded glade as the hills start to rise. You vaguely recognize the area - it's not too far from Clemens, near the state line with New Hanover. The four men that found you had a campsite set up just off the road.

Kieran tries to muscle in between you and the O’Driscoll, his hands bound behind him, bruises blooming bright across his face. 

“She ain’t got nothin to -” 

Kieran’s plea is cut short with the sickening wet sound of blood bursting from his nose as the butt of a revolver whips across his face. He crumbles to the ground as you gasp. You stoop down to try to reach him, and as he rolls into a seated position, the blood from his face drips all over your dress as he coughs. You try to stymie the blood with the hem of your skirt but with your wrists bound, you just end up getting it all over yourself and him.

“Pretty sure I didn’t ask you, y’dumb sack of shit.”

Kieran gets yanked away from you, whimpering, and dragged further from the campfire back toward the woodline by two of the other men, rough and tumble and dirty. You’re pulled up roughly by your arm as your captor sizes you up. He pauses as you recapture your balance.

“You-you're that girl from up in Cumberland that ol’ Donal dragged back in-” The O’Driscoll sneers with recognition, “Said your cunny was one of the tightest one’s he’d plowed-” 

You recoil in revulsion, a physical reaction to the man’s reference to your assault. His coy and callous words about the rape that haunts you each and every day. The man’s eyes dart down to your abdomen, and your hands shoot up to cover it as if to hide your pregnancy from him.

“You got a damn O’Driscoll in your belly!” He howls in laughter, pointing at the child that grows within you.

Something deep and ancient and animalistic within you snaps like a leather whip. Suddenly this child in your belly wasn’t a burden. Suddenly the circumstances of its beginning didn’t matter. Suddenly, this raggedy outlaw in front of you was threatening your child. You scowl, your hands protectively over your stomach, the child agitated within, kicking at you as your blood rises. Righteous anger, for the first time since your ordeal, courses through your veins.

“My baby ain't no O’Driscoll,” You hiss, your bound hands clenching in rage, “This baby is Arthur Morgan’s - ‘nd he’s gonna come and skin you alive.” 

The hot anger sizzling through your blood, you know, would match Arthur’s. You can see, in your mind’s eye, your lover coming in, guns blazing, ready to tear anyone who threatens you and your child limb from limb.

A flash of something crosses the O’Driscoll’s face. Maybe fear, maybe recognition. His haughty smirk falls. Annoyed, he yanks you forward and forces you to your knees as you yell obscenities at him. Your hands are then bound behind you and the ropes threaded through the spokes of the wagon wheel you are forced to sit against.

The soft crackles of the fire ten feet away and the chirp of the crickets are foreboding in your gut - and for good reason. 

Kieran’s screams echo through the night and are a sound you will never forget.

-

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her? How th’ hell do you lose a pregnant woman?” Arthur stomps through the front door of the plantation house with Sadie trailing behind. 

“I ain't babysittin’ her Arthur - I’m just sayin’ I haven't seen her since this mornin’.”

“Arthur-” Dutch calls from the stairs, “Come up here, son - we have to talk. Missus Adler, will you excuse us?”

Arthur lets out a long breath through his nose. “Comin’-” he yells up to Dutch, and turns to Sadie, “Will you go find her? She’s been a goddamn hellcat with how angry gets nowadays.”

Sadie rolls her eyes, “Gosh Arthur, I wonder why.”

Arthur waves his hand at Sadie dismissively as he bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He moves through the room where Dutch has stored his gramophone and the camp funds to find the older man out on the balcony. 

Dutch smokes a cigar, looking out on the decrepit fountain in the front of the manor below. He holds another one in his fingers, offering it to Arthur as he comes closer. Arthur grunts and takes the cigar, pulling a box of matches out of his satchel with the other hand.

Dutch motions toward the skyline of Saint Denis in the distance, barely visible over the cypress trees in the swamp. “Now… the trolley bus station…” The cigar’s end glows red between his fingers, “I went down there… I took a look at it… I think we can hit it.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow as he lights his cigar, puffing it to get it lit before holding it between his fingers, “I ain’t never robbed in a city before,” he replies with uncertainty.

Dutch smirks with that boisterous smile that Arthur has known for years. “Yeah, well you leave the planning to me, You’ll ride with me?”

“Always.”

Dutch grabs Arthur’s shoulder to reassure him. “Gonna get enough to get on a boat. Raise that kid o’yours on a mango farm, with no worries in the world.”

Arthur frowns, at both the mention of the baby and this harebrained idea of going to Tahiti of all places. Dutch senses his trepidation.

Dutch sighs, looking out over the balcony as a plume of smoke drifting upwards. He squints up the road leading toward Scarlett Meadows, placing his hands on the worn railing, “What the–”

Mary Beth’s scream cuts through the quiet.

-

Sadie Adler is quite unperturbed by the blood spattered all over her blouse. Frankly, she seems quite comfortable partly drenched in the lifeblood of O’Dricolls - doling out her divine justice for the wrongs hoisted upon her.

Arthur, however, is mad as a grizzly bear. 

“The last time I saw her she was with ‘im.” Sadie nods at poor Kieran’s headless body, where Javier and Bill hoist him up for burial outside of camp. Orville Swanson seems suddenly quite sober as he holds the decapitated head, slowly trailing the other two.

Arthur grinds his teeth so hard that most of the state could probably hear him. Scowling, he surveys the carnage outside the old house before stalking toward the horses, some of them having broken their hitches and darted further into the woods.

“Charles!” Arthur barks, “Missus Adler.”

Sadie nods, shouldering her rifle. Charles joins in, trotting from where he had just thrown a corpse into the bayou to follow the other two over to the horses from the old plantation house.

John Marston leads Old Boy out of the woods and swings up on him, leading the half-bred to where the other three horses have gathered.

“Marston.” 

“You helped me get my son back. I ain’t… Ain’t gonna stand by watchin’ you try to get yours back.`` John adjusts the strap of his repeater across his chest. 

Arthur simply grunts, too aggravated to show any thanks. He digs his spurs into his horse’s side, and with a high whinny, Arthur urges the mare into a gallop as they leave the plantation. Taima, Bob, and Old Boy fall in line.

He grips his revolver hard, standing in his saddle as the mare runs blisteringly fast up the road, through the old battlefields, and north into Scarlett Meadows.

-

The shouts and yells and gunshots have you huddling against the wagon wheel, your arms scream in pain as you try to tug at your bindings, your knees drawn up close to try and shield your belly from whoever is rolling in on your captors. Was it more O’Driscolls? Was it Lemoyne Raiders? 

A pair of boots sidle up in front of you. You look up in fear, your heart racing, and a gasp escapes your mouth as you stare up at the owner of said boots.

Arthur stands in front of the wagon, his whole body heaving with labored breaths. Blood is spattered up the side of his face, his hands tightly around a shotgun, still cocked and smoking from its obvious use.

“Darlin’-” 

Overwhelmed, you moan and start to collapse forward. He moves with a speed that betrays how wound up he still is from the fight, throwing his shotgun to the ground and catching you, whipping out his knife from its sheath and cutting the ropes that bind your arms.

Immediately, he heaves you up in his arms as if you were nothing as he stands up from his knee. With his arms looped behind your back and under your knees, he crushes you to himself for a moment.

“Are you hurt? What’s all this blood?” Arthur frets, looking over your bloodstained shift, eyes darting over your belly, searching for a possible injury where it was coming from.

Instead of answering you throw your arms around his neck, burying your head into his collarbone. 

“Sweetheart, y’gotta tell me-”

“The blood is Kieran’s,�� You croak, “Ain’t mine… I’m alrigh’... we’re alrigh’.” You trail off and then begin to weep into Arthur’s shirt.

You can almost hear his jaw clench. A darkness shrouds his face as he carries you back into the campsite, shot up and full of bodies. You turn to see the carnage.

Sadie continues to loot the bodies of the fallen O’Driscolls, kicking each one as she finishes for good measure. Charles walks Arthur’s mare and Taima from the woodline where they had ditched the horses. 

Arthur’s shotgun is picked up from the ground. Clutching once more at Arthur’s shirt, you make eye contact with John Marston, who stares back at you with an unreadable expression.

-

The door latches behind you - at least as much as it can physically latch, and silence finally falls in this old room, the oil lamp throwing yellow-orange light and casting shadows around the room. The floorboards creak under the heavy footfall of Arthur’s boots as he moves toward the center of the room, one by one taking the weapons off of his person.

A repeater was laid against the table. A rifle balanced on his clothing chest. He shrugs off his bloodstained brown leather jacket and tosses it to the floor before looking back up at you. The simmering vein of anger in his blood seems to have been assuaged on the ride back, where he clutched you in his arm tight enough that the devil himself would have to pry you from his grasp.

“Y’sure you're okay? Y’sure all that blood ain't yours?”

You nod, trying to stave off the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes, failing miserably as your chin quivers and your lips purse. Arthur yanks his hat off and lets it drop on the table as he closes the distance between you. 

“Sweetheart-”

His hands reach toward you, but you immediately grab him by the wrists before he has a chance to pull you into his embrace. Pulling his hands downward, you place them broadly across your belly, his eyes widening as he spreads his fingers out over the swell. You place your own hands over his, pressing against them so he can feel the movement beneath your skin.

His cornflower-blue eyes track up to yours, and with a shuddering sob, the wall you’d been building between yourself and him finally crumbles.

“I-it’s yours-,” your voice cracks as tears freely flow down your face, “It’s yours, Arthur. This baby is yours and mine a-and-”

He removes one hand from your belly and pulls you into his warm embrace, kissing the top of your head gently as he traces soft circles on your skin with the remaining hand.

“Always was, darlin’.” The timbres of his low voice are comforting as you weep into his work shirt. “Like I told ya - that child is mine. I'm gonna be its pa.”

You sob harder into his warmth, your fingers tightening in the fabric as you clutch at him. One of his hands finds your lower back and gently rubs circles in soothing motions. 

“No.. no I mean…He… didn’t, he didn’t-” you stutter, hiccuping.

“Y’ain’t gotta say anything bout him-” Arthur cups the back of your head, trying to prevent you from going down that road.

“I- I don’t know why it was stuck in my head. Like I couldn���t think it was possible that it wasn’t his… but - but he ain’t, it’s not…”

“Sweetheart-”

“He didn’t finish in me. It - it was only once and he didn’t finish in me.” You spit out, as if the words were venom in your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut against your body's physical reaction: a shudder of revulsion as past scenes invade your mind again. But speaking it aloud, getting it out in the open, there was something freeing about it.

Arthur clutches you to him, tucking his chin against the crown of your head.

“N-None of them O’Driscolls touched me.” You whimper into his chest.

You feel his arms tighten around you, as he breathes in to seemingly center himself again, the rage from before threatening to lash out once again.

“I’m still gonna hunt down every one of them and -” He snarls lowly before you bury your face into his chest, 

“Don’t. Don’t - don’t leave me. I need you here.”

He breathes out slowly, calming himself down before he cups the back of your head. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

After a moment to collect yourself, you look up at him, one of your hands tracing up his broad chest, his neck, your fingers weaving through his short beard.

“Arthur,” you sniffle, rubbing at your wet cheek with the back of your other hand.

“You don’t gotta do anythin’.” He interjects, his thumb catching your jaw before wiping the opposite cheek.

Your brow crinkles and you step up on your toes and press your lips to his forcefully, which he meets your fervor almost immediately.

You open your mouth to him and he groans lowly, drawing you even closer in his embrace, awkward with the swell of your child between you. 

He draws away from your lips slowly, and his hands trace up your body to cup your cheeks gently - far too gently for a gunslinging outlaw. 

“What d’ya want, sweetheart?” His low voice rumbles before he presses his lips to your forehead. You let out a breath and lean into him, reaching up on your toes to press your lips against his again, arms wound around his torso. Your belly presses against his, preventing you from melting fully into his arms.

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. 

“Will you touch me?”

So long ago, you had timidly asked him that in front of a campfire in West Elizabeth. You had begged him, pleaded, to have him take away the pain and memory of your ordeal. To have the last person who touched you do it out of love, not power and control.

Arthur smiles, like the morning sunrise, and draws you up for another kiss.

“Ain’t nothin’ I'd like more to do.”

There are several more moments of kissing, the wet sounds of mouths meeting the only sound in the room before Arthur bends to pick you up, hooking his arm beneath your knee and carrying you to the rickety old bed, laying you down gently with a kiss to your forehead.

“I ain’t… I’ve never done this with someone in your… condition.” Arthur stutters sheepishly as he slides one of his suspenders down his arms.

You smile and reach up to grab the other suspender and peel it downward. “I’ll be okay. Just be gentle.”

The cotton straps swing by his side as he leans over to take his boots off, they clunk to the floor heavily as he tosses them away. He leans over you and works your boots off, tossing them to the floor in a pile near his own.

Hands move slowly - gently, with purpose. His shirt falls to the floor. Your bloodstained skirt follows. The ruined blouse. They all pile on the floorboards until your lace-trimmed chemise is all that covers your body. You give a lopsided grin as he reaches toward your neckline. 

“What?” He grins, tracing up to one shoulder and pushing the strap down your bicep.

“Reckon I look a little different since the last time we did this.”

The cotton is peeled downward, exposing your swollen breast and darkened nipple. 

“Reckon you’re even more beautiful now.” He drawls before fully leaning over you and pressing his lips against the top of your breast, and you mewl in response, your sensitivity so heightened as he works his way down, letting his tongue lave over your nipple. You arch your back, chasing the feeling, whimpering as his lips close around your nipple and gently suck upon it for a moment.

Your fingers weave into his hair, and you yelp as he sucks harder, yanking on his hair in overstimulation. His mouth pops off your nipple as he rears up immediately, concern alight in his eyes.

“S’okay - just a little sensitive.” You ruffle his hair affectionately as he whispers an apology, sheepish as he leans up to kiss you quickly, his grip on you not nearly as strong. 

“C’mon now,” you pull your chemise over your head, tossing it over the bed and moving one of his hands to your hip to push down your drawers. Arthur’s breath stutters as his hand traces back up your thigh as you kick the bloomers off, some of his earlier fear and reticence leaving him. 

“Christ,” he breathes against your skin as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, “Yer so beautiful like this.”

His large hand dips between your legs and you whimper as you spread them to grant access. His fingers immediately part your folds and it’s only half a moment before he finds that little nub of your pleasure, circling it with his finger as you begin to mewl softly, your eyes fluttering closed as he leans over you.

You stutter in gasping notes, needy whines filling the room as he touches you. He rumbles his assent, pleased, “It’s been killin’ me not to touch you.”

“Really?” You breathe, and he takes the opportunity to slide his thick trigger finger into your cunt, and your back arches in response.

“Course- you, you’re,” he stops and groans in your ear as he pulls his finger out, near dripping with your essence, “You’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, carrying’ my child.”

“Yours.” You croon in response.

He agrees with a smirk, knowing he’s finally helped pull you from the abyss of denial, “Mine. Just like you, yer my girl.”

Arthur slides his finger back in. You gasp, high and flighty, blushing and needy. Your hands clutch at the old sheet laid out on the bed. 

His other hand brushes a few strands of your hair from your forehead, tucking them behind your ear. He smiles, dangerously fond, and leans over to press his lips to yours and smothers the noises of your pleasure.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the wet squelching of his hand, gently, slowly thrusting in and out between your spread legs. When he moves to hold himself above you again, he runs his gaze up and down your body - your bite-swollen lips, your heaving bosom - darkened nipples spit-slicked in the evening light.

The roundness of your belly where his child grows. 

By the time his gaze returns to your face, he finds you waiting. Your eyes open wide and searching for his. 

“Arthur.”

“Mm?” He nods, drawing his finger out from your body. You grab at his wrist to ground yourself.

“I want you.” 

Arthur smiles in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you lay on his bed. He stands up to his full height from where he leaned over you and unbuttons his pants, pushing down both them and the short drawers he had taken to wearing in the Lemoyne heat. After the fabric reaches his saddle-hewn thighs, it falls to the ground, pooling at his feet, leaving all six feet of him bare for you to see.

His hefty cock stands at attention, darkened with blood and wet at the tip. A testament to his reciprocated want.

“Here, turn over,” Arthur helps you to roll onto your side, facing the wall, and he slides into the bed next to you, its old wood creaking with the weight and movement. Arthur holds a hand tightly to your hip as you lay on your side away from him, squeezing affectionately as he settles in.

Flushed against your back, even with you large with child, Arthur dominates you, his arm curling up and over your torso. He’s warm and strong and hard against you.

“You tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feed good, alrigh’?” He rumbles into your ear as his hand, having moved down to your thigh, pulls your leg backward and over his own hip.

You nod vigorously, unable to articulate any words as you feel him guide his cock between your legs, tucking it between your folds and giving a few languid, gentle thrusts to coat himself in your slick. You grab at the hand spread out over your thigh and interlace your fingers; he squeezes your hand in response.

Arthur grits his teeth as pulls his hips back, the head of his cock catching on your opening. He presses inward, his hardened flesh pushing through the rim of your cunt. You gasp in return, feeling the first inches of him enter your body. 

He leans up on one elbow and presses his lips to your temple as you whimper.

“Okay?” He whispers, remaining still, only half buried in your warmth.

You whine a little and wiggle your hips, he groans as another inch of him slips in. He presses forward, fully sheathing himself in you, and you whimper again, cunt stuffed full of him.

He allows you time to accommodate him - the dual pressure of him and the child pressing on your hips is nearly painful in a way that you can’t get enough. You tip your head back, breathing out as your whole body presses back against his - even swollen with child, you feel small against him. All muscle and corded arms and his broad chest-

Arthur gives an experimental, shallow thrust of his hips. His cock halfway leaves you before pushing into you again. The whimpering escaping your mouth escalates into a moan, and he curls his body over yours, his stubble against your cheek, and you can feel him smile against you.

“There’s my girl.”

He does it again. And again, and again, until he is throwing his hips against yours, panting wildly in your ear as he fills your cunt over and over.

Arthur’s hand moves from under yours on your thigh to cradle your belly and the life growing within. You feel fit to burst - the fondness overflowing from your heart at his gesture, the rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours, the filling and emptying of your core with all of him - it is only moments before you stutter out a breathy jumble of words.

“M’ gonna-ngh- Arth… Arthur, I’m gonn-”

He holds himself still, a feat in itself, and rubs at your clit with two fingers, leaving you a gasping, shuddering mess as he works an orgasm out of you.

“There we go, there’s my girl.” He whispers again in your ear as you shudder and shake and gasp, his cock still buried to the hilt within you. As you come down from your high, he gently pulls out, laying on his back and grunting as he takes himself in hand, pumping his cock until he breathes out heavily, coming all over his belly as he finds his pleasure.

You lay still for a few moments more, recovering and catching your breath. You feel Arthur unwind himself from you and get up from the rickety bed. With some measure of difficulty, you turn yourself around, facing the room instead of the wall. One of your hands subconsciously begins drawing small circles on your stomach as you watch Arthur wipe his own clean of his spend with an old bandana.

Arthur tosses the soiled bandana to the ground. He goes to reach for a fresh union suit before you make a sound of disapproval.

“Come sleep with me.” You plead, and the smile he gives you in return assuages all fears as he drops the union suit and takes the last few steps between the bed and where he stood.

With a bit of finagling, he slides into bed and pulls the old blanket over the two of you.

He returns to you as you wind your arms around his neck, your naked bodies pressed against each other, the swell of your child between you. One of his hands rests on your belly, and for the first time in months, you fall asleep at peace.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - I

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.5k.

Reading Time: 26 min.

Warnings: attempted execution, blood, detailed aftermath of war, detailed deaths of children, detailed grief, detailed pain, mentions of sexual abuse within the church, mentions of rape, torture, violence

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976

Author’s note: This part of the story contains the origins of the Zionist argument, claiming that the land of Palestine belongs to Jewish people by will of God. I have written this section of the chapter as close to the Christian Bible as possible in an attempt to avoid Zionist ideology or propaganda - and I want to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a pro-Palestine blog. I will always and forever stand with the people of Palestine, and do my utmost to use my platform to promote the liberation of the Palestinians under Israeli apartheid. Zionism and Zionists have no place at my table. Please continue to boycott companies, platforms and people who send aid and support to the colonial state of Israel. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise like a human billionaire and his taxes. You had shown yourself alternate scenarios in which this didn’t happen, in which you’d still be safe in the Humanities Department of Heaven, distributing angels to help God’s children and guide them to the Light. Or enjoying the presence of a fellow guardian angel at the proverbial water cooler. The other side of the battle was autopilot-mode, no thoughts, no feelings, just running to save yourself.

You had a fierce belief in your Leader - almost entirely unwavering and unquestioning. You were His daughter, mirrored in His image and devoted only to Him. You did His bidding as requested, journeyed to realms under His name, played the messenger when He had something important to say to His children. You were there when Gabriel delivered God’s message to the Virgin Mary, hovering in the background and keeping Mary safe from harm in order to protect the coming of Christ. You aided in escaping Peter from prison, making him invisible to the guards as you and some others guided him to freedom by the will of the Almighty.You believed in Him so strongly, that you didn’t need to question Him - because He was always right, and His plan was always just.

You saw how the people of Egypt suffered at the hands of your Lord, and personally watched as the souls of the firstborn children who were slaughtered by Him as an act of protest against Pharaoh and his tyrannic reign. You kept your mouth shut at the livestock, knowing that food could be replenished easily enough. You thought about saying something when you saw the innocence of Egypt battling against the boils that God had given them. By His grace, you could even turn a blind eye to the adult firstborns who were killed as collateral damage. But the children? Some as young as newborns, all the way up to twelve years old. Pure babies without an ounce of hate or sins in their hearts, who didn’t understand the difference between their heathenish beliefs and their Hebrew friends. Who had never whipped a slave, or ordered the execution of God’s children. Who never had the cognitive capacity to think of such a thing, because their brains hadn’t had the chance to learn, to change, to join in God’s favour.

You’d never forget the small boy you watched over in the seconds before he took his last breath, sleeping soundly in his bed after a long day of studying and games. He couldn’t have been older than six. The oldest child to a woman whose husband had passed on mere months before. To a woman who was hanging on by a fragile thread as it was. You watched the boy’s breath rise and fall steadily in his peaceful slumber, until his chest fell for the final time. You watched his soul rise from his body, confused for a moment - painfully unaware that his mortal life had ended. You saw the fear in his eyes when he looked at his lifeless body in his bed, and felt his frustration when his mother ignored his pleas for help, not understanding that she couldn’t see his soul. You observed as Horus came for the child, wrapping His arm around him and offering some comfort to his distress. Horus looked at you as you stood in the doorway of the bedroom, His avian eyes full of the darkest of emotions as He guided yet another soul to the underworld, to have their heart weighed and judged by the guardian at the gates. His loathing poured off of Him as He shot you that look, before disappearing into the night with the child. You didn’t kill the boy, but under the gaze of Horus, you felt as though you had.

Leaving the boy’s home, the streets were full of lost and confused souls, ranging in age and wealth but all sharing the same sorrow and fear. Among the devastation stood your doubts of the Almighty’s plan, and the question of why lingered on your lips even as you were summoned back to Heaven to give a report on the situation - on its success. You felt uncomfortable as you summarised what you saw to the archangel Michael, who looked triumphant in God’s success, knowing he had carried it out perfectly for Him. He thanked you for your hard work - and in that moment, you had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Of course, your thoughts were never your own, and you were called in to meet with your superiors about your doubts. They seemed to be reasonable, and understanding, especially given that this was your first offense. They promised to set your mind at ease, and reminded you that you were merely a foot-soldier in the Great Plan. You didn’t need to worry, you just needed to do as you were asked. Then they kicked you out of the office with a bad taste in your mouth, and a sense of foreboding of the things to come. Surely His plan couldn’t get any worse?

Then Canaan happened.

After the Israelites escaped slavery in Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years, led by their leader, Moses. During this time, God promised them a land of their own, a fertile land called Canaan, where they could settle and prosper. When Moses died, a new leader named Joshua arose to lead the Israelites into Canaan. Before entering the land, Joshua received a command from God to conquer it. God promised to be with Joshua and the Israelites, assuring them of victory if they remained faithful. Under the pretext of divine sanction, and God’s name on their lips, the Israelites engaged in systematic warfare, besieging cities, slaughtering men, women, and children, and plundering their possessions. The conquest was marked by bloodshed, devastation, and the utter annihilation of indigenous populations. Then they burned the whole city and everything in it, but they put the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron into the treasury of the Lord’s house. Jericho fell to ruin, crumbling in ashes on the ground as fire engulfed the buildings and eating everything it could. You watched as they celebrated over the dead, drank themselves into a stupor in the ruined homes, covered in the blood of the innocent. They didn’t bother themselves to move the corpses until the celebrations were over, days after they declared victory.

Despite the humans being unable to see you, you were still a real being wandering the streets of Canaan, sobering at the sights before you. Your beautiful, white wings dragged on the floor as you walked, gathering the dirt and the blood at the tips of your feathers. God’s children had got the land that they were promised, but what was the cost? From the freeing of the Hebrews to the conquering of Canaan, all you could see were the bodies that had been left behind of the civilians caught up in the fight. Though the blood pooled in puddles no more than 3cm deep, it felt as though you were in it up to your neck. You looked at the conquerors in disgust, and with a rage you’d never felt before - especially when you realised that, for Joshua, peace was never an option worthy of consideration. You were suffocated by the sinners that surrounded you, the murderers and looters, the fornicators who lurked in dark alleyways to celebrate with any passerby willing or otherwise. You watched as indigenous stragglers were dealt with, some more humanely than others and you wondered: was this truly God’s will all along? Did He plan for such brutality? Did He allow Joshua to go as far as he did - and did He give Joshua the strength and the power to do so? Or did He look at His children in disgust and disappointment, ashamed of them for turning to sin and Satan so easily in a moment of pure happiness? Despite claiming to worship a God of love and justice, the Israelites demonstrated cruelty and brutality in their pursuit of land and power - and your faith wavered a second time when you realised that your worst fears were true: God really did give Joshua the power to do as he did, and He felt no remorse for it.

You were pulled into your superior’s office again, this time scolded with much less understanding than before. Gabriel and Michael looked at you with disdain, nothing but anger in their eyes and on their faces as you sat before them in the celestial white room, eyes aching from the brightness.

Gabriel, with his luminous wings unfurled, regarded you with a solemn gaze. “Again, ___? Hast thou not learned from thy previous lapse in faith? Our duty as angels is to serve unquestioningly, to uphold the divine order without falter.”

Michael, his expression stern and unwavering, spoke with commanding authority. “Indeed, ___, the Almighty’s will is not for us to question. It is our sacred duty to carry out His commands with unwavering devotion.”

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of their reproach heavy upon you. “I understand, my lords. But I cannot help but struggle with the suffering and turmoil wrought by our actions. Is it not within our power to seek mercy and compassion, even amidst the fulfilment of divine justice?”

Gabriel’s gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. “Our understanding is limited, ___. We cannot comprehend the intricacies of God’s divine plan. It is not for us to question His wisdom or to challenge His authority.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Our loyalty to the Creator must remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty or doubt. We are His instruments, His messengers, and His will shall be done.”

You sighed, “But His will brings the destruction of cities and the deaths of children. His own children. It is difficult for me to truly follow Him when there is so much devastation.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, his expression a mix of compassion and admonition. “___,” he said gently, “we are but conduits of His divine will. Our mortal understanding pales in comparison to the grand tapestry of His design. Though we may not comprehend the reasons behind the trials and tribulations, we must trust in His wisdom and benevolence.”

Michael’s gaze remained steely, but a hint of empathy flickered in his eyes. “Indeed, ___,” he spoke firmly, “the path of righteousness is not always easy to tread. But it is our duty to carry out His commands, no matter the cost. Our faith must endure even in the face of adversity.”

You felt a pang of uncertainty gnaw at your celestial essence, torn between the call of duty and the ache of compassion. “But what of mercy?” you questioned, your voice tinged with desperation. “What of compassion for His creations, even in their moments of waywardness?”

Gabriel’s voice held a note of solemnity as he responded, “Mercy and justice are intertwined in the divine order, ___. Though His judgments may seem harsh, they are tempered by His boundless love. We must trust that His actions serve a higher purpose, even when they are beyond our comprehension.”

Michael’s voice continued in his firmness, his tone sharp and parental. “Let this be the last time we speak of this, ___. There will be consequences to thy actions the next time thou decidest to question the Almighty.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down upon you like a leaden mantle. The gravity of his warning was unmistakable, a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance in the face of divine authority.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

As Gabriel contemplated the situation, a solemn expression settled upon his countenance. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, his voice measured and grave. “___,” he began, his tone tinged with a sense of sorrow, “in light of thy transgression and the gravity of thy doubts, it is clear that a lesson must be learned.” He paused, as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. Then, with a decisive nod, he continued, “I propose thou be assigned a period of reflection and penance. During this time, thou wilt be tasked with assisting souls in need—those who have lost their way, who suffer in anguish, or who cry out for guidance.”

Gabriel’s suggestion carried the weight of solemn judgment, yet also held the promise of redemption. It was a punishment tempered with compassion, an opportunity for growth and renewal amidst the shadows of doubt.

“Thou wilt walk among mortals,” Gabriel concluded, his gaze unwavering, “bearing witness to their struggles and offering solace in the name of the Almighty. May this experience serve to strengthen thy faith and reaffirm thy devotion to His divine will.”

“Let her spend time in Canaan until her penance is served, as she holds so much sympathy for the dead sinners.” Michael suggested, a smug tone oozing from his voice. He almost lit up at the look of protest you shot him, wanting to argue but Gabriel raising a hand and stopping you from speaking.

“It is decided. Thou may only return to us here when thou no longer holdeth contempt for our Lord. Dost thou have anything thou wishest to say?”

You stood and spread your wings, stretching them out and flapping them sharply in frustration. “There are several things I should like to say.” You retorted fiercely. “I shall restrain the urge, however. The Almighty gave me a tongue to use and a brain to think, after all.”

“And thou would doest well to remember that.” Michael commented, the smirk fading from his face. “Go. Leave us, petulant child. Perform thy duties and know thy place.”

Your time in Canaan was dreary - especially given that you didn’t want to be there in the first place, surrounded by those who used His name to spread evil. But still, you guided His creations as you were told to do, their guardian spirit keeping them from harm and returning them to the Light when their own beliefs had wavered. You felt somewhat like a hypocrite, guiding the wayward souls back to their own beliefs when you, yourself, were questioning yours. And, if you were to be truthful, your faith never completely restored to how it was before Canaan was conquered. You still held even the smallest amount of contempt for the Almighty, and silently questioned everything He did, wondering if His plans would succeed in peace or be laced with blood. But eventually, Heaven forgave you and told you that you were welcome to return, and you did so as though it was the easiest choice you had ever made… because, well, it was.

But all of that lead you to your third strike.

It had been some time since you entered the Mortal Realm, choosing to spend your time in Heaven and directing other angels to their tasks. You hadn’t really paid much attention to God’s creations as a result, almost entirely out of the loop. Since your time in Canaan, according to your fellow angels, much had changed. Great churches were built and devoted to God, while wars waged in His name and His word spread to those who needed it the most. Yet, in those churches, you discovered corruption everywhere you looked. The righteous taking their power and using it to abuse others, in God’s very own home, watched by the Saints and Apostles as they committed the most disgusting of acts to the vulnerable and the needy, as though they condoned such behaviour. You saw people, of all ages, routinely touched against their will, forced into submission and shunned if they dared to say anything - blamed by God’s other children for a crime they didn’t commit, but were the victims of instead. You watched the cycle repeat, families torn apart, and all the while the situation was monitored and allowed. Perhaps, even, ordered by the Lord Himself. You couldn’t bear it - you couldn’t fathom that the Almighty who you’d followed blindly your entire life could hurt another being like that, when He often portrayed Himself to be a kind and benevolent soul, a loving father to those who loved him. You needed to know why. Why must he enact such cruelty on his own creations?

You stormed into Michael’s office, where he, Gabriel, and Raphael met, staring at you in disbelief that you’d have the audacity to do such a thing. “I wish to speak with the Lord.” You demanded, anger coursing through your veins like never before.

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “Directly?”

“Yes.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Child, not even we get a direct audience with the Almighty. Whatever could thou say to Him?”

Gabriel sighed, disappointment oozing from his celestial being. “Thy faith hath wavered yet again, hath it not?”

“Aye, I stand before thee once more, yet again with a heart heavy with doubt.”

Michael’s own anger was bubbling under the surface. “Speak, and let us hear thy grievance.”

“My lords, I cannot remain silent any longer. I have witnessed the depths of depravity within the Church, the desecration of innocence by those who claim to be servants of God.”

“Thy words are bold, ___,” Gabriel said, his tone remaining level. “What troubles thee so?”

Your anger surfaced and manifested as a raised voice and shaking limbs. “‘Tis the scourge of sexual abuse that plagues the holy sanctuaries. Innocent children, robbed of their purity by those who should protect them. How can a just and loving God allow such atrocities to persist within His own house?”

Raphael nodded, unfazed by the spectacle in front of him. “Thy anguish is understandable.” He found this more entertaining than impertinent, clearly unaware of your two strikes before. “Yet thou must remember that God’s ways are beyond our understanding.”

“How can we stand idly by while the innocent suffer? Are we not tasked with defending the weak and the vulnerable?”

Gabriel rested his forehead on his hand. “Thou dost speak with passion,” he was exasperated by you, “but thou must not forget thy place. God’s will is inscrutable, and we are but instruments of His divine plan. How many times must we remind thee?”

“I refuse to be silent any longer! I will not turn a blind eye to the suffering of the innocent, even if it means defying the will of my superiors.”

Michael slammed his fist on the white desk, standing from his seat behind it. “Thou dost tread dangerous ground. Thy defiance borders on heresy!”

You echoed his tone. “So be it! I would rather be branded a heretic than remain complicit in the face of such evil. This smells of the Devil, not of our Lord. I do not understand why He sits by and allows it to happen.”

Gabriel tried to keep the peace between all of you, but he was losing control of the situation quickly. “Thy faith hath faltered, and thy words ring with rebellion. Thou must reconsider thy stance before it is too late.”

“I cannot, in good conscience, remain silent any longer. If God truly exists, then He shall judge me for my actions. But I cannot stand by while His name is used to justify such abominations.”

“Then so be it, ___,” Michael resolved through gritted teeth. “If thou wilt not bend to the will of God, then thou must bear the consequences of thy defiance.”

“So be it.”

“Thou hast been found guilty of heresy and defiance against the will of God for the third time. As Archangel of Judgment, it falls upon me to administer thy punishment.”

“Thou may judge me, but know that my heart is true, and my intentions pure.”

“Thy intentions matter not. Thy actions have brought dishonour upon the celestial host, and thy defiance cannot go unpunished.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking urgently into his ear. “Michael, perhaps we should consider a less severe punishment. Her heart may yet be turned back to the path of righteousness.”

Michael shook his head. “Nay, Gabriel. The time for leniency hath passed. Ariel’s repeated offences demand a swift and decisive response.” All the while, his wrathful gaze never left your face. “Thy fate is sealed. As Archangel of Judgment, I hereby decree that thou shalt be cast out from the celestial realm and condemned to the Abyss.”

Raphael’s eyes widened with shock, but he said nothing.

Gabriel shook his brother and with sadness, he said, “Michael, art thou certain this is the right course of action? Once the sentence is passed, there can be no turning back.”

Michael replied firmly, “It is done, Gabriel. Justice must be served, even if it breaks thy heart. Let the punishment be carried out.”

Knowing your fate was worse than death, your body reacted for you - even before your brain had decided the best course of action. You turned swiftly on your heels and made your escape, wings flapping and trying to gain enough speed to remove yourself from the Heavens. Your heart was pounding in your chest, from the physical exertion or the panic rising from the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t quite tell. Your mind was a contradicting war zone, unsure of which team would win. On the one hand, your brain was buzzing with adrenaline, playing back every event which lead you to this moment: running for your life away from God’s chosen soldiers, avoiding your inevitable demise.

The portal to the Mortal Realm was just in your grasp, so by only the adrenaline that you were running on, you forced yourself to speed up - making a mad dash for the open world in front of you. You could hear Michael’s calls to, “Close that gate! Do not let her through!”

Someone had listened and had begun closing the portal. The closer you got to it, the smaller the hole became, shrinking and shrinking until all you could see was the tiniest speck of blue peeking out. But you couldn’t let that deter you - if you were caught, your future would hold horrors beyond celestial comprehension. You made a dive, perhaps it was your madness that drove you to do it, the adrenaline, or even your desperation, but you dove nonetheless. Your whole body ripped through the closing portal, feeling the walls shut in on you and grip onto your body with a searing, hot pain you’d never experienced before. Escaping from the Heavens was never a kind task, otherwise more angels would have done it, but now you were caught in Earth’s atmosphere, the planet’s gravity pulling you down to its very core with all the force it could muster.

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, the friction caused by the air resistance generated intense heat, turning your body into a blazing inferno akin to a comet streaking across the sky. Your skin prickled and your hair stood on end as the flames licked at your body, consuming everything in their path. The feathers on the outside of your wings were flying off and burning up in the flames, turning to ash in the atmosphere and disappearing entirely. The rush of wind roared in your ears, drowning out all other sounds as you plummeted towards the ground. The air around you shimmered with heat, distorting your vision and adding to the surreal sensation of falling through space. Tears appeared in your eyes but you couldn’t tell if that was because of the pain you could feel or the wind biting against you.

Despite the intense heat and the overwhelming sense of impending doom, there was also a strange beauty to the experience. The fiery trail you left behind painted a mesmerizing picture against the night sky, a fleeting spectacle that few that resided on this planet would ever witness. The sight of the planet from so far above reminded you just how the Almighty had made it: some land, but mostly water. As you fell, you recalled the horrors of the deep, the mammals with sharp teeth and stomachs bigger than your entire body. In that moment, for the first time in a while, you prayed to Him. You begged Him over and over to guide your body to land. You were an angel, you were likely to survive the fall despite the pain you were about to endure, and your weakened state couldn’t handle a battle with a sea creature that only wanted you for lunch.

Hurtling towards the ground, the last thing you remembered thinking was, this is how hellfire must feel. And that was when the world went dark.

*

“Clearly … happened … Sister.”

As you slowly regained consciousness, you became painfully aware of the searing agony coursing through every inch of your body. With your eyes tightly shut, you focused on the sensation of pressure and discomfort, trying to piece together what had happened. Your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and sharp pains shot through you with every movement. It was as if your body had been battered and broken, the impact of the fall leaving you bruised and battered beyond recognition. All the bones inside were broken, the bridge of your wings included, and your head throbbed beyond belief, as though you had a thousand hammers raging war against your skull.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of relief washed over you as you realized that you were still alive. The thought of having survived such a catastrophic event filled you with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Despite everything, He had heard your prayers and allowed you to touch ground - or perhaps this was the worst outcome… perhaps He wished for your pain as penance for your disobedience. Regardless, you would heal and be well, and then you could begin to live with the mortals and hide from Michael and his wrath. You were safe here… you were sure of it.

“… working … heard … looking … angel …”

The voice was registering with you now that you were regaining your cognitive abilities after the crash. Your brain was working over time to translate his words, though, leaving you slightly confused as this was phrasing you’d not heard before. You muttered something, your words coming out in Hebrew and silencing the man.

“What … ?” He asked, speaking some more but the rest of his words sounding fuzzy.

You tried again in Hebrew, but when that proved unyielding, you switched to Arabic.

“… know …?”

With great effort, you forced your eyes open, blinking away tears. Taking in your surroundings, you saw that you were lying amidst a pile of rubble, surrounded by the charred remnants of your fiery descent. You sat up a little, beholding the scene around you that was surreal and unsettling. The ground beneath you was scorched and blackened, a stark contrast to the surrounding, luscious, green landscape. The crater itself was a testament to the sheer force of your impact, a deep indentation in the Earth’s surface that stretched out before you in an almost perfect circle. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and charred debris, making it difficult to breathe. The heat radiating from the ground beneath you was intense, searing your skin and making you sweat profusely despite the chill of the night air.

Looking around, you could see the devastation wrought by your fall. Trees lay shattered and splintered, their branches twisted and blackened by the flames. Rocks and debris littered the ground, scattered in all directions by the force of the impact. On the edge of the crater, the man you heard stood, staring at you in disbelief.

He wore robes; a symphony of rich, deep crimson, a colour that seemed to capture the essence of devotion and authority. Crafted from the finest silk, the fabric cascaded in graceful folds, accentuating the dignified stature of the wearer. Each stitch, meticulously placed, whispered of skilled hands that had laboured to create a garment befitting its esteemed purpose.

The robe’s skirt, adorned with intricate gold and black embroidery, depicted sacred symbols and religious motifs that told tales of faith and tradition - resembling the cross that Yeshua died upon, but placed upside-down. The golden threads shimmered in the ambient light, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the reverence with which the garment had been crafted.

A matching red sash, elegantly tied across the man’s chubby waist hid the many buttons that ran the length of the garment. Its edges, crisply pressed and perfectly straight to show his precision and need to look as clean as possible.

The man’s sleeves, were straight, yet too long for him, as was the rest of his attire. As tidy as these lines were, as much care went into keeping it pristine, it was far too big for him like it had been handed to him from someone else that used to wear it perfectly. The cuffs ended midway down his palms, which, themselves, were hidden beneath leather, black gloves.

One hand was up to his ear, holding something to it and speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand. Your eyes travelled over his face, his white skin dimmed by the light of the moon, but mismatched eyes shining brightly beneath black paint around his eyes. One was the colour of ice, the other was the colour of the trees. You’d never seen such a thing before in all of God’s creations. A moustache of mouse-brown sat above his top lip, which also had been painted black. As he spoke, you looked at his teeth, perfectly white but canines sharper than most mortal’s dental structures. You had heard of such a thing - rumours spreading amongst the Israelites as they told each other stories in the dark of the night - abominations so foul they ate people, consuming the blood from their bodies and ending their lives in a moment’s notice, hiding in the shadows of the night as the sun would kill them. You’d reported back to Gabriel, who’d confirmed these abominations were the work of Lucifer, an archangel who had fallen many eons ago and had renamed himself to Satan. Your eyes had fallen upon a vampyre, and as your eyes roamed over the rest of his body, you saw your halo clutched in his left hand, pressed between his fingers firmly as though you may make a grab for it at any moment.

You made an attempt to back away from the monster, but the bones in your body were still healing - taking longer now that your halo was in the hands of another and not atop your head as it ought to have been. You took in your surroundings a little more, brain power restoring to maximum as you realised he must be of the ancient Romans, the very same people who had killed Yeshua.

“I pray thee, do not harm me,” you said, your tongue switching to Latin. This got the man to stop again and look at you.

“You’ve hurt yourself enough without me getting involved, haven’t you, Angel?” he asked, responding in Latin back to you. His tone was unsettling, confident and dark. The glint in his eyes mimicked this. “… Latin.” The switch in language made you realise he wasn’t talking to you, but an invisible person in your midst.

“What tongue dost thou speak?”

“You’re a servant of the Betrayer and you don’t know my language?” he laughed, then spoke again to the invisible one. His hand moved from his ear and you saw light coming from his hand - expecting pain from Hell, you flinched. When the pain didn’t come, you heard him again. “It’s just a phone,” he explained, making a mockery of you. “I thought everyone up there knew what was going on down here.”

You sighed, “I have not visited in a while.”

“Oh really? When was the last time you were down here, then?”

“I am not compelled to divulge aught to thee, foul creature!” your voice was laced with disdain as you looked at him, fangs exposed as he grinned at you. He took a step towards the crater, and you tried to move back, howling in pain as you did so and earning another laugh from him.

“Then I’m not compelled to help you get your bearings.”

You stopped for a moment and thought - more knowledge would be useful at this stage. And keeping him talking would buy you some healing time and strengthen to get your halo then run again. “I beheld the passing of Yeshua - and that was mine ultimate moment in this earthly realm.”

The vampyre hissed at Yeshua’s name, almost as if he was in pain just hearing the name of the Holy Son. He straightened himself up and then took a seat on the edge of the crater. “That was two-thousand years ago, Angel. A lot’s changed since then.”

“What other tongue didst thou employ just now?”

“It’s called English. A mixture of Latin, Greek and German.”

A Germanic influence - you wondered why you were only picking up the Latin words at first. You were only prepared with the languages spoke around the time of Yeshua, meaning anything new that had been developed since was completely lost to your ears. Now that you knew the main languages, you commanded, “Speaketh once more in the English tongue.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He replied, but he did so in English.

“I comprehend thy words now. I give thee thanks.”

He scoffed. “That was fast.”

“‘Tis a… gift… from the Almighty.”

He looked at you in disgust.

You felt your body had healed enough for the pain to mostly subside, allowing you to fight your way to your feet. Your wings were still shattered, however, making you feel like a broken bird, vulnerable and weak in the eyes of her prey. The vampyre was preying on you, after all. “I express gratitude for the knowledge shared, yet I must make haste on my journey. I shall reclaim my halo and depart henceforth.” You held out your hand, silently praying that he’d be courteous and return your halo to you.

He looked at your hand and then at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He stood from his seat and took a step towards you, watching you flinch as you stepped back. “The son of the Dark One has an angel in his grasp - what makes you think you’re going anywhere, hm?” He was moving towards you at an alarming rate, rendering your body useless against his speed. He gripped hold of your arm, tightly trapping you beneath his gloved fingers. You struggled against him, pulling back as hard as you could but failing, your body still not strong enough. “The way you fell makes me think you came here without permission, right? Which means, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Release me.”

“Or what?”

“I shall slay thee.”

He simply laughed, before turning to a person who was walking towards you, emerging from the darkness. She was a woman, visibly older than the vampyre and a little chunkier, too. She had long, blonde hair and looked more human than monster, though, you came to quickly realise she was a monster like him, and when she spoke, she did so in English. “The Unholy Father blessed us with a gift tonight,” she commented through a smile.

“What do we do with her now, Sister?” the vampyre asked, English rolling off his tongue easier than the Latin he spoke to you in.

The woman entered the crater and grabbed hold of your chin, looking at your body in one, fell swoop before making her decision. “Take her to the basements and strap her up - we have a lot of questions to ask about her home, don’t we, little angel?”

“Unhand me!” you yelled, struggling against both of their grasps.

The woman gripped onto your wrists and tied a metal chain around them - the metal burned against your skin as you fought against her, the pain getting worse and worse until you were forced to still. “Forged with hellfire,” she explained, “you’re not getting out of that easily.”

The vampyre dragged you across the grass and into a building, smelling old and of incense. You could tell that the building techniques were similar to the Babylonian buildings, but with Roman Corinthian architecture thrown in. There were also elements to this structure that you hadn’t seen before, and was only paying attention to because you needed to escape.

The vampyre pulled you down some steps, travelling further and further below ground as though he were walking you to Hell, until you finally stopped at a door. The room he threw you into was cold and dark, and it smelled almost exclusively of damp. In the centre of the room was a table, propped up on wood and resembling a crucifix. You were strapped onto it, similarly to the Messiah, except your device was made exclusively of hellfire-forged metal, making your entire body tingle with pain. You fought against him all the while, trying your best to escape, but all your efforts proved to be in vain. Once the woman entered the room, the torture truly began.

They both asked you things, questions about Heaven and the Almighty’s plan that you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to. When they were met with answers they didn’t like, they would reopen wounds that had healed and damage your body in ways that were unimaginable once upon a time. Feathers were plucked from your wings to start with, following cuts to your skin, slaps, and then short bursts of hellfire that rose from the ground. But you remained silent throughout, save for your screams of agony.

Eventually, they grew tired, and as the vampyre left, he looked at you and smirked. “We all have eternity, Angel. You’ll be here for the rest of it if you don’t cooperate.” He winked at you. “See you tomorrow.”

The door to the room closed behind them, slamming shut with an echo that reverberated throughout your entire being. Your halo sat on the other side of the room, resting on a table and taunting you. You could hear it crying out for you and your body begging for it. If you wore it, you’d heal in no time and regain all of your strength. But just being in its presence meant it would take longer. You were never without your halo and your holy light, but you’d seen what had happened to angels who were. Fearing that this was to be your fate, you wondered if it would have served you better to be caught by Michael and thrown to the void. Or perhaps you should have just continued on in blind faith of the Almighty, doing His bidding despite your heart breaking each time.

Strapped to Hell’s crucifix, all you could do was think of all the regrets you had, and beg into the darkness that He would show you mercy and allow you to come home. Or die quickly.

Prev. ⛧ Next

[marycorcaroli]

how the opla!boys would break your heart.

angst with sanji, zoro and luffy.

mary ♡: hi everyone 💌🌷, i haven't seen any stories like this yet, so i thought i'd write one myself 🤗. i hope you like it ! ! 🫂

english is not my first language, i apologize for my mistakes. ♡

rules ; masterlist ♡

sanji.

he doesn't care about you, about all of you.

in the beginning of your relationship, he was so loving and understanding, sanji was always there for you, interested in your condition and afraid that something would happen to you. but then he got bored with you, your every move annoying him, and your please to stay home for the day caused him an uncontrollable torrent of aggression.

sanji wasn't afraid to tell you to your face how much you annoyed him. did you meet an old friend and stop to chat with him? sanji shows his displeasure, and later he's sure to tell you that you talk too much and you should shut up for once. he's completely shameless and doesn't care about your feelings, did he make you cry or not? who cares, he's right either way.

while you're humiliating yourself in front of him and trying to save your love drowning in lies and hatred, sanji will tell everyone that you're just a substitute for a certain person in his life. but he's forgotten how you saved him, how you helped him with everything, how you were always ready to come and comfort him, how you even went with him to psychologists and held his hand so that he wouldn't be afraid to say anything and know that you were there for him until the end.

but now your end has come and there is nothing left to save.

zoro.

cheated on you twice.

and each time it hurt like an infinite number of bullets piercing your heart. he was just toying with you, you were convenient for him sometimes, and most of the time you wondered "what kind of relationship are we in?" zoro kept saying you were in an open relationship, but is that true?

he kissed and flirted with different girls without thinking about you, but when someone showed you the proper attention, zoro went crazy and was terribly jealous, trying to find faults in you and wanting you to believe those lies. you were too good for him. constantly saving his ass and being a mountain for him, but he didn't appreciate it.

even after you got married and started living happily ever after, something went wrong.

when he met his ex-girlfriend again, he didn't refuse her help at 3:00 in the morning and then lie about going to his friend's house. it was so painful to know that that was all he could lie, but it didn't stop him from cheating on you with that ex, a second time, with her. he begged for your forgiveness, ran after you, was willing to do anything for you to forgive him and give him a chance. zoro loved you, but that love was never enough to keep you together.

seeing them again, something inside you burst, your whole future flashing past your eyes. the man who'd made you trust him and be with him again had done this to you. there was no anger or hatred in your gaze, but you wondered why people were doing this to you.

luffy.

lied to you all the time.

luffy would never tell you the truth, would never in his life admit to what he'd done. he was sure that his lies would save you from the danger and pain he plunged you into every time he didn't want to talk.

you wanted so badly to help him and tell him how to get out of this pit of lies, you were willing to do anything to make luffy feel good, but nothing changed. even after you found out that he slept with other girls during your break, when he promised that he wouldn't sleep with anyone but would try to be a better man and didn't try to make amends, luffy lied here too. making you believe it wasn't true and he wouldn't do that to you was another lie, but that's exactly what he did.

he lied about loving you. luffy didn't even know why he even started dating you in the first place, probably as a joke, but the joke lingered and you felt the most genuine feelings for him, but him.

he hurt you with his laughter, his deception, himself. he did everything he could to tear your soul into the smallest pieces and nothing was left of your tender heart, just a huge hole with self-loathing and the conviction that everything was your fault.

but it's not. it's luffy. he can't do it any other way and he never wanted to learn how to love properly, he was fine with you when you weren't bothering him, but at the same time, it hurt a little to see you cry, and afterward, luffy remembered that he still had plenty more like you.

[nerdinabook]

Marauders x muggleborn Reader (platonic)

- maybe slight nods to a Remus x Reader romance (I have a problem I know) but it doesn't have to be taken that way.

CW: panic attack, bad mental state, overwhelming feelings, death, grief.

I always make sure they boys are taken care of.

I make sure James remembers his schoolwork and his books before we go to class, he is very forgetful.

I know people from outside our circle often tease Peter about how he trails after the rest of the boys like a lost puppy, but I make sure he knows how loved and appreciated he is by both me and the rest of the boys.

I notice how Sirius draws away from the rest of the group before holidays and around his brothers birthday and I make sure I get him alone so he feels comfortable crying all he needs to without judgement or ridicule.

I know how Remus gets testy before the full moon so I know to try to tidy up the boys dorm, and restock his chocolate supply so he has less triggers because I know how guilty he feels after he snaps at the boys.

The point of all this being that I take care of them, watch them and make sure they take care of eachother when I'm not around so that for days like today when I simply can't bring myself to leave my dorm I know that they'll survive.

When Mary shook me awake this morning I had already decided to hibernate in my dorm all day. I brushed her off and made some excuse of it being that time of the month, which wasn't true as I finished my period last Monday, she gave me a look of disbelief but didn't push it and said she would check on me during lunch. I fell back asleep before I even heard the door close behind her.

Later I awoke to scratching on the outside of my door, confused I looked around and saw I was still alone in the dorm. I grab my wand and slowly move towards the door.

As I rip the door open with my wand out, the pit of fear in my stomach immediately leaves as I notice the familiar black dog named Padfoot outside my door.

"Merlin pads, give me a heartattack why don't ya" I keep the door open for him to enter while I return to my bed. I have known the boys we animagus since before they completed the task, them going on a month long 'silence strike' was as worrisome as a big indicator what they were doing. You see part of the procedure to become an animagus is to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month.

"Sorry it's just the only way we can get up the girls stairs without it turning to a slide" Sirius returns to his boisterous self as he fully enters the dorm room.

"Wait we?" I sit up alarmed and looking towards the door ready for the horror about to flood into the room.

Right on cue I hear the stomping of hooves up the stairs paired with the sharp breaths of some anxious person come up the stairs rapidly.

I watch in awe and horror as a deer enters my dorm room with a horrified Remus Lupin sat atop him holding a tiny rat in one hand and gripping one of Prongs' antlers in a death grip with the other.

"See I told you it would work!" Sirius exclaims as Remus quickly and awkwardly gets off Prongs' back and sets Wormtail on the floor.

Immediately after turning back into James he starts doubling over in laughter.

" Oh Merlin! That was the best thing ever! We definitely have to do it again" James eventually straightens up and plops himself next to me on my bed.

"Yeah no not happening" Remus says as he brushes imaginary dirt off his clothes.

"But Moonyy, what about next time we need to check up on our better fifth." Sirius wines out dramatically.

"There won't be a next time, why are you guys here shouldn't you be in class?" I move over in my bed to try and give more room for them, but in reality it could probably only hold 1 more person comfortably.

I guess Remus decided to be that person as he comes and sits next to me and James on the bed. "We couldn't let our best girl be all by herself" Remus rubs my leg in a comforting motion.

"Guys I promise I'm fi-" Peter cuts me off.

"Come off it, you know we know you better then that" Peter exclaims "I can see the circles under your eyes showing that you haven't slept"

"And the slight redness of your nose" James taps my nose as he speaks "in addition to the pile of tissues on your nightstand" my eyes dart to my nightside instinctively and see the tissues that I put there after my mental breakdown last night. "And the fact that you aren't showing signs are being ill and there is none of that muggle meditation out, points to the fact that you've been crying"

"Medication" I correct under my breath

" When Mary told us you were holed up in your dorm with girl problems, that was a dead give away somethings up because we know you love to pressure Moony to give up some of his chocolate when your on your period, which you did last week" Sirius moves to sit on the floor besides the bed as he speaks. "I may not be an expert in female autonomy but I know your period doesn't last 2 weeks"

"Dove," Remus takes my hand " you haven't even changed from what you were wearing last night" I look down and see he is right I am still wearing the sweats and band tee I was wearing last night as we were playing exploding snaps in the boys dorm.

I take the hand Remus is not holding and hold it up to cover my face as the emotions that were flooding through my body as the boys were talking all come to surface and a sob escapes my mouth.

"I-I jus-s-st" I stutter out through my sobs

"Hey hey, breathe, that's all you need to do right now, just breathe" James says as he pulls my arm from my face so I can match my breaths with his.

"That's right, just focus on your breaths don't want you hyperventilating" at some point through this Sirius must have gotten up from his place on the floor and took to rubbing my back.

Remus keeps a hold on my hand and when I started bringing my other hand up to scratch at my throat he grabbed it as well to stop me from inflicting red scratch marks on my neck.

The room seems to be moving in slow motion as all the boys are doing something to help me calm down my eyes locked with James as a grounding point as Remus holds my hands, Sirius rubs my back and shoulders, and Peter runs his hands through my probably very unruly hair.

The boys my boys unfortunately have experience helping eachother down from their own respective panic attacks so they know just what I need to calm down.

When it seems like I'm starting to calm down I lock eyes with Remus and break down again, and again when I see my pile of school work out of my peripheral, or feel Sirius' hands run over the back of my necklace. I'm just constantly going up and down, doing better then doing worse, it feels like a never ending cycle.

After a while I eventually just close my eyes and that helps things not be so triggering for me and I'm finally able to calm down.

Once I open them I see Peter standing besides me with a glass of water-I didn't even notice his hands leave the top of my head that's how out of it I was- I take it and drink it all down slowly as to not choke myself.

"There's our girl" Sirius says with his award winning grin, that does bring the tiniest upturn of my lips.

"Sorry you-" I start to apologize but Remus cuts me off.

"Nope no apologies, you've been there for us more then we count so its about time you let us be there for you" Remus smiles at me and hands me a tissue.

"What do you need?" Peter kneels down to be eye level with the rest of us " do you want to talk or just exist for a bit, maybe sleep some more?" He says with a gentle rub of my hand.

" I haven't heard from my parents in 2 months" I say while I rub my eyes clear of the liquid once enclosed in them. " 2 months with no letters, it's so unlike them, I'm so scared something- I inhale- with all the news I'm hearing of muggle families going missing in the prophet... and I can't even do anything, I'm just supposed to sit here and wait till I either hear something or go home for the holidays next week and find their bodies in my living room" I take more deep breaths as I feel my heart rate spiking again.

"Oh dove" Remus cradles his arms around my head and pulls me into a hug.

"I'm just so tired, and done" I sigh into his arms.

"We're here for you, you know that right" Peter says.

"Just like you've been there for us through our baggage, let us be there for you" Sirius says as he kneels down and outs his hand on my folded up knee.

I pull out from the hug with Remus and wipe the stray tear from the corner of my eye.

"Thanks guys" I give a half-hearted smile hoping they can in-fact tell how much it means to me.

[liquid-luck-00]

Red Binding 4

Maribat March Day 4: Siren

@maribat-calendar-events @maribatserver

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, Marinette was accompanied by Guardian Shun’itsu and their protégé, a girl roughly her age. She had trained with the two of them for almost three weeks before they had to leave. Apparently they used to do this trip on horseback, but not anymore. Now they would climb down the mountain to a village at the base, where they would board a train. That is until they reach a stop that an agent would escort them the rest of the way.

So yes she did have to carry a pitcher of water, in a sense.

This ritual would apparently work best and easiest of both the ladybug and black cat were alive and were doing it simultaneously. Each of them would be at their counterpart, creation at the pits of Lazarus while destruction at the pool of Ambrosia. But this was only her so it would be harder and it would take more time.

She stared out of the window of the car they were currently in. A Shadow had showed up at the station and led them to the car. She just watched the forest thin and thicken as they wound up the mountain. They stopped at a small village, similar to the one at home. Where they started to ascend the rest of the way.

Marinette didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this.

The base was similar to a that of the temple, only for the fact that they were built and carved into the giant mountains that oversaw the valley. But the similarities ended there. Where the temple spired through the mountains organically, this seemed to be carved from the face of the mountain itself.

"Hello, and welcome to Nanda Parbat." A woman stood in front of the gates. "Which one of you is the Ladybug?"

Her eyes passed over them, seemingly bored, but she knows better. This woman was analyzing them, their weaknesses, their strengths, and most importantly judging if they would be a liability.

"I am the Guardian Yùnqì." She stepped forward, her words slightly accented, but clear in Arabic. She paid attention to where they were and she figured that would be the language best used in this region.

It seemed to surprise the woman, but it really shouldn’t. The Order was just as well kept and as expansive as the League, if all her research was correct.

"Very well, the Demon’s Head is waiting for an audience with you."

She turned and the gates behind her opened to a large courtyard. As the woman walked they did as well, keeping fifteen paces behind her in case of any possible attacks. None such happened but something was off.

Something told her there was more here than they originally thought.

Do you feel that Tikki?

Yes, but it might be nothing. The kwamii was unsure, yet continued. But maybe…

What is the maybe?

It could just be nothing. Tikki seemed to try and dismiss the idea, but Mari knows that feeling. And if her life has taught her anything, it’s to trust that feeling.

It’s not nothing, and you know it, so what could this be. She put her foot down. They had continued to walk further into the base, it wasn’t until the next threshold that Tikki responded.

Plagg’s wielder is here. The goddess sighed, her constant presence sending a shock of annoyance through her mind.

And what about Plagg? Can you tell?

Maybe? But that might just be the Well of Destruction. Tikki sighed.

Well it’s a start. She responded back, as their little party came to a stop in front of ornate metal doors.

"The two of you will hold back as the Ladybug enters."

"We all enter or else we shall leave." Guardian Shun’itsu challenged the woman, who thankfully didn’t call their bluff. Because yes they could leave, but if they did and the Well of destruction continued being used unchecked, devastation would truly follow.

So they all entered together Marinette took the point while Guardian Shun’itsu flanked her on the right, and her protégé (Ryuko) was on her left. The woman continued in front of them. When she stopped a couple of meters away from a throne, she dropped to one knee. A man in emerald green and pitch black armor sat on what was clearly a throne of sorts. The man waved a hand and the woman stood before taking her place behind him on his right.

"So you are the latest child of creation." The man’s voice was odd. It was accented by a language she has heard before, but also is sure she hasn’t. There was no emotion in his voice , while his eyes swept over her, judging and analyzing her very being.

"I am." She stood straight, and watched him in turn.

Neither of them broke the eye contact, as by this point it was a battle of wills.

"Very well." He nodded ever so slightly, raising a hand and three people stepped into the room. "No harm will come to you so long as you are accompanied by one of my officers."

One of the shadows stood right behind her and it sent chills down her spine. She wanted to shift and fidget to get rid of the feeling, but she knows that wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact it would probably be considered a show of weakness that she doesn’t want to show.

"You will be shown to your rooms and know your itinerary here for the next two weeks." He spoke with such distain, that she did not wanna be here anymore. Granted she didn’t actually want to come because she was going to be surrounded by assassins, now she really doesn’t wanna be here. But she spoke up, because she is the highest ranking of the three.

"If that is your command, we shall abide by them, but you, too shall learn that we have our own itinerary. We must follow as well."

"Guardian Yùnqì, This would be best discussed after we have settled in."

"That is very true Guardian Shun’itsu." She slightly turned her cheek, so she could see Lord Doreiku, yet ensure that the man sitting in front, wouldn’t think she was ignoring him. She turned back to fully face him. "I shall write up our daily proceedings, as well as the rights that need to be accomplished during the ritual. So that both your men and yourself may know what to expect. As I do not want to make a mockery of our alliance, as I also do not wish to anger you unnecessarily."

Her head was high. Her voice was calm, and she noticed the man started to scowl ever so slightly. She got under his skin, and all she could think of was good, there was an understanding neither one wanted the other here, but they needed one another.

And she wasn’t foolish enough to allow herself nor her two companions to be caught in the crossfire, if he wanted a fight.

The three of them bowed shallowly, turned to follow the three shadows, and went on their way quietly. She was showed her room smaller than the one she has at the temple, but it would be fine for what they needed it for.

Quietly she made sure to search the room, fully, because they knew they were coming, they knew which ones to set them in, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they had but the rooms were bugged, so she didn’t do anything until she knew she was secure.

She started putting up wards around the room, that way no one can enter without her permission, and no one can hear into it.

Tikki had just flown out, and made herself comfortably a bed in the back of her robes. Marinette opened the door, and as she did, the ninja appeared.

"This is the itinerary, if you would be so kind as to deliver it to the demons head." She smiled and tilted her head slightly, that portrayed an innocence which her stature provided. The ninja, because that’s the only way she can describe them from now on, because calling them assassins would put her to far on edge, took the letters, bowed and left.

Mari acted as if she was going to close the door, but in reality, it was still open. She’s assuming that the doors probably have a mechanism or alarm set into them whenever they are opened or closed, to make sure they are where they are meant to be. She slipped out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, that it looked closed, she crept down the halls.

Mari what are you doing? She felt Tikki’s small weight, disappear, and her voice hissed through her mind.

You know what, and so do I. If the Holder, the Black cat is here, if Plagg is here, he might be suffering.

You don’t know that Marinette. Tikki’s voice was small, but hopefulness swam through it.

And we don’t know otherwise.

She followed at the pull she felt until Mari reached another door. She was about to raise her hand and knock when it’s swung open.

A boy, slightly older than her, with pitch, black hair and turquoise eyes opened up to her. She doesn’t know what to say, and it seems like he didn’t either. They stood like that for a moment, before something slipped out of the boys hair.

"Get inside." A nasally voice huffed behind her shoving her into the room.

"Plagg what are you doing?" The boy hissed at the Kwamii in front of them now.

"If you two were caught like that, what do you think would happen kitten?"

The boys stayed silent, but this solidified what he was. He was the guardian of the black cat.

"I’m sorry let me introduce myself." The ease in which she switched to English, as Plagg and the boy was just speaking it.

"I am the Guardian Yùnqì, my name is Marinette'.' At that moment Tikki reappeared in this dimension, floated for a moment beside her before sitting on her shoulder. "And this is Tikki, the Kwamii of Creation."

"Hi there, Sugar Cube!" Plagg flew up to Tikki who was still on her shoulder.

"Stinky Sock." She grumbled, but Marinette heard the fondness in her voice all the same.

"Name is Plagg Kwamii of Destruction." The small black cat like creature floated up and gave his head a bow to her. "And this is my kitten."

He flew back to the boy and landed in his hair.

"Why are you here?" Was the first thing the boy ever said to her, as he was glaring at her the entire time.

"Because I have to do a stupid ritual, I can’t sit still, and stay somewhere I’m supposed to be, there’s more here than just the wells of destruction, I didn’t know that the miraculous of the black cat was active." Sarcasm rung through her voice, and it felt as if she hadn’t used it in so long.

She leaned back against the door, finally dropping the act of perfect guardian that she needed to uphold.

"You’re just a kid."

"And so are you." She shot back at him. "Who still hasn’t given me their name."

"Jason."

"It’s nice to meet you, Jason." She lifted her hand and it seemed like he might’ve taken it, if a siren didn’t start blasting.

"Shit."

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218 @crystalqueertea

Taglist: @shizukiryuu

[tortellinisposts]

OKAY YALL. i started getting into frankenstein which really meshes well with my jason todd obsession. so.

WHAT IF. NOW HEAR ME OUT.

there’s a Frankenstein’s monster esc character running around Gotham?

i have already thought this through. bear with me.

The Creature is acc a girl who has darker skin right? there’s a reason for this. since dark skinned women get stigmatised for being “masculine” and “monstrous”. so. I think it’d be interesting.

her name is Pandora, a reference to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus.

now. personally, i have a weird fixation on 19/20th century Russia, so our girl Pandora is Russian with mixed Mediterranean ancestry because of the Ancient Greek references. her creator and in this universe, he’s her father. is called Victor (obviously) bUT his surname is Fyodorov which is literally son of Fyodor and that name means God’s Gift. which then ties into The Creature saying he should be Adam !! but instead he’s Frankenstein’s fallen angel !!

so for the backstory which is tweaked because dc. Pandora is born like any other person yeah? she ages and when she’s four, she dies in a villain related accident. her dad, Victor, then takes her remains and puts his big brain to good use. there’s some kind of technical difficulties so he ends up literally harvesting body parts like og Victor and slapping them onto his kid.

now for the rising from the dead part. for whatever reason, our guy manages to get his hands on a bit of Lazarus pit water but it’s not a lot. so like in the novel, he uses an ambiguous mix of alchemy and electricity (along with Lazarus water) to revive Pandora.

ofc it works and she comes back to life.

so where does jason come in?

he’s the bride. idc. they’re both technically zombies you mean to tell me they wouldn’t get married? fools.

anyway yeah. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[wide-eyedbrowns]

yellowjackets team (alive by season 2) rating and ranking

1. Misty - 9.5/10

i said she was annoying but like i get her now. in both the crash and adult timeline, she has the best story and characterization. maybe because her actresses are so great, but definitely her whole arc is unrivaled.

2. Nat - 9/10

her storylines in both arcs are extremely good. definitely the most important yellowjackets member along with misty, i love their little tandem. i just don't like her purple era but she did find a daughter there!

3. Shauna - 9/10

make up your fucking mind girl! one minute she's against lottie's weird cult shit, the next second she's chasing natalie so she can kill her for food and say the wilderness chose! however her craziness post-birth must be a sort of post natal psychosis. adult shauna makes up like 7 points of the 8.5, she's the better shauna for me because she's a straight up loser with an equally loser husband.

4. Coach Scott - 8/10

high ranking out of pure pity like i am so worried for this man. i hope he's still alive and he's experiencing time-traveling hallucinations or whatever, since time traveling is a pretty big theory. i wish he does survive and all the paul scenes are his present scenes but he's gone off the rocks and thinks he's still in the wilderness. this dude is the only one not extremely or supernatully fucked up bc he didn't participate in the cult thing hopefully. BURN THEM CABINS DOWN BAYBEEE

5. Lottie - 7.5/10

when your schizophrenic dreams are misinterpreted by the rest of the group and you're forced to be the face of cannibalism 😂😂🤣🤣. robbed shauna of her cannibal crown. was just being un-medicated then the rest of the team decided to honor her like a god. there were times were she was annoying but you realize she quite literally has done nothing but every single sidekick of hers decides to speak for her and it just goes wrong every single time.

6. Taissa - 7/10

tie. extremely curious about the bad tai and the man with no eyes, which serves as the only "supernatural" event in the series shown that is not in the wilderness or post-wilderness. it would be fucking crazy if tai was the one who bought "It" in the wilderness instead of it like actually already being there, like maybe that was their home? with all the cult symbols or whatever. sometimes i do just find her boring im sorry, she's just like shauna she's extremely indecisive and it's pissing me off! only 7 bc FREE SIMONE ❤️ joking

8. Travis - 7/10

i pity this man so much but sometimes he's boring and his season 1 arc had me skipping scenes. but his brother went missing, "died", came back, then actually died and then no one said "sorry we had to give up your brother to the wilderness, it was either nat or him and the wilderness chose him! we honestly could've atleast tried in helping him get out of the ice cold water but we were hungy". like can we please give this man a break? i wouldn't be surprised if him and natalie refused to hunt for them, if they're all just going to pick cards and eat each other, why hunt for deer, right?

9. Van - 5/10

i feel like one of the only people with a dislike for van's character like. lottie dickrider, i get you "owe" the wilderness for letting you live like you're obviously the favorite but the way she treats the other yellowjackets pisses me off, especially when she straight up said to travis she wasn't ashamed for sacrificing javi? why is she a stronger indoctrinated christian than lottie? i wish they reveal more about her because to be honest her character's a bit of a blank slate, it would be amazing if they start showing a more deeper relationship between her and whatever's in the wilderness. i feel like, in both the show and the fandom, van doesn't have much to her character without tai. her only storyline without tai is with her mother, which we were shown barely 30 seconds of.

10. Mari - 3/10

i just need her gone

11. girl with the shoulder length hair aka pit girl contender number 56 - 2/10

i remember one line of hers and she was rude to shauna and i just didn't like it

12. lesbian w the cap - 2/10

rude to shauna! dye your hair black and i'll give you a bigger role as possible pit girl number 57

[lily-drake]

The Bird’s Baby Bug

Chapter 2

Ch. 1

Tim: 19 Mari: 10

Three in the morning, it was three in the f*ing morning and Jason was not having it.  But unfortunately for him, whoever was calling wouldn’t stop!  Fine, Jason would answer the phone, but he wouldn’t sound happy doing it!

“What the f* do you want?”  He growled, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  Tonight was supposed to be his night of d*it.  

“Jason, Jason thank G*.”  Tim gasped in relief, it honestly shocked him.  He and the replacement were definitely not on the best of terms, so why would he sound so relieved that he answered his phone.  “Before you hang up,” he rambled quickly, “I could really use your help.  This isn’t about me, it's about a kid that The League of Assassins kidnapped.”

Jason froze at that, what the f* was the replacement doing in The League of F*ing Assassins.  “I’m sorry, but what now?”

Tim sighed through the phone, like he had any right to be exasperated like he hasn’t been radio silent for over six g*d*ng months and called him –the guy that has tried to murder him on multiple occasions–for help .  “Look, it's a long story, but I need to get her out before Ra’s comes back, I’ll explain everything then.  Sending my coordinates now.”  Jason was about to respond, before he could the quick beep, beep, beep that singled the end of the call echoed in his ears.  Son of a b*!  

Jason glared at the phone, like he could will Tim to magically appear out of it so he could strangle him, but nothing happened.  With one last sigh, Jason got out of bed and began to get ready to return to one of the many places that haunted his nightmares.  Making a few calls to his lieutenants, telling them to make sure everyone stayed in line and demanding updates every night, he grabbed his emergency duffle bag and headed out.

_______ Tim didn’t want to admit how attached he became to the small girl over the span of a few hours.  She was so small, and despite the horrors she had been forced to endure she was one of the sweetest people he’s ever met.  Having learned that she had (unsurprisingly) not been allowed any form of education in her captivity, he had taken it upon himself to become her tutor while they waited for Jason. They drew, he helped her with numbers, helped her with her English and French, and when she was asleep in his bed, he would continue his investigation into Bruce’s whereabouts.  

He had been tracking Jason’s progress through a code that he had activated on Jason’s phone when the man had picked up.  It had taken him nearly three days to get here, and if everything went according to plan, he should be here within the next three hours.   On the third day Tim began to explain in heavy detail to Marinette how he was going to free her from this Hell Hole and how she would go with his brother until he finished his mission here.  

“So you’re leaving me?”  Marinette whispered in broken English, her voice breaking slightly, though no tears welled in her eyes.  Tim felt awful, but if he wanted to find Bruce, destroy the Pits, and avoid Ra’s; then this was his best course of action.

“It won’t be for very long,” he whispered, gently tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind one of her small ears.  “I’ll be back before you know it, and Jason will take great care of you.  He’s very protective of kids.  Don’t tell him I said this,” he whispered into her ear, a mischievous smirk on his lips, “Jason may seem like a baddy, but he’s really just an oversized teddy bear.”  (A teddy bear that would actually tear anyone and anything apart if he so felt like it.) 

His heart melted when Marinette giggled, and goodness he didn’t want to let this small bean go.  He quickly pulled the small child against his chest, giving her a tight embrace, relieved when she quickly returned it rather than shrinking away like she had a few times before.  “You’re so brave Marinette.  Never forget that.”  He whispered.

The two stayed like that for only a few moments longer before he slowly pulled away with an affectionate hair ruffle.  The moment was curtly interrupted when his door was forced open, and Tim knew who it was before he even turned around.  There were only two people that existed on this base that would dare come into his room unannounced.

“Detective.”  Ra’s greeted stoically.  Tim cursed under his breath, Ra’s should have been gone for at least another day.  Tim turned around, keeping Marinette tucked behind him.  “I see you’ve met my little pet project.” He stated, never taking his cold gaze off Tim.  Tim glared back at the man; his resolve to save the small child growing stronger the longer Marinette held onto the back of his shirt, tightening her trembling grip like it was her only lifeline.  “I would ask you please return it to me, it is a very important asset that I would like to keep close.”

The sound of Marinette’s whimper made Tim feel almost animalistic with the need to protect.  It was as exhilarating as it was horrifying.  “No,” he snarled, “I don’t think I will.  I’m sure that you have enough of her blood to fill each and every one of your Lazarus Pits to the brim.”  He growled out, reaching for the bo staff at his side. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Detective”, Ra’s sighed sounding almost exasperated, though he didn’t come any closer…yet.  “Surely you know the reason we must keep her close, despite her blood’s usefulness.”  Unfortunately Tim did understand what Ra’s was getting at.  He had been reading through any and all files that pertained to “Subject E131”.  Ra’s intended to use Marinette as a weapon; training and enhancing her powers so that she could use her control of plant life–and maybe even animal life–to use against his enemies—in other words, a better “model” of Poison Ivy.  He wouldn’t let that be her fate, she would not be another pawn in Ra’s sick games.

“Yes, but I’m afraid that I can’t let that happen.”  Snap .  His staff snapped open, ready for whatever Ra’s had planned.  Ra’s simply smirked, a twinkle in his eyes that sent a shiver down Tim’s spine.

“Very well Detective, have it your way.”   Ra’s was fast, faster than Tim was expecting, but not fast enough.  Tim shot his staff into the air, blocking the blow before using the momentum to push Ra’s sword away from him.

“Is this child really worth the risk of not being able to see your father again, Detective?  Without my help, he’ll be lost forever.”

Tim ground his teeth, he wouldn’t let this manipulative ba* invade his mind.  If he was as great of a detective as Ra’s claimed him to be, then he didn’t need Ra’s.  He would find Bruce on his own, and show everyone that he wasn’t crazy.  He would protect this child, because she deserved to feel safe.  

He looked around for an opening while gently bushing the small child away from, but still behind, him.  He couldn’t risk her safety more than he already is.  Jason was out there, he would be here soon.  He just needed to stall Ra’s and make it to the drop off point.  

Ra’s attacked once more, this time trying to move around him, switching their positions so that Marinette would be right behind Ra’s.  Tim wouldn’t let that happen though.  He kept his feet solidly on the ground pushing against Ra’s momentum.  The sound of Ra’s blade against his staff was a sharp clash as each fighter swung and danced around the other.  “It is such a shame, Detective.  I truly thought that you would join me as my right hand.”

Tim felt a vicious smirk fall onto his lips—the same smirk he used to strike fear into Gotham’s criminal underbelly—, “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t murder those who stand against me.”

“Maybe now, but you could learn.  You could come to see how efficient it is when you are trying to truly bring order to the world.”

“Yes, because torturing kids is definitely the “best way” of creating “order”.”  He growled, ducking under Ra’s sword before throwing a right slam towards Ra’s abdomen.  

Beep Beep 

Jason was 30 minutes out.  He must have been pushing his bike for all it’s worth if he got here that fast, Tim thought while using a downward thrust.  Ra’s jumped back, surveying the room.  He watched with glee as the cruel, condescending smile on Ra’s face fell away into a frustrated sneer.

“Where is she?”  He demanded coldly.  

Tim’s smile grew.  “What, you thought I didn’t have a plan for if you came back early?”  Tim had discovered a trap door under the bed that led to a small cave right at the edge of the base.  Exactly where he told Jason to meet them.  Ra’s must have forgotten about it with how big the base was, or simply did not believe that Tim would have found the small passage.

“I see I’ve underestimated you, Detective.”  Ra’s sneered.  

Tim simply chirped, “Your mistake.”  Before he launched into a series of strikes, no longer afraid that he’d accidentally hurt Marinette.  Ra’s blocked his strikes, only allowing him to get two or three before Ra’s countered him blow for blow.  Tim allowed himself to be spun by Ra’s attack, following the movement so his back was to the door, just as he planned.  Before Ra’s could strike down his next blow Tim was moving, running out of the room and through the seemingly deserted corridors.  

He needed to distract the others, keep them far away from Mari and the drop off point, so he was strangely relieved when swarms of ninjas began to attack him.  Though when he noticed Ra’s was not in the midst, he could feel a panic course through his muscles.  What if he had found the passage?  What if he had gotten there before Jason and had taken Mari?  He would never be able to forgive himself.

Tim ducked past the blades and throwing stars; cursing when one of them grazed his unarmored forearm.  The long gash stretched down his arm allowing warm blood to trickle down onto the stone floor.  It didn’t matter though, because he had to keep fighting.  Had to protect Marinette so that she could live her own life.

So he kept running, kept defending, kept ducking, and he kept fighting back.  

“Red Hood to Red Robin.  Red Hood to Red Robin, the package has been picked up.”

Tim nearly collapsed in relief, but considering he was still in the midst of battle, he decided that doing so would be a terrible idea.  

Suddenly, the sound of gunshots hung heavy through the halls.  Ra’s didn’t allow the use of guns, especially on base, and Tim only knew one person that could sneak in here without a problem while using that kind of weapon.  The brief moment of his distraction cost him as the back of a hilt was smashed against his head.  Tim collapsed, his body feeling heavy and sluggish.  

“Tim!”  Someone shouted, and suddenly, the pounding in his head cleared.  A warmth surrounded him, just like when he had first met Marinette, except there wasn’t any excruciating pain like something was growing in him.  Wait, oh sh*.

“Jason!”  Tim screamed, jumping back onto his feet with renewed strength and pushing back the other ninja, as he moved toward the echoing sounds of gunshots rather than away.  Before he could even round the corner he saw Marinette staring at him with haunted, watery eyes.

“They were going to take you next!  You promised they wouldn’t take you away like that!”  She sobbed, hugging herself.  Tim felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.  He extended his arms out, fully expecting her to shrink away.  But she didn’t, she ran into his arms and let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his chest when he moved her so she was situated against his left hip.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie.  It won’t happen again now that I’ve got my little lucky charm back.”  Marinette giggled lightly through her tears.  But in all seriousness, Tim was absolutely terrified.  She shouldn’t be here, she should be on her way back to Gotham right now with Jason!  He was going to kill Jason.  Tim touched the small device in his ear, turning his mic on.  “Hood, I thought I told you to get her out of here.  You said you picked her up!”

He could hear the reverberations of round after round leaving the chamber while Jason replied, “the Little Pixie said she wouldn’t leave without you.  Screamed when I tried to touch her.  Figured as long as she stayed with me she’d be fine while we rescued your sorry a*.”

“Well she didn’t stay by your side, you arrogant jerk.”

“Oh don’t even Mr. I’m-going-to-work-with-The-League-of-Assassins-with-no-bad-consequences-directed-towards-me.  Seriously, what were you thinking ?”

Tim felt his jaw clench, shoulders tensing, as the memories of everyone telling him how he was crazy, how grief made him insane, how he simply wasn’t in his “right mind”.  No one would listen, no one trusted him, but he was right !  He knows that he’s right!  He didn’t respond.

“No excuse?  What, did you want a taste of what it’s like on the other side?  See what it’s like to-“

“ Shut up , Jason.  The only reason I called you is because you know this place better than the others and I trusted you to have this child’s best interest in mind.”

It was silent over the line, well except for the resounding bullets, but it didn’t last long.  “Let’s just get the h* out of here.”  And that was that. 

 A few minutes later, he found Jason surrounded by bodies of ninjas, surprisingly not bleeding out.  “Rubber bullets.”  Jason informed, “Kid doesn’t need to see that.”  Tim bites his lip before he can say: she’s already seen far worse .  Tim gave Jason a sharp nod, and they were moving out.  Tim followed closely behind Jason to wherever he had parked their getaway vehicle, hugging Marinette tighter to him as they ran.  He was honestly surprised to see one of the Batplanes carefully concealed behind the large jungle canopy.  He was honestly expecting to see one of Hood’s bikes.  He was even more so when he saw Babs waiving towards them in her wheelchair.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Boy Wonder .”  She shouted, her voice filled with so much unadulterated rage that Tim actually feared for his life for the first time that day.  He didn’t have time to hesitate though, who knew what or who was hiding in the jungle or coming after them.  Adjusting his grip slightly on Mari he ran the rest of the way to the plane only letting himself relax his grip when they were in the air and flying far away.  When he looked out the window, all he could see was Ra’s standing right where the plane had just taken off, sword raised in a challenge. If they had been even a few moments later, they might not have escaped.

“T-Tim?”  Marinette whispered into his ear, startling him slightly.  “Can I be put down now?”

“Yes, of course.”  Tim said, quickly setting her down before he kneeled in front of her so that he could check her over for any injury.  “Coming back for me was risky and irresponsible.  You could’ve gotten taken again. I don’t think I’d ever be able to live with myself if that happened.”  He stated as he patted her down, if one of those ninja hurt even a hair on her head he was going to-

“Ahem.”  Tim’s face shot up at the sound, forcing him to meet Barbara’s cold and curious eyes.  “Would you like to introduce us, and maaaybe explain why you’ve been radio silent for the past six months .  Tim glared at Babs, but she held his gaze.  

Sighing he turned away from her and looked at the small child, silent tears falling down her face.  Tim felt his shoulders fall.  He opened his arms and prayed that she wouldn’t flinch away from him like she had many other times before.  When Marinette flung herself into his arms, filling the cold void with her warmth while her tears soaked his robes, he couldn’t have felt more relieved.  

“I’m sorry for getting mad, Honey.  You scared me, and I just want you to be safe.  I-I never want you to go through what you went through there ever again.”  He whispered to her in French.

“You know what they did?”  She gasped back in her native tongue, her voice still so  broken and raspy.  “You took me away.”

Tears of his own fell down his cheeks as he lifted her off the ground.  “It’s okay baby, you’re safe now.”  He turned to look at Babs and Jason, who were looking away silently, giving them as much privacy as they could while still keeping an eye on the two.  “Hey, there’s some snacks in the back, do you want to grab some?”

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes before giving him a small nod.  Once her feet hit the floor, she moved to the back of the small plane where the small snack drawer sat.

“She was one of Ra’s experiments.”  Tim stated before either of the two could say anything, trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes while still watching the small girl.  “She’s a meta who has the ability of creation, very powerful.  Ra’s put her under hundreds of different experiments and documented the results, taking and using her blood to reverse the Lazarus Pit side effects before turning her into a human weapon..”

Tim took in a shaky breath, his heart melting when he saw Marinette’s wide eyes when she pulled a bag of pretzels.  She looked like she had just found lost treasure from an old chest.  “She was 7 when they took her, she was trapped there for 3 years.  Killed her parents and showed her the recording of their death to get the reaction they needed. I downloaded her entire file.  It should finish downloading onto your computer in the clock tower in the next half hour.”

Marinette raced over to him holding a small pack of chocolate covered pretzels while hugging a second one close to her chest.  Tim gently took it from her with a small, ruffling her hair in the process.  “Thanks Mari.  Why don’t you go sit down.  You never know when there will be turbulence.”  

Marinette hesitated, looking at him expectantly.  “I’ll join you soon.  I don’t plan to let you stay by yourself for very long.”  With one more silent nod she moved to the front of the plane where there were four seats available.

“Tim, you do realize you’re 19, right?”  Jason said, helmet and mask fully removed.  

“Yes?”

“Okay, so then what’s your plan here?  B’s not here to take her in,”  Tim flinched at that.  Bruce would be back, he would bring Bruce back!  “I don’t think Dickie will take her either what with the Demon Brat, I-“

“I’m not entrusting you with her.”  Jason shot him a sharp glare.

“Alright you dick, well what’s your plan then?”

“Well, I’m about as rich as Bruce, I am currently CEO of his company, and The Nest would only need to be restocked and a room redecorated…”  Tim started mumbling, mind starting to wonder as he thought of everything he would need to do to make The Nest more… child friendly.

Snap snap.   Startling back into the moment Tim glared at Babs for destroying his train of thought.  “Focus Tim.  So what I’m hearing is, you want to adopt her?”  She asked incredulously.

“Yes, as soon as I bring Bruce back.”  Tim agreed matter of factly causing both Jason and Barbara to flinch.

“Tim…” Babs began, her tone tired sounding.

“Don’t”, Tim growled startling all occupants on the plane, except Mari, she fell asleep.  Tim had changed a lot in the last six months, and he knew exactly what was needed of him.  

He was so close to finding Bruce.  He just needed to find one last piece of evidence and he’d be able to bring Bruce back.  Tim had found out that the man was stuck in a timestream and that he had been leaving clues that only Tim could find.  He was going to bring the closest thing he had to a father home, and nobody was going to stop him.

“I know he’s still alive, and I can prove it.  I have the files and physical proof to do so.  I’m not crazy!”  His breath was coming out in short puffs, his eyes were narrowed, and he could feel his clenched fist shaking at his side.  

“Okay, Tim.  We believe you.  Just calm down.”  Barbara began.  She was talking in her victim’s voice and while Tim hated that it was directed towards him, he couldn’t help but take a little comfort in the smoothness of her words.  Slowly he let himself relax, taking longer breaths as he calmed down.

“I’m fine.  Just drop me off in Uganda and make sure Marinette’s safe.  I’d prefer that you look after her,” he stated as he made eye contact with Babs, “keep her away from the Demon Brat and all.  But I understand if you truly, 100% without a doubt , believe that Dick would be able to care for her better until I return.”

“What about me?  I could watch the little pixie.”  Jason grumbled as he stared at the limp form of the small girl.

“I trust you about as much as I can throw you Jason.”  

“At least I know how to actually cook.”

“Boys.”

“I can learn!”  Tim replied indignantly.

“BoYs.”

“Not without burning down your entire kitchen you couldn-“

“BOYS!”

Both snapped their necks to look at Babs.  Letting out a long agitated sigh, “First of all, I’m not going to just drop you off in Uganda just for you to go off the radar again.”  Tim was about to protest but she held her hand up, silencing him.  “Before anything else is decided on I’m going to look through all of your evidence, then once we see that we can come to a decision on what happens next.  Does that sound fair?”

Tim wanted to argue more, force them to relent until they just did what he asked because he was so close .  But he held his tongue and gave a curt nod.  “Fine, but I’m going to go whether or not you believe me.”  Without another word he stalked over until he was sitting next to Marinette.  

He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her face soothed over in sleep, and her head was tilted so that it was leaning against her shoulder at an uncomfortable angle.  Gently, Tim guided her head until it rested against his chest.  He felt her stir slightly, but instantly relaxed when he began to run his fingers up and down her back.  Her hair was far too tangled and would definitely need a professional stylist to fix it before he felt comfortable enough running his fingers through it without causing any pain or discomfort.

When he looked up Babs and Jason were gone, the door to the cockpit left slightly ajar.  Tim squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a long sigh that rattled his bones.  With his free hand he rummaged through his leftmost bandolier and pulled out a small red button.  Opening his eyes he stared at the small device, a devious smirk forming on his lips as he pushed the button.

Long live The League of Assassins, and long may it burn.

All he needed to do now was free Bruce.  With that finished Tim closed his eyes, letting the gentle weight of Marinette comfort him as he let sleep finally take him over.  

END Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @iamablinkmarvelarmy @fleursroses @buginetye @ev-cupcake @blackroserelina @rainbowbunny0159 @the-ace-reader @humanoid606 @taewinterbear95 @blueberrygeniejam @alex-rebecca-pearce @neulosfantacyworld

[cdyssey]

Yellowjackets 2.06 Reactions:

TW: Cannibalism; Traumatic Birth Experiences

Coach Ben teaching Health Ed class!! This man has suffered through so much.

TAIVAN WITH THEIR DESKS SHOVED TOGETHER!! Lolololol, at Misty being the only one who is paying attention and Ben clearly not caring that no one is paying attention.

“Poppies, Jeff. Jackie likes poppies.” She says this to get people to stop whispering about them, but God, I love the intimacy of this line too—the way that Shauna knows Jackie’s favorite flower.

THIS BLUR SONG. WOW, WOW, WOW.

Lmao at Misty emptying all her pockets.

Lottie’s shocked expression when she clocks that it’s Misty for the first time. The almost immediate steeliness, the barely controlled rage. The height difference between Simone and Christina is so fucking funny. Misty is a tiny little bean.

“And I won’t call the IRS about what I assume is your routine tax evasion.” AKQKWNWKSN

Lottie gets a visible headache and asks Misty to stay a while; she possibly had a vision?

“She is the one who decided to act out by dating a cop.” SO FOUL, SHAUNA SNSNDNWNWJDNS.

“It honestly would’ve been better if you just had sex with him.” FOUL FOUL FOUL.

Baby girl is so fucked up!!! Callie and Jeff’s horrified expressions when they hear this shows us that they’re registering this, how off kilter Shauna is.

The girls desperately scrambling to figure out what they should do to help Shauna, and it’s moments like these when you remember that they’re children, and it’s awful.

Tai being right at Shauna’s head, holding her shoulders, wiping off her head, encouraging her. They make me so fucking tender.

Misty has entirely shut down.

“WILDERNESS, I HOPE SHAUNA DOESN’T DIE.” MARI WOQKOQJEWJWJRJNWJEJWNWNENWJS. YOU KEEP DIGGING YOURSELF INTO THAT PIT, GIRL. I LOVE YOU.

Tai holding Shauna’s face reassuring her over and over again that she’s not going to die.

Nat being a fail girl at rifle practice.

“I’m poison. I ruin people.” God, my heart aches for her. She genuinely believes this.

“I killed my best friend… the only person that I loved.” FUCK. 😭

Natalie and Lisa’s relationship is so, so good. The vulnerability between them, the care.

“… we did so much fucked up shit out there. And yeah, maybe it was to survive. Maybe. But I don’t think we deserved to.” GOD GOD GOD. Two things haunt me about this particular line. That second maybe—we’ve known from the start that they did things out there that weren’t solely about survival. Pit Girl. Her ritualistic consumption. But also the fact that this is the condemnation that Nat hangs on them all. None of them should have made it out of the woods alive, and maybe, just maybe, that would have been penance for what they had done.

Tai looks like a peak lesbian in Van’s clothes. <3

Van reminding Tai of her FAMILY, and Tai is just like, lmao, fuck them. It’s you and me, baby.

She is so awful. <33

“You’re married, Taissa. There’s no us anymore.” God.

Tai sees all the overdue bills in the trash can; Van is struggling.

Misty is utterly broken about Kristen. It’s easy for us to say she’s the “well-adjusted” one between all the adults because she’s been able to compartmentalize so well; she’s out there girlbossing and murdering!! But she’s just as fucked up, just as traumatized, even if she invited so much of that trauma on herself: breaking the transmission box, telling Kristen, inadvertently killing that innocent girl.

Nat appealing to Ben, the adult, Ben, the health ed teacher, for guidance, BUT HE IS A FAILURE TOO. “I just pressed play on a video.” AMQKQKKEWKKDOWKSSK

“Women have been having babies for millions of years.” 😭 Nat, I fucking love you. These girls care for each other so fucking much.

GETTING COMFORT FROM HER POCKET MOUSE. AKILAH, I LOVE YOU AMQMQDNJWNS.

Not the cult performing blood offerings in the corner. My God QNKQKQMWNRKWKWMWMWKWJREK.

POV: Ur having a baby in the woods and all the goth kids are being weird about it.

God, Lottie needs to fucking get a new psychiatrist. This lady is the worst.

Simone is such a fucking good actor.

“We did… terrible things in Its name. And I thought when we were rescued, that we left It there, but now I realize… we brought it back with us.” The subtitles are really lending an emphasis to It now. God, I need a side-by-side of all the ladies talking about the terrible things they did in the forest: Shauna talking to Callie, Natalie and Lisa, and now Lottie and the psychiatrist. The horror on all of their faces when they admit this truth aloud; for all of them, it’s almost too much to bear.

“I mean, if you’re done crying, I could tell you some stories.” QKQKKWOWJEJDJ

Ben, ur such a failure. Ily.

The antlers behind Ben in the flashback…

THE PLACENTA FUCKING COMING FIRST. AND THE VIDEO. AND TAI REMEMBERING IT’S SUPPOSED TO COME AFTERWARDS. I’M FUCKED UP.

Crystal and Misty were gonna sing a song at Shauna’s labor. Lmfao.

“You can save our baby.” LOTTIE WTF

“You’re so close to being on the other side.” The double entendre is absolutely there. Shauna is so fucking close to death.

Taissa crying because she cares so much for Shauna and she already knows, from that placenta coming first, this fucking isn’t going to end well.

“Aren’t you probably the last person who should be giving me legal advice right now?” AQQKEMFMEMS, drag her ass, Callie. (Callie and Shauna both wearing that forest green because they are so alike.)

I fucking hate Matt the Cop. Smug fucking bastard!!

Tai fucking with Van about the sorting. 😭 I love them so much.

“No, Tai. You came here for help with your life. If I need help with mine, I’ll let you know.” TELL HER, VAN. One thing I’ve really enjoyed about both Taissa storylines is that they’ve consistently portrayed her as someone who can be judgmental and hypocritical. It’s such a good character flaw for her.

Tai’s entire tone changing when she hears that it’s Lottie.

“It’s a bunch of granola losers, but the food is great, and the BO factor is surprisingly low.” QKQKFNWKOWKEQPJEN

All of these children are crying, and I’m so fucking upset. I care about all of them so goddamn much. Nat and Tai and Misty being right there for her means so much for me. That’s my core four.

Shauna is dying right in front of them.

THE SUBTITLES SAY MISTY, BUT THAT WAS JACKIE FUCKING TAYLOR’S VOICE.

The entire scene is lit differently. The baby is too big and healthy. The placenta came first. The crying is repetitive. This is a goddamn dream.

“… but no, I’d rather keep the past in the past.” / “Van, you run a video store. […] You practically live in the past.” POT CALLING THE KETTLE BLACK, MA’AM. YOU WERE RECENTLY CAUGHT SACRIFICING YOUR DOG IN THE BASEMENT!! YOU CHASED AFTER YOUR EX AND GAVE HER A BOOBY PEN!!!!!!

Taissa is so judgy, lmfao. Never change, girl failure.

“Don’t fuckin’ judge me because I know you’re too evolved for online dating.” GET HER!! Lauren has inhabited Van so well. Like, sometimes I can hear Liv in her delivery of lines.

“But don’t flatter yourself. It’s not because of you.” Vanlottietai triangle in the wilderness when

Natalie, ma’am, I know you have, like, seven different infections from wearing those pants for so long. SEVEN.

Lisa giving Natalie the Fourteenth Gilly, so she’s responsible for something other than herself. 😭 Sobs.

If anything fucking happens to Lisa, I will lose my shit. I love her so much.

Shauna not being able to feed the baby. I’m so fucked up. The other girls can see that starvation awaits.

JEFF PLAYING “FUCK THE POLICE” WITH THE WINDOW DOWN OUTSIDE THE POLICE STATION. I LOVE THIS MAN. HE IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING HIMBO. ALQWKQODJKWKW

QKQOOWWKMWKDNSNS, JEFF SAYING IT TAKES A WHILE FOR SHAUNA TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. THE LOOKS TAI AND VAN GIVE EACH OTHER. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS MAN

He is such a weirdo.

Misty talking about Nat with such love and affection. Girlfriends. <33

“We’re all like this. Aren’t we?” Nat looking at Misty for the first time with sympathy in her eyes. She fundamentally sees that Misty is fucked up too.

I’m fucking crying at this baby starving.

“Your kid doesn’t like you too much, does she?” RIGHT ON THE HEELS OF THAT LAST SCENE. THAT’S SHAUNA’S GREATEST FEAR, HER CONTINUALLY BLEEDING WOUND.

Melanie Lynskey is so fucking pretty.

“You really did a number on her.” God, God, God, God. Shauna and Callie really eff me up. They were doomed from the start, from the moment that Shauna nearly died from having that first baby in the woods.

“And you do not have to be like your mom.” It’s too late, Kevyn. She already is.

“I never even wanted to be a mom. In fact… I did not sta… start out a bad person, but in case you haven’t noticed, life doesn’t tend to turn out the way you think it will. You have a kid that you… you don’t want… to save a marriage that you got into out of… guilt and-and shame. And, and you just… you can’t really let yourself love either of them. But, of course, you do. You-you love them despite yourself. You’re just incredibly bad at it.” I HAVE LITERAL TEARS RUNNING DOWN MY FACE. MELANIE GODDAMN LYNSKEY.

This isn’t Shauna lying. We know that Shauna is a piss poor fucking liar. This is the truth from the bottom of her goddamn heart. She didn’t want Callie. She had her to save a marriage that she only got into because she felt so guilty—about the woods, about Jackie, about what she and Jeff and all the girls did to her. But she loves them. She loves her husband. She loves her daughter. And she knows that she hasn’t done them their due. And this has also been a truth from the beginning. Shauna absolutely loathes herself. She self-destructs partially as a punishment that she thinks fits her endless crime.

The music shifts when she does start lying. What came before it was sincere.

“But leave my kid out of it.” SHE LOVES CALLIE.

I fucking hate this cop!!!

CALLIE SINGLE-HANDEDLY SAVING THIS ENTIRE INVESTIGATION WOQKQKWOQOKWIDJDJEJEJEJEJEJEIEKEMDJD. I FUCKING LOVE HER.

“Especially when they ask me to describe his weird ass balls.” WKQKWOQOOWIWJEJDIEJENWKIRIRIFKDKWKDIDIFIEIWKDJDJWJKSJE.

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HATE CALLIE SADECKI.

Lottie feeding the baby. ☠️

JEFF SPITTING HIS DRINK OUT EVERYWHERE DJWJDNDN.

Shauna’s voice break when she says “Yes” about the gun. She’s unraveling and unraveling.

“I am really worried about you. You are, like, out of control, Shauna.” / “Yeah, you think?!” And she actually cries in front of Jeff.

Jeff’s like, “Go, honey. Have a well-deserved mental health vacation with your wilderness cannibal girlfriends. 🥰” He didn’t say that, but I’m paraphrasing.

Callie and Shauna had a plan all along. :/ But Shauna screwed it up. Both of the Sadecki parents trying to reassure their daughter.

NAT TRYING TO, UM, SPARE THE FISH FROM THE COLD CRUELTIES OF THIS WORLD. GOD????

“It’s all a goddamn prison anyway.”

GOOD. THE FOURTEENTH GILLY LIVES.

I’m no fish expert, but um, is that bowl just a wee bit too small?

Shauna talking so tenderly to this baby. This episode is not going to fucking end well.

Shauna saying that she wants the moment for herself, and that’s such a core part of her ethos. This (dream) baby is hers and hers alone, someone she doesn’t have to share, someone that no one can try to control, even though they might try.

LMAO, AT SHAUNA GETTING THERE SO FAST. SHE MUST HAVE BEEN SPEEDING.

Nat has finally changed out of those goddamn leather pants!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Shauna and Nat hug. Oh, God, yeah, yeah, yeah. Natalie was there for Shauna during one of her darkest times, and now they’re both in ruts again. There’s so much solemnity in the gesture, so much pain.

Taimisty joy hug. 😭

VANLOTTIE HOMOEROTIC CRY STARING!!!

THE FUCKING SYMBOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tea was drugged. 😭 Shauna calling out for Tai and Van.

FUCKING EATING IT. I KNOW IT’S A DREAM. I KNOW. I KNOW, BUT GOD

AND THEN SHE FUCKING WAKES UP, AND THEY’RE ALL CRYING.

“We thought we lost you.” Tai holding her face. I’m fucking unwell.

I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS. I CAN’T

SOPHIE FUCKING NÉLISSE.

“Don’t you hear him crying? Why can’t you hear him cry?”

Taissa holding Shauna and that dead baby, blood on her hands.

“Why can’t you hear him?”

This is the most upsetting goddamn television I’ve ever fucking seen in my life.

“The infants lungs will fill with air, signaled by a cry.” And at the end, it’s this line from the video documentary that comes back to haunt us all.

[what-if-i-just-did]

So, the subject of 9/11 has been coming up in my life lately for some reason, and like everything I think about, it quickly got infused with my spn obsession.

Now I'm not American, and I wasn't even alive at the time, but Sam and Dean are and were. And it's the type of thing, where you remember exactly what you were doing when it happened, right? So, what where Sam and Dean doing?

It's 2001. This is the year that Sammy left for Stanford. Not only is it the year Sammy left for Stanford, but it's very, very soon after. The school year starts late august or early september. The Twin Towers crashed on the eleventh of september, so... not exactly early september, but not quite mid, either. Let's say Sammy's been gone about two/three weeks. Now, I figure John kept Dean around for one more case before he sent him away- couldn't look at him, only saw Mary, probably blamed the boy for Sammy leaving. Dean's walking around with this pit in his stomach, thinking he wasn't good enough to keep his family together and some mild panic about not being able to take care of Sam and some exsistential dread about who is he if he's not taking care of Sam. He's probably flirting too hard with all the girls in his cases, choosing the whiskey over the beer just a little too many times. Fingers hovering over the call button at any given time. This is the general state of Dean during this time.

Sam? He's just gotten out of the life. He's just promised himself he's never gonna hunt again, he misses his brother but he's more angry at him, for now. He hasn't made any friends yet, and it's starting to get to that time where his body feels he's been in one place for so long now that his dad is gonna come pick him up soon. He's antsy, but again, angry. Stubborn, smart. It's gonna take a long time for him to feel normal while staying in one place for more than three months at most. He's barely started adjusting to civillian life.

Now John. There's a journal entry for september eleventh. It says he suspects Supernatural interference with this, and he's been on the phone with other hunters all day. He's gonna head down to New York to take a look at things, and he's meeting up with people over there. No reference to Dean or Sam at all, nothing about being worried. The most emotional thing in the entry is the first sentence, "Shaken." .Honestly, it's more than I expected from him. The man has worse emotional regulation than Dean does, and that's saying something. He's still dealing with shoving down whatever form of hate or regret or pride come bubbling up when he thinks about Sam taking off, so he's not thinking about it.

I think he called Dean. I think it was a short conversation, full of "Yes, sir."'s from Dean's side and orders that looked like questions from John's. He says he called to get Dean's opinion of the Supernatural element of the crash, but Dean'll only say what John wants him to and somewhere, he knows it. He does not realise the reason he called Dean is to make sure Dean's alright, and he tries to distract himself from thoughts of Sam by keeping busy.

It's random Tuesday, and Sam probably signed up for some 8 o'clock class, so that would be what he was doing when the planes crashed. Of course, soon, the news got out, and classes got cancelled. Sam's head becomes chaotic, because of course this happens during his first few weeks, that's just his luck, and he's worried, about his dad but mostly about Dean. He calls Bobby, who's fine and tells him his dad's fine too, and Sam thanks him and hangs up, because he doesn't wanna waste the man's time. He and a bunch of other students are huddled around a tv, terrified. Ten AM, the first Tower collapses, and he has no idea what to do. He wants to help, but... what can he do? He wants to call Dean. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's going to happen. He's terrified. He spends the majority of the Eleventh huddled around that tv, with a bunch of other students he doesn't know as well as he could. It takes one, maybe two days for Sam to decide to get to New York, probably with some other students, so he can help. It's only about two hours away, and the impromptu medical skills he's gotten from patching up his dad and brother may not have helpedn anyone, but he can damn well help clean up.

Dean wakes up between five and six AM, has a beer, cleans his guns. He knows what's happening fairly early for someone who isn't in New York, because he checks the news, wether he's looking for a case or out of boredom or out of habit, and he kinda panics. He thinks, I don't know where dad is and I don't know if Sammy's safe I can't protect him and shit are we under attack what's gonna happen next and he kinda panicks. If he's already on a case, he kinda forgets about it. He stays in his motel room all day, following the news and thinking up worst case scenarios. His dad calls him, shortly, and he manages not to sound scared. His dad suspects demons did this or something, but he doesn't really care. At least he knows his dad's safe, and if he's feeling something about the fact that dad didn't ask him where he was or if he's okay, then he shoves it down and pretends it's not there. Eventually his worry wins out over whatever was stopping him from calling Sam, and he has to cough when Sam picks up because otherwise he might do something else. He can tell by Sammy's tone of voice that Sam's scared, and doesn't once bitch about Dean calling him. Just says he's safe and worried and still at Stanford, and that's good enough for Dean. Dean subcounsiously avoids New York and area for the next year or so, worried about something or other. No one he knows is dead, he should be happy.

Okay, wow. That got longer than I expected it to.

[bestygogirl]

BEST YGO GIRL: Round 1, Group D

Match 16

Propaganda under the cut!

Shizuka Kawai

Shizuka is obviously very sweet, supportive and positive, but she is also stubborn and brave as hell. There's the obvious ones: Ripped off her post-surgery bandages after being functionally blind in order to jump into deep water to save her brother without a second thought! Perfect win record, won her first ever duel despite having no clue how to play!

But there's a couple really great less obvious character moments as well:

First off, her message to Jounouchi before Duelist Kingdom: It's heavily implied they hadn't spoken in a long time since their parents' divorce. But Shizuka, a very sheltered pre-teen, was the first one to break the silence and reach out to her big brother - even though they were likely deliberately being kept apart by their mother, who seems to believe Jou is a bad influence on his sister. Jou and Shizuka's mom has likely been repeating this narrative to Shizuka growing up, too: "Your brother is no-good just like your dad. Your brother is dangerous. Your brother is a bad influence" etc, etc. But this doesn't stop her from secretly deciding to contact Jou. Shizuka had no idea when reaching out that he'd do something over-the-top like try and win money for her operation. She just wanted to talk to her estranged sibling and update him on her life, including her illness, which was probably really scary for her to talk about.

Second: This kid breaks out of a hospital, still blind and wearing post-surgical bandages after a major operation, to see her brother. She meets all of her brother's friends in one go and immediately is like "Whatever I'll get in your car strange woman, just get me to Katsuya!!" Then after the pier duel she's still so determined to offer what support she can that she gets on the giant aircraft of a well-known local maniac without hesitation. The first things she sees after years of declining eyesight are: her brother nearly drowning, literal gods being summoned, someone she clearly idolizes as a big sister getting Shadow Game'd, Honda getting dropped into a pit of lava, her brother ACTUALLY dying - and she remains kind, cheerful and brave throughout it all.

Third: Despite her clear idolization and respect of Jounouchi, she actually doesn't just thoughtlessly go along with what he says all the time! Several times in the anime, when she feels Jou is being impulsive, stubborn or unkind, she'll call him out on it. A notable example is in Virtual World when Jounouchi suggests they should just leave Kaiba and Mokuba to go off alone. Shizuka firmly tells him "No, that's not the right thing to do," and tries to go off after the Kaibros all by herself. This is really brave as hell, especially seeing as she's evidently prepared to go against ALL of her brother's cool older friends despite being young, a bit naive/inexperienced, and has seen a staggering amount of dangerous things happen to them all up to that point.

Fourth: Virtual World Duel. Yes she has a miniature crisis after seeing her brother's best friend get dropped into lava. But she recovers and wins the duel with a religious-iconography-power-lesbian card. Love that for her.

Fifth: Shizuka is the only character in the entire series to stand in front of Seto Kaiba and say to his face "human lives are more important than card games." And she's not even one of Yuugi's core friend group, who's seen Kaiba at his most vulnerable. From her perspective, this is not only a giant tall scary-looking older guy with the bitchiest resting face this side of the Pacific, he's also one of the most powerful individuals in Domino City (possibly in Japan.) Kaiba is a well-known public figure who Shizuka had previously probably only seen on the news for things like staggering wealth, general lunacy, and patricide. AND YET, she's the one who marches her little self up to him and tells him to land his damn blimp and get Bakura some medical care. (It kind of works, too! Kaiba is difficult and annoying to all of them and implies he doesn't care if Bakura dies, but after Shizuka makes her appeal, only THEN does he admit that KaibaCorp has excellent trained medical staff on board.)

Sixth: Pulls a truly disturbed prank with Mai and then laughs in the face of her brother's devastation. We love a weird kid with an extremely questionable sense of humor. She's definitely fine after all the Horrors(TM) she's witnessed. Probably.

Anyways vote Shizuka she's a fucking great character and the fandom has been SLEEPING on her!!!!

Princess Mary

My fave filler arc character. I really like her swapping places with Mokuba to help save the day.

[blowflyfag]

the Wrestler: Volume 25, 2009

Q & A 

MISSY HYATTT

(Part 2)

“If I didn’t need money, I’d work in this business for free”

WHO WAS WRESTLING’S original diva? There are credible arguments to be made for Miss Elizabeth, Baby Doll, Sunshine, Tammy Sytch, Sable or any number of pioneering women. But, there is one lady in particular who would make any short list: Missy Hyatt.

What has been the key to Hyatt’s success? Her uncanny ability to reinvent herself. Hyatt started out as the self-centered, pampered brat that everyone loved to hate, with every woman wanting to rub her face in the mud and every man wanting to turn her across his knee for a good spanking. She evoked strong emotions during her stints in World Class Championship Wrestling and the Universal Wrestling Federation in the mid-1980s, and often outshined her male counterparts, including “Hollywood” John Tatum and “Hot Stuff” Eddie Gilbert.

Yet  Vince MCMahon wanted her to give up her naughty ways and join WWF as an affluent hist of the “Missy Manor” interview segment. It turned out that “Missy’‘s Manor” was no “Piper’s Pit,” and the WWF and Hyatt parted ways in a matter of weeks. 

So what’s a girl to do? Hyatt returned to Jim Crockett Promotions, where television producer Dusty Rhodes made her backstage interviewer and an occasional color commentator. She was one of the hottest stars of WCW during the early years of Ted Turner’s ownership, managingThe Steiner Brothers and The Nasty Boys, hosting a highly successful 900-line, and appearing on countless pieces of merchandise. Hyatt ended up suing WCW for what she considered her rightful share of the proceeds and all of it landed in court, where she also filed a sexual harassment claim. 

With nowhere left to go, Hyatt accepted Paul Heyman’s offer to appear in ECW, where she flourished as a sultry sex siren, whose conniving ways seemed to be a natural extension of the spoiled Southern Belle she had portrayed a decade earlier. 

Her out-of-the-ring exploits have embroiled her in controversy. In her 2001 tell-all autobiography, Miss Hyatt: First Lady of Wrestling, she detailed her relationships with John Tatum, Eddie Gilbert, Road Warrior Hawk, Jake Roverts, and Wonder Years star Jason Hervey, among others. Today, Hyatt lives in New York City with her two Jack Russell terriers, Milo and Jake. For fans who want to keep Missy Hyatt under minute-by-minute surveillance, her pay website–missyhyatt247.com–offers a webcam that constantly streams video from her apartment. Hyatt’s house website is missyhyatt.net.

“Missy has revealed so many intimate details about her life in her autobiography and on her websites that I felt as if I already knew her,” said Senior Writer Harry Burkett, who spoke with the self-proclaimed “First Lady Of Wrestling” for 90 minutes. “Her real personality is quite different from the ‘vamp’ persona she tries to project. She has a very sweet ‘girl next door’ quality.”

Q: Despite the fact that you began your career 23 years ago, you’ve never stayed very far from the wrestling business. You still make appearances on the indy circuit. What are you up to these days?

A: I still have my websites, missyhyatt.net and missyhyatt247.com, and, yes, I still work the independents and do autograph sessions. I'm really proud of the work I've done with Women Superstars Uncensored over the past year or so. I do color commentary for WSU DVDs and I also host some “Missy’s Manor” interview segments. 

Q: What is your typical day like? 

A: I work with Jack Russell terriers for an organization called Russell Rescue, not to be confused with Dawn Marie’s Wrestlers Rescue [laughs]. She takes in unwanted and abused wrestlers, and I take in unwanted or abused Jack Russells, so I'm sort of a foster mom. I recently took in a dog named Bruno, who had heartworm, and I kept him until that problem was cleared up and he could go to another family. 

I do behavioral assessments on the dogs when they come to my home. Do they go after someone who’s knocking on the door? Is there anything that seems to upset them? So I document all of that behavioral stuff on the paperwork. I also do home checks to make sure that prospective homes have the proper fencing, things like that. Jack Russells are very smart, but they also have so much energy that some people can’t keep up with them. 

[It was then-boyfriend John Tatum who got Missy Hyatt into the wrestling business back in the mid-’80s. Tatum felt he needed a beautiful blonde valet–and the rest is wrestling history.]

Q: The question is, are you able to keep up with them? 

A: My dogs end up adopting my personality, which means they become lazy and sleep in late. Dory Funk Jr. said that he grew up with a bunch of Russells, which are really handy if you have a working ranch with horses and stables. 

Q: That sounds like enough to keep you busy. DO you have time to watch the current wrestling product, such as WWE and TNA?

A: Yes, there’s a lot that I like about WWE and TNA. When I watch Raw or Smackdown, I just think how I'd like to work a big crowd like that. Back in the NWA and WCW in the late-’80s and early-’90s, we did pay-per-views every couple of months and drew decent crowds, but it was nothing compared to what WWE draws on a nearly nightly basis. I just think, Wow. I’d love to see myself on that big TItanTron. 

I have a dream, and it sounds really corny, but I've always wanted to work one WrestleMania dressed as The Gobbledy Gooker. I’d want Kane to give me a tombstone piledriver and then rip off my turkey costume. Of course, I'd still have the beak and big feet, wearing a fur-kinki, and I'd cluck around the ring and get back inside my egg. Some people dream about dollars or fame, but I've had a much simpler aspiration: to be The Gobbledygooker at WrestleMania!

Q: Maybe you weren’t The Gobbledygooker, but you certainly came a long way. How did you break into the wrestling business?

A: I became involved through my boyfriend: John Tatum. He had been wrestling in Georgia and then went to work for the Crocketts for a while. He met Tully Blanchard and Baby Doll while he was there, and that’s when John decided he had to get him a blonde girl who looked like Baby Doll. So, when he went to Texas, he took me along. [World Class referee] David Manning convinced me that I would make a good valet, and David and another referee, Rick Hazzard helped me with that.

Q: What were you doing when John met you? A: I was working as a cocktail waitress at a bar, the Hyatt Hotel–as a matter of fact–in downtown Atlanta. I also worked at the pool bar during the summer there. 

Q: Where did you grow up?

A: Tallahassee, Florida.

Q: Had John been in the wrestling business very long when you met him?

A: No, no. He was from Pensacola, Florida, and he’d been in the business for only about six months, if that. He worked in Georgia and then the Caroolinas for about 10 months. Then we went to Texas in ‘85.

[Although Missy Hyatt and Sunshine were in-ring rivals in World Class Championship Wrestling (above), they were good friends outside the ring (right). Hyatt says Sunshine was a patient mentor during her early days. 

“When I first started working, I was really nervous and scared. The first big thing I did was a catfight with Sunshine where we pulled hair and rolled around the thing, and I couldn't help laughing. When we got in the back, Sunshine yelled at me, “You can't laugh out there!”]

Q: Had John always been a wrestling fan, or did he fall into it some other way?

A: John and Michael Hayes are cousins. Michael is from Pensacola, too. As for me, I fell in love with wrestling when I was 17. I was over at my parents’ house, and I was upstairs with my dad, who was flipping channels. I saw Michael Hayes and Buddy Roberts putting a baby bonnet on Terry Gordy’s head and a pacifier in his mouth, and they were all running around the ring. It was Georgia Championship Wrestling. I was amazed by what I was watching. What was this? I thought it was the coolest thing. I knew I didn't want to wrestle, but it seemed like a real hoot and something I wanted to do. 

Q: Wow, that must have been when The Freebirds were feuding amongst each other. What was the first challenge you had to face as a valet in Texas?

A: Trying to figure out what my name would be! My last name is “Hiatt” with an “i,” so I changed it to “Hyatt” with a “y.” Also, my first name is Melissa, but my parents called me “Missy” and John caught on to that. That’s how I became “Missy Hyatt.”

When I first started working, I was really nervous and scared. The first big thing I did was a catfight with Sunshine where we pulled hair and rolled around the ring, and I couldn't help laughing. When we got in the back, Sunshine yelled at me, “You can't laugh out there!” But I was having so much fun. During my career, I've been paid a lot of money for what I love to do. If I didn't need money, I'd work in this business for free. 

Q: I suppose World Class was ahead of its time as far as divas are concerned.

A: Let me tell you, we sure were! Looking back on it, I'm surprised that I got paid the same as the guys. They didn't just look at me as a female, but someone who helped draw people to the shows. My pay depended on where I was on the card and how many people were there. So I was paid extremely well, even though I was a woman. I think of all the people who helped me–Fritz Von Erich, David Manning, Bronco Lubich–and realize it was a great time. If Texas had been the only place where I had worked, and John and I had gone back to Florida right afterward, i’d still consider it the highlight of my life. 

[Was it Hyatt and Hot Stuff International or vice versa? Either way, Hyatt and Eddie Gilbert made an effective and entertaining team in the Ultimate Wrestling Federation.]

Q: Did it occur to you that women could add a whole new dimension to wrestling?

A: Sex and violence sell in movies and on TV, so why not wrestling? Even ultimate fighting has the octagon babes and boxing has the ring card girls in their little outfits.

Q: Your catfights with Sunshine must have gotten a huge response, considering the audience was definitely male-dominated at the time.

A: Because we did the same buildings each week, we had to come up with something new each week. For over a year, I'd do bad stuff to her on TV and then she’d beat my fanny all week at the house shows. I’d lie, or come up with a new way to insult her, and she’d be ready to tear into me again. It was so easy–and so fun to get a reaction. We nearly started a riot in Abilene, Texas.

Q: What was the road schedule like for World Class?

A: We did TV tapings every Friday night in Dallas and then we’d run a show on Monday night in Fort Worth. Every three weeks, we’d go to the outskirts, such as Lubbock, Amarillo, and El Paso. For the most part, though, most of the shows were in smaller towns within a couple hours of Dallas-Fort Worth. Football was really big in Texas, so there were plenty of large high school stadiums where we drew a lot of people–usually within 60 miles of Dallas.

Wrestlers and divas are so much like movie stars now because there’s so much glamor. The outfits are so fancy and everybody’s so polished. That’s a big difference between now and the territorial days. Even WCW was much glitzier toward the end of my time there.

Q: Was Sunshine helpful when you first went to World Class?

A: She was the best. She taught me everything. And, trust me, I was a handful. You may remember that World Class had a two-hour show on Christian network for a while. 

Q: Yes, the Christian Broadcasting Network.

A: That’s  right. [World Classbooker] Ken Mantell gave me a line to use against Sunshine. It went something like, “Sunshine’s butt is so big that when she has to haul ass, she’s got to make 10 trips.” I said it verbatim. When I got backstage, poor Ken looked like he was having a heart attack, red in the face with his blood pressure going up. He told me that I shouldn't have said the word “ass.” I said, “Yeah, but you told me to say that.” I was so young at the time. I was surprised that CBN didn’t even bleep it out. 

[“Sex and violence sell in movies and on TV, so why not wrestling? Even ultimate fighting has the octagon babes and boxing has the ring card girls in their little outfits.”]

Q: Well, the word “ass” was used in the Bible.

A: That’s true. I felt sorry for Ken because he had to deal with these girls all of a sudden. But Sunshine and I were good friends. I’d have friends over at my apartment, and Sunshine would have to sneak through a window. Back in the kayfabe days, I couldn’t party with the babyfaces, you know.

Q: Was there anybody else you looked up to? Or were you and Sunshine the only women around at that time?

A: There was Baby Doll with the Crocketts, and Miss Elizabeth had just started in the WWF. Here’s one funny story: George Scott, who worked for Vince McMahon, had heard about Baby Doll at about the same time I sent pictures to the WWF. He contacted World Class, thinking I was Baby Doll. That’s why David Manning and Fritz Von Erich wanted to keep John and me there. I’m glad John and I had that run in World Class, because I think we were great working together. 

[While working in the UWF, Hyatt often interacted with a young Jim Ross. According to Missy, nobody can match Good Ol’ J.R. on the microphone.]

Q: I thought so, too. How did you meet Eddie Gilbert?

A: I met him when we went to the UWF.

Q: When you first met him, did you think you’d ever marry the guy?

A: No! It was another case of life imitating art. That time was wild. We did the Hot Stuff & Hyatt International angle, and Ken Mantell was there … it was such a blur because we were traveling so much. I enjoyed that time very much. 

Q: You mentioned that life imitates art. As we know, you left John and eventually married Eddie. Leading into that, John and Eddie were vying for your affections on UWF TV, with Eddie outsmarting John each week. The vignettes from that time were very funny. I remember a limousine pulling up to take you and John to lunch, and somehow Eddie elbowed his way into the limo so he could sit beside you. It was really funny stuff. 

A: I remember that! Jim Ross was interviewing John, who was waiting for me to arrive in the limo. Eddie came out, noticed there was a TV in the limo, and squeezed himself into the car between John and me. I think we left Jim Rossjust standing there. At that time, Eddie and I liked each other, so I guess it was happening and I didnt realize it. 

[Life  imitates art. To John Tatum’s chagrin, a UWF storyline romance between Hyatt and Gilbert evolved into an off-screen attraction and eventually marriage.]

Q: Wrestling is weird in that way, as far as life imitating art. It seems that every man and woman that are put together in a storyline end up as a couple in real life. 

A: It may be terrible to mention this, but look at what happened to Chris and Nancy Benoit. There was also Steve Austin and Jeannie Clarke, and Steve and Debra McMichael.

Q: So you would say that love triangle among you, John, and Eddie mirrored reality?

A: On TV, Eddie and I always said it was “strictly business.” But there was a lot of playing around and joking. Once when we were at the hotel in Tulsa, John had left with Jack [Victory], and Eddie got really drunk. Eddie came in from the pool, down the hallway, and passed out in my hotel room. I had to get Carl Fergie to get him out of there. The next day, I teased him all day. Something just sparked, I guess.

Q: You certainly demonstrated a sexual tension on TV. I remember that Eddie would refer to your group as “Hot Stuff & Hyatt International,” but you would always refer to it as “Hyatt & Hot Stuff International.”

A: Right. Bruce Prochard worked out of the Houston office at the time, and he had blue satin jackets made. Mine said “Hyatt & Hot Stuff” and Eddie’s said “Hot Stuff & Hyatt.” I don’t know what happened to that jacket, but I wish I still had it. It would bring back good memories.

Q: Eddie was often credited for having a great wrestling mind. Did you learn things from him that you didn’t learn from John or anyone else?

A: I learned more about wrestling as a business, from how it works to how to handle money. I learned what worked with a wrestling crowd and what did not. Eddie loved wrestling since he was a boy. His mom showed me how he would make up characters, book matches, lay out TV shows, and create whole storlines in his black-and-white composition books. He was really elaborate. He was the Anges Dixon of wrestling.

Q: No wonder the CWF seemed like All my Children! Seriously, though, I know Eddie wrote for some fanzines and magazines in the late-1970s.

A: And he took pictures! He showed me a tape of a match where he and Jim Cornette were at ringside taking pictures.

Q: Cornette, Paul Heyman, and even Tammy Stych got their start by taking pictures and sending them to our magazines. You never took pictures for us, but you sure posed for a lot. Tell me, how was the UWF different from World Class?

A: The traveling. I think they would sit there with a map of the United States and then throw darts to see how far they could make us drive. We’d be in Tulsa one night, and then have to drive to New Orleans, and then drive to Houston, and then to Memphi. It never made sense. We’d leave at 2:00 in the afternoon and not get back until 4:00 in the morning.

[“You could see how hot and intense the crowd was on UWF TV shows. It was like a fever. The craziness was contagious. To me, it was more exciting in those days.”

Q: I think the most common complaint I've heard about the UWF, or the Mid-South promotion that preceded it, was that it was  really big territory.

A: That’s for sure. But you also made a lot of friendships when you’re traveling together so much. I remember we’d all be in a can with One Man Gang driving–just a lot of camaraderie because we were working together every night. We were more like a family. 

Q: At the time, the WWF was expanding nation-wide. Frit Von Erich and Bill Watts certainly entertained the thought of challenging Vince McMahon. Did World Class or the UWF have a chance?

A: If either World Class or the UWF had gotten a better foothold on cable, maybe so. The UWF was the hottest wrestling show on TV at the time, in terms of pure action. THe show had enormous talent, in addition to Jim Ross as the announcer. And nobody can compare to Jim Ross as an announcer before or since. When we would tape shows in Tulsa, everything would break down at the end of the episode, so fans always wanted more. We didn’t give away main events in those days. 

Q: That’s what I hated about the UWF! Hacksaw Duggan wouldn’t tear into One Man Gang until one minute before the show went off the air. I would be screaming at the TV!

A: Yes, Jim Ross would be yelling, “We’ve got to go!” The whole idea was to get people to buy tickets. We didn’t have pay-per-view yet, so the TV show was like an ad to sell tickets to the arena. We would do the TV tapings in Tulsa every two weeks. We never had to give away tickets for free because the arena was always packed. You could see how hot and intense the crowd was on  UWF TV shows. It was like a fever. The craziness was contagious. To me, it was more exciting in those days. 

Q: I suppose that’s the price you pay when wrestling goes mainstream. Nowadays, you get more of a mainstream crowd, the same people who would come out to see the Harlem Globetrotters if they came to town. 

The UWF must have had wide syndications back then, because I remember the UWF running its TV show in my home state of Maryland. That was a long way from Tulsa. 

A: The UWF had really good syndication, but World Class was even more impressive. If I remember correctly, World Class had 223 stations–including stations in the Middle East–while the WWF had only 30 stations here in the United States.

Q: World Class even tried to run house shows in Massachusetts. 

A: As well as Georgia and California while it was expanding toward the end. You knew one of these companies was going to become a true national company, but you didn't know which one would get there first. 

Q: Who contacted you about going to the WWF?

A: Eddie and I just mailed in some pictures, and Vince called.

Q: Did he call for both of you?

A: Yes. It was a complicated time. There were rumors that Crockett was going to buy the UWF. We didn’t know whether Crockett was going to swallow up the UWF or keep it separate. Some said he would honor the UWF contracts and others said he wouldn't. Eddie sent out stuff to the WWF just as back-up. But I wanted to go to the WWF because I wanted to be a big star and get me a doll. It still hasn’t happened. 

[After a short stint with the WWF and some indy appearances, Hyatt made a move to WCW, where she made her name as a ring announcer (left), color commentator (above), and valet.]

Q: Did Eddie ever wrestle for the WWF in the late-’80s?

A: He had first gone to the WWF in ‘81, but he didn’t go in the late-’80s. He was helping Ken Mantell book for the UWF. When the buyout came, Crockett wanted Eddie to do all the booking for the UWF and Ken left. Eddie told Vince that he’d rather book for the UWF than just wrestle for the WWF. I was very pigheaded, though, and I wanted to go to the WWF and become a superstar. 

Q: I remember “Miss Manor.”

A: Oh, gosh. 

[overthinkingtaleblr]

I love how varied the PIE team is member-wise to be honest. Not just how big it is, but how small it can be… and it can be MASSIVE

Like, sure, there’s Ghost and Toast and they’re the only real, confirmed, 100% full and paid members of the team, right? So an argument can be made that they’re the Only members of the team.

Then we add the unpaid members, Spooks and Colon. They have seniority in the team at this point! On top of them there’s also the confirmed former members of Johnny Roast, Ronnie Boast, William Barricade, and Dark Pit

PAST THEM there’s the Original or “Steampunk” PIE team, including T.Casket, Johnny Ghost Senior, Freddy Fazbear, Peewee Ghost (who may not exist), the Bad/Low texture guys, and Ernie Ghost. Most of these people are dead or missing by the time Current PIE gets big, but STILL.

Additionally, every acachalla but Sue has worked for PIE before (whether PIE wanted them there or not) so an argument can be made for all of them. Additionally, one-time characters shown to work for PIE includes several members of Toast’s family (Crispy toast, the military morons, Gavin impersonating Toast if he counts) could count for the same reason. This is also where we’d consider Alberto Guppy, K-78-C, Higglydigglyhögan, John Chica, Leonard Malkovich, possibly Barnacle, and other one-time members.

There’s also the people who were considered for a role in PIE during the retirement arc, which I only remember the girl who was a furry, and I kind of wish they were brought back for any reason. There’s also characters who are ambiguously apart of PIE, like Jenny Ghost, Jenny Toast, and Josh! There’s also characters who may never have had a part in PIE, but we can assume because they were close to Ghost and Toast, like Mary Toast and Katrina.

Plus there’s a Ton of animatronics who worked for PIE

Part of the reason why I enjoy these characters or how broad the cast can get is because it opens the door for fan interpretations! The enrollment of workers at PIE is incredibly vague, allowing for characters to be inserted in believably without it getting complex. I love it!