#she's the only doll i got and she's still right here on my bookshelf ^^

[primeministerofantarctica]

when omgthatdress gets to kit i won't apologize for the amount of posts im reblogging

[harryspet]

cement walls | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles

[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to https://jamesbrnes.tumblr.com/]

In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you. 

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan​ @doozywoozy​

main masterlist

word count: 3.3k

Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.

Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space. 

That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe. 

When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again. 

It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter. 

The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”

He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously. 

“W-Where did you go?”

He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”

“You’ve never been gone this long.”

“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”

“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair. 

“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them. 

He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.” 

You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair. 

When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”

“You mean your therapist?”

“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making. 

“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet. 

“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”

“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”

You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room. 

“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees. 

You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it. 

“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”

“You’re curious today.”

“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”

“If you’re going to be like this today-”

“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”

Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch. 

“Then why …”

He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”

He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”

You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”

Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon. 

You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent. 

“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance. 

He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”

“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily. 

You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”

“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”

“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”

His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed. 

He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared. 

He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”

Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp. 

“That’s it …”

This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud. 

“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you. 

“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”

8 months later … 

You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved. 

You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time. 

As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?” 

You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand. 

“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”

“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”

“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”

You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box. 

“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”

You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”

“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”

He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”

You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child. 

You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night. 

You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor. 

“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”

The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”

“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek. 

“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”

“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”

You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”

“But-”

“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”

“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”

“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp. 

Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from. 

Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying. 

“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”

“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”

You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning. 

“Okay, thank you, Doc.”

“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”

“Are we free to leave?”

The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”

“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating. 

The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”

Say something. 

Say something. 

If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?

As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”

“Bucky, I really did think-”

“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”

You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-

“Y/N?”

You perked up, “Yes?”

“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”

hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!

[princessbeebee]

Squishmallow Scare and Peter Bucky Barnes x regressed!reader

I have been obsessed with squishmallows lol so I decided to write this. If anyone has any suggestions my asks are open ♡

word count: 1.7k 

Mute!regressed!reader 

Y/N had accumulated a bunch of squishmallows since Bucky loved spoiling his baby. Almost every time he’d go to the store he would actively search for any squishmallows. Steve has also looked for them before when the store opens just to get the one she wanted even though she would rarely ask for them. 

Bucky would hear her talk about new ones that come out and so he would try and get them, even with Steve's help. Y/N woke up from a scary nightmare and Bucky was gone. Bucky had left for an emergency in Canada of all places and was arriving that morning. She wanted to wake up peacefully but obviously, her brain chose violence. 

She turned over in their shared bed and reached for the squishmallow that fell onto the floor when she was sleeping. The sun shone through the window causing her to strain her just closed eyes. She was sweaty and just did not want to be an adult today. So she headed to the living room where the other half of her many squishes were located. She also had a designated room that was next to Bucky’s office that was her playroom. She went up to the ten squishes and gathered them up to put them back into the playroom. 

She placed ten of them on their couch since she was home alone and needed company. The playroom had a light pink wall with a bookshelf filled with coloring books and children's books, a small comfortable couch, a bean bag, a small table, and of course all her squishes and other toys. The squishmallows were in the corner of the room and piled up. She dumped them on top of each other carefully and stared at them. She sleepily bent down and moved some over to make a hole. She then crawled into it and laid down on the fluffy carpet and had all the squishes cover her body. 

She hugged one to her chest and heard the front door open and her Bucky shout out “drăguță!” Y/N stayed quiet while Bucky searched each room for her. She decided to scare him when he called for her. Bucky walked inside the playroom, where she usually was when regressed, and looked around for her. She heard his footsteps approach where the squish pile was. When it got quiet she rose suddenly which made Bucky jump and scream. “Oh my god you scared me so bad Y/N” Bucky exclaimed. She chuckled as Bucky gave her his hand so she could stand up. She still held her favorite squish as Bucky pecked her lips. He had noticed that something was off. Usually, she was talking his ear off, but she was quiet. He had experienced this a couple of times with her, she went mute when she hadn’t regressed in a while. His absence had caused her to not be able to regress since she had become accustomed to him aiding her in her regression. 

He looked at her fondly and asked “Do you need my care honey?” She just nodded and he put his arms around her waist and commanded a quiet “up”. He held her in his arms and spun her around which caused her to smile. “Is that your baby? They are very cute.” He patted the squishes head with one hand as he balanced her on his hip. “I know you’re regressed Y/N, but I will just tell you about my flight back because oh was it eventful,” Bucky said as he sat down on the playroom couch. “So I was heading to the airport and saw one of the stores that sell squishmallows and I saw that they had the mystery ones you wanted so I had to get you a couple of bags!” She squealed with joy as Bucky sat her down on the couch and walked out into the living room to grab the bag he got. She hopped on her butt in excitement as he walked back in with the colorful reusable bag. He had bought her six of the mystery bags each of them 8 inches.

She bit her lip and did grabby hands to the bag. Bucky just chuckled and placed the bag next to your lap. She dumped the bag onto the couch and a couple fell off of it. Bucky just placed the fallen ones with the others as she adamantly opened one of them. “These are not like any of the ones I have gotten you before, they are scented, but I am not sure if all of them smell like marshmallows or if they all have different smells. The bag doesn’t say but I am sure your nose will figure it out huh baby” Bucky explained. She struggled with opening the bag so she grunted and held it out towards Bucky. He smiled and dug in his pocket to grab his abalone shell pocket knife to cut it open. “Here honey you’re too small let me do it.” “And remember to never touch a sharp object, only me ok?” He asked while giving her a wink. 

She blushed as he handed her one bag. “Ooooo which one did you get princess!” He exclaimed. The scent of chocolate was overwhelming but comforting as she pulled out the green dragon. She beamed as she hugged the small green creature. Bucky continued cutting the tops open and handing them to her. She just squealed in joy as she pulled out each stuffie giving each a kiss and hug. Surprisingly Bucky had gotten each squish in the series, so Y/N was happy. He would grab one and smell it to attempt to figure out each scent. He’d hold out the stuffie for her to sniff also as he listed off his guesses of each scent, which she’d either respond with shaking her head yes or no. He would list off weird guesses like “grass” or “slime scent”, which would just make her laugh. Her favorite had to be the unicorn since she smelled like flowers.

 “So how about a snack, you know Peter is coming over today right?” Her head shot up and looked towards Bucky. She hadn’t played with Peter in so long since he was moving into the tower and preparing to work as a full-time avenger. Y/N and Peter were regressors, but the only issue is that Tony was his caregiver and had passed away the year before. This caused him to struggle to regress, which would affect his crime-fighting. Luckily, Y/N, Bucky, and Steve had helped him get back to his old self, but being an Avenger was hard. Bucky and Y/N walked into their shared kitchen to have a quick snack before Steve and Peter came over. 

She sat at the table and watched her caregiver cut fresh strawberries into tiny pieces for her. She eventually ate all her strawberries and patiently waited for Peter to arrive so she could play with her. She had never been mute when Peter came over to play, so Bucky knew to explain to Peter why she isn’t talking to him and how she is not being rude to him. Thankfully, Steve texted Bucky and told him that Peter was about 8 years old today. Bucky had completely forgotten to ask Y/N what age she was today, so he asked and she held up four fingers. “Aw such a good baby thank you for showing me four fingers, you’re so smart,” He cooed. 

Steve came in with Peter rushing inside to find his friend Y/N. She got a little frightened by the rush and cowered and hid her face with the purple unicorn. Bucky placed a soothing hand on her arm as Steve reprimanded Peter for not keeping his composure. “Peter I told you she is younger than you right now. I know you are excited to see her but you need to apologize for giving her a scare,” Steve said. Peter walked up with his green plastic dinosaur with a sad look and apologized to her. Peter sat directly in front of her on the floor as she sat on the couch rubbing her unicorns fur. “Hey! I said I was sorry Y/N! Why are you ignoring me,” Peter whined. Steve quickly told him to lower his voice since the whining made her cower. 

Bucky then explained why Y/N was acting the way she was. Peter seemed to understand that it was not his fault at all and seemed to get embarrassed. However, this made Peter even more caring of her. He felt the need to be protective of her now, to be her big brother. He quickly placed his favorite big green T-Rex next to her thigh as Peter ran to her playroom. Steve just sat and let Peter do what he wanted to do. Peter then came rushing back in taking all the squishes he could grab in his hands and bringing them inside the living room. He then placed them all on the couch which made her smile at Peter. He knew your dolls were like a security blanket to you. 

You two played together for the whole day. Peter mostly would tell you stories he made up in his brain about dinosaurs and robots which would make you smile. He also helped you eat dinner, which was dino nuggets, french fries, and a Capri sun. He’d even give you an extra nugget just because he felt bad. Dessert was a pudding cup with sprinkles in it. Eventually, it was 8 pm which was your bedtime, Peter did not want to leave and pleaded that he stay the night. So Steve agreed and left him there with Bucky.

Both Y/N and Peter slept in the playroom on foldable beds that could be turned into chairs. A night light was turned on near the door as Bucky set up their beds. He opened the closet and pulled out two fuzzy princess and robot blankets for the two. Y/N walked up to her squish pile and handed Peter a dog squishmallow to sleep with. He ruffled her hair and said thanks as they both cuddled in their beds. Bucky stood by the door and smiled at the two. Y/N hugged two of her new squishes and wished that she had more to cuddle.

Drăguță -  Cutie in Romanian

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@dpaccione​

[supercorpkid]

Flashback Friday.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2430.

“You know, this whole baby talking-” Maya says, pointing at the doll in front of you. Lucky for you, it’s already Friday and after the weekend you can give the doll back to the teacher. You raise your eyebrow at Maya for her to continue. “I’m really curious about what you were like as a kid.”

“A pain in the ass.” You answer, making her smile.

“I doubt that. You were probably the perfect little witty kid that everyone was so in love with, first sight. I mean, just look at these big blue eyes of yours.” You blush when she points at your face. “I don’t think anyone could not like such an adorable baby.”

“Ok, well, you’re assuming I was adorable.” It’s what you say, but you get up from the couch and make your way to the projector. You change your mind right after. Outside this house Kara plays the part of Kara Danvers the reporter, but here she can be herself. So there’s superhero stuff in some videos, and you can’t show Maya any of that. “I have some pictures if you want to see.”

“Oh, please.” She asks and you nod, taking a few photo albums from the bookshelf, then sitting back on the couch with her. “I know you were adorable just by looking at you now.”

“Come snuggle.” You hold her tight in your embrace, kissing her cheek. “We have to finish this before momma gets home, or she’ll join us.”

“What’s wrong with her joining us?”

“She’ll cry non-stop.” You laugh and Maya smiles at you. She opens the first page and already laughs at the picture.

“See? I knew it. Perfect little witty kid.” She points at a picture of you dressed as Batgirl for Halloween. “I thought your momma said you guys are Supergirl stans in this house.”

“Yeah. Before this one I was dressed as Wonder Woman. And the one after I think I was dressed as Dreamer.” Maya gives you a questioning look and you smile. “I don’t know, I never once dressed as Supergirl.” You shrug. “I even dressed as Miss Martian once. Wait.” You shuffle the album and show her the picture.

“Wow. You painted yourself green, but didn’t wear a Supergirl costume? And you wouldn’t even have to do much. I mean you have blonde hair, blue eyes, cute smile-” She looks at you for a second, and you smile feeling very nervous about it. She is REALLY staring at you, and you feel lucky she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest right now. She furrows her eyebrows for a second, and your heart stops. “And yet you painted yourself green.”

“Right.” You give her a forced laugh. “Didn’t want anyone to confuse a 5-year-old-girl with the actual superhero so… Probably for the best.”

“Aw! Look at little Jamie!” She points at some other picture and you let out a breath. That was close. Too close.

Weirdly, looking at old pictures with Maya filled you with nostalgia. So as soon as she leaves the house, you make your way to the projector and sit back on the couch, watching video after video of your childhood.

You were an adorable kid. You have to admit that.

The first video starts with Lena still pregnant. Kara’s face comes first and she gives a huge smile to the camera.

“Are you filming me?” Lena asks, trying to get up from the couch, unsuccessfully. “That’s not funny, Kara. Come here and help me, I weigh a thousand pounds with a half-alien-baby making me eat for 20 people.”

“But love, you’re doing so well.” Kara smiles again. Putting the camera against something and walking towards Lena.

“You’re the worst.” Lena says, giving Kara her hand, but instead Kara picks her up bridal style. “My back hurts, my feet hurt, my hands are swollen. I can’t wait for this baby to come out of me.”

“Me too.” Kara agrees, looking at Lena’s belly without her glasses. “But, you know, she seems to like it there. She’s even smiling.”

“It’s not fair you can see and hear her and I can’t.” Lena grunts, but Kara kisses her, making her blush instead.

“Well, it’s not fair you’re holding her all the time and I’m not, so I guess we’re even.”

“Kara, stop filming and come hold her.” Lena says, you’re sleeping on her arms. She has a tired look, but still a smile on her face.

“No, I don’t want to wake her. Look how peaceful she looks.” Kara says, and you see her hand touching yours. “Look at her Lena. We made the world’s most beautiful potato with eyes.”

“Kara! Just say she is a cute baby.”

“She’s the cutest potato that ever was.” Kara chuckles, and Lena once again tries to give you to her. “No, Lena. She is so small, what if-what if I hurt her?”

“You won’t hurt her, honey. Here, put the camera here.” Kara puts the camera on the couch next to Lena, and a few seconds later Lena picks it up to film you in Kara’s arms. “See, it’s all fine.”

“I will always keep you safe, little one.” It’s what Kara whispers to you, and you reach for her finger, making her smile in excitement. “I think she knows who I am.”

“I’m sure she does.”

The next video is Lena who is filming, you know that because her voice is really close to the microphone.

“Honey, it’s the middle of the night.” She films Kara. “The baby is not even crying, why are you creeping over her crib?”

“Just wanted to make sure she was breathing.” Kara says and Lena films you. You look fine.

“Well? Is she?”

“Yes.” Kara agrees and Lena turns the camera to Kara’s face again.

“Then can we go to bed now?”

“I think I’m gonna hang back here for a while. I’ll join you in a little.”

“Did you get the camera?” Lena asks, not looking behind, to see Kara already filming. “Look at her going. She’s walking alone!” Lena opens her arms to you. “Come on babygirl, come to mom!”

“Mom!” You repeat, making your way to her, but you fall before you get there. You look at her doe-eyed, and she smiles softly at you.

“You can do it. Come on, I believe in you baby. Come on.” Lena calls you with her hands. Kara places the camera somewhere, and goes to you. “Kara, she can do it alone.”

“She’s one, love. She can do a lot, but not everything.” Kara puts you up on your feet again, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, little one. Go to mom.”

You look at Lena, and then at Kara. Not moving. Kara smiles and whispers something in your ear. Next thing you know, you turn to Lena and make your way to her. They celebrate like you just ran a marathon, and you get so excited yourself, you don’t even mind when you fall butt first on the floor again.

“Little one, how old are you right now?” Kara asks, and you show her a number two with your fingers. “Very good! And how old is mom right now?” You show her four fingers, and you hear Lena’s chuckle somewhere behind the video. “And how old is mommy?” You show her five fingers, making Lena laugh harder. And even though you can’t see Kara’s face, you absolutely know she was pouting.

“No. No.” You say, after one look at her. “Mommy is this much.” And you show her two fingers.

“Ah, that’s more like it.”

“Shhh. Are you filming this?” You hear Lena’s whisper behind the video. You’re alone in the video, opening the refrigerator door, climbing all of the shelves, to get to the top so you can get the cookie jar that has been perfectly placed there, just so you can’t get it.

Your little hands are trying very hard to get the cookie jar, and you hear Kara’s and Lena’s muffled laughter behind the camera.

“Oh my God, she’s gonna do it.” Lena mutters and you hear Kara humming.

“She’s a superhero, love.” Kara says, giving the camera to Lena, going very quietly behind you, and taking the cookie jar before you. “Oh well, if it isn’t our very own super stealer!”

“Mommy!” You yell in shock, letting go of the shelf and falling back on the floor. Kara drops the jar, to try to catch you, but you still fall butt first on the floor. Lena rushes to your side, not exactly filming, but not really letting go of the phone also.

“You’re ok.” Lena says, picking you up from the floor, and leaving the phone there instead. The only thing it’s filming now is the ceiling, but you still can hear voices. “Are you hurt? Does anything hurt, babygirl?”

“No.” You say softly, like you were thinking about crying, but it wasn’t worth it enough.

“You’re such a strong girl.” You hear Lena reassuring you. “And you know what strong girls get? Cookies!”

“I don’t want cookies anymore, mom.” You hear your tiny voice coming from the phone. “Can we go watch cartoons?”

“Yes, baby. Let’s watch cartoons.”

The video stays silent for at least a minute, and you’re almost skipping it, until you hear a muffled cry and Lena’s voice right after.

“Kara, honey, come on. She’s not hurt, it’s all fine.”

“I was supposed to catch her.” It’s Kara who is crying, you can tell by the way she sounds. You furrow your brows to this video and you don’t think you’ve ever seen this part before. “It’s my fault she fell.”

“Honey, she was climbing the fridge and we were filming in the back. I mean, I don’t know how we didn’t realize sooner that was not going to end well. It’s not your fault. Come on. She wants to cuddle with us and watch cartoons.”

“She wants me too?” Kara asks, voice small filled with scare.

“She specifically requested that mommy was there so she could sit on your lap.” Lena says, picking up the phone. You get a glimpse of Kara’s red face before Lena turns the video off.

You watch video after video, with a smile on your face. There’s one video for every age you were in, and around five you got to be exactly like Maya thought you would. The perfect little witty kid, with big blue eyes, and great comebacks.

“Ok, go on, little one. Show me what you made.” Kara asks, pointing the camera to you, and you show her your little robot with a smile. “It’s a robot! What does it do?”

“It dances!” You say excitedly, pressing something in it to make it dance. “Look, momma. It dances like you.”

“How dare you!” Kara places the camera on top of something, turns on the music somewhere, and picks you up from the chair, dancing with you in her arms.

You have the biggest smile on your face, while she spins around on the kitchen floor, doing the dopiest dance moves so you can laugh harder.

“I wanna fly!” You ask, and Kara is quick to comply, holding you up with one hand, and you make her flying pose -one hand on your waist and the other raised in a fist- while she runs around the kitchen with you like this. Lena walks in the kitchen a while later, and laughs at both of you.

“Hey! No flying around the house.” She jokes, and Kara puts you down. Lena picks you up right after, kissing your flushed cheek, and smiling at you. “What are you two doing?”

The answer is Kara coming to hug her from behind, and starting to dance again, making Lena dance too. The video goes on, with the three of you dancing with smiles around the kitchen, and you can’t help a smile that it brings to your face.

“Hey!” Kara walks in the living room and sees you curled up on the couch, watching old videos. She smiles. “Watcha’ doing?”

“I miss that.” You press pause, and look at the scene. The three of you have the most truthful smiles on your faces, and you all look so in love with life and with this family. Kara smiles at the scene, a longing smile, because she misses it too. “We just looked so happy together.”

“We still are, aren’t we?” Kara makes her way towards the couch, throwing herself back in it, and holding you tight. You let your head fall on her arm, and you breathe deep.

“I feel like we all grew up from that.” You mutter, but it doesn’t matter because Kara can hear you just fine. She furrows her brows at you, then stops hugging you and stands up. “Momma, don’t be mad, I just-”

But she’s not mad. She is putting some music on, moving the couches to the sides of the living room -with you in it, like it’s nothing- and making space in the middle of the room. Kara stares at you, before starting to dance like crazy in front of you.

“You might have grown up, but mommy is still this much.” She shows you two fingers and your smile comes, without you even thinking about it.

“Well, I haven’t!” You stand up too, dancing next to her. And before you know, she has picked you up and is spinning you around like you’re still that same 6-year-old-girl with not a care in the world. And right now, you feel like you are.

“Hey, what is-” Lena looks at the scene. Her living room looks like a mess with couches on the sides, pillows on the floor, forgotten videos of your childhood in the background, very loud music playing, Kara spinning you around by the hands and sweet smiles on both of your faces. “Going on?”

It’s the moment of truth. That’s the moment you’ll see if you all grew up from that, or if you all can still look that happy together.

Lena unties her hair, tosses her shoes to the other side of the living room, and gives you both a very satisfied smile, before joining the dance party.

“Welcome home, love.” Kara says, giving Lena a sweet kiss on the lips, then another one on her forehead. She pulls you close and kisses your forehead too, and you smile, wrapping your arms around them both.

“Yes.” Lena agrees, kissing your cheek. “This is home.”

Notes:

Someone was feeling a little nostalgic, and by someone I mean @supercorpenthusiastic and I’m so thankful cause it got me to think about Superkid as a baby, which is lovely. So thank you!

[deckthehallswithsunflowers]

THE FROG KING Book Review

The Frog King

By Adam Davies

Full Disclaimer! This author was my professor in college and there are no frogs.

I’ve read this one before! However, it fits my parameters—to read/reread every book currently on my bookshelf! (So far, 4 down and 174 to go! I was given a few more books just days ago. Yay!) Also, The Frog King won the Twitter poll by a pretty wide margin.

Since I’ve read Davies’ The Frog King, here’s what I remembered about it before I began reading. Answer: almost nothing. It’s been about four years since I last read this book, and I read it pretty fast the first time on top of so much college shoved into my head that some details simply got squeegeed out. I couldn’t even remember the narrator’s name. This is why we take notes, people! Onwards!

Harry Driscoll, our main character and mental gymnast, is dead sick of his going-nowhere, underpaid job. It’s obvious from page three. Harry Driscoll also hates himself. I also hate Harry Driscoll. This is a one-way street with no U-turns in sight. Which brings me to my dilemma with The Frog King. The characters are amazingly well-written. No, seriously, I don’t just say that to make my former professor remember me fondly. Harry is so good at being the woe-is-me, head-in-the-sand, know-it-all jerk that you’ll probably spend most of the book in hopes something terrible happens to him. (Don’t worry.)

Evie is a doll in all meanings of the word. She’s a great woman character with her own problems and strengths and weaknesses, and she’s probably the only reason I didn’t toss the book a few different times. Yes, Harry Driscoll will make you that mad. He’s the worst type of jerk for a big chunk of the novel: the kind of sleazeball you pray to god you don’t have to work a shift with because a) they get nothing done except complaining about their job and believing the work is beneath them, b) think they’re god’s gift to womankind, and c) they somehow manage to make you feel bad about yourself while being ironic/sarcastic/condescending towards themselves in the “Haha, isn’t life just a peach” way. Your problems and feelings will never amount to theirs. Harry is all this and more with an unhealthy dose of alcohol and self-hatred to boot. This is a man so emotionally constipated you’ll want to lace his coffee with a strong laxative. Fun!

Okay, okay. He’s not all pig all the time—even dirtbags can have a few good qualities—but it’s frequent enough to be lethal in large quantities. Kind of like nuclear radiation. As I said before, don’t worry! Harry gets what’s coming to him. This isn’t some “jerks finish first” story, but boy, oh boy, get ready to feel patronized by a fictional character.

Harry certainly stirs the emotions, but not the right ones for the majority of the novel. Well-crafted character? A+. Likable character? Eh. Maybe a motivational template for how not to conduct yourself.

I try and keep this blog series as spoiler free as I can while also giving myself free reign to talk about the books I read, so I’ll move on to one other aspect.

Readers beware!

The Frog King is going to make you learn many new vocabulary words whether you want to or not. That’s just the way the narrator—you guessed it—Harry is. It’s how he thinks and roughly communicates. A facsimile of communication, but a point or two for trying, I guess. So accept that before reading, maybe even look forward to it, and grab a dictionary.

Now the vocabulary, while impressive, does actually take away from scenes sometimes. The writing kind of jumps back and forth from enjoyable, witty, and smooth into wording that’s meant to show character but really your eyes just trip over. It will happen. No way around it. And it does knock off some enjoyability of the book.

The writing style is actually pretty different to what I’m used to. Davies is raw and eclectic in the way that even if you are bumbling along with—or mentally throwing knives at—the narrator, you still have a good sense of location and emotional intelligence in the scene. You certainly aren’t going to be bored with his descriptions or dialogue.

Typically, The Frog King isn’t my kind of book. I like my fiction with a bit more, well, fiction. This book tackles it all in the real world: alcoholism, narcissism, infidelity, and even gaslighting to some extent. I know the subtitle says “a love story,” but take that with a gulp of sea water.

Overall thoughts on The Frog King? I think I still dislike Harry Driscoll enough to leave this book on the shelf until some other victim wanders by and hears the Jumanji drums, but I like Adam Davies enough as a writer to see what else he comes up with. Maybe next time I’ll ingest his words with a glass of wine?

~Anna

[the-void-writes]

Find The Word Game

Thanks @jessica-writes22 for the tag!

Tagging: @magefaery @whimsyqueen @sergeantnarwhalwrites @italiangothicwriteblr @tryingtimi @circa-specturgia @theprissythumbelina @asher-orion-writes

If you want to participate, your words are Shiver, Dark, Stare, Chill, and Creature

LOVER // The Secrets of Lockhart Manor

He sighed and gently wrapped a clean towel around his lover’s shoulders. “If I had just spoken up, they wouldn’t have mocked you.”

“Believe me, they’d find a way.” 

Cyrus practically growled. “Wretched humans… No offense.”

Val snickered. “I still can’t tell if you do that as a joke.”

“Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

“Until then, I’m calling you ‘Count’ Lockhart.”

TIME // For All Eternity

The furthest bookshelf was nothing more than a pile of wood, thanks to the soldiers that chopped through it the first time. Ash cleared the debris and got the kids into the room. There were cobwebs everywhere, but the marble fountain still stood strong. The once-silver water was a murky gray, perhaps from all the dust. Sophie brushed her hand against the carvings.

“Okay,”she said, “everyone, get in the fountain.”

Rebecca eyed her skeptically. “You want us to stand in a pool of dirty water?”

“Please, don’t back out on me now. Paradise can protect everyone, I swear.”

WIN // The Freaks of Preston

“Of course, I wanted to give you a chance to win me over. Tell me, Will, why would you like to join us?”

Will took a moment to think and breathe. As much as he wanted to throw Vesely’s snarkiness back at him, to explain that it was the least they could do for kidnapping and faking the death of his best friend, he just didn’t have the energy to do it. When he answered Vesely, his voice was soft and unsure.

“Mister Vesely, sir, what was your father like?”

Vesely sat up straighter, stunned by his question. He stumbled a little as he found his answer.

“Well, I— I’d say he was a very respectable man.”

“How do you think he felt about you?”

“We came from a big family, one meant to live up to a certain legacy, and to pass that on through the next generations. My father only wanted us to expand the family tree.”

“Did he play favorites?”

“All the time. My sister, Ava… She always had his love. It was like the rest of us didn’t even exist.”

Will nodded. “And that hurt you, didn’t it? Even if you didn’t show it. You tried to make yourself into what he wanted, hurting yourself just to make him happy, even though he didn’t care. There was no you, just a lump of wet clay for him to mold.”

Vesely refused to answer, but Will knew he was right.

“Sir, that’s how I felt everyday for the first six years of my life.”

SACRIFICE // The Birth of Paradise

Cecilia nodded. Her daughter’s sweet face still haunted her, in every mirror, in the darkness behind her closed eyes. That wretched fever had taken her precious angel away. Cecilia had to calm herself, taking comfort in the fact that Maxine didn’t have to witness this awful war.

“You should move in here with me,” Harry said, “I don’t mind looking after you.”

“They’ll think we’re married.”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

Cecilia let out a small snicker. “You’re okay with people talking?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. The girls over at the farm keep giving me these looks.”

“They’re just looking for company,” Cecilia said, “maybe even security.”

“I can look after them without courting them.”

“Just don’t hurt yourself taking care of us all. You’re not responsible for the world.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s just hard not to worry. I want everyone else to make it out of this, even if our families couldn’t.”

SORRY // The Heart of Hollow Earth

He looked like he was probably human, at one point. Leathery gray skin, pulled tightly around a sickly frame. His jaw seemed to hang loosely, like a sad jack-o-lantern, especially with his sparse and misshapen teeth. Small trails of cracks were spread across his body, like a broken china doll. Dried streaks of… something, ran from his hollowed-out eyes like painted tears. Then, two small white lights appeared in his eyes, like makeshift pupils. They focused on Edith.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m disgusting.”

That made her feel guilty. She tried to stomach her fear and pat his shoulder. His deformed mouth shifted into a slight smile.

“We will fix you, I promise.”

[chatonne-rousse]

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

[the-broken-truth]

Surprisingly, i really love your oc (Eliza Dimitrescu) Senior! Ahem- okay so, my question is could you do a headcanon for the dimitrescu daughters (including Eliza) reacting to their youngest sibling (the reader) die because of various ways such as illness or being killed and others?

I really want to see the bond of caring for their youngest sibling- and this idea has been stucked in my mind for a while, and That's why I drew Eliza's Death and Daniela visited her grave because she still cares about her little sister even though Eliza is already gone-

Oh i almost forgot, it's okay. It's not a canon. Maybe not yet- (hehe)

welp- thank you for ur time! remember, ur junior is always here to help and support u >:3

-Snowwy

Broken Truth: Anything for a friend, Snowwy. Now, let the words weave together!!

Warning - Very Dark, Involving Death [PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]

- Bela Dimitrescu (Unaware) -

Bela was the Eldest of the Dimitrescu Daughters.

She was the most responsible one.

The one who was aware of anything going on with her sisters.

But in this case, she wasn't and it caused the House of Dimitrescu the loss of something precious - something that would not be returned.

And Bela was to blame.

She stood before the grand fireplace and looked upon the golden urn that sat upon the top of it.

Upon the surface of the glass was a golden plaque with the words: [Y/N] Dimitrescu - Gone But Never Forgotten.

Bela could feel the tears building up.

Her youngest sister was gone...and it was all her fault.

The 2 of them were in the library - Alcina had to attend a lord meeting, while Cassandra, Dani, and Eliza were in the village for some manner of business.

Leaving Bela with the youngest of the Dimitrescu Spawn - a little toddler named [Y/N].

She was young - small. Only 5 years old but could still get into trouble just like her sisters could.

She was mortal - too young for the Cadou Parasite; Mother Miranda wouldn't give it to her until she was at least 15 to make sure she would live through it.

Bela wanted to read something and gave the child a book to read, sitting her in a chair beside her with the stack of baby books with bright and colorful pictures, along with a doll that Eliza had made for the infant.

Bela sat in the chair next to her and the two of them began reading their books.

Hours had passed and it was silent - just as it would be if Bela was alone in the library and it was that silence that made her slip into her own little bubble.

That bubble made it impossible for her to noticed the child got out of her chair and began to walk around.

That bubble stopped Bela from looking up from her book to see her youngest sister climbing on a very unstable bookshelf.

But that bubble popped...when the bookshelf came crashing down...right on top of the girl's tiny book.

Bela's eyes widened as she threw her book away and ran over to the down bookshelf and pushed it off her sister but she could tell by the look on her face...

She was too late.

The toddler's neck was snapped clean half and the light in her eyes was fading fast.

Bela gathered the girl in her arms and tried to hold her head to make her breathe easier but it was no use - no air was coming from her lips...and her heart began to slow its pace...until it stopped completely.

She screamed.

The door burst open.

And the entire family came in.

Alcina shoved her eldest away and held her baby in her arms but seeing as there was no longer a heartbeat, she knew her baby was gone.

The mother cried out in agony as the daughters looked at their eldest sister and asked...

"What have you do?"

She couldn't give an answer.

There was a small service.

The Lords and Mother Miranda attended.

The body was burned and the ashes were placed in the urn and secured above the fireplace.

No one said a word to Bela who just stood there...with her little sister's doll clenched to her chest.

Never again did she enter the library.

Never again did she read a book.

Forever would remain aware - for the sake of her other sisters.

And in honor of the one she lost.

- Cassandra Dimitrescu (Reckless) -

Her mother always told her that she needed to make sure she closed the door to the cellar when she comes and goes from her experiments.

She always thought her mother was overreacting.

But it wasn't until she lost something precious.

Cassandra was bored and wanted to have some fun with the creatures in the cellar.

She took her key and went down there but she didn't notice that she didn't lock the door from the other side to keep anything from getting out.

She had her fun and played with her toys until she was bored again and went up the stairs to return to the castle, only noticing that the door was open and bloody footprints were leading out of the cellar.

Her eyes widened and her blood froze.

One of them got out...

Loud screaming made her jump in her robes - something was wrong! Someone was hurt!

She ran out of the room and slammed the door, making sure to lock it behind her before she followed the bloody footprints.

She began noticing that the footprints were more apart - showing that the creature was running.

No - it was hunting.

But what would it be able to hunt? Everyone in Castle Dimitrescu could take care of themselves.

Except...

Oh no...

Mother Miranda, no...

[Y/N]...

She ran after the footprints and rounded the corner when she saw something familiar on the ground - a bright yellow stuffed bunny.

Not just any bunny - that was [Y/N]'s Bunny, she's had it since she was a baby and she never left that bunny anywhere.

As she got closer - she noticed that the bunny wasn't so yellow anymore.

It was stained.

Stained red.

And the red stained recked of iron.

Blood

And it was still fresh.

Cassandra picked up the bunny and followed the bloodstains down the hall until she came to an open room - crying from the inside.

that was her mother crying.

She entered the room...and her heart sank...

In the room were her mother and sisters - her mother on her knees with her back as she held something in her arms.

On side of the room laid the missing creature that escaped from the basement - dead with his throat sliced open - and its mouth...fresh blood was dripping from its open jaws

Bela noticed Cassandra standing there with the bunny in her hand...and she marched over to her middle sister with fury in her eyes.

"What have you done?" Bela hissed.

"W...What?" Cassandra stuttered but that just made Bela even madder.

'"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?!"

SMACK!

Cassandra's face hit the ground as her elder sister struck her - she opened her eyes and in her mother's lap...

She could see a small lifeless arm...dangling...

Her worse fears...were confirmed.

Her recklessness...killed her little sister.

- Daniela Dimitrescu (Accident) -

Dani loved danger.

It made her feel like more of a badass and she loved the feeling.

But it made her mother and her sisters uneasy and they constantly warned Dani that she if wasn't careful - there was gonna be an accident.

She didn't believe them.

She didn't listen.

But now...

She wished she did.

Daniela was in the weapons room - testing out a new bow that her Uncle gave her.

She was always told to lock the door to the room to make sure no one came in and was caught in her crosshairs.

But that day, she didn't lock the door - too excited to try her new weapon.

She gathered her arrows in their quiver and began firing them at random targets.

She loved the feeling of the bow in her hand.

She loved the sound of the arrows hitting the hearts of their targets.

She was so entrenched with the feeling that she didn't hear the door open.

When she turned to face the target at her 6, she saw a figure but it was covered in shadows - a new target.

She pointed the arrow at the shadows and released the arrow...

It went soaring...

And hit the heart of the shadow...

And the shadow...screamed in pain.

The rush began fading as the confusion rose and when everything began clear - she was horrified at what she saw.

The arrow did hit it target - the heart.

The heart of her youngest sister.

The girl was groaning in pain as the blood began leaking from the wound.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but it came short.

Dani threw the bow to the ground and rushed to her sister's side - gathering the girl in her arms, careful to miss the arrow in her chest and run out of the room to reach the doctor.

Her mother and sisters stood with her outside the doctor's office, waiting for the doctor to tell them she was able to save her sister.

"What were you thing?!" Eliza screamed at her, "Firing an arrow at an infant?!"

"It...It was an accident. I didn't hear her come in the room." Dani said.

"This is why you were told to lock your door! To make sure nothing like this would happen!" Bela screamed with tears in her eyes.

The doctor came out with her head down and Alcina asked the question.

"How is she?"

The doctor shook her head and said...

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Those were the words that shattered the Dimitrescu Family and all the time, all Dani could think was...

'It was an accident.'

- Eliza Dimitrescu (Killed) -

The day she became the youngest sister was the day that destroyed both her mind and her heart.

It was a normal day - she and her youngest sister was going shopping in the village for a new winter coat for her little one.

Everything was fine until they ran into her.

Eliza's Birth Mother.

She hissed at her.

Demanding money.

"I'm your mother, you have to do what I say!" Was her reason

But Eliza was a Dimitrescu and she owed her nothing and warned her never to approach her again.

But she didn't listen - it must have been a mental problem or maybe she was drunk...but that would cost them both deeply.

The stray woman lunged forward and grabbed the little girl by her wrist, yanking her away from Eliza and pulled her into her body before taking a few steps back.

Eliza was ready to tear out her throat but she saw the woman pull out a blade and hold it to the young girl's throat, making her shiver.

She told her she would give her money, she'd do whatever she asked but begged her to let the child go.

She was 5.

She was innocent.

She had nothing to do with this.

But the woman didn't see it that way...

She wanted to hurt Eliza for not doing what she said.

She wanted Eliza to hurt as much as she did when she lost her husband.

And most importantly...

She wanted to hurt Alcina Dimitrescu for saving Eliza and giving her a perfect life.

And she would do that.

She had to do that.

And she did...

By slicing the throat of the little girl.

Eliza screamed out as the blade went across her little sister's throat and her noble blood stained the ground and snow.

Eliza lunged with her claws and fangs out.

Tearing into the body of tainted flesh like a vengeful tigress.

Once she was done - she crawled over to the little girl's body and roared like a mournful dragon, causing her mother and sisters to come out.

No one blamed Eliza for not being able to save her.

No one thought it was her fault.

Eliza blamed herself.

Every time she went to the grave, she would tell her little sister's soul this...

"If I had killed her time the same day I killed her husband...you would still be with me."

[End]

Broken Truth: Thoughts, Snowwy? @snowflakestree

[marvelgurl]

Smaller

Characters: Bucky X Reader!Stark, Steve, Tony

Word Count:1090

Warnings: fluff, Awkward Bucky

A/n: This is for @justkending​ 2000 Follower GIF Challenge.  If you don’t follow her, you really should. Her writing is awesome, I love all of her work. Go check her out.

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Wanna be Tagged in my future work? Tag Yourself Here

Feedback is always welcome. The Good and The Bad. It really helps me out a lot.

You were waiting in the kitchen waiting for the guys to get home from a mission. Today was the day that they finally come home. They have been gone for about two and a half months. You missed Bucky so much, especially right now.

You are currently six months pregnant. I has been hard dealing with a lot of the pregnancy/baby things on your own. You have gotten everything set up in the nursery. Everyone was upset that you had done all of that by yourself. The thing is you were nesting, and nobody was around to help you. When Bucky found out, to say he was upset would be an understatement. You were still hearing about it weeks later.

Bucky was trying his hardest to get the mission done as fast as he possible could. He wanted to get back you, he hated missing out on the pregnancy. He didn’t want you to have to go through it alone. Also, he didn’t want you to hurt or overexert yourself. With the way he was working, he was able to speed up things up by about two weeks.

Bucky and Steve walked into the tower and saw you sitting at the island in the kitchen. Your backs were to them, so you didn’t see them coming up behind you.

“Hey doll.” He reached around your chair to capture you in his arms.

“Bucky!” You got off the chair as quickly as you could.

You threw your hands up to pull him into a hug. He quickly realized that something was different. He took a step back, still holding onto you. He just started looking at you, he was tilting his head at you, he also had a confused look in his face.

“I thought you were smaller.”

“Dude!” Steve hit Bucky in the back of the head.

“Ow!” Bucky looked at Steve with an angry expression, as he was rubbing his head.

“You can’t say that to her.” He whispered to Bucky.

“I just was saying that her belly was smaller and… and I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. I knew it was going to happen, but I didn’t know how much it would change.”

“That’s what happens when you’re pregnant James.” You had moved your hands from him to your hip and growing belly.

“I know. I… You look beautiful.” He had a nervous smile on his face.

You just looked at him with a blank stare, before bringing your hand up and patting his cheek.

“Nice save. Come on I want to show you the nursery. It is adorable if I do say so myself.” You grabbed his hand and started pulling him upstairs. “You too Steve, come on.”

You brought them upstairs, stopping in front of the door. Turning to them, before speaking.

“I just want to say that I know a lot of this stuff is not what we originally had picked out. Tony kind of started buying things for his nephew. I tried to stop him but…”

“She’s not the boss of me.” Tony walked up to the little group. “Plus, I want him to have everything that he needs.” He had one of his big cheeky grins on his face.

“We picked out everything that he needed. You just went overboard.” Tony went to speak again, but you cut him off. “Ahh no, I would like to show them now so shushy.”

“Alright Doll, lead the way.” Bucky prompted you.

“Okay, close your eyes. Steve put your hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and I will take you in.”

Doing as they were told; the boys closed their eyes and Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. You opened the door, grabbing Bucky’s hands and slowly walked backwards into the center of the room. You walked over to Steve moving him, so they were standing next to each other.

“Open your eyes!”

You were so excited for them to see the nursery. Everyone else loved it, but Bucky’s opinion was the only one that truly mattered to you. You were watching his face with such intensity that you were holding your breath. Only letting it go when you saw his face light up as he took everything in.

“This is amazing.” Bucky was just in pure aw as he looked around.

You both had decided to go for a woodland creatures/ adventure theme. You had made one wall to look like wooden planks all down the wall, you had put up some pictures of different animals. This is the wall that you had put the crib on, alongside the crib was also a blanket ladder. On another wall you had painted trees, there was a small cube bookshelf. Tony had insisted on getting him books even though he wouldn’t be able to read them for a long while, you could start reading to him now.

On the opposite side of the room was the dresser and the changing bed on top of it. There were some different signs hanging over the dresser. Tony had gotten you a comfy chair with a footrest, this was the one thing that you really put up a fight for him not to get. In the moment he agreed to not get it, but it wasn’t until everything was delivered that you realized he had lied. You were mad at first that your brother was doing too much, that was until you sat down in it.  It felt absolutely amazing, it was the comfiest chair you ever sat in.

“You did an awesome job Y/n.” Steve came over and hugged you.

“Thank you. Tony should be getting most of the credit though.”

“No, you deserve all the credit. You picked almost everything out and put this whole room together. Despite me telling you to wait for help.” Tony looked over to you.

Bucky came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. He rested his head on top of yours. Steve lightly hit Tony on the arm once he looked over to see Steve him gesturing towards the door. He and Tony quietly left, leaving you and Bucky in there alone. The two of you just stood there. Everything was quiet and content.

“I love you Doll.”

“I love you too Bucky.”

Bucky let go of you, he moved to be in front of you. He got down on both of his knees and put his hands on you belly.

“I love you Peanut. I can’t wait to meet you.” He leaned in and kissed your belly.

[entities-of-posts]

Hello, 🐞🐞🐞statement person here, to make another statement.

I just remembered that as a child (or toddler, I don't know where the distinction lies or how old exactly I was, but it was before I got my first own bedroom, so before I was 5 years old) I was deeply terrified of my stuffed animals watching me at night.

I don't have many memories from my early childhood, but this one stuck.

My stuffed animals (far more than I child should need, two cats, four bears, a blue elephant and a pink crocodile) sat on a shelf next to my tiny bed, neatly lined up where I could see them, and pick one to cuddle whenever I chose, without requiring assistance, so I would not have to wake anyone.

At the time, I shared the children's room with my two siblings, but they aren't relevant to this, because unlike me, they never had any issue to sleep their nights away.

The unfortunate thing about my cuddly companions sitting lined up on the shelf like that was, that it gave me the impression they were looking at me, and that was terrifying.

I remember lying awake, unable to move, because I knew that if I moved they would see that I was not asleep. The bears and cats , the elephant and the crocodile watching me and judging with their glass eyes being the only thing I could make out in the dim illumination of the night light, the only sound being that of my siblings sleeping in their own beds.

I had no idea what the stuffed animals would do, if they saw that I was not asleep, but I was sure that it was something terrible, because not sleeping at night was bad and bad things happened to bad people when they were found out. (At least that was my child logic)

On many nights I would lie motionless until I passed out from silently crying, on other nights until I actually gathered the courage to cry out for help, waking my mother and getting her to turn them around to be facing away from me, while I cowered under my blankets, only resurfacing when mother assured me that they were all looking away.

I do not know, why they were re-arranged to face my way again each night, or whose idea that was.

I still am somewhat scared of being looked at, but I got used to a base level of fear. Most of my paintings that I keep on my walls have faces with eyes and that doesn't bother me much. I also keep a barber doll head (that I found on the street two years ago) on my bookshelf, where she can look at me if she wants to. (Her name is Lizzy and I don't think she minds when I wander around at night instead of sleeping)

While I want to congratulate you on your courage, that would be a little hypocritical in this case, given that I’m about to put the fear of the Eye right back into you.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Slipping Through My Fingers

Read here on AO3!

When it comes to his children, Bruce has very few regrets. He loves them completely, scars and all. He wouldn’t want to change a single part of them.

But he can’t lie and say that he doesn’t regret the timing with which each of these beautiful souls entered his life. Bruce has six children, but he’s never had a baby, and isn’t that wrong? Isn’t that a pity? He missed so much of their lives—so many milestones that every parent wants to remember forever but that he’s not even had glimpses of. He wasn’t there for the first steps or the lost teeth or learning how to ride a bike. He missed all of his children learning to talk, missed watching Sesame Street with them in the morning and making soapy mohawks in the bathtub. Bruce missed everything. He missed moments that he can’t get back, no matter how hard he yearns for a rewind. Take him back. Return to him the moments he lost without even knowing it until they’d already slipped through his fingers. Bruce has a few mementos to get him by, but they only grant him glimpses of the years he missed. Dick has a bin of old tapes from the Flying Graysons’ best performances that he likes to watch on bad days. Occasionally he’ll let Bruce watch with him. There’s something magical about watching the young boy in the tapes swing on the trapeze and pull gravity-defying moves, all the while knowing what a strong man that boy will one day become. Jason came to the manor with very little, having to travel light while on the streets. There’s a shoebox under the bed in his old room salvaged from his mother’s things, containing a handful of photos from Jason’s toddler years, a stuffed animal or two, some loose possessions. Bruce used to go through them after Jason’s death, just to give himself something to hold on to. Tim had more than Dick and Jason combined: plenty of photos, report cards, baby teeth, and coloring books all saved in storage. But as much as there was, Bruce still only had glimpses of the real Tim. Every family photo was stiff, like an assortment of plastic dolls. The papers and drawings that have been collected are too crisp, like they were shoved into a childhood folder and forgotten about without a second glance, not even making it to the refrigerator. All Bruce has of Cass’ childhood are videotapes of training sessions. He refuses to watch them, for both her sake and his own. Duke has a photo album he keeps in his bedroom, compiling plenty of baby pictures and family vacations. He’s only shown it to Bruce once. Otherwise, he keeps it in his bookshelf, untouched but for the handful of times he’s visited his parents, showing them old memories in case it will miraculously jog something and put the shards of them back together. The longer it doesn’t work, the less he’s willing to tell. The League of Assassins has an entire storage room of files on Damian’s development. Bruce has seen it. It’s like every move the boy made was monitored and catalogued, detailed without so much as a lick of emotion to remind anyone that this was a child being discussed. There were no shiny milestones to celebrate, only completed stages. No one commemorated his first word or first time seeing a butterfly, but his first time using a wakizashi sword earned five entire pages. If Bruce could go back in time, he would snatch up every one of his children and give them the lives they deserve, right from the start. No pain. No dead parents. No neglect, no heartache, no scavenging on the streets just to survive the night. He would wipe their slates clean if it meant he could stave off their suffering, just for a little while longer. He would do anything to go back.

Back when Bruce was a child and tragedy hadn’t yet torn his family to bloody shreds, there was one Fourth of July on which his parents took him to the circus. Alfred had an open invitation to accompany them, but, being a Brit, he politely declined from the day’s festivities. “I’ll have you know, young sir, that I served as a spy for the British forces and mentored Alexander Hamilton during his teenage years.” Bruce was ninety-nine percent sure that Alfred wasn’t alive during the American Revolution. That day was the first time Bruce had been to the circus. It was a local one, small with very few extravagant spectacles, but his father bought him peanuts and afterward the three of them watched the fireworks in Gotham Park. It was a day that imprinted itself on Bruce’s memory, sticking with him long after they were gone. So when he sees a flyer announcing that Haly’s International Traveling Circus is visiting Metropolis on the same day Bruce has an interview with Lois Lane for some column on America’s wealthiest men, how can he turn the opportunity down? The air is warmed by summer rays, the entire field radiating Metropolis’ natural brightness. The scent of peanuts and popcorn wafts from all sides and the classic tinkling circus music fills his ears. The show doesn’t start for another half hour, so Bruce settles on walking around, unsure of what to do with himself. He should get some photos to bring home for Alfred. He’s always had a fascination with jugglers. After some perusing, Bruce pulls up under a tree, shaded against the thick trunk. He’s just pressed send on the pictures to Alfred when he hears a voice from above. “Hey, mister.” Bruce looks up to discover a boy perched on a tree branch two feet above his head. The kid looks around six years old with black hair that curls around his ears. He’s wearing a bright red and green costume—obviously one of the performers. How a child his age came to be part of the circus, Bruce can’t begin to guess. He’s missing his front teeth and his skin, tan with a honey glow, makes his nationality hard to place. Bruce blinks up at the boy. “Hello.” The kid drops down and catches on the branch with his hands, dangling with his bare feet kicking in the air. “Whatcha doing here?” Now that he’s paying attention, Bruce can detect the slightest accent. Romani, perhaps? “Why does anyone come to the circus?” The boy laughs. “You don’t look like the kind of person who goes to the circus.” “Then what kind of person do I look like?” The boy thinks, swinging back and forth like a cartoon monkey. How his hands aren’t scraped raw from gripping the rough bark, Bruce doesn’t know. “A lawyer, maybe. Or a president.” The corner of Bruce’s mouth lifts. “I’m neither of those things, unfortunately.” “Well, I’m an acrobat.” “I can see that.” “But I do other stuff too,” the kid tells him, “like I know how to juggle and how to walk on stilts and how to throw knives at targets. I’m getting real good at that.” “Are you sure a kid your age should be playing with knives?” The boy laughs. “You think knives are scary? You should see it when they let me play with the tigers.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You play with tigers?” That can’t be safe. Maybe he should have a talk with the ringmaster and make sure someone is ensuring that no little boy heads are getting bitten off by mighty jaws. “Oh yeah, the tigers are the best.” The kid swings his body upward, letting go of the branch and pulling a heart-stopping somersault midair as he falls. He lands on his feet without a wobble. “I know all of their names and they’re huge, like they’re this big”—he stretches out his arms as far as they will go, which makes the tigers a whopping two and a half feet tall—”and sometimes I’m even allowed to ride them!” Bruce leans back against the tree trunk, crossing his arms with a smile. “Is that right?” “Yeah!” The kid then launches into a string of chatter, so fast that it takes all of Bruce’s focus to keep up. He tells Bruce all about the circus’ tigers: what breed they are, how many they have, what they eat, what their names are (their actual names and the names the kid gave them; Marshmallow is his favorite), and how his dad once gave him permission to hold a hoop while a tiger leapt through it. The entire time, Bruce can’t help but wonder, is this what childhood is supposed to be like? Swinging on tree branches and giving oral reports about your favorite animals to complete strangers? Is this what growing up is like for normal children? Bruce doesn’t know whether to be envious of this little boy or concerned. He’s so innocent; it bleeds from every grin. There’s nothing weighing this kid down—literally and figuratively—and Bruce finds himself silently praying to a being he doesn’t believe in that it never changes. Let this kid stay pure, untouched by the evils of the world. Let him go his whole life swinging on branches and talking about tigers without a single setback. After a good ten minutes when the boy’s tumbled into a handstand and has moved on to tell Bruce about his favorite elephant Zitka, a feminine voice rings, “There you are, Dick. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” A beautiful woman approaches the pair, wearing an identical red and green leotard. She’s got matching black hair and blue eyes—too spitting of an image to be anyone but his mother. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be backstage.” “Sorry, Mom,” Dick says, turning right-side up, but he hasn’t lost his grin. Now that he thinks of it, Bruce doesn’t recall it waning once in the entire time they’ve been talking. She takes in Bruce, suit and all, and plasters on a stage smile, sticking out her hand. “Mary Grayson. You’ll have to forgive my son, he gets excited easily. He’ll talk your ear off for hours if you let him.” But the glimmer in her eye gives Bruce an inclination that she has no problem being an audience for her son’s happy rants. Bruce shakes her hand. “Bruce. I take it you’re the Flying Graysons I’ve been hearing so much about?” “The very same. I hope you’ll be seeing our show tonight.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winks at the littlest Grayson, who beams. Mary ruffles Dick’s hair. “Well, this little robin and I should be getting ready now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bruce.” “Likewise.” He leans down and shakes Dick’s small hand. “And if you ever come to Gotham, maybe you can tell me more about those tigers, eh?” Dick looks like he contains the sun itself. He’s sunshine incarnate. “Definitely!” He drags his feet when his mom starts leading him away, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Bye, Mr. Bruce!” He waves his hand like a windmill of its hinges, and Bruce can’t help but return it. Bruce hasn’t felt this content in a long time to the point where he has to stop in wonderment of it. It’s unlikely that Haly’s will end up coming to a place like Gotham anytime soon, but Bruce hopes for it anyway. After all, Gotham could use some sunshine.

Here’s the rest of it on AO3 because I don’t feel like formatting all 7,000 words on here lmao.

[honestlyhappyharry]

Chapter 12

Settling in

Chapter 11

Watching everything in your house get moved was an odd feeling. It had been the only constant in your life since Lily was born, it was so much more than a house to you.

But with all the stuff slowly dripping out, packed up in boxes, being put on a truck and taken across the city, you couldn't help but think about when you first moved in.

Back then the house seemed like such a weird place to be living; you knew hardly any of your neighbours, you still had to google maps the address on your way home and when you looked out the window you saw the beach.

Now you knew almost everyone on your street, you could find any house from anywhere and the view out the window was just the same.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked as he walked up behind you in the kitchen, making you jump in fear.

You nodded. "Yeah, can I just walk around and say goodbye first?" You asked, moving to the lounge.

"Sure, baby. I'll go get Lils." He said before walking out to find Lily, who had gone three houses down to say goodbye to her friend. Although she would be seeing her at pre-k when Harry drove her over for the next week and a half and you slept in.

Tears welled in your eyes as you walked around. The only time you use to ever think you'd be moving out is when you were going to a retirement home or moving back to your hometown.

You stood in Lily's room for the longest amount of times. All the memories of her growing up hit you at once. Like a movie flashing before your eyes. All of those nights you'd spent desperately trying to get her to sleep and all of the days she slowly grew into the most beautiful, caring and amazing child you'd ever met.

"Come here," Harry said as he walked in saw the amble evidence of tears rolling down your cheeks. He wrapped his arms around you and it's a correlation to how secure the house made you feel.

"I'm sorry... I just... there's just.... this house just means so much to me." You told him honestly, it took a while to find the right words and you really didn't want to be crying on such a happy day.

He shushed you. "It's okay, love." He breathed out as he held you before he pulled you away from his chest and wiping the tears from your eyes. "Now let's go and start a new chapter of our lives." He told you and you nodded before walking out the front door with him.

As soon as you got to the new house everything felt right. You did think there would be some small doubts but there were absolutely none. It already felt like home.

The house itself was big. With a bottom floor containing 3 bedrooms, 2 lounges, a kitchen, a study, 4 bathrooms as well as a big outdoor space with a pool.

The pool was one of the best features. It had 3 separate slides, each of which connected to 3 of the bedrooms on the second floor. On the ground level, there was a separate pool bathroom but the pool itself had a built-in grill and bar area where you could swim up to get drinks. That was along with the huge movie screen.

There were 4 bedrooms on the 2nd floor each with its own ensuite as well as a lounge. The 3rd floor was significantly smaller, with only a movie room and library which had a secret staircase to a mezzanine floor with a glass ceiling. It gave you the best view of the stars and city.

"Can I look at my room?!" Lily asked quickly and Harry nodded before walking up the stairs after the jogging little girl. You followed the pair. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed before you walked in to see a whole new bedroom. It had a massive princess carriage with a bed inside as well as a castle that had stairs going up. At the top of the castle, there was a small bookshelf and a slide that went down to the desk at the bottom.

Lily ran around the room like someone had given her 3 cups of coffee. And some cocaine. You noticed the majority of her clothes in the wardrobe, her teddy bears and barbie dolls already there.

"Hope you don't mind," Harry said as he came up behind you.

"Tell me next time, Haz. She loves it but I wish I knew." You told him and he nodded before pulling you into his side. "What's going to happen when she grows out of this?"

"There's another room on this floor with a walk-in wardrobe." He told you and your eyes widened a little surprised by his thoughtful nature. "Ready to see our room?" He asked as he pulled you out to Lily's room.

"Lils, we're going to see our room. Don't go on the slide." You told her and she nodded before running up to the two of you and hugging your legs before rushing out a quick 'thank you' and going back to playing with her toys.

Harry just smiled. "Don't worry about the slide, they are all safely locked with a PIN number." You were swooning about how thoughtful he was for someone who had only had a kid for 7 months but it was a good look on him

"I love you, Har." You said as you continued to follow him to your room.

"I love you even more. Now close your eyes." He instructed and you complied, putting your hands over them before he opened the door and led you inside. "Open." He told you.

As soon as you remove your hands from your face you saw how sophisticated it looked. There was a massive be and ottoman with a couch and table in the corner. "Look at this," Harry said as he pushed a button and a tv came up from the foot of the bed.

You'd barely glanced down that end but now you saw the massive window with a view of the whole city and a door that had a few steps down onto a balcony that was big enough to have a table and chairs.

"I'm in shock. It's beautiful." You told him and he smiled, looking pleased with himself.

"You're beautiful. Now wanna see the closet?" He asked and you nodded, wondering what else he had in store for you. The closet was like a whole house. First, there was a seemingly normal shoe, bag and accessory closet with a massive mirror and all your makeup neatly organised. Then some stairs led up to a whole top floor filled with your and Harry's clothes.

"Harry, this must-have taken forever..." You trained off.

"That's why I didn't get home until late. It was mainly the boys that did the final touches." You thought Harry not being to be home until 8 was a normal thing, it did worry you.

But now it was making sense, him insisting on going to lunch before you got here was just time to get it ready.

"I love you so much." You told him as you brought your lips together. "Not even for the materialistic aspect of everything you've done. Just that you care enough about us to do this."

"I just want you two to be happy. Now come and look at the bathroom, you sap." He joked as he walked through a door which led into a big room with a bath, fireplace, shower, two vanities and a toilet. There was also a door to the bedroom.

"Harry!" You screamed. "It's all so amazing." You told him before you leant into his side. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"I'm glad you think so." He said before he kissed you again.

"Mummy! Hazzy! Can we go on the waterslide?" Lily's voice came as she ran through the room, making you pull away from your kiss.

Lately 'Hazzy' was her nickname for Harry and while he was delighted she was calling him that, he was gunning for the title of dad.

"Yeah!" Harry agreed and you smiled at the two of them. "Go get changed and I'll come with you for the first slide, then we can play in the pool." Lily ran off with the biggest smile on her face and you turned to Harry with an equally big smile on yours.

"We better go get changed then." You winked at him before going to the closet.

"Can you pretty please wear the green one, please?" He begged as you searched through your swimsuits and briefly picked up a dark green one.

It made you inwardly roll your eyes at him. "I am not wearing this." You continued as you held it out. "It's way too complicated and a little slutty." He just looked annoyed as you showed him another option. "This one?" You held up one of your favourite yellow bikinis.

"I like it, but can you wear the other one when we go to the hot tub tonight?" He asked, almost like he was telling you.

You laughed at him. "Who says I'm going in the hot tub with you tonight?" You finished changing and walked across to see Harry who wasn't ready because of how distracted he was checking you out.

He picked up his iconic yellow shorts, which ironically matched your bikini, and began undressing. "Oh, I'm definitely getting you in the hot tub tonight." He said as if it were a challenge. His low voice made him so much more attractive.

After he finished changing you stood there kissing for a few minutes.

Lily raced in a few seconds later. "Let's go! Let's go!"

"Alright," Harry said as he got dragged to her room.

"Hold on, I'm going down to the pool, then I'll film when you come down." You said as you grabbed your phone and raced downstairs, quickly trying to find the perfect angle to watch them pop out of the waterslide.

"Ahhh!" You heard Lily's voice a second before she and Harry came splashing out into the pool. "That was so much fun, can we go again?" She asked, looking up at Harry who held her because of how deep the water was.

And that was how the rest of the day went, Lily going down the waterslide before running up the stairs to go again.

Finally, you got out of the pool and left Harry to supervise Lily while you made dinner. That night as you, Lily and Harry ate dinner, while looking out over the LA skyline, everything was perfect.

And, later in the night, the hot tub with Harry was just as perfect.

[primatechnosynthpop]

Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

---

The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

*

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

*

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

*

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

*

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

*

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

*

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

*

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

*

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

*

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

*

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

*

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

*

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

*

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

*

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

*

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

[tkc-info]

Awakened And Sleepless

OCtober 2021 day 3 - duel

2011

“CC, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Dad asked.

Cal shook her head vehemently. “No! I want to kill zombies with you.”

Dad always let her stay up a tiny bit after bedtime so that they could play video games together. They were currently playing BioShock 2, and Cal liked how one of the main characters was a little girl like herself. She didn’t understand why Dad would rather go who-knows-where.

“We’ll kill the zombies tomorrow.” Dad promised, kneeling down on the hallway to look her in the eye and ruffle her hair “Mum and I are going on a date, and that is very important because we’ve been very busy. Aunt Cora and Sam will stay with you.”

“Mum can kill the zombies with us.” Cal protested.

She liked her aunt Cora and her partner Sam, but neither people played video games. And there was nothing like snuggling against Dad’s chest as they watched the screen.

“I refuse to kill any zombies when I could be dining at a fancy restaurant.” Mum called out from the bathroom, where she was painting her face with boring makeup “I simply refuse. CC, honey, when you grow up you’ll understand how important it is to have a nice date amidst the turmoil of your job.” she then began complaining about the director of the museum she worked in.

As she did so, Dad grabbed Cal’s hand and guided her back to her bedroom. He made to get her to bed, but Cal attempted to stay awake one last time. “Shouldn’t I be awake to say hello to Aunt Cora and Sam?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow at her. “They will arrive a bit late.” Aunt Cora delivered babies, and Sam was a doctor. Cal knew they would arrive late. That’s why she had asked Dad whether she could greet them “For now, only Mrs Bates will be keeping an eye on you. Do you want to say hello to her?”

Cal shook her head. Mrs Bates was the Everitt’s widow neighbour; she was kind enough, but always insisted on pinching her cheek, and joked about Cal behaving more like a boy than a girl. Cal didn’t like to be told that she was like a boy simply for not liking most of what her female classmates did.

“No!”

Dad chuckled and ruffled her hair again. “Then go to sleep, CC. Here,” he took the Peter Pan stuffed doll Oliver had got her for her sixth birthday “take Peter. Mum will come in a moment.” he kissed her forehead “Night night.”

“Night night.” Cal hid her face with her sheets.

She did not want to sleep, and so would not sleep. Cal closed her eyes and kept very quiet and very still when Mum crept into her room to kiss her goodnight. For good measure, she didn’t dare breathe until the main entrance had clicked shut, and Mum and Dad had gone away.

Only then did she kick her sheets aside, roll out of bed, and leave her room. Cal had decided that —if she wasn’t going to kill zombies— she would at least do the best next thing: reading.

Mum and Dad didn’t want Cal’s books in her room because she would ‘stay up late reading’. Which was ridiculously; Cal knew how to manage her time. Be it as it may, they’d hid her precious books in their room, where Cal couldn’t go to in the dead of night. It was all very unfair, Cal thought, but now that her parents were away and she alone (until Aunt Cora and Sam arrived)…

Well, who could blame her?

There was only one bookshelf in her parents’s room. Cal was tall —three centimetres taller than Oliver!— but couldn’t hope to reach the upper shelf her current book was on. Instead, she had to resign herself to some Nathan Drake-moves.

“I wish Tinker Bell were here.” Cal grumbled. She wasn’t a very good climber, and pixie dust was dearly needed. Alas, Tinker Bell hadn’t liked Wendy much, so she probably didn’t want to aid Cal, either.

Cal almost fell twice, but finally was able to get her book and carefully climb down with it on her head. Mission success!

Just as her feet were back on the floor, the front door opened. Cal’s eyes widened: Aunt Cora and Sam were here. They had arrived way earlier than she’d expected. This was bad.

She scurried to her room, trying to make as little noise as possible. In her room, Cal slid her book under the pillow, and covered her whole body with the sheets. By some miracle, she had enough time to fake being asleep so that Aunt Cora couldn’t see what she’d been doing.

“CC, are you asleep?” came Aunt Cora’s low voice, in a murmur.

Cal wanted to say ‘yes’, but bit her lip in time not to.

Soft pads announced Sam’s entrance. “She’s sleeping, my love.” he said. As always, his voice was higher than his girlfriend’s.

“I just want to check whether she’s actually asleep. Are you actually asleep, CC?”

Once again, Cal had to keep herself from answering. She closed her eyes tighter, wishing very hard to be asleep just so that she could wake up when Aunt Cora and Sam went out.

When the couple finally did —long minutes later— Cal felt a strange sense of drowsiness. It felt like she was only half-sleepy.

Cal rubbed at her eyes with her fisted hands, then sat up to take her book. But had she really sat up? There still was a head resting on the pillow. Cal tried to sit up, but she was already sitting up.

Her heart began beating a little bit faster, and she promptly scrambled to turn on her book light. The lamp illuminated the face of a redheaded little girl hugging a Peter Pan doll and breathing evenly. It was Cal; but Cal could look down and also see herself sitting crosslegged on the bed —completely awake.

What was happening?

Pressure built at the back of Cal’s eyes, and tears promptly slid down her cheeks as fear took hold of her. She wanted to tell Aunt Cora and Sam, but when she crept into the living room they didn’t seem to see her. They didn’t care.

And Cal’s body began hurting so much she could hardly breathe, much less talk to get their attention. The only thing she could do was follow a desperate voice —instinct, she’d later come to learn— and crawl back to her room.

She was too scared to talk; couldn’t talk what with her tears and the pain that had lessened but not disappeared.

The voice that had told her to come to her room spoke again. That is you it said, pointing at the grimacing body laying on the bed and this is you, too. it continued, pointing at the body that kept Cal awake.

Cal did not want to have two bodies, and tried to tell herself this was all a dream. She was dreaming. She was dreaming. She was dreaming.

She was not dreaming.

Nothing had prepared her for splitting into two. Mum had told her kids like Cal grew very fast, and Aunt Cora that one day Cal would have to go to her clinic for something very important. But Aunt Cora had talked of Cal when she became thirteen or fourteen, not six. And Cal knew how kids her age should grow because Oliver had explained it to her at recess.

Kids weren’t supposed to grow a second body.

The only reference Cal had to something similar was Peter Pan and his shadow; but the body on her bed wasn’t night-black, and neither was it the one she could control. They were identical copies.

Cal tried to glue them together, still. She got on her bed, caught her sleeping body’s limp arms and tried to fuse them with her other body’s. To no avail: Cal wouldn’t have had more success trying to fuse with Oliver.

Fear was replaced by frustration and desperation. She tried again, again, and again. And nothing. Cal couldn’t have told how long she spent fighting with herself to become one with the sleeping form —just that she couldn’t achieve her goal.

It was like duelling with a statue. One body would give her all, and the other nothing. But still the former would win, always.

Cal wasn’t crying anymore. She doubted it was because she’d become braver, but rather because no more tears would fall. She tried to seize the opportunity and regain some semblance of normal breathing. Maybe she should try a different strategy?

Sitting at the sleeping body’s right, Cal closed her eyes and tried to fuse it with herself gently. She tried to coax it into the union.

At first, nothing occurred. But the feeling of semi-drowsiness she’d had when this mess started eventually returned. Cal could feel herself awake and sleepy at the same time; could feel both her bodies. She tried to push them together, bend them into submitting to her wishes.

Her sleeping body’s eyes fluttered open.

Just as Cal thought she’d succeeded, a wave of pain clouded her vision and loosened her hold on the bodies’s connection. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt, and knocked her out.

Into her sleeping body.

Finally whole, the pain subsided; Cal’s heart calmed down ever so slightly. She tried to get to sleep, but could‘t without feeling her body begin to split. So, she didn’t sleep. Instead, she only focused on remaining calm. Breathing in and breathing out. Breathing in and breathing out.

But Cal only reached five breaths before someone burst into the room and turned all the lights on.

“Good morning, CC!” Mum announced as she and Dad rushed to her bed “We’ve missed you so much.”

Cal blinked, barely processing Mum covering her in kisses.

“Princess, shouldn’t you let her wake up?” Dad asked.

Mum tsked. “Don’t be like that.” she told him, giving him a kiss, too. But this time on the mouth and long enough for Cal to understand what was going on.

Was it morning? How long had she been awake —or half-awake?

“Have I been dreaming?” Cal asked her parents once they drew back. Mum and Dad knew everything.

“Of course you’ve been dreaming.” Mum tucked a red lock behind her ear “That’s what people do when they sleep.”

Cal felt suddenly very uncomfortable. It had all been a dream, right? And yet the lingering pain in her head implied otherwise.

“Did you have a dream?” Dad asked her.

Tentatively, Cal nodded. “I had a nightmare.”

She tried to believe her words. Yes, what had happened tonight had been a nightmare. She was now out of it, and would have no trouble sleeping next time.

That’s what Cal told herself the day she awakened to the doppelgänger insignia. And the day after that one, and the subsequent months that followed it. It was only when she’d come to reluctant terms with her Split —and shame had made a secret out of it— that she wondered:

Why?

@oc-growth-and-development @wagnerthedragon @iloveallmyocs @littleturtle95

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Sweet As Sin - Part One

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy. 

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read Part Two here!

After reaching a certain point in life, people generally come to the realization that the old adage of “when it rains, it pours” is true. At least, that was what you were thinking as you walked to your car, cheeks still burning with shame from what had just transpired in the grocery store.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined. Do you have any other methods of payment?”

The words echoed in your ears as you drove home; of course you didn’t have another method of payment. You hadn’t ever since your job laid you off. You’d been living off of unemployment for a few months now, barely able to afford rent and living off a diet consisting mostly of ramen noodles. What’s more, you’d just had to get your car fixed after someone t-boned you at the intersection across from your house. So now, you didn’t even have any more savings to fall back on. It was even worse than when you’d been in college; back then, there had at least been a goal in mind. Just graduate, you’d told yourself, and then you’ll find a job.

Well, you’d graduated a year ago, and now you were back to where you’d started – broke and desperate.

You slammed the door shut when you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes off before throwing yourself onto the sofa. You lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling as your stomach growled at you.

“Yeah, I’m hungry, too,” you told it. Looks like it was noodles in broth for dinner again, tonight.

Anxiety was constantly clawing at your chest these days, especially now that you were too broke to afford your medication. Later on that evening, you stood over your stove while typing ‘how to make money fast’ into Google. It was a cheap shot, one that you didn’t foresee getting you anywhere, but it was at least something to take your mind off of things while you waited for the water on the stove to heat up.

That was when you saw the add. ‘Finding Arrangements – Where beautiful, successful people find mutually beneficial relationships’ – basically, a website for Sugar Daddies looking for a pretty set of tits to spend money on. You huffed a laugh and scrolled past it, only to return to it a few seconds later.

You chewed on your lip, pondering the link sitting right there on the screen, so engrossed in your thoughts that you jolted when the water started boiling over, sizzling onto the stovetop beneath it. With a curse, you turned down the heat and added the noodles, stirring them in with the seasoning packet as you thought it over. It wouldn’t hurt to check, right? Just a quick glance wouldn’t hurt; if you signed up and didn’t like any of the people you matched with, you could just delete your profile and pretend it never happened.

Your thoughts lingered on the idea as you sat on the couch, still hungry after finishing your meager meal. You’d brought the link up on your laptop, and now you were staring at the site’s homepage. To the right, there was a link to sign up, and to the left, there was a picture of a man in a business suit surrounded by three beautiful women. You gulped, starting to psych yourself out as you stared at the image. But then you closed your eyes and thought about the number in your bank account, and it was enough to motivate you to start typing.

You filled out your personal information and clicked the link the website sent to your email, confirming your new membership. When it came to choose a profile photo, you chose one of yourself from your graduation day. You were standing in your college’s auditorium, wearing a dress made out of gold fabric that was covered with thick black lace; it was your favorite picture of yourself, and you hoped that the dress wasn’t too revealing. It had a high neckline, but it had only come down to about mid-thigh.

You filled out the ‘About Me’ section and then paused when you came to the next question – What are you looking for in a relationship? You thought for a moment, biting your lip and turning over your words before starting to type again.

This is my first time trying out a relationship like this, you wrote. So I would like to find someone who I can trust to guide me through it. In return, I would like to be able to give my (you cringed as you typed the next two words) Sugar Daddy a fulfilling, comfortable relationship in return.

After reviewing your profile, you uploaded it, forcing yourself to sit back from your laptop and breathe. It was out there now; people would see it. Wealthy, presumably powerful people would see it. You closed your computer and hurried to put a movie on, choosing one of your old favorites; it had helped you when you were feeling anxious before.

By the time you finished the movie, you’d mostly calmed down, controlling your nerves until they were just a dull ache in your chest. Before you stood up and went to bed, you checked your phone, eyes bulging when you saw that you already had five replies to your profile.

You opened your notifications, scrolling through the different profiles. Four of them were from men with one of them being from a woman. Your nose wrinkled up when you saw that one of the men were in his 70s, and you quickly deleted his message without even reading it. The next one was in his early 50s, and his profile picture was of him standing in front of a car that looked like it cost more than the entirety of your college tuition. You didn’t delete his message, but you definitely felt dismayed as you skimmed through the rest of them.

You paused, though, when you saw the last one. His profile said that he was 38, making him the youngest of those that had replied to you. His username was Captain_Grant, and his profile only showed his silhouette outlined against a setting sun. The only thing you could see about his features were his defined, slightly-crooked nose and the shadow of a beard against his jawline, but you were more interested in seeing the message he’d sent you.

Good evening, miss. I hope you’re having a nice day. I saw on your profile that you liked to read?

You furrowed your eyebrows, laughing a little. The other ones had pretty much sent you the same thing – “hi”. One of them had had the courtesy of adding a smiley face afterwards, but the fact that this guy had actually taken the time to read your profile made him stand out amongst the rest.

Good evening, you typed back. I do love to read; right now I’m in the middle of a great book.

His reply came only about a minute after you sent your response.

What’s it called?

You typed out the title of the book. After another minute, Captain sent you a picture. You held your breath as you opened the attachment, praying that it wasn’t a dick pic, and you were pleasantly surprised to see a photo of a bookshelf. The book you’d mentioned was resting on it along with a few others by the same author.

I’m a fan of theirs, too, as you can see.

You grinned and got up, taking a quick photo of your own bookshelf and sending it to him. You’d bought it from IKEA years ago, and its thin shelves had started to sag under the weight of all of your books, but you loved it anyways.

You have quite the collection, miss.

You chuckled at how polite he was and sent him a message that he call you by your first name.

‘Miss’ just seems so formal, don’t you think?

I was going more for polite, but I see what you mean. Well, then, you should call me Steve. ‘Captain’ isn’t really formal so much as it’s just weird. …I’ve been told I’m not good at picking out profile names.

You giggled at that; Steve seemed like a dork. But a cute one.

I think your profile name is great, for the record, but I’ll stick with Steve. What made you join this website, Steve?

It took him a few minutes to respond, and you worried for a second that you’d asked something too personal. But as you got ready for bed, you saw that he’d finally responded.

I’m an old fashioned kinda guy, and in the past I’ve been told that I’m a bit too…overbearing in a relationship. But I’ve always believed that a man should take care of the woman he’s with. So a friend of mine suggested this site, and I figured I would try it out. You’re the first girl who I liked enough to send a message to, though.

You smiled at that, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

What made me different from the rest?

All the other girls on here only talked about what they wanted to get out of a relationship in their profiles. You were the only one who mentioned what she wanted to give.

You felt as if butterflies were flying around your stomach, and your thumbs started typing of their own accord.

Do you think we could meet sometime? Maybe grab a cup of coffee?

I would love to, doll. I’m out of the country right now, but I get back in a week. How about we meet up then? Your profile said you live in Brooklyn; is that right?

It sure is; I’ve lived here ever since I finished college.

You’re a girl after my own heart; I grew up in Brooklyn. There’s a bagel shop that also serves coffee that I highly recommend. We could meet there if you’re up for it.

You didn’t even think before you answered him back.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

________

Over the next three days, you and Steve messaged each other as much as possible. He was so easy to talk to; you’d almost forgotten about the financial element of your relationship. During the day, when he was busy with work, you found yourself missing him. Right around the evening, you would start jumping for your phone any time it buzzed, and your heart would sink with disappointment when it wasn’t Steve.

You were on such a high from meeting Steve that you’d forgotten all about the things that were causing you anxiety. That was, until your landlord sent you an email talking about how rent was going to be raised an extra $50 each month. The news had washed over you like a bucket of iced water, sending you into the worst panic attack you’d had since college.

You’d spent the next few hours either pacing across your living room or crying in bed, curled up as that same feeling of helplessness that had haunted you for the past few months settled over you heavily. You hadn’t even realized that your phone was buzzing. At least, not until the fifth or sixth buzz. Wiping away your tears, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened it up, seeing several missed messages from Steve.

Hey, doll, just got done with work for the day.

How was your day?

You ok, doll? You’re usually around by now.

Are you ok?

I’m sorry for hovering, I’m just worried about you.

You there?

You felt guilt settle over you as you began to type with trembling fingers.

I’m so sorry, Steve. I just had a really rough day; I didn’t even realize that my phone was going off.

His reply was instantaneous.

God, you scared me, doll. Are you alright? What happened?

My landlord raised the rent by an entire $50. Rent is due by the end of the week, and I have no idea how to come up with the money.

You sniffled and waited for him to reply, and when he did you felt you felt your tears subside for a brief moment.

Is that all? That’s why I’m here, hon. Do you have a PayPal?

Steve… Are you sure? This is so much.

You could almost hear his laughter in his next reply.

Doll, I promise that $50 is NOT a lot to me. Besides, that’s part of this whole thing, isn’t it? Me taking care of you?

But I haven’t done anything for you in return…

He waited a few more minutes before responding.

Well… What if you did something for me tonight? Would that make you feel better?

Your felt your heart start to beat faster at his words, wondering what he would have you do.

What do you have in mind? you replied, trying to keep your words neutral.

Give me your phone number and let me call you?

Your breath puffed out at such a simple response, and you sent him your number without a second thought.

A few seconds later, your phone began to came, and unknown number appearing on your screen. You took a deep breath, feeling your heartrate skyrocket once more; you’d only known him for a few days, and yet a simple phone call from him was enough to make you feel breathless.

You fumbled with your phone, accepting the call and hesitantly raising it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll. It’s Steve. Although… Well, that was probably obvious, right?”

Your laugh sounded more like a hiccup, and you cringed at the sound, trying to blink away the tears that were still trying to escape.

“Hi, Steve,” was all you could sigh. “It’s…really good to hear your voice.”

And it really was; it was somehow even better than you’d imagined it – not terribly deep, but warm, so warm that you wish you could curl up and get him to read bedtime stories to you.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, a touch of worry working its way into his voice.

“Oh, um… Yeah,” you sighed. “This whole rent thing has really got me anxious.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “Can you give me your email address?”

You gave it to him, hearing the typing of a keyboard in the background.

“Thanks, doll. Just give me a minute, ok? I’m still trying to get better with my typing skills.”

You chuckled, picturing him typing with his two pointer fingers, but you still didn’t understand what he was asking you to give him a minute with.

“What are you doing, Steve?” you asked.

“Just wait; I’m almost done.”

After a few more seconds of typing, you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it away to see that it was an email from PayPal. Your eyes went wide as you opened it, audibly gasping when you saw the message waiting for you when you opened your account. You have $250 waiting to be accepted.

“Steve!” You heard his laugh from the other line, and for a second you were caught off guard; you immediately loved the sound more than you’d loved any other laugh you’d ever encountered.

“This is too much!” you cried out. “I only needed $50! Steve, I’m no mathematician, but you gave me two hundred more than that!”

Steve only laughed again.

“I won’t apologize for taking care of my girl,” he said, making your cheeks heat up at the term of endearment. “You deserve it; you’ve had a rough day. Go out and get a massage, or buy something nice for yourself. Do something that’ll relieve some stress.”

Your eyes went half-lidded for a second at the thought of a massage; you couldn’t remember the last massage you’d gotten. But no; you needed to be smart with your money.

“Well… Thank you, Steve,” you sighed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Every penny is worth getting to hear your voice,” he murmured. “It’s even prettier than I imagined it.”

“Steve…no…”

“No?”

“You gotta stop saying such nice things. It’s bad enough through text; actually hearing you say them is gonna make me spontaneously combust.”

Steve’s laughed rumbled across the receiver once more.

“Well try your best not to. At least not until we meet face-to-face.”

“Tell me about it. I still don’t know what you look like.”

You could tell by his voice that Steve was smiling when he spoke next.

“What do you imagine I look like?”

You grinned and stretched out in bed, your anxiety from before completely melting away.

“Well… You’re probably tall,” you started. “No… You’re definitely tall. I can tell.”

“Really? What gave it away?”

“You just seem like a tall person.” He chuckled at that, but you kept going on. “I could tell from your profile picture that you have a beard, and I bet you keep it trimmed all nice and neat. And… I’m going to guess that you have brown hair.”

“Well, I’ll be back in three days. There’s only one way for you to find out if you’re right.”

“I know. Still planning on the bagel shop at 9 am sharp, right? On Sunday?”

“Absolutely, doll. It’s a date.”

_______

The next day, you were able to pay your rent early, much to your landlord’s delight. After that, you decided that you would treat yourself to some actual groceries. Having a full shopping cart was a novelty to you; usually, you would load up with a basket containing ramen, maybe some chicken, some eggs, and whatever toiletries you needed. But today, you actually put together a meal plan and a list before going shopping.

Later on that day, you were grinning ear to ear as you put your purchases away in your tiny kitchen. There were green things in your fridge again! And they weren’t mold!

You were cooking a late breakfast for yourself when your phone rang, and you let out an excited squeak when you saw who it was.

“Steve!”

“Wow; someone sounds happy today.”

“I just got back from the grocery store,” you told him. “Thanks to a very wonderful, generous person, I was able to get food! Like, fancy food!”

“Fancy food, huh? What kind of fancy food?”

“Um… Well, I got stuff for salads! And I’m going to make a casserole for dinner. And I have some pasta, some beef, some taco stuff-“

“…Baby, that doesn’t really sound like fancy food. It sounds like regular groceries.”

“Well, it’s fancy compared to what I usually eat,” you pointed out.

“And what is that?”

“…Um…Ramen, mostly. Not that I mind! It’s better than nothing. I’ve got really creative with ramen recipes; it’s a skill I learned in college.”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh.

“That’s gonna have to change,” he asserted. “From now on, I’ll take you grocery shopping once a week, and I want you to get food with actual nutrients in it. Understood?”

You grinned as you flipped the omelet in the pan.

“Only if you let me cook for you sometime,” you bargained. You felt your cheeks heat up when he let out a groan.

“God, I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal,” he sighed. “I wish I could come back sooner.”

“You can make it for two more days,” you said. “I believe in you.”

“Well, I’m glad someone does.”

The two of you talked until your breakfast was ready, and for the rest of the day you worked on applying for jobs. You kept the news on your tv at a low volume, but later on, while you were cooking your casserole, you heard something about Moscow that made you perk up; Steve had mentioned that he was in Moscow on his business trip.

You hurried to pull the casserole out of the oven and place it on a cooling rack before jogging into the living room and turning up the volume.

“….in Moscow today. It is reported that the small terrorist organization was eliminated by Captain America, Natasha Romanoff, and a group of American agents with them. Luckily, the attempted bombing was stopped before there could be any casualties.”

You watched as the footage cut to Captain America standing in front of a group of reporters, decked out in his uniform with his signature shield strapped to his back. He shifted on his feet, looking out over the room before starting to speak.

“I’m relieved to inform you that the terrorist threat has been eliminated,” he began, and you frowned at how familiar his voice sounded. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that it was Steve talking to you, your Steve, but you knew the idea was ridiculous. You smiled at the thought; you’d have to ask him later on if anybody else had noticed the similarity.

“The group was small and disorganized, and we believe that they acted independently of any larger organization,” he continued. “Our men and woman, however, are keeping a close eye on any and all other suspicious activity in this and the surrounding countries. For now, we advise you to rest easy, and-“

You muted the tv once more, heading into the kitchen to grab a plate of food. You sat down on your couch and pulled your phone out, dialing Steve’s number. You frowned when you reached his answering machine, but you left a message anyways.

“Hi, Steve! I just saw something on the news about a terrorist group in Moscow… I guess I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay. Just shoot me a text or give me a call when you’re able to. I’ll talk to you soon!”

After that, you ate your food, reveling in having something on your stomach other than the same old noodles. It was while you were wrapping your casserole to put in in the fridge that Steve called you back, and you rushed to answer the phone.

“Hello!”

“Hi, doll,” Steve sighed.

“You sound so tired.”

“Yeah… I guess I am. It was, uh… A rough day at work. But the good news is that I get to come home a day early. Think we could move our date to tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? You can get here all the way from Moscow tonight?”

“Sure can. I’m on the plane right now.”

“Wow. Talk about company benefits…” Steve chuckled, and you smiled fondly as you closed the fridge. “I worried about you when I heard about the terrorists. Is everything ok? No one you knew got hurt, did they?”

“Nah, we’re fine, doll. But you’re sweet to ask.”

“Well, I saw Captain America talking on the news about it and just wanted to make sure. Hey, have you ever noticed that you sound a lot like him?”

“Uh… You think I sound like Captain America?” Steve seemed flustered, and you grinned as you walked back to your couch.

“Yeah; you guys have practically the same voice,” you grinned. “Crazy coincidence, right? You sound like him; you have the same first name… And did you know that he’s grown a beard since-“

“Hey, doll? The plane is experiencing some turbulence. Would it be ok if I let you go?”

“Oh. Yeah! Sure thing, Steve. But we’re still planning on tomorrow morning?”

“You betcha. I’ll see you at 9, and I’ll text you the address.”

“See you soon!”

With that, he hung up, and a few minutes later you received the text with the address. You sent him back a smiley face before getting ready for bed; you would need to get up early to get ready for your date.

It took you a while to fall asleep that night; your mind wouldn’t shut off. Over and over again, it would play possible scenarios of how meeting Steve might go – about what he would look like, what you two would talk about. Eventually, though, you were able to fall into a peaceful slumber, and even your dreams seemed happy that night.

______

You surveyed yourself in the mirror, looking for any imperfections that needed to be sorted out before you left. You’d somehow wrangled your hair into a nice-looking style, although you were pretty sure you’d killed half of the remaining ozone layer with how much hair spray you’d had to use to keep it that way. You were wearing a red set of leggings with an oversized, cream-colored sweater overtop it; despite the fact that the clothes were old, they still looked good, and you hated the fact that you didn’t have better shoes to complete the ensemble. You pulled on your black high-top Converse, deciding that they were the best looking pair of shoes you had, and you checked yourself out in the mirror one more time before walking out the door.

The bagel shop was only fifteen minutes away from where you lived, but the drive seemed to last for fifteen seconds and fifteen eternities all at once. You tried in vain to calm the frantic beating of your heart, but it was still pounding by the time you pulled up in front of the restaurant. You took a short moment to calm yourself, letting out a deep breath before getting out of your car.

You tried to walk with confidence as you walked into the bagel shop, inhaling the scent of baked bread, cinnamon, and coffee that lay heavy in the air. The walls inside were painted a bright, sky blue, and black-and-white sketches were hanging on the walls. The entire wall behind the display case had been turned into a chalkboard, and the various menu items were written across it in neat cursive font. One of your favorite songs from the 60’s was playing over the radio, and you smiled; you already knew that this place would become one of your regular hang outs.

At the moment, though, your eyes were scanning the shop for Steve. All you knew about him was that he had a beard; that is, if he hadn’t shaved it since taking his profile picture. There were only a few people dotted around the room, and most of them were with someone else. In fact, there were only two people there who were sitting alone. One of them was sitting at a nearby table, and he was a man who looked to be in his late 50’s; you hoped to God that he wasn’t Steve.

The only other person there was sitting at a table in the far corner, and he had his back to you. His hair was blonde and slicked back neatly, and his shoulders were incredibly broad. Letting out a sigh, you started walking towards him, wringing your hands as you grew nearer.

“Steve?” you finally asked when you were close, and you saw him straighten up.

When he turned around to face you, though, your eyes grew wide and your lips parted in surprise. There had to be some mistake; this couldn’t be him.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “I’m here to meet, um…”

Captain America, or rather, Steve gave you a soft, sheepish smile, and he stood up to face you.

“Hey, doll,” he sighed.

“…I can explain.”

[thedemisedroyal]

Dangerous Betrayal | TVD/TO

The Vampire Diaries & The Originals

AU Story

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚂𝙸𝚇!

I do not own the name of Scarlet Witch, nor anything involving her, I just really loved the name, it suits my characters. It belongs to Marvel and everyone on that side, I only own 'Esme' and her plot lines/storylines.

• E S M E •

"The one of all kinds.."

"The one that rules all.."

"The one who is darkness and light combined.."

Voices..that's all the girl heard as she was forced awake, it was nearly three o' clock in the morning, pitch black outside with everyone asked in the Gilbert household. Except for a stumbling Esme who was trying to make her way out the bedroom to call for help, but it was as if her body was controlling it against her will, driving her away.

Instead, she fell atop her desk, dropping books, papers, pens and pencils on the floor, making a lot of noise. She supported herself on the dark wood desk, her hands clenching the sides of the desk. Jordan looked up, the mirror that was attached showed the girl her reflection.

Her eyes were glowing a neon scarlet red, along with the same colored flares dancing around her hands. She tilted her head a bit, confused as to what was happening. It was a moment as if the world around her stopped, a light bulb turning on in her head,"Oh no." The goddess knew exactly what she was, or what Esme was. "Shit, shit, shit..you've got to be kidding me." She ranted, but her anger was swept away and relaxed by immense pain, she yelled in agony.

Her hands clenching even tighter, if possible, on the sides of her wooden desk, the sounds of snapping filled the room. Jordan fell to the ground, holding her head, letting go of the two, rather large, chunks of the desk she broke off from her inhuman strength. Jordan curled into a fetal position, clutching her head, opening her shut eyes, seeing the walls of her room covered int the same red scarlet flares that shined from her eyes and covered her hands.

That was the last thing she saw before she completely knocked out, welcoming the dark abyss.

***

"Esme!" The female voice echoed throughout the dizzy-headed girl, who was still in fetal position on the floor, beside her bed. "Esme! Get your butt down here! You said you would help me get ready for the Founder's Day Party!" The brunettes eyes slowly opened, taking in her surroundings, noticing the bright, shiny sun pouring into her room.

Jordan groaned, holding her head as she slowly lifted herself up from the ground, just sitting on her butt, looking around her room with widened eyes. It was completely wrecked and ruined, her bookshelf was on the floor, the books covering the room all over. Her hanging paintings were on the floor, slightly ripped and scratched. Her mirror on her desk was cracked all over, shards of glass scattering on the floor and desk beside her. Clothes that were perfectly hung in the closet and folded in her drawer, which was on the ground, were thrown into different places all over her room.

She got up from the floor, in complete distraught and shock,"What the fuck happened." Jordan cursed under her breath, walking around her. As she walked towards her curtains, where the sun shined through, her arms had hit the rays of sun, making her skin sizzle from the contact. "Shit!" She yelled, pulling the arm away, grabbing on to it as pain spread through her wound. Jordan looked at it, seeing the bubbling skin, that was literally smoking, heal within three seconds. "Woah." She whispered, she touched the healed wound, confused as to what happened.

Jordan slowly moved her hand to the rays once again, slightly shaking with anticipation. She sucked in a breath was she was once again burned with sunlight. Quickly pulling back, taking a deep breath, already seeing her hand healing. Jordan ran a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated, "Scarlet witch, really! You have to be fucking kidding me!" Jordan exclaimed, kicking her bed that soon flew across the room,"Oh!" She yelled, putting her hands around her mouth.

"Esme!" Elena yelled louder from downstairs, the girls eyes widened. "Sorry, coming!" She yelled back, looking around the room in fear. Jordan shook her head, just grabbing her thin jacket, and walking out the room but remembering to lock it on her way out. She walked down the stairs to see Bonnie and Elena in the kitchen, talking about nail polish, she plastered a smile and put on her act. "Ooh, la la. It looks like someone's getting all dolled up!" Esme spoke, Elena turned around from the sink, rolling her eyes at her sister.

Bonnie chuckled, putting down the two nail polishes she was holding,"Hey squeakers!" Esme stopped walking and glared at the Bennet,"Are you ever going to stop calling me that, branches?" The Gilbert playfully asked, Bonnie smiled but sent a soft glare,"Whenever you stop calling me branches!" Bonnie exclaimed, the two laughed and sent each other a smile.

Elena softly smiled,"You guys are so annoying." The eldest twin rolled her eyes, sitting down on her chair. "Shut it gillies." Bonnie and Esme said in unison, Elena glared at the two,"I thought we decided to forget that situation.." Elena muttered under her breath, the two shook their heads,"Never my dear sister, never." Esme sent a sarcastic smirk her way, sitting down as well.

***

Jordan blew air out of her mouth, annoyed by her current situation. She was expected to got to the Founders Day Party, with Bonnie, as the two were left by their fellow best friends, all alone. The two agreed on being each other's dates to the party, but Jordan had to make an excuse to being late, as if she walked in the sun she would be bacon, literally. She told the others that Jenna didn't want her to leave unless she cleaned her dirty room like she promised for the past week, but haven't done.

Luckily, in her case, her room was already dirty. With her desk broken, glass everywhere, clothes thrown across the room, her drawer on the floor and her bed across the damn room. And not only that but, she, or Esme, was a damn Scarlet Witch, probably the last one in this entire world. What was worse is that Jordan doesn't know how to control her powers, she may be one of the strongest creatures to walk this universe, but it had seem as if her knowledge within controlling her powers had completely left her mind, and she knew why.

The voices were messing with her, mainly Adira and Eila, who absolutely hate the girl. They had so much power of the goddess, and she was completely and utterly powerless. As for the past sixteen years of her new life, she was temporarily stripped of the Firstbeing power she owned. Without any knowledge on how to control it, but, Jordan did know some information about the Scarlet Witches that supposedly all died nearly thousands of years ago.

Unfortunately, with all this thinking, and like usual, the princess was lost in thought and didn't hear anything around her, especially not her door opening. She turned to face the door, seeing a scared Jenna, she furrowed a brow until she felt it. Power...surging through her entire body, she  lifted her hands, seeing the scarlet red flares wrapping around them. Jenna suddenly turned around and ran out of the door, before she could scream, Jordan appeared already in front of her, tackling her to the floor.

"Stop!" Jordan forced her down to the ground, holding Jennas wrist, who was still fighting. The two locked eyes, "Stop resisting me and listen?" Jordan exclaimed, and just like that, Jenna stopped, the goddess quirked a brow, "What?" She muttered,"You guys okay over there?" Elena shouted, her eyes widened in fear. "Yeah, stubbed my toe of the table!" The brunette yelled back, wincing a bit.

"Oh, okay." Elena bought the lie, Jordan let out a breath she was holding. She looked back at the aunt, remembering one of the powers these types of witches held were, as vampire, compulsion. Jordan looked Jenna right in the eye, her pulls dilating, "You won't remember this encounter, nothing within this hour. You'll go back downstairs and do whatever it was you were doing beforehand. When someone asks you where I am, you say.."

***

"Your sister is not leaving this house until she is done with that disgusting room of hers." Jenna playfully told, looking at the girl with a small smile, Esme rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll get it finished and I will meet you lovely ladies at the party." Esme reassured her sister, aunt and fellow best friend, sending a sweet smile toward them. They nodded and grabbed their stuff, heading out the door, saying goodbye and heading to the party.

Jordan closed the front door, quickly checking around her surrounding before using her vampire-speed to her room. Closing her bedroom door and locking it, looking around her room to face the horrible mess.

She cleared her throat, putting her hands in front of her face, trying to concentrate. Slowly, the neon red flares surrounding her hands, the same color started to glow from her eyes as well. Without thinking, she shot the balls of power she held within her palm, to the ground.

The red flares covered the floor and made their way to the walls, and finally the ceiling. The power redesigned the room just how it was before. Shards of glass were gone, the bookshelves and the books it held were out nicely back together. Her bed was back in the middle of her room, nicely made, pillows fluffed and all. Even her desk that is usually messy with papers and notebooks, was organized, cleaned of dust, and the fairy lights that were around the mirror even worked again, though they went out months ago and Jordan was lazy to get the replaced Everything was absolutely perfect, maybe a few irks but she would get the hang of it.

Jordan's celebration was short-lived as a massive headache soared through her head, she clenched her eyes shut and supported herself on the wall nearby. "Woah." She rubbed her eyes and forehead to try and soothe the pain. "Really need to work on that." Jordan pushed off of the wall, steadying herself, opening her eyes to once more see the clean room.

She smiled,"Now all we gotta do is find a dress." Jordan whispered to herself, now realizing she didn't have anything to wear to the Founders Day Party. But, the girl had a hour to spare, as the sun was still up, and she couldn't leave, not yet anyways. Jordan ran a hand through her dark chocolate brown hair, "Lets get ready, shall we?" She asked herself out loud, clapping her hands together as her process to get ready had begun.