#they immediately blame Rose for “killing him” or whatever but it misses the point of the whole story 🤡

[titanic-1997]

Jack Dawson + accepting his fate in Titanic (1997)

After Jack fails to stay on the wooden paneling with Rose, his expression indicates that he's accepted his fate. He knows he is going to die so she can live.

[wallflowerimagines]

Imagine this what if the whole resurecting eva was a going to fail because eva was reincarnated and that was reader how would all the lords, mother miranda and ethan react .

All of them are going to be varying degrees of shocked. I'm going to assume that Reader is only in a relationship with the Lords for this one, based on how you wrote the ask.

Mother Miranda is simultaneously devastated and manic. She's already pretty delusional so her reactions are going to change based on which emotion she's feeling most strongly at the moment. One one hand, she's relieved! Eva--her beautiful, perfect daughter is back--and while you look nothing like how she remembers she's thrilled! But she missed all your formative years! There's so much for her to catch up on, so much she wasn't there for. And... You're not perfect. You can still be hurt, you could get sick again. Like any sane Mother, she refuses to let that happen.

The Black God can fix you, make you whole. She's found the perfect body for you, the thing that will keep you safest. Eva, you've been reborn once already. Surely a second time will be even easier.

Mother will make it painless, she promises.

Miranda's reaction is the catalyst that Moreau, Donna, and Alcina need to snap out of their devotion to her. Whatever loyalties they already have were pretty thin after Miranda's actions toward Ethan Winters, but this is the last straw. Your safety is Paramount to them, and they refuse to let Miranda kill you, no matter her promises about how simple the "resurrection" would be.

It doesn't matter which Lord is your partner at this point. All of them band together to kick her ass. You've been nothing but a positive influence on their lives, no matter who your partner is, and with this threat on your life and Rose's life combined the wool is lifted from their eyes.

Heisenberg, who has been hating Miranda from day one, immediately uses this as the excuse he needs to launch a full out assault. However, his goals have changed slightly. It's not just for revenge anymore. He's really playing defense-- Karl is mostly concerned about keeping the Crazy Bitch as far from you as possible. Miranda was insane before, but this is a whole new level.

The Lords do each internally have a realization deep down that really bothers them-- you're indirectly the cause of all of this suffering. It's a lot to process, because none of them blame you for it (all of this is Miranda's fault), but life would be so different if Miranda could have just been patient.

Still, processing this can wait until they've wrecked her shit so hard even her precious Black God can't save her.

Ethan, meanwhile, is just the embodiment of this gif:

Dad man just picks up Rose and fucking dips in the confusion. He's not going to wait around for Miranda to decide she still needs Rose-- he's not stupid. He'll grab Chris by the back of his tactical armor and drags him to the waiting helicopter if he has to. Whatever gets his family out of this hellhole the fastest.

[rfaromance]

"You had a bad dream again."

It wasn't a question.

Hoping the darkness of the night and the room would conceal the blush growing on his face, Saeran turned to the blonde resting beside him. "I guess," he mumbled, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible while running a frustrated hand through his messy crimson curls. His hair was slowly regaining some of its vitality and texture now that he had stopped bleaching it into oblivion, but that came with the unfortunate side effect of awful bedhead.

Especially when he woke up in middle of the night, after gasping, sweating, and flailing in his efforts to escape the nightmares he frequently was trapped in.

He wished he could ease back into a peaceful slumber thereafter, assuring himself these horrendous visions were just dreams, just fantasy, just imagination.

But his nightmares were all too real, composed of images of his past that he would prefer to never see again.

His conscience wasn't going to be so forgiving to him, though.

"The third one this week."

Another simple, flat, matter-of-fact statement. Rose wasn't one of many words, so when they spoke, they cut straight to the point. When Saeran had first met them, they'd been downright gregarious, talking in circles and meandering through an entire forest of words and whimsy before reaching any sort of conclusion or main point.

Sometimes he missed the way they used to blabber on incessantly, but he only had himself to blame for this drastic change in their mannerisms. He knew they did most of their wandering and pondering internally, now, working through the tangled words and thoughts first and uttering the simple message later.

He almost wished he could see inside their mind. But then he realized that would mean he'd come face to face with their exact thoughts, feelings, and opinions of him, the person who'd stolen them away from their daily life and turned them into... whatever this was.

He'd damned them to false salvation and that was another one of his sins that would haunt him until the day God, Satan, or whatever powers that be, would finally let him die.

"Water?"

Saeran was snapped out of his tumultuous thoughts by the sudden feeling of a bottle of water tapping against his arm. He murmured a quick "thank you" before picking up the bottle and slowly opening it, then raising it to his lips.

He could feel his arm trembling at even something as simple as this, and that's how he knew his nightmare still had a grip on him.

Darkness. Cold. Loneliness. Choking on acid, on "milk and honey" of paradise, feeling the stinging sourness slide past his lips and down his throat until it was raw, raw, raw, bloody and bruised and scabbed and scarred and--

Saeran began to cough halfway through his drink, spluttering as he tried to gasp for air. The memory of his nightmare had startled him, and his mouth felt like it was on fire with elixir even though he knew logically it was just water.

Trauma responses weren't exactly logical, however.

Rose immediately leaned over and began to pat his back, hoping to help him cough out any water that might have gone down the wrong pipe. Once he stopped hacking and could feel nothing but air in his lungs, he inhaled deeply and laid back down on his pillow. "Thank you."

He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but he could feel Rose shuffling beside him, putting the water bottle back on the bedside table.

"Rose."

They turned to him wordlessly before laying back down on their own pillow, gaze fixed on him. He probably should have turned to look at them, too, out of respect, but he hadn't been able to make eye contact with Rose ever since the day they'd been taken out of Mint Eye.

He didn't trust himself not to break down at the sight of their minty blue eyes. The eyes he'd forced upon them.

The eyes of the man he'd killed in cold blood.

"Tomorrow, you should ask Saeyoung to move you into another room."

The idea made sense to Saeran. If he was going to keep on kicking and screaming and waking up in a cold sweat, he couldn't subject Rose to that. They deserved to sleep. They deserved something resembling peace after everything he had put them through. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why they'd come to this bunker in the first place. They insisted they'd wanted to come, that they'd asked to come, that they'd begged to know where Saeran was after they'd been separated, but...

Who in their right mind would willingly run back to the person who'd ruined their life?

"No."

A single and simple word, but it carried a level of force behind it that Saeran had never heard Rose express before.

"You won't be able to sleep."

"No," Rose repeated, even more emphatically this time.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was the haunting memories of Rose's unquestioning obedience for so long that made this blatant act of refusal all the more jarring, but Saeran felt his temper beginning to slip. "I don't want you near me when I'm like this!" he snapped, sitting upright now and scowling down at them. "I don't want to hurt you more than I already have!"

"I don't... want to leave you."

His breath caught in his throat. He needed to stop there. He needed to keep a lid on his anger. But as emotionally overwhelmed as he was right now, both by his past and his present, any hopes of keeping himself under control were thrown out the front door. "Do you have any fucking idea what it's like to be plagued by every awful thing you've ever done, every night, and then you wake up with the same intrusive thoughts bombarding you all day? Every sin, every crime, tainting your being until nothing is fucking left of you and you're just--"

"I have nightmares too."

He could barely hear them above his own tirade, but he could see their figure sit up as well. "Why..." Now he could feel his face burning not just with anger but embarrassment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to."

Such a simple answer. Saeran snorted and turned his head away. "I'm sure they're all about me. Is that why you refused to tell me?"

Rose began to toy with the ends of their hair, which was just at shoulder length. They'd decided to let it grow out after keeping it at a short bob for so long as his assistant. Saeran couldn't be sure if it was their way of reclaiming themselves or trying to start anew, the same way he'd finally stopped trying to hide every aspect of his existence and turn himself into someone, anyone else. "I didn't want you to worry," they murmured at last. "I don't want to leave you, because... when I have nightmares... and they wake me up... I feel safe next to you."

Safe.

"I know you'll... scare everything bad away... and never let bad things happen again."

Shame flushed across Saeran's face as he tried to process Rose's words and formulate a response. How could anyone feel safe near him? Rose knew better than anyone else what he had done and what he was capable of doing. He was the one who'd snatched them from their life, and Rose had had a front row seat to every evil he'd committed in the name of his selfish revenge. But... for some silly reason... they trusted him.

The redhead was constantly down on himself for not being better. For not healing faster. For still struggling and suffering. For failing to adjust properly. For being awkward, clumsy, foolish in front of others.

Rose saw that he was trying, and they believed in that effort.

"Fine. On one condition."

Rose tilted their head to the side curiously but didn't object. Saeran inhaled sharply once again, trying to steady the pounding in his chest that could no longer be attributable to his nightmare but rather to the complicated emotions fluttering in his heart.

"You have to protect me from my nightmares, too."

"Okay."

That was it. That was all he needed. Most people wouldn't find that answer all too reassuring, but as Rose shuffled closer to him and leaned their head against his shoulder before the two of them laid back down again, he knew that this was a promise the blonde would never break.

Maybe one day he'd be able to stand on his own two feet instead of constantly relying on others.

For now, he didn't particularly mind having Rose watch over him, as he fell back asleep without any other dreams to wake him before morning.

[maddiwrites]

Let Me Go

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: This was requested! Y/N still lives with the Cameron’s following the death of her brother, but she’s being held there against her will. After many failed escape attempts, Y/N finally gets out of Figure Eight, but she’s far from safe. (The request was long so I’m going to link it here so you can see the full summary of what anon wanted!)

Note: I’m sorry this took so long to get out!!! I literally had half of it written and then it all deleted and I’m so upset because my first attempt at writing it was better but oh well. I hope you like it. Again, sorry for the long wait!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF DRUG ABUSE, CHILD NEGLECT, GUN VIOLENCE, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE TOPICS TRIGGER YOU. PLEASE. SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-273-8255

Masterlist

You weren’t always like this - sitting up in your unmade bed, staring at the blank wall in front of you like you could see through it, unshowered, trembling from your shoulders down to your toes, feeling empty from the inside out. 

You forget what it’s like to be free. Following the death of your brother, you’ve been trapped like a rat in a cage. Figure Eight is no longer the luxurious part of the island to you. It’s filled with lies, manipulation, secrets, murder. 

You’re still living at the Cameron’s. No, not living. Surviving. Ward refused to give his guardianship of you up. Some people wondered why - why would Ward want to live with the sister of a murderer? Yeah, that’s what they thought - that your brother killed Sheriff Peterkin and tried to kill Ward too. But you knew why.

Ward no longer treats you like a member of his family. He has you locked in your designated room on the third floor that’s basically only used as an attic and storage area. Your own personal prison. Because you know what he did - not only to your brother and his daughter but to your dad. 

You felt like you were losing grasps of reality. You only knew fall was approaching because you could hear Wheezy talking about it to Rose outside your door. You guess the time of day by the sunlight through your window and the meals brought to your room. 

Of course there have been times you tried to escape. You managed to run away a few times. The first time, you went straight to the police station and tried telling them that Ward was keeping you trapped in his home. Of course they didn’t believe you. Instead, they called Ward to come pick you up. He told the police that you’ve been experiencing delusions since the death of your brother. Without a second thought, they believed him and ignored your cries for help completely. The second time, you tried going to Kie’s, but the police found you first and brought you back to Ward’s now that they think you’re going through some kind of mental breakdown. 

By now, you’re exhausted. You’re tired of fighting and arguing and screaming. You feel empty inside, craving some sort of release or embrace of comfort. You haven’t seen your Pogues in weeks, maybe months. You wonder if they still think about you. Do they blame you for leaving John B to go off by himself with Sarah? Do they hate you?

Not only is living inside an enclosed box hard enough, but dealing with the loss of your brother, friend, and father, is killing you inside. You can’t help but feel guilty that you weren’t with them. You and your brother were supposed to be partners in crime and you totally let him go off on his own. You feel like you abandoned him and that keeps you up at night. 

Since your ways of coping are limited, you’re not proud to say you found an unhealthy way of relieving your pain. 

When you were first locked up, you would scream and kick the door that hid you from the rest of the world, begging for anyone in the house to let you go. Never did it work, but one time Rafe got extremely fed up and raced upstairs to make you shut up. You didn’t know it, but Rafe was on the verge of a breakdown himself. His dad complete shut him out as he tried to fix the damage he caused. He assumed Sarah was dead. And Barry basically owned him, making him do all his dirty work. Maybe he deserved it, but he didn’t live a luxurious life either despite living in Figure Eight.

You took a couple steps back when you heard heavy footsteps approaching your door. Rafe quickly undid the locks and barged in so fast that he almost knocked you down. 

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe was breathing hard and quickly getting red in the face. You stumbled backwards, suddenly afraid of being alone with him. 

You sniffled. “I need to get out of here.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Please, Rafe. You got to get me out of here. Please!” You never thought you’d be here, begging Rafe of all people for help. Yet here you were. With no other choices left.

Rafe paced the room and raked his fingers through his hair. “You do realize you're not the only one going through something, right?”

You swallowed back your tears and scoffed at the Kook in front of you. “Seriously? Your family is keeping me locked in here like some kind of zoo animal! My brother is dead -”

“Sarah is too!”

“But that’s not my fault!” You screamed. You pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “That’s yours!” Rafe froze and turned to look at you. You didn’t know where you grew the balls to keep going but you did. “I know what you did. I know what your dad is trying to cover up. And he’s using my brother to do it.” You saw Rafe’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you think your dad is keeping me locked in here?”

“Shit,” Rafe cursed. Now he knew why his dad gave him strict instructions to never come up to your room. He started shaking his his head and shaking in his skin. “I didn’t mean to - I - I - it happened so fast.”

You could go on and on about how Rafe would never be able to dig himself out of this hole. How he will never be able to convince you that he wasn’t guilty. But you didn’t. Because he’s the only one who could help you.

“Rafe, please,” You begged. “I won’t say anything. I just need to get out of here.”

Rafe sniffled back his own tears and fears and looked out the one window that looked out into the backyard of his home. He couldn’t let you go. He knew it was selfish, but he had to save himself. 

“I can’t,” Rafe said.

A new wave of tears hit you and you felt defeated. You fell back on your bed and cried into your hands, hunched over above your knees. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, but his apology was as empty as you feel. 

“Just go,” You rubbed your eyes hard enough to see stars. 

You hear something light hit the bed next to you. “I know it’s not much. But this helps me get through all this messed up shit.”

When you didn’t look at him or whatever he gave you, he took that as a hint to leave and quietly left the room. You listened to each lock being fastened again, each one leaving a crack in your heart. 

Rafe offered you something you should have never taken. A small baggie filled with fine white powder. You should have never even considered it. Drugs were never your thing. You wouldn’t even smoke with JJ when he offered a hit of whatever he was smoking. But the idea of anything taking your pain away enticed you.

And that’s how you ended up here. Broken, alone, and craving something only Rafe could supply you with. Literally. He came around every so often, sliding a small baggie under the door for you. It was the closest thing you and Rafe had to a friendship. 

Today was particularly a bad day. It was dark and rainy outside and you remembered John B’s birthday should be quickly approaching. You missed him. God, did you miss him. You would do anything to hear his voice again or steal his clothes or go surfing in the ocean with him. 

You trudged out of bed towards your dresser that held a faint line of coke left over from yesterday. With a one dollar bill, you sniffed the rest of it up your nose and blinked back the sting of tears that pricked your eyes after you did it. A rush of energy sparked up your body, through your toes and up to your head. You immediately felt lighter and that the world was spinning a little faster. But with that rush came a surge of emotions. You went from being sad to being angry real fast. 

You hated Ward. You hated Shoupe. You hated this house.  You hated Kooks. You hated yourself. You hated everything about the Outer banks. You just wanted to leave. 

You find the closest thing to you, a small makeup mirror, and smash it against one of the locks on the door. You’ve done this hundreds of times and by now the door was scratched and bruised from your abuse, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel the glass of the mirror slice into your skin as you continued to bang it on the metal lock. You didn’t care if Ward and the others heard you throwing another temper tantrum. You just wanted out.

When you felt the lock stumble to the side of the door, you froze in your place. You stared at the broken lock, wondering if this was all a dream or a hallucination from your high. “No fucking way,” You mumbled. You looked down at the door knob and repeated the same movements until the handle completely fell off and clattered to the floor. 

You dropped the mirror and stuck two fingers through the hole in the door where the door knob use to be. While holding your breath, you slowly pulled the door open and couldn’t believe when it moved without any hiccup. 

You never thought that you would get this far, and now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. You felt scared. Cautiously, you stuck your head out to make sure no one was in the hallway. When the coast was clear, you tip toed throughout the house, listening to the eery silence that filled it. No one was home. 

When you passed Rafe’s room, you stopped. You were out of supply and you needed more. Rafe owed you anyway, you told yourself. So you ransacked his room. Found about four more small baggies and stuffed them in your pocket before leaving.

As you walk through the halls, you pass Ward’s office and paused. It was open and unlocked. Even before all this shit happened, you never remember it being this way. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the adrenaline from another escape attempt or maybe it was the cocaine, but you walked yourself into that office and looked around. 

You cursed at all the accomplishments hanging on his wall, the trophies, and expensive relics of random shit. His desk was neat and orderly despite the major crime he was trying to cover up. You sat yourself in his chair, trying to imagine what it felt like to be him. Motherfucker probably felt like a king. 

You went through his drawers, thumbing through random files you had no business looking through - most of it work related stuff and banking information. You tucked that one in your pocket for later. 

Then you hear something thump against the drawer when you pull it out. A revolver. Small and silver. Cold against your fingertips. You breath hitched as you brought it up to your face. It felt like you were holding a bomb. An object that could change your life forever. Another fresh set of tears threatened to roll down your face but you shook them away. No. No more being sad. 

You shut the drawer hard and walked out with a couple new items in your possession.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Pogues were spending another dreary day at The Wreck. The September sun might be out, but their spirits were down. Two of their best friends are dead and the other is trapped with two murderers. They were scared for you and have tried everything to get you back. They tried talking to the cops, they tried breaking her out. But each times the cops got in the way. They were running out of hope. At this point, they didn’t even know if they would ever see you again. They just hoped you were okay. They knew you tried escaping a few times and prayed that you would eventually get yourself out of there soon.

“JJ, you gotta eat,” Kie sighed as she watched JJ play with the fries in front of him. If anyone was handing it the worst, it was JJ. Both John B and Y/N were his best friends first. Hell, he was in love with Y/N. Had been since the sixth grade. One of his biggest regrets is that he never told you. Now he didn’t know if he ever would. 

“’M not hungry,” JJ mumbled. 

The door above the restaurant entrance rang as a couple of police officers walked in for their lunch break. The group of three glared at them as they walked in with their cocky stride and their hand resting on their tasers and guns as if everyone should be scared of them. 

“Fucking cops can’t do their goddamn job,” JJ sat back in his seat and flicked one of his fries down on the table. He hated them. More than he ever had. He couldn’t believe these people took an oath to protect this county. Fucking cowards, all of them. 

“Fucking assholes,” Kie said and watched her father approach them with a friendly smile. 

Pope snapped up when an idea popped into his head. “Sarah’s sister.”

“What?” Kie’s brows furrowed. 

“School starts next week,” Pope explained. “She’s starting high school, right? What if you tried talking to her? Maybe you can -”

Pope paused when he heard the sound of the police radios echoing off the walls from their belts. 

“Code10-92. Runaway teen last reported on Baker’s Street. Proceed with caution. Last seen wearing black sports shorts and a white tank. Suspect may be armed and dangerous.”

JJ’s head snapped back to his friends with his brows pinched together. Could this be you? Could you have made it out again? But what did armed and dangerous mean? That didn’t sound like you.

Shoupe radioed back to the station. “On our way.”

The officers dropped ten dollars in the tip jar before charging out the door to go to their vehicles. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up first and stuffed his phone and keys into his pocket. The other two nod and follow him out the door. If that call was about you, they wanted to find you before the cops did. “Okay. Kie, go home. She tried going to your house last time. Maybe she’ll try that again. Pope, go to Heyward’s. She trusts your dad. She might try to find him for help.”

“Where are you going to go?” Pope asked. 

“Everywhere else.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trudged through your old home with heavy feet. Nothing in there felt familiar to you - like it belonged to you in another life time. You first went to your room and stared at the girl in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Bones sticking out of your skin, dark bags under the eyes, and cracked lips and dry skin. 

Without thinking, you took the gun that’s still in your hand and smashed it against the glass, shattering it all around you. 

Ignoring the stinging in your hands from the shallow cuts on your skin, you moved on to the next room. Your brother’s room. It looked like a tornado made its way through here. Everything was tossed and turned from the police and FBI ransacking it during their search for John B. Nothing felt like it was John B’s anymore. Nothing felt private. And that pissed you off. 

Next you went to your dad’s office, somewhere you haven’t been since you found the compass. Even now, it felt like you weren’t supposed to be in here. If you believed in an afterlife, you would think your dad would be shaking his head at you. 

The office looked like John B’s room did. Whatever belonged to your dad now belonged to the state. The only things left were random files and belongings the police didn’t find of importance. But they were important to you. 

The first thing you found was a picture in a cracked frame of you, your dad, and your brother from when you were ten. Your dad was holding both of you as you blew out the candles on a birthday cake. Looking at the picture, you felt your heart being shredded apart. The picture only brought back pain and grief. You wanted that happiness back that ten year old you portrayed in that picture. But you can’t have it. Ever again.

A cry ripped through your throat as you chucked the picture across the room. From there, you went on a rampage, throwing and kicking anything that was in your way. You took one of the baggies out of your pocket and dumped it on the desk in front of you. Without any precision, you fixed the lines up with your finger and took a long whiff. You gripped the roots of your hair and tugged as you sobbed loudly and felt one of the biggest headaches explode in your brain. 

You paced back and forth in the office with the gun held in your shaky hands. You were mumbling to yourself about your options and how horrible of a sister and daughter you were for leaving your family behind. You wanted to see them. You wanted to be with them and prove to them you never meant to abandon them. 

You didn’t hear the door to the Chateau open or the sound of footsteps following your cries. It wasn’t until you heard his soft, delicate voice that you turned around and stared at your best friend with wide eyes and a startled expression. 

“Y/N...” JJ breathed out. He didn’t see the gun yet. He just saw you, crying and broken and not looking like the girl he knew only a few months ago. 

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t recognize your voice either. Hoarsed and scared. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“The cops are looking for you! Okay? We need to get you out of here!”

“I’m not leaving!”

“What?” JJ looked at you like you grew two heads. “What are you talking about. We -”

“No! I said I’m not leaving! Agh!” Your hands flew up to your pulsating head and gripped at your hair again. The pounding in your head was excruciating and wouldn’t go away. Between the cocaine, your cries, and the exhaustion, you didn’t think it would ever go away. 

That’s when JJ saw the gun and took a shocking step back. His hands immediately flew up in surrender and he gulped down his nerves. Now he knew why the cops had called you armed and dangerous. Probably because Ward reported a stolen gun. JJ never knew you to be a violent person. It wasn’t in you. You couldn’t even hurt a fly. Which meant you didn’t steal this gun to hurt someone else. But probably...

Then his eyes flickered to the desk where he saw the reside of white powder next to an empty baggie. Now he was petrified because he didn’t know how to get through to you - if he even could get through to you.

“Y/N, baby. Put the gun down.”

“No,” You shook you head. “No, no, no. I need to see them. I need to see my dad and John B!”

“Y/n...”

“I should’ve gone with them. I should’ve - I - I didn’t mean to leave. I’m so-sorry, John B. I’m so sorry.” You were a mess. Tears and snot and running all over your red and puffy face. 

JJ kept looking between you and the gun. His only comfort was that he knew you didn’t know how to use it. You wouldn’t even touch the one he stole from Scooter Grubs. But that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen.

“I can’t do it anymore,” You continued. “I can’t go back there. I won’t. I won’t. I just want to see my dad.”

JJ took a hesitant step closer to you and nodded his head, keeping his hands up. “Okay. Okay. What if I helped you see your dad?”

“H-How?” You hiccuped. JJ didn’t know where he was going with this. He just knew he had to get that gun out of your hand. He took another step closer to you, but this one made you jump back. “No! No! Stay away!”

“Okay, okay!” JJ yelled back at you. “Hey. I’m here to help you, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“I want to see them. I want to say sorry. I - I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, they’re not mad at you-”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I -”

With you distracted, JJ took the opportunity to run at you and tackle you to the ground. He ignored the pang in his heart when he heard you cry harder, wondering if he hurt you, but he cared more about keeping you alive. He wrestled the gun out of your hands and quickly emptied the cartridge. He chucked the multiple pieces across the room and wrapped himself around your crumpled body.

“No! No!” You shrieked in JJ’s shoulder and gripped onto his shirt for dear life. “Please! Let me go!” 

JJ held on to your crumbling body as you wracked with sobs. Exhaustion quickly took over you as the adrenaline slowly vanished out of your system. Your throat was on fire from all the crying and the screaming. Your chest felt empty and your lungs heavy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and never open them again.

JJ couldn’t hold back his own silent tears as they ran down his cheeks. He hated seeing you like this. And he hated even more that he didn’t know how to help you.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said as he brushed the hair out of your face. He kissed the top of your head with his soft lips and kept mumbling into your head. “You’re going to be okay. I’m never leaving your side again. It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself. He jus knew he had to make you believe it.

About ten minutes later, he felt your body relax against his. When he found you fast asleep, he pulled out his phone and texted Kie to pick the two of you up. 

Until Kie got there, he stared at the delicate skin on your face with such admiration. Rage bubbled through this veins as the ideas of what you possibly went through in the that hell hole in Figure Eight. 

He knew it was going to be a long road to recovery. He knew there was a lot of fixing that needed to be done. But he made a promise that he will never let you out of his sights again. Because today was a close call. And he never wanted you to be that close to death ever again.

[blueskrugs]

I Wanna Know You | Matthew Tkachuk

I heard this hannah montana song in a store at the beginning of december, immediately thought of Matthew, and then spent a week with it stuck in my head and trying to plan it out. sorry this isn’t a request, but I needed a break from writing them to remember why I loved writing. yikes. anyway, apparently I’m still incapable of writing fics that aren’t based on or inspired by songs. maybe one day...

length: 2.4k words

When I saw you over there, I didn't mean to stare But my mind was everywhere, I wanna know you

Matthew Tkachuk was magnetic. He’d always been like that, loud, the center of attention, lighting up whatever room he’d walked into. He thrived when all eyes were on him, and he lived to make people smile. That’s where you met him, at a party just before the start of the season, in Gio’s backyard on a night that wasn’t quite summer and not quite fall, either.

You were friends with Johnny's girlfriend, and she’d insisted that you come along. She’d told you that no one would care, and she had been right, because no one had paid you any mind other than asking what you wanted to drink. Besides, looking around, you were pretty sure other people had brought plus-ones or plus-twos and threes. 

Matthew was holding court in a corner of the yard, always with a shitty beer in his hand and a small crowd of people around him. Your eyes kept being drawn to him, not just for the way whatever stories he was telling periodically sent up peals of laughter into the night sky, but for the way his face lit up when he talked.

He caught you in the kitchen when you were grabbing water. 

“I don’t know you,” he said bluntly. You were taken aback. “I mean-” Matthew shook his head. “I’m Matthew,” he said, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding yet another Bud Light. 

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself. 

Matthew laughed. “You a fan?” 

“Would you stop talking to me if I told you I were an Oilers fan?” You mostly just wanted to see what he would say. 

Matthew wrapped an arm around your shoulders and dragged you back outside. “Nope.”

There's a mark above your eye, you got it in July Fightin' for your sister's reputation

It was well after dark, and you’d had more than a few drinks. Which probably amounted to whatever courage it took to reach out and poke Matthew in the forehead where he was sitting next to you at a bonfire someone had built. 

“Ow,” Matthew said, rubbing his forehead. You hadn’t even poked him hard enough to leave a mark, but there was something there, a cut just above his eyebrow that had barely healed all the way.

“How’d you get that?” you asked.

On your other side, Noah snorted. Matthew flipped him off. “I’ll have you know that I was defending my little sister’s honor.” Noah laughed outright now. “Okay, she and Luke Hughes were arguing about something dumb down at the Lake this summer, and I stepped in.”

“And?” you prompted, because you could tell the story didn’t end there. 

“And I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and fell off the end of the dock and hit my head.” Matthew somehow managed to look sheepish while grinning as the group sitting around the fire burst out laughing. He rubbed at his forehead again wryly. “My mom says it’s gonna scar,” he added. 

“Maybe leave out the falling off a dock part next time you tell the story,” you told him. 

Matthew grinned at you and winked. You settled back into your lawn chair and took a sip of your drink, watching as Matthew launched into another tale of something that happened at the lake over the summer, thinking that you could get used to this.

Matthew kissed you for the first time later that night, alone in the hallway as the party was winding down, still tasting a little of beer, and, yeah, you could definitely get used to this. 

And valentines are lame So you bring me flowers just for no occasion

The first time Matt brought you flowers for no reason, you were suspicious. It wasn’t your birthday, or anniversary, or Valentine’s Day– and he hadn’t missed any of those things, either. But there they were, waiting on the table in your apartment when you got home from work. You knew they were from Matthew because the card had one of his dumb cheesy jokes on it, but you still didn’t know why they were from Matthew. You snapped a picture and sent it to him, simply asking, “what did you do?”

Matt called you instead of responding. 

“What did you do?” you asked again.

“What makes you think I did something?” Matthew asked. You could hear him pouting. 

“Why else would you give me flowers?” You were still a little anxious about it, and Matthew wasn’t exactly helping. “How did you even get them in my apartment, anyway?” The Flames were on a road trip, had flown out to Chicago that morning.

“Used your spare key and dropped ‘em off before I went to the airport this morning,” he said. He sounded a little proud of himself.

“Matthew,” you sighed. “I gave you my spare key for emergencies,” you chided.

“And I needed to give you flowers!”

“Matt!”

“Okay, I just-” Matthew cut himself off. “My dad used to send my mom flowers from longer road trips, and I always thought that would be something I would do one day.” Matt trailed off, and he sounded hesitant for the first time all conversation.

You reached out and ran your fingers over the petals on one of the roses in the bouquet. They were pretty, and it was cute that Matthew had wanted to give you flowers, had thought of it while getting ready for a road trip in the middle of a busy season. 

“You couldn’t have at least put them in a vase?” you asked, grinning, though Matthew couldn’t see you.

Matt huffed out a laugh, surprised. “I was running late!”

“Yeah, well, now these poor flowers are half-dead,” you told him, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could root through your cabinets for a vase to rescue the flowers that were indeed wilting a little.

“Then I’ll just have to send you more,” he said.

“Oh my God, Matthew.”

The flowers kept coming throughout that first season together, with no real rhyme or reason: before some road trips, whether they were over a week or just two days, or when he came home from a road trip, showing up at your door and producing a bouquet with a flourish and a crooked grin. It always meant that Matthew had been thinking of you, no matter where he was.

You smile, nеver shout You stand out in a crowd

As Matthew got older, he had developed a habit of adopting rookies. It was entertaining to watch: Matthew, not really much older than a rookie himself, but with an A on his chest nonetheless, going full big brother-mode on all the kids fresh into the league.

Which is why you were woken up in the middle of the night by a phone call from one of said rookies. You listened to Matthew stumble out of bed and root around for a hoodie in the dark, grumbling under his breath about “idiot kids.”

“What happened?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Fucking ow,” he said, tripping over one of his shoes. “Fucking Zary got in a fight at a bar or something, I don’t know. He asked me to come pick him up.” Matthew had managed to get matching shoes on his feet, and was now looking for his keys. “I’ll be back with him later if I don’t kill him.”

Matthew did not kill Zary, just drove him home and directed him to the guest bedroom to sleep it off, because he did love his rookies, though he would never admit it to anyone. 

The next morning, Connor was waiting nervously in the kitchen when you both woke up.

“Coffee, kid?” Matt asked.

“I didn’t start the fight!” Connor blurted.

Matthew snorted. “I didn’t ask, but good for you, kid.” He started fiddling with his coffee maker. 

“You’re not gonna, like, yell at me?”

“Do you want me to?”

You laughed softly. “Be nice, Matthew.”

“I’m always nice!” Matthew protested. “And, no, I’m not gonna yell, but you are bag skating after practice for a week,” he told Zary, pointing a fork at him. The piece of fruit he’d had speared on it fell off and hit the floor. “Ah, fuck.”

You're fragile and you're strong A beautiful and perfect combination

For the most part, Matthew didn’t let much bother him. He was good at leaving the game on the ice, not taking anything too personally. He did, however, take his game very seriously. He was always trying to be better, for himself for the team, and he prided himself on becoming a leader in the locker room over the years. He took bad losses to heart, and he was the first to blame himself for any mistakes he made. 

The Flames were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, well, couple of weeks. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a little, but it certainly wasn’t pretty. They were losing more than they were winning– they lost every game on a four game road trip, the games they were winning were sloppy, and they were losing ground in the standings. To make matters worse, in the latest game, Matthew had missed an easy goal on an empty net. Yeah, definitely not pretty. 

You made it home before him and waited. 

Matthew slammed the front door when he came in, but there wasn’t a lot of force behind it, like he was too exhausted even for frustration. You had been idly watching an Oilers game because it was on, but you turned the TV off when Matt came into the living room. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, his tie wasn’t tied properly anymore, and his dress shirt was rumpled. 

“Oh, babe,” you said. Matthew made a face at you. “Do you want to change or just-”

“Cuddle?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come over here.”

Matt wasted no time in coming over and flopping gracelessly onto the couch with his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he pressed into your hand.

Matthew sighed, long and loud, ending in “Fuck.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you tried, but you both knew you were lying. 

Matthew opened one eye to glare at you. “I hate this so much,” he said. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He sat up and pushed his hands through his already messy hair. “I don’t understand what’s wrong, we’re supposed to be a better team than this.”

You really weren’t sure how to comfort Matthew, but you hated seeing him like this. You reached out and took one of his hands, pulling him in for a hug. He slumped against you like his strings had been cut.

“I’m supposed to be better than this,” he whispered, and there it was. Matthew could grin his way through a game, letting chirps and insults roll off his shoulders, but when it came down to it, he would always be worried about being good enough, always wanting to impress everyone. To make people proud.

“Oh, babe,” you said again, but this time your heart broke a little for him. Matthew sighed again. “This is not your fault, you know that. You are good, and you’re a good team. You’ll get through this just fine.”

Matthew huffed like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue with you. You sat quietly in the dark living room for a while, long enough you thought Matthew had fallen asleep. 

“Hey,” you said quietly. Matthew stirred and stretched. “You have a couple days off next weekend. Do you wanna drive out to Banff and do something?”

Matthew perked up immediately. “Can we go dog sledding?”

I like how you are with me In our future history

It was the end of the season, and you were at another backyard party at the Giordano’s. You were idly watching Matthew chase some of his teammates’ kids around. Well, actually, Matt was being chased by some and chasing some others. You weren’t sure how anyone knew who was doing the chasing. The other girls were chatting around you, but you were only half-listening as you watched Matthew scoop up a giggling Tillie Backlund and spin her around.

You couldn’t help but think about how Matthew would be with kids of your own one day. 

“I’m too young for baby fever,” you muttered into your sangria. 

Annica laughed next to you, following your gaze. “He’ll be a good dad one day,” she commented.

“You are not helping!” The other girls were laughing, now, too. 

“Have you two ever really talked about the future?” Meredith asked.

You scoffed. You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. “Not really,” you admitted. 

Your eyes didn’t leave Matthew as he flopped into the grass and let the kids swarm him. And yet. Matthew hadn’t stopped talking about how much he couldn’t wait for you to come down to St. Louis this summer, to really meet his family, to spend time down at the lake with everyone. How much his family was going to love you. 

You’d always dreamed of your future, of a picture-perfect wedding and a few kids and a dog. Growing up, the man of your dreams had always been just that, a dream, but lately when you thought about the future, Matthew was always there. That certainly felt like something important. 

After a few more minutes, Matthew extricated himself from the small mob of kids and made his way over to you, pulling the empty chair next to you close and kissing your temple as he dropped into it. 

“What’re you guys gossiping about?” Matt asked, plucking your glass from your hand and taking a drink. He made a face, but didn’t give it back to you.

“You’re great with all those kids,” Lauren said pointedly. Matthew beamed. 

Your group dissipated a little not long after that, and Matthew tugged you out of your own chair and into his lap. He poked you in the side a couple times.

“You’re awfully quiet.” You made a noncommittal noise. “What’re you thinking about, babe?” he asked.

You nosed at his jawline, pressed a kiss there. “You ever think about having kids?” you murmured.

Matt’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. “Yeah, of course.” He was smiling softly at you. “Oh.” 

You giggled a little. “Just one day,” you added.

Matthew kissed you, just a quick peck. “Yeah, one day,” he said.

One day didn’t feel so far away if you knew it would be Matthew by your side. Maybe you’d be used to his antics by then.

And maybe someday down the road I'll sit back and say to myself, "Yeah, I thought so"

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

[ct-multifandom]

Miracuclass Amogus Cringe

I was going back and forth about making this post, but then I saw @charming-mage ‘s and I was like screw it we’re doing this. This ended up 10x longer than I thought it’d be.

Marinette (crewmate) - tries to organize everyone into a buddy system to corner the impostors, gets frustrated when people agree to her plan and then start running rogue. When discussions start she’s leading the conversation and asking the most questions. She greatly prefers crewmate over impostor because she likes the mystery solving element of discussions.

Marinette (impostor) - whenever she kills someone she goes, “ahhhh” out loud and panics while her avatar sprints away from the body. She likes coming up with convoluted plans, especially when she can communicate with her fellow imp(s), and tries to make it seem like she’s in two places at once wether it be through venting or falsified testimony.

Adrien (crewmate) - he has to unmute and ask how to do like every individual task to the point where he’s been voted out over it before because cmon, you’ve gotta be lying about it at this point, just piece it together and stop unmuting during task time. He makes puns and sings little improvised songs while tasking. When he suspects someone but they don’t get voted out, he offers to tail them at the cost of his own safety. Same with fixing sabotages late-game. To him, getting killed is just part of the game progression, and it’s not a big deal because he trusts his fellow crewmates to avenge him and doesn’t mind ghost-tasking.

Adrien (impostor) - okay maybe he lies about not knowing tasks sometimes. But it also took him a while to learn imp mechanics and he kept asking about them out loud like, “what’s the red square task on the floor? Why’s my name highlighted?” And somehow nobody noticed while his partner(s) were like nggggg Adrien no... At least he’s good at playing innocent/fake-detective-ing in discussions. Whenever he kills someone he makes some stupid one-liner about it out loud.

Alya (crewmate) - we got Sherlock Holmes over here. She overanalyzes every tiny detail and isn’t scared to sacrifice the sus for the greater cause. When she finishes tasks, she likes to hang out by security and snoop in case of the rare satisfaction of catching someone red-handed. If there’s an emergency meeting, it’s probably because she probably saw something. She supports Crewinette’s plans to corner the imps. She thinks tasks wins are boring and that it’s a lot more fun to win through voting correctly. If they task-win or lose she stops before the new game and asks who the imps were and for a recap of their actions.

Alya (impostor) - a force to be reckoned with. She’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike someone, and then cover her tracks, join a group and win herself a strong alibi anyways. Her reputation as a ruthless detective protects her, even when the game is set to show that the ejected person was innocent. She always chooses someone to kill and someone to blame for it, but sometimes she gets carried away and they vote her off for pointing too many fingers.

Nino (crewmate) - he’s just tasking, man. If he gets killed he’s like, “oh mf” and just keeps ghost-tasking. He mostly hangs out during the discussions unless he has something solid to say, only jumping in at the end to confirm, “so we’re voting for _?”. He leads his own little crewmate squad around when he finishes tasks to protect them while they finish theirs.

Nino (impostor) - mostly plays off the strategy of his partner(s). He likes playing the protective team-player type “innocent diversion” role while the partner(s) get to killing, so when discussions start he’s totally in the clear, which gives him an opening to dodge suspicion in the future if he needs to take over killing. He pretends to fix sabotages all the time because people rely on him to do that as a crewmate.

Max (crewmate) - freakishly good at the card scanning task. People always ask for his secret and he’s like? It’s so easy? He has every map memorized to a t so he can point out the contradictions in people’s stories like an ace attorney character. It’s surprisingly really helpful. He’s the opposite of Alya in that he’s a big supporter of the “guys, stop voting off random innocent people, we have like five tasks left. Whoever hasn’t done them, just finish them” strategy.

Max (impostor) - he tries his best to protect his partner(s) in the discussion while laying low himself, and sometimes he gets voted out for it, but if he senses that there’s nothing he can do, he’ll throw them even further under the bus to build credit for himself. He doesn’t like sacrificing innocents as a crewmate, so his defenses are only sus when he’s caught being wrong. He sabotages a lot to control people’s movements and vents liberally unless he committed to a tasking group. That being said, he can go whole rounds without killing out of caution.

Kim (crewmate) - he’s the guy who calls emergency meetings early into the game only to say, “I miss you guys :)” He gets voted out all the time for doing troll-y crap and ignoring Crewinette’s plans. He’s also severely confused by some of the tasks and game mechanics, but fakes it till he makes it, until the discussion where he rarely says anything valuable and just jokes around. Sometimes, though, he’ll offer a tiny offhand detail and everyone’s like Kim, I hate to say it, but you’re a genius or that’s the piece we’ve been missing! And he’s like haha ok. He’s always behind on tasks, sometimes out of laziness, sometimes out of confusion, but he’s one of the people Max is impatiently waiting on.

Kim (impostor) - he gets caught in the act a lot and it’s hilarious, but other times he gets away with everything the entire time, which is kinda scary. He’s weirdly good at introducing so much confusion and derailment to discussions that everyone gets totally lost and doesn’t know what’s going on, allowing him to survive when they could’ve easily figured him out. Unlike Max, he knows literally nothing about the maps and always says he was at the “slidey thing” or whatever and everyone’s like idk wtf the slidey thing is, and if this were anyone else they’d be gone immediately, but it’s Kim so he might actually be telling the truth. He refuses to learn the names of anything because this really helps him out.

Alix (crewmate) - always trying to convince her friends to experiment with ridiculous game settings. Occasionally, she gets to them, and they get games with comically unbalanced imp:crew ratios, awful lighting, an overwhelming load or lack of tasks, or hilariously low cool downs. She revels in the chaos. When she tasks she usually moves from place to place alone but tries to hop in with groups to confirm her movements. She’s pretty good at sussing imps out when they offer enough information, but otherwise she just makes goofy comments with Kim.

Alix (impostor) - not too worried about killing people and venting. She moves fast and dashes from place to place, joining a group on the opposite side of the map from her last body. If anyone says, “I saw someone vent but I didn’t see who” it was probably her. She likes the “stand in a clump and watch the chaos ensue when one person drops” technique as well as the gambling “hope that the UI for the task everyone’s doing covers your killing and venting” strat. Sometimes she’s forced to vent to a dead end and gets caught, and sometimes the big brain detectives catch her, but she’s usually pretty smooth.

Rose (crewmate) - a big fan of hide and seek mode. She likes grouping up for tasks, protecting each other at the cost of efficiency. During discussions, she has a hard time believing anyone’s the impostor, and everyone’s like, Rose, we know there are exactly three of them, you can’t defend every individual person. Whenever she gets killed she is like *gasp* et tu, Brute? No matter who it was.

Rose (impostor) - runs around with her squad when... oops... looks like something got sabotaged! Uh oh, wonder who could’ve done that? She’s in a battle against that task bar more so than the players, and tries to stay away from killing. She emulates crewmate behavior perfectly so no one ever suspects her until really late. If she’s the only imp left and she has to kill, it’s like an Agatha Christie locked room mystery level of drama and betrayal within her squad. But we were all together the whole time... omfg no way... it was one of us.

Juleka (crewmate) - she secretly prefers when everyone tasks alone, but goes with the squad for Rose. She only talks in discussions if she’s 100% sure about something, and she often incomprehensibly mumbles vital evidence. ~10 minutes later when they catch the imp she’s like iItoldyouso and the crew’s like ??? If she gets killed and her tasks are done, she haunts that impostor relentlessly. Sometimes she even organizes ghost brigades in ghost chat and gets everyone to follow them.

Juleka (impostor) - definitely gets a kick out of the kill button. Whenever she takes someone down she’s like heeheehee. If she was peer pressured into a task team again, she’ll anxiously try to slip away unnoticed for a second to catch someone in the hallway outside, but if she’s alone, she’s on a hunt. Nobody is safe. When she defends herself on voice chat she also mumbles incomprehensibly and everyone’s like sure, fair enough.

Mylene (crewmate) - seasoned task group leader. She also sings little task songs like Adrien. She tries to organize people into chatting regular status updates so they can tell if someone goes missing. She reports every body she finds and actively participates in the discussion, but whenever she makes good points, she gets overlooked. Then, the crew’s like Mylene, why didn’t you say anything sooner? And she’s like agjdjdhh Either that or she gets voted off for always reporting and being too eager to discuss on top of it.

Mylene (impostor) - gets her partner(s) inside her team and tries to tag-team anyone passing by, only for all the impostors to have alibis when she reports. If the ratio is right, they can destroy their own group, and then immediately point the finger at whoever is left, which works about half the time. Mylene is a pretty convincing actress, but the high IQ tricks only work a couple times.

Ivan (crewmate) - he’ll take one for the team if he has to, especially in those sabotage cases where you’d have to be isolated and vulnerable. Otherwise he’ll protect his group. He has an “innocent until proven guilty” attitude when he runs into other people on the map, and skips during a lot of the votes.

Ivan (impostor) - we all know he can’t lie to save his life. He usually gets voted out really fast if he kills someone because he gets nervous and starts saying contradictory things when questioned. That being said, he’ll do what he can to keep his partner(s) in the clear. He never vents because the risk is too high for him, instead just running around and saying, “sorry” out loud when he catches a victim.

Nathaniel (crewmate) - he’s the opposite of Adrien in that he’ll do anything to avoid getting killed. He runs around tasking on his own, but he’s usually behind because he’s so focused on avoiding everyone, to Max’s frustration. He also never reports bodies. This causes him to be sus at all times, so he gets voted out a lot. Wild Nath sightings are rare and terrifying because he’s never in the clear and he’s just standing there, menacingly. Imp!Alix sees him as a fun combo of Where’s Waldo and Assassin.

Nathaniel (impostor) - the millisecond that cool down timer runs out, someone is getting killed. Hit and run. He’s good at entering a fairly crowded large space, striking, and staying in everyone’s blind spots while he runs away, especially when the lights are out. He likes venting to isolated areas and killing as many people per round as he can, laughing when someone finally reports and everyone unmutes to go WHAT!? at the number of deaths. He tends to operate separately from his partner(s) unless they have an actual plan.

Chloe (crewmate) - gathers every single person in medbay and makes sure they all watch her scan. Yeah okay, we get, you’re a crewmate. She feels personally offended whenever someone kills her, which is often, since people tend to jokingly target her. During discussions, she accuses anyone and everyone of being sus, even if she just walked past them or saw them tasking alone. She likes stalking people as a ghost and spilling tea in ghost chat.

Chloe (impostor) - reacts similarly to Marinette when she kills. She will throw her partner(s) under the bus if it’s more advantageous in the long run, and she’s great at shifting the blame to innocents. People vote her out a lot anyways, and she says she can’t believe that they even like this stupid little game. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Unless she wins. Then it’s fun.

Sabrina (crewmate) - discussion detective supreme. She keeps track of every piece of evidence and testimony, every detail. She tails the sus at a distance, trying to catch them doing something. Sometimes it gets her targeted, but sometimes she catches them and calls emergency meetings to snitch. Somehow she manages to do this and finish her tasks at the same time.

Sabrina (impostor) - sabotages everything, and tries to get her partner(s) to do it too. Once she won because the crew just didn’t fix O2 in time. She avoids killing Chloe, but feels bad if she has to kill anyone else too. She typically just sticks to making other people seem suspicious, and likes the game mode where you can’t see if you voted correctly or not.

Lila (both) - she rarely joins these games. She isn’t even a member of the chat group they use. They occasionally invite her, and she usually lies about how busy she is, but she accepted a couple times to further her narrative. She pretends to be really bad at being an impostor to establish herself as someone incapable of trickery. Regardless of her role, whenever the body announcement pops up, she goes, “oh nooo, not [victim(s)]... nooo....” and Mari’s like stfu Lila.

Bonus Polaroid kids because,,, they <3

Kagami (crewmate) - hella efficient at tasks. Two discussions in and she’s done. She’s the interrogation specialist who stresses out the imps and crew alike with her barrage of questions. She likes moving either alone or in partners, three people maximum, unless Crewinette needs her, in which case she’ll stick to the plan no matter what.

Kagami (impostor) - you’re walking through the base / there’s no one around and comms are down / out of the corner of your eye you spot her / Kagami Tsurugi. She will have you cornered and you won’t be able to do anything about it. She always has a made up explanation for what she was doing, but sometimes it falls through solely because she’s always acting sus.

Luka (crewmate) - he likes crewmate a lot more than impostor. He’ll tag along with a task group until he’s done, and then he’ll go lurk in the corner and spy on people. He moves along the walls, and a few times this has led to him witnessing murders in the middle of the room while the imp only saw him after it was too late. Cue the mad dash for emergency meeting.

Luka (impostor) - works together with his partner(s) to perform some high level backstabbery. He rarely gets voted out unless he messes up because he builds bonds of trust with like half of the crew while he leads the rest into his partner(s)’ traps. He feels bad about killing sometimes, but he doesn’t mind sabotaging.

Zoe (crewmate) - she finds one or two other people she trusts and follows them around. She uses the logic of “well we could’ve both killed each other by now but we didn’t so they must be safe”. She immediately recounts everything that happened to her that round in discussions, even irrelevant details, just in case they might end up useful, and tends to bandwagon with voting.

Zoe (impostor) - tries to catch people in secluded corners or rooms with closable doors to kill them. She avoids taking risks, but sometimes she reports her own bodies and tries to act all surprised by the discovery. She’s a good actress, but she’s not the best bs artist, although the crew is used to her giving a ton of details right from the start, so they don’t suspect her unless there’s a hole in her story.

Marc (crewmate) - does tasks on his own but makes sure to stop near crowds when he can. Whenever he’s running around alone and sees someone else, he immediately turns around like ohmygodohmygod and anxiously dances around the other person who’s more than likely just another, equally anxious crewmate with places to be. He still gets killed a lot.

Marc (impostor) - he goes full anime villain mode. All according to keikaku. He’s one of those people who disproportionately rolls the impostor role and ends up with it like twice every five games. He plans out every move he’s gonna make, every complex lie and big brain play, and sometimes he gets that glorious evil win, but sometimes his plans are totally sabotaged by stupid things like Kim’s trolling.

[queen-boudicca]

First up in the nuwho rewatch, Rose!

It's ya girl! 

I love how RTD sets look like actual places people live. Like that looks like an living room

Love the music so much omg

MICKEY i love you and your dorky dancing

This music is an absolute bop

Wait did she forget to bring down the till or did she hope nobody would notice before she left and didn't have to do it

Why is the ceo's office in the basement? And she knows him on a first name basis? Oh wait i bet that means chief electrical officer or something (judging by how there's the lightning sign on his door idk)

IT'S YA BOI

Don't like this music as much

Oh okay so it did stand for that

Rip Wilson

"I'm gonna go up there and blow it up! Which might well kill me in the process, but don't worry about me; go on home and have your beans on toast"

God i missed nine so much omg he's so sassy 

JACKIE!!! ILY

Mickey!!

Lol their cute bickering it's amazing

"You need something stronger let's to go the pub"

"There's a match on isn't there?"

"Well I've got no idea what you're talking about how dare you even insinuate—"

Wakes up, goes back to bed

"I know she is Greek but that's not the point" amazing

"Well anything could happen" "no" the doctor is ace af and we stan 

Love the implication that nine hasn't seen his reflection, when later we get a whole series of audio dramas that took place after he regenerated and before he met rose so he hasn't looked in a mirror or anything in all that time

Jackie blow-drying her already dry hair for... reasons?

God he's such a bitch i love him

NINE'S THEME (which yes is basically the same as tens theme shut up his is softer and just has the vocals)

Rose googles "doctor" expecting anything other than a list of doctors and then goes to an internet stranger's house and would've gone alone if Micky hadn't insisted on coming

Also how the fuck is that picture supposed to look anything like nine

Also why was the doctor at the Kennedy assassination? 

Oh look another photo that looks nothing like him at all

At least the drawing does, though that's mostly bc of the outfit

'His constant companion is death' dude didn't you just say that he visited a family who then decided not to go on the titanic and thus survived? 

Oh i love these effects

Not gonna blame Rose for not realizing Mickey was sus bc nobody would think someone they know would be kidnapped and replaced by an evil plastic replica

IT'S YA GIRL (TARDIS)

lol love rose running right out even though fake Mickey is chasing them

NINE'S THEME AGAIN

She's so beautiful

And nines purposefully avoiding caring about Mickey bc he's jaded and doesn't want to be distracted and wants to think that sacrifices are justified bc that's how he copes

And rose is rightly like hey wtf how can you forget about him

God I love how a character calls out the doctor on his flaws (which are justified and understandable and make even more sense the more we learn about him) and it's actually true and not immediately criticized by the narrative certain showrunners could never

Nine in the middle of the London eye I'm gonna cry

I love how the doctor always cites the specific article or whatever from the shadow proclamation. Like even when alien species are governed by it do they really know every article and shit? I could cite maybe like five articles of my country's founding documents there's way everyone knows what part of whatever law he's citing

Hc that they just name random numbers and shit and nobody knows enough about it to contradict him

The grief in his voice holy fuck and how he's choked up and stuff

God Eccleston deserves an Oscar for this

People say he should get one for dalek and they're right but this is fucking incredible too

Aww Clive no

Jackie you are not doing a good job of running away

Rose i love you taking time to monologue before you save the day king shit

No i can't even lie i actually love her little speech you go queen

Mickey my beloved are you all right

Rose maybe tell your mom you're okay before you hang up lol

Rose maybe consider that Mickey didn't have any time to adjust or anything and he was just kidnapped and didn't really get to talk to the doctor at all

Aww nine is so sad :-(

Anyway the other possibility is that this was right after he regenerated but then he left w the tardis and had all the audio adventures before coming back and telling rose that it also travels in time

Now I'm filled with an overwhelming desire to read some nine fanfic (if only I fucking had any someone please rec some to me)

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Red Flags

Warnings: Serial killers, breaking and entering, torture, manipulation and broken bones AN: Huge thank you to @9layerdevilfoodcake and the lovely Carissa for bouncing some ideas and beta reading this while I was struggling!

AO3

Michael had enough. He was tired and hungry, getting nothing more than delirious in this forest. He stood on shaky legs, not caring about the blood of the goat he just killed. He didn’t know where he was going, just letting his feet carry him to wherever they pleased. He no longer cared about the destination. His surroundings faded into nothingness, until a familiar white-picket fence came into view. He finally focused on his surroundings, immediately starting to sob when he recognised where he was. His childhood home, his grandmother’s house. His body must have craved the familiarity and the warm embrace that only she could provide. But like every other mother figure in his life, she was dead, and he blamed himself. With bleary eyes he pushed open the squeaky gate. The smell of roses made the memories rapidly flash through his mind. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The house had been untouched for years. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. He thought of his grandmother watching the house fall into this state of decay. Watching.

He felt the eyes of the house next door on him. He refused to look out the window. He didn’t want to see the looks of disgust and pity. He wiped his eyes and stood a little straighter. This was his house now. He could do whatever he wanted here. No one to answer to, no more deadlines and most of all, no more older blonde woman dictating his life. ////

He stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble and lack of sleep seemed to age him. His hair was no longer perfectly styled, it was wild and uneven. The more he looked at himself the more his face began to morph into the women in his life. He hated it. He didn’t want to look like the woman that threw him out at his lowest. Or the woman who, even in her death, could not accept him as hers. He carried the ghosts of next door with him, and he’d do anything to alleviate himself of that burden. He could only change his appearance for so long. Hair dye would eventually fade; contacts would need to be removed and he wasn’t willing to put himself under the knife.

The smell of blood on his clothes pulled him out of his thoughts. The mirror reflected the decrepit house he was in, turning his nose in disgust. With the last of his strength, he mustered a tiny bit of magic, using a spell to clean the house. He walked through the house as it returned to it’s former glory, remembering his own attempts at interior design when he was younger, looking up the beams and archways where he would nail his ‘gifts’ to his grandmother. Times were simpler then. He shook his head of the nostalgia, hoping the plumbing was still working; he needed a nice hot shower.

//// None of the clothes in the closet fit him anymore, he didn’t realise how much he had grown. For now, a towel was the best he could do until his other clothes were out the dryer. He spent his time scouring the house for legal documents, anything that entitled him to some money and the deeds of the house. He needed to get this all under his name, just in case his grandmother used that stupid medium to undermine him. He tugged open the last drawer. Bingo. Everything he needed conveniently placed in one place. Money, a will and the deeds of the house. He would need to go to whatever legal office to get it sorted. The dryer still had time to go. With a big sigh, he sat on the couch. The one that faced the ‘other’ house. He gave a smile to those still watching him. He must have looked demented by the reactions he got from them. The exhaustion and hunger were catching up to him, succumbing to sleep on the couch.

////

It was morning when he woke up. He let his towel fall with a big stretch. Thus was his house; he could do anything. Even walking around naked. He kept the blinds and curtains that faced that house open. Let them watch. He pulled his warm clothes on. The detergent brought back memories, he’d buy a new scent when the time came. He grabbed some cash and whatever documents he needed for the day, venturing out into the big bad world.

////

Humanity deserved to perish simply for the time it took at the bank. The manger was an old lady, greying blonde hair and a pair of ill-fitting glasses. Michael thought she was extremely rude and didn’t hide his distaste when he spoke to her. She asked far too many questions for such a simple procedure. “Young man, aren’t you far too young to be accessing these funds?” she asked, looking over her glasses. “I can’t control when my entire family dies now can I,” he spat back, sick of her already. She continued to look him up and down as she typed away. Printing something off, she slipped a booklet of paperwork to him. “Everything has been approved, your card should arrive in the next few days. Can I do anything else for you?” “I’d like to take out some cash.” “How much?” “$500.” She paused, “what are you planning on doing with that?” Michael was getting beyond irritated, his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his temples. “There’s no need to be so rude young man,” she huffed. Michael gave her a sarcastic smile before snatching the money and walking out of the bank. The world would be better off without her. He’d deal with her soon. ////

Michael returned home with numerous bags of clothing and food. He would learn how to cook for himself, takeout was not sustainable. The pantry was stocked with basic essentials, but most of it was stocked with candy and other snacks. No one could stop him from indulging in his gluttony now.

His wardrobe was full of blacks and reds, the perfect colours for him. He was most looking forward to the black jumpsuit. It stood out to him in the store, a style he had never tried before. His fingers drifted over the seams when he tried it on, turning and admiring the various angles in the mirror. He looked up to the clock through the mirror, it was almost 5pm, if he didn’t leave now, he would miss her leaving. ////

Michael waited for the old bank manager to leave. Biding his time in the shadows. He watched her as she said her goodbyes in her shrill voice, then as she walked to her car. Michael stalked behind her, waiting for her to get in. As she got comfortable, she dropped something by her foot pedals. When she reached down to grab it, Michael took the opportunity to get in the car and lock the doors. He smiled at her when she screamed. The parking lot was empty, no one would hear her. “Shhh,” Michael put a finger to his lips, the other hand held up a gun. It was one of Constance’s that she had hidden in the house. The woman suddenly stopped, her shaking hands on the wheel. “You’re going to drive, and I’m going to give you directions,” he said, his tone left no space to argue. She nodded, tears in her eyes, hoping he would let her go eventually.

////

They pulled up outside the murder house. Michael got out first, taking the keys from the ignition. The woman stayed in the car, still shaking. She wasn’t given much time to think, Michael dragged her out of the car and up the steps, his hand over her mouth. Her legs flailed around, heels falling off and feet dragging on the ground. Sill, Michael paid her no mind, not even as she thumped down the stairs when he threw her into the basement.

He felt eyes on him again as he went into the kitchen, looking for something sharp. When he got to the basement door, it was blocked by none other than Dr. Harmon himself. “You don’t have to do this kind, you know you’re better than this,” he tried to convince Michael. “You didn’t have to cheat on your wife, now here we all are, miserable in the same fucking house,” Michael spat back. “He didn’t give Harmon a chance to respond, teleporting into the basement where the woman cowered in the corner.

“Please, I’m sorry if I did something, there’s other ways to solve this,” she cried. “I need to get home to my grandkids,” she tried to appeal to his softer side. He continued to stalk towards her, ignoring her and inspecting the sharp knife. “You’re far too old to still be this rude. I think that it’s a habit that can’t be solved anymore,” Michael replied, sounding disappointed. The woman couldn’t back away any further, stuck to the wall. Michael got down to her level, wiping away her tears. “You have grandkids?” She rapidly nodded, hoping he changed his mind. “I had a grandma too. Looked just like you,” he took a blonde hair and sniffed it, it didn’t smell like her. “At least she had basic manners. And, she wouldn’t be caught dead in this hideous number,” he pointed out. He had to give Constance credit where it was due. “Do you want to know what happened to my grandma?” he whispered in her ear. She was too shaky to respond. “I killed her too,” he whispered again, this time his voice cracked a little; remembering the day he found her dead in this very house. Even if she was a ghost, she could have at least spared him a hug. His eyes began to well up. The woman took this as an opportunity to reach out, placing her hand on her face. He snapped back to her, taking her hand in his. “But no one can ever replace her,” his voice still shaking. He felt like a little boy again. He could feel the pity from the woman. She wasn’t scared of him anymore and he didn’t like that. He was no longer a child. He had a greater purpose. Without hesitation, Michael sliced her throat, letting himself be covered in her blood. He looked at his reflection in the knife. Maybe this was the look for him, covered in blood. He licked his fingers, tasting the liquid. “I’ll save the heart for later,” he thought to himself, before ripping it out and making use of one of the fridges. This was one way to pass the time and maybe, it would finally get his father’s attention. //// A car was found on a random highway. In it was the mangled corpse of the owner, and a simple letter signed by ‘the Alpha’. This marked the beginning of a new wave of violence in southern California. A serial killer was on the prowl. The victim profile was quite strange. Typically, killers would choose young women. However, this killer liked older blonde women, usually grandmothers or mothers. It scared you regardless, worried that one day the preference might change. You worried for your co-workers too, many of them fitting the description. The thought that you might have even interacted with the culprit made your skin crawl. ////

Things would inevitably go wrong if one were fuelled by bloodlust alone. Michael had broken into the wrong house. The woman that pissed him off at the supermarket lived a few doors down. Regardless, he was curious as to who lived here. The home was so different to what he was used to. The interior design choices were not the standard ‘live, laugh, love’ and farmhouse kitchen with seashell bathrooms. This house was nice, it had a younger feel to it, the heels by the door further proof of his theory. He quietly made his way up the stairs, looking into every room and taking it all in. He finally found the occupied room. The dark-haired woman was fast asleep in her bed. Comfortably sank into her pillows. He adjusted the blinds a little so he could see better. The way the moonlight reflected off her face took his breath away. His fingers twitched, he wanted to take her home this instant. He could take care of her, he knew he could. He liked a challenge however, he wanted her to come to him. He didn’t know how long he stood and stared at her, only leaving once she stared to stir. He’d be back. ////

Michael’s heart was jumping out of his chest when he arrived back to the murder house. The residents were surprised he didn’t come home with another victim or even a drop of blood on him. His face was flush and he was in deep thought. Luckily for the residents, souls were not congesting the house, as Michael would make sure to burn the new souls as soon as he could. He whispered nonsense to himself as he made his way up to the attic. His trance was interrupted by his foot hitting a box. Had it always been there? He slowly took the lid off, finding an old camcorder and lots of tape. Was he living in the movie ‘sinister’? He was the scariest thing in this house, no ghoul could ever top him.

The box gave him something to do for the rest of the night. Returning with some snacks and in his pyjamas. The entertainment didn’t last long. It was just shitty home movies from former residents. It got worse when they’d come forward and explain them. He turned his face in disgust at the last one; a homemade sex tape. He gagged before turning it off. The sun was rising, telling him to go to bed. As he put the camcorder way, he had a genius idea.

////

You felt weird when you woke up. It was as if someone had been watching you. Your blinds were slightly open, and your bedroom door ajar. Had someone been in? As you walked through the house, something just seemed a little off. Things were ever so slightly out of place. There even seemed to be less fruit juice this morning than you were sure you had last night. Maybe it was the paranoia of the current situation getting to you. You sighed and shook your head before going to get ready for the day.

////

You hated working in the family and wills sector of the legal profession. You were hoping to make the move to fashion law soon, just waiting for the right opportunity. You really weren’t made for the requests of dead people and their bickering relatives.

You greeted one of the partners. Ms Grace everyone called her. She was your mento and a mother figure to you out here in the big bad legal world. Hopefully, she’d give you a good reference when you left. “New client for you today, just… entire dead family,” she whispered the last bit, making a cutting gesture with her hand. “That sounds horrible.” She nodded, before letting you set up for the day. ////

It was afternoon before said client showed up. Your office phone rang informing you of his arrival. A tall, blond man sat in the waiting room; his eyes widened in recognition when he saw you. You decided to ignore it. “Hello, are you Mr. Langdon?” “I am.” “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, in Y/N and I’ll be taking your case,” you held your hand out for him to shake. It was comfortably warm. “Please, call me Michael.” You nodded and smiled, before leading him to your office. “Any refreshments before we get started?” He shook his head. From the outside, his case looked simple However, the deaths in his family left a convoluted mess, but you were sure Mr Langdon would get what he wanted. He was the only legal and living heir after all. You chatted away as you printed off and filled out the relevant forms. The conversation came easy. It had been a while since someone had caused butterflies in your stomach.   You weren’t unprofessional however, keeping it professional with clients. When all was done for the session, you saw him out and waved him off. The interaction with him had left you a little flush. The receptionist giving you a knowing look.

////

This was totally unplanned. Michael wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. He thought that maybe his father had a hand in this, a reward for his hard work. He made his way back home, keeping the packet you gave him close, it still faintly smelled of you. He sat on the couch facing the other house. Images of you occupying his mind. It all got too much, lazily stroking himself to the thought of you that afternoon. ////

He left the house again, camcorder in hand. He pressed record as soon as he got inside your house. Filming every little detail leading up to your room. Even filming himself waving in the hallway mirror, as if he were recording and innocent home video.

He slowly opened your door. You accidently left the lamp on that night, giving him the perfect lighting. He zoomed in on your face before getting closer. Your duvet was blocking the view, reaching forward to carefully move it a little. Running his thumb over your lips and getting it on camera. He groaned at the softness. His fingers skimmed over your face, neck and collarbones. He watched as your nose crinkled a little at the touch. Cute. His evening plans were abruptly cut short when your phone began to ring. At this hour? Who was it? You began to stir at the invasive sound. Michael didn’t have time to run, transmuting out the house as fast as he could.

////

In his free time, Michael indulged in all that his family would disapprove of. And nothing could vex Constance Langdon more than her shitty grandson doing all types of drugs. He liked the feeling weed gave him. It helped him relax after the adrenaline rush of a kill. Sometimes, the murder house had a horrible stench of weed and rotting flesh, prompting the residents to keep the windows open. He even tried other things, like Acid and MD. He didn’t like the restlessness they gave him. He especially hated when his face would morph in the mirror, turning him into the people he hated the most. He wondered what it would be like to get high with you. He wanted to melt into you just like he did the floor when the THC finally got him. If he couldn’t get to you that night, he would replay the tapes on the big screen and jack off, wishing you were there. The residents of the house watched in disgust and horror. They may have done terrible things but surely, they weren’t this bad.

////

Mr Langdon’s case had successfully ended, he had gotten what he wanted. You bumped into him a week later, on your lunch break. “Oh? Y/N? so nice to see you,” he stood in the line at your favourite coffee shop. “Like wise,” you smiled up at him. “Would you like anything? I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You tried to reject his kindness but didn’t want to hold up the line, giving him your order. You both sat at a quiet table, waiting for your drinks and pastry. “I don’t usually see my clients on lunch breaks.” “Former client,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. You watched him add five packets of sugar and wondered why he didn’t just get a sweeter drink. Your conversation continued, with your shoes constantly touching under the table. It felt very childish, but maybe you were missing the playfulness in life. Your phone alarm went off, indicating you had to get back to work. As your phone was unlocked, Michael took it and tapped his number in, leaving you at the table with a wink.

////

These interactions led to casual dates. The murders began to slow down, making you feel a little safer. With this in mind, you accepted Michael’s invitation when he invited you over. You were nervous as you waited for him to open the door. The evening breeze did little to distract you from the feeling of being watched. Michael opened the door and you sighed in relief. “You look… beautiful,” he stuttered. “Not too bad yourself,” you smiled back.

He moved aside to let you in, leading you to where he had set up. “I didn’t know you could cook.” “I’m a man of many talents.” He looked out the window, making sure the other house was watching. They looked nervous, hoping you would leave in one piece. They watched you laugh and talk. This could not have been the same boy that had terrorised so many. He was confident, suave, and personable. Worlds away from the awkward, nervous cry baby of a serial killer that they had become used to. He cleaned up well, even tidying up his wild hair. They wondered how long it would last. How long would it take for you to see the real him? They hoped you got out before it got to that state. The time flew by, and you both seemed to get closer by the second. You didn’t notice until your noses were touching, conversation halting. He seemed to be waiting for something, almost hesitant. You took the initiative and captured his lips. All of his hesitation melted away, his hand reaching around you and pulling you closer. The kiss got more heated, indicating that it would lead to something else. However, luck was not on your side. You phone ringing and interrupting you. Michael wanted to smash that phone; this was the second time it had stopped him. You apologised before picking up. Michael watched your expression change and brows knit in annoyance. You put the phone down, apologising. “I’m so sorry Michael, but I’m going to have to go, I’ve been called into work tomorrow and this is an important client, I hope you can understand.” “Of course, I’m sure you’re busy and I won’t keep you. Do you want me to drop you off?” He didn’t know why he asked that question, he didn’t have a car. “Oh thank you so much for understanding, and the offer. I drove here myself so there’s no need to worry about that,” you smiled at him. Michael helped you with your belongings, leading you out the door. You turned to thank him again, before he leaned down to give you another kiss, causing you to blush. He walked you to your car, taking in the interior. He waved you off with a smile. He knew you’d be back soon. ////

Michael shut the door behind him. He thought the night was a success. He opened the cupboard and pulled out your jacket. He hid it away, so you’d forget about it. The designer logo stood out to him. He buried his face in the fur, taking in all of it. Your scent, your warmth, everything. He had been so close to you. He wanted to watch the tapes with this in hand, for that he would have to venture next door. He wasn’t prepared to finally come face to face with his grandmother, looking down on him, cigarette in hand. “Michael fucking Langdon,” her southern drawl was harsh. He hadn’t been spoken to like that in years. He gulped as he watched her slowly walk down the stairs. “Why haven’t you grown out of that terrible habit of yours. You just have to destroy pretty things.” She stopped at the step just above him, still looking down. She gently stroked his face like she used to when he was a child, and he leaned into the touch. The peace was disturbed by a loud slap echoing through the house. Michael’s face turned to the side. He held his cheek, slowly turning to the woman with bleary eyes. “You have some nerve coming back to this house with that attitude of yours, clearly the ‘Church’ didn’t teach you any manners” Michael was trying to find his voice, to finally face the woman that he blamed for half of his problems. “And now look at you, that poor girl doesn’t even know the half of it.” She snatched the coat away from him. “Look at this Michael, this is Prada. And did you see the car she drove? What makes you think you deserve her? Look at yourself,” she gestured towards him. “Hair unkempt, Jobless, all you eat is candy and human flesh. What are you going to when she finds out the truth?” Michael hadn’t actually thought about that. He had neglected himself and his appearance for a while now. Did it really matter that much?

////

“Look, Y/N, all I’m saying is that you can do better. Look at you, you’re beautiful and well dressed and have such a good job. And him, well… he’s a little scruffy and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a car,” Ms Grace did not approve of your relationship with Michael. She thought you could do better. “I see where you’re coming from but he’s charming. Although I do agree he could clean up a little better. I’ve seen him all dressed up and he looks so good. I just don’t understand why he chooses to look like… that most of the time,” the last bit was more meant for yourself. Your conversation was interrupted by Kevin, a colleague from another office. “He should take a page out of Kevin’s book,” Ms Grace pointed out. Kevin raised a brow at the conversation he had just become a part of. He too was on a lawyer salary, a well-dressed man that anyone would swoon for. “Who’s ‘he’?” “Y/Ns …. Boyfriend?” Ms Grace replied. “Nothing to concern yourself too much with Kevin, you know what Ms Grace is like,” you interjected. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. He must be something to reach those high standards of yours,” he pointed out. “Oh he’s something alright,” Ms Grace muttered. You huffed at the conversation. You didn’t think you were a superficial person, but your colleagues thought otherwise. //// Michael had heard enough. Sometimes he would scry into your workplace, just to check on you, to see if you thought of him as much as he did. The conversation reinforced Constance’s criticisms from the other day. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious in a while. He was not one to idle, immediately finding a hair stylist with an availability. He wanted a transformation that would floor you. With that in mind, he headed to ‘Gallants’. //// The hairstylist was truly annoying, yet he seemed to have magic in his hands. The final reveal shocked Michael also. The confidence he had at Hawthorne seemed to return. He held his head just a little higher as he walked out. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, people stopping to stare at the angelic looking man that strutted down the street. On his way to his next destination, he stopped at the sight of a certain symbol. An inverted cross. His feet had a mind of their own, leading him inside. His scar began to tingle. The congregation turned to stare at the man that had just walked in. They knew. It had to be. The high priestess getting on her knees before him. He could get used to this. //// He reached his final destination for the day. He didn’t usually kill men, but if they got in his way, he didn’t care who he killed. He waited for Kevin to come home. He was going to kill him here. He wasn’t worth the effort of taking him all the way to the murder house. Michael didn’t even give the man a chance to scream. Getting rid of him with a snap of his fingers. //// The murder house watched Michael carefully curate his image the next few months. An entire new wardrobe, his old clothes dumped in the murder house. They watched the elaborate skincare ritual every morning. Carefully peeling away masks and applying serums. How very American Psycho of him. You loved the new look. You made sure everyone in the office new you’d made the right choice. Michael loved the new attention, but he made sure you knew he only had eyes for you. He even planned on offering you a better job in Kineros’ legal team, just so he could keep you close and get you out of the sector you complained about so often. //// A strange thing happened one night. Michael took the camcorder down into the basement with him, setting the lens to record his newest victim. After he was done, he burned the footage onto a disk. What was he up to? //// You were on autopilot as you opened your door. You felt numb. Ms Grace had become another victim to ‘the Alpha’ along with one of your neighbours. You spent the entire day in police interviews, trying to make sense on the situation. As you walked into the house, you stepped on something. A thick envelope, labelled only with your name. You picked it up with shaky hands and opened it. In it was just an unlabelled disc and a sticky note saying ‘love from the Alpha’. It made your blood run cold. This had to be a joke. Some was messing with you; it could be the only explanation. You ran to your DVD player, you had to see what was on the disc, you hoped it was some shitty quality movie ripped from the internet. The video came on, starting in a dark room. The camera turned to a woman tied up, it zoomed in on her face and you immediately recognised her as Ms Grace. Your eyes widened and you felt ill, running to the bathroom to be sick. It was still playing when you came back, changing to a different video. It was dark again but it all seemed so familiar. The camera panned up and you gasped, your hands covering your face. It was a video of you, sleeping in your own home. You no longer felt safe here. You quickly took the disc out and grabbed your essentials, running to your car. As you pulled out your street, you had no idea what turn to take. Turning right would lead to the police station, you could submit the disc and ask for protection. However, they rarely did anything about stalking cases, and the disc had your finger prints all-over it. A left turn would lead to Michael. You felt safe around him and you were sure he could offer you comfort at this time. The beeping behind you made you make your decision. //// You pulled up outside Michael’s house. You rapidly knocked on the door, there was no answer. No light was on in the house. You prayed to whoever that would listen that he didn’t have any other plans for the night. As you lost hope and looked around, your eyes fell to the imposing structure next door. You remembered a conversation where he had said he was restoring the home. A light was on. With a deep breath, you ran up the steps, repeating your previous actions and hoping for a response. A shocked Michael opened the door. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. You didn’t notice the feral look he had going on. Hair dishevelled and blood-stained clothes. He gently put the knife down and wrapped his arms around you, cooing and shushing you. Telling you to calm down and it would all be okay. He was glad you were wearing a dark colour; you hadn’t noticed the stickiness of his hands and the stain they left. He gently moved you into the house, shutting the door. He used his magic to shut the basement door too. Your face was still buried in his arm as he walked you up the stairs. You should have paid attention to your strange surroundings. The ghosts of the house looked at you with the greatest of pity, wishing they could do something.

He sat you down on the bed, kneeling before you and taking your hands in his. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?” he asked gently, wiping your eyes. You sniffled and calmed your breathing, trying not to freak out again as you explained the situation to him. “I… I think he’s after me,” you whispered. “Who’s ‘he?” “The Alpha, he’s after me, I know it.” Michael paused, you must have seen the DVD. He had to stop himself from laughing. “Why do you think that hmm?” his thumb stroked your cheek. “Three people I know have died and then I got this DVD in the mail,” you paused, “It… it’s a video of Ms Grace tied up and then one of me sleeping,” you began to cry again. Michael sat on the bed next to you, pulling you in for a hug, you buried your face into him again, taking in his scent and trying to calm down. “You’re the only person I feel safe around,” you mumbled. Michael smiled into your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted. ////

You decided to wash your face after you had calmed down. Wetting a towel with cold water, you placed it on your eyes in an attempt to de-puff them. The ghosts thought this was the perfect opportunity to warn you about your possible doom. Vivienne pulled open the shower curtain behind you. Revealing a bathtub full of ice and another victim placed in it. However, their plan didn’t seem to work. You didn’t even look back at the sound, having walked out the bathroom just in-time. Michael was sitting on the bad, waiting for you. He had changed into more casual clothing and was rolling a joint. “It might help you calm down,” he smiled up at you, twisting the end off. You sat back on the bed and joined him, relaxing into the headboard. The conversation was casual and mundane, something you really needed right now. Between the sound of his voice and the passing of the joint, you had no idea how much time had passed. All you knew at this moment was that you wanted to be as close to him as possible. Hands began to wander, and your lips met for a heated kiss, you ended up straddling him. You let yourself be lost in the haze, not knowing exactly when your clothes came off, just that you enjoyed the feel of his skin on yours. You lifted your hips, moving to finally having him inside you, to be as close as you could be. You waited a little, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you got used to his size and took it all in. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your spine was blissful. His hands finally rested on your hips, gripping them and encouraging you to finally move. You complied, taking your time. You moved away from his shoulder. He took the opportunity to leave marks all over your breasts. It just felt so good. You could feel that you wouldn’t last much longer, your movements becoming sloppier. Michael rested his hand on your throat, his face morphed into something a lot more vicious than you were used to. It must have rang some alarm bells, but you weren’t listening. His grip on your neck tightened, and his hips began to thrust up, meeting your movements. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his grip tightened once more, causing the coil in your belly to snap. Your legs shook, walls pulsing around him as he followed not long after. He pulled you into a deep kiss by your neck, slowly moving you off him and onto the bed. You lay there catching your breath, staring into his eyes. Just for that brief moment, nothing else mattered, forgetting about the serial killer that was on the hunt somewhere. You got closer to him and got comfortable, your head resting on his chest, being lulled by his heartbeat. “I was thinking,” he started. “Hmm?” you mumbled back, enjoying the vibration of his speech. “Maybe you should take a break from work for a while and stay with me for a bit, just until things calm down,” he suggested. At that moment in time, the combined high of weed and sex made it seem like a genius idea. Surely it was the most obvious solution? “Yeah it’s a good idea,” you yawned. The exhaustion caught up to you, your heavy eyes falling shut. Michael squeezed you just a little tighter and smirked up at the residents that had surrounded you. Their looks of pity towards you were something else. Michael buried his face into your hair, turning off the lights around him. It was the most blissful sleep he had had in years.

////

You woke up sometime the next afternoon. Michael was nowhere to be seen. After using (the now empty) bathroom, you ventured through the house. It looked different. It looked complete in a way. The tarp, random cans of paint and building materials that you were sure where there last night, were gone. It was as if it had been transformed overnight. The strangest thing was how familiar the décor and interior looked. It looked like a bigger version of your own home. It felt familiar yet uncomfortably so. Quite frankly, it looked like your dream home, styled as if it was going to featured in Architectural Digest. You knew it didn’t look like this last night, nothing close to it. Then you thought back to the wardrobe upstairs, the one you had sleepily pulled your current clothing out of. It was full of your own clothing. Clothing that you didn’t bring with you. Did Michael do this while you were asleep? When did he get the time? You scoured the house for your car keys and purse. Only finding pieces of familiar décor instead. Your stomach got the better of you, heading to the kitchen and hopefully finding something to eat. The pantry was stocked full of your favourites, pulling out a box of your favourite cereal. It was at this moment you were sure that all the pieces were taken from your home. One of the cereal bowls had the same chip that yours had. The nervousness and paranoia of last night began to seep back into you, your face visibly twisted in those emotions. As you mindlessly ate your cereal, the basement door creaked open. You stopped mid chew to look. You quickly swallowed and slowly walked towards it. Telling yourself that there was nothing to fear, and that you were just going to shut it. You heard a thud as you reached the door. Maybe Michael was down there and needed some help or something. You slowly walked down the steps, being careful not to make any noise. Your hand covered your mouth to stop your scream and prevent you from vomiting from the smell. The image forever burned into your memory. There was blood everywhere. Michael had his back turned to you, you were sure he hadn’t sensed your presence yet. You slowly backed away, trying to be quiet and not alert him. You let out a shaky breath when you were back in the hallway. You didn’t care about finding your things now, you had to get out of here. The front door wouldn’t budge open, the backdoor was no different. None of the window’s downstairs would open either. You then remember one of the windows was cracked open in the room you were sleeping in. You may injure yourself, but it looked like your only way out. You pushed the window up even further, making enough room for you to jump out. You hoisted one leg over the ledge, looking out for your landing spot. You prepared yourself to move the other leg, but it wouldn’t budge. You tugged at it a few times before looking back. Those blue, rage filled eyes were staring back at you, holding your leg, and preventing you from getting out. “Get. Back. In.,” he said, through clenched teeth. You shook your head, looking away from him. You didn’t want to think about who’s blood he was covered in. “Please let me go,” you whispered, hoping he’d take mercy on you somehow. His grip just got tighter. You mustered up all your strength, kicking him off you. He let go of your leg, it gave you enough time to jump. You felt the wind rush around you as you fell. You hit the ground a lot harder than you thought. Your head ricocheted off the ground painfully. You ignored the crunch your legs made. Everything hurt so bad, the pain wouldn’t even let you scream. You knew you had calculated your fall right. The ghosts thought you did too, all watching with various shocked expressions. You tried to move and look around you and stay awake. You could only look up. Through your darkening vision, the last thing you saw was Michael leaning out the window, smiling down at you. The cat had caught the canary.

////

You groaned in pain as you opened your eyes.

The light was blinding, difficult to adjust to.

Where were you? Why were you here? How long had it been?

As you looked around, the room looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Oh? You’re finally awake, It’s been a few days, I missed seeing your eyes” a male voice spoke from beside you.

You slowly turned your head to the voice.

The man looked familiar; you raked your brain to figure out who it was.

He placed his hand on your cheek, you hissed and flinched as he stroked scabby and bruised skin. “Look at you. If you had stayed inside, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

His eyes finally met yours and everything came rushing back.

A feeling of dread overtook you. You tried to shuffle away from him, but something was preventing you from moving.

You tried to figure out what it was. Looking yourself over, noticing the blanket was bulky.

You momentarily forgot about the predator in the room, pulling the blanket away and revealing your legs, both in casts.

One of the casts had been signed, ‘get well soon, Love, your Alpha’.

You wanted to sob, but you knew any sudden movements would be painful.

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket back over you, tucking you in.

“If you’re good, you’ll get your painkillers. If you’re bad…,” he leaned over you, putting his weight on your legs, “I’ll cut them off next time,” he grinned.

He got onto the other side of the bed, holding you close to him, squeezing you just a little too tight, and giving your forehead a kiss.

Not even the apocalypse could get you out of his grasp now, he’d kill you both before anything tried to take you from him. Wherever you were, that was his sanctuary. Even if it meant eternal torment in the pits of hell, it didn’t matter, as long as it was with you.

[her-world-on-fire]

It Was All Yellow {Jason Todd x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 2,424

Request: Jason or Damain finding you, the happy girl, singing a sad song and crying while on patrol. If possible, do you think the song could be If I Could Ride a Bike by Chevy? Thanks, you're a godsend <3

A/N: Sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined, hope you like it anon!

I LISTENED to the sound of own heartbeat. It echoed loudly, and I looked over at Jason, fearing he would wake at any moment. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as we got to the apartment. I didn’t blame him, almost every night he was working himself to death. Crime rates increased with every new vigilante. The work never seemed to stop. No matter how much we tried it seemed like Gotham was the same as we left it the night before. I watched as his chest slowly rose then fell. His face was expressionless, his usual smirk was gone.

Jason was sore, I could tell by the way he moved he was in pain. He tried his best to hide it, but I noticed it. I noticed that he hot showers to try and ease the pain. The steam flowed from under the crack over the door, and found its home on the mirrors and walls. Every night before he went to sleep he would sneak into the kitchen and take ibuprofen. I could hear the pills rattling inside the bottles, and his hushed footsteps as he hurried back into his room.

This was the most peaceful I had seen him all week.

His head was resting on my lap. I pulled the blanket over him as gently as I could. It was only 8pm, he needed to sleep to recover. I didn’t have to worry about the boys waking him up. Jason had insisted on getting his own place. He knew I never felt quite at home in the manor, and let me stay with him.

I turned off the TV and leaned against the arm rest. I wanted to try and get some sleep too.

I woke up to the sound of Jason’s phone ringing. I looked around, and he wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. My best guess was the shower. I grabbed his phone, it was Artemis. I bolted to the bathroom. “Jason!” 

I reached the bathroom door and he immediately swung it open. He looked over at me. “What? Are you alright?” I held up his phone.  He looked at the caller ID. “Oh shit.” He took his phone, and answered it, bringing it to his ear. “Hey.”

I looked at Jason, his hair was still soaking wet. The water dripped from his hair down to his neck, them his chest. He had his towel wrapped around his waist. I motioned I was going to go into the kitchen. And he nodded and closed the door. He spoke quietly. A few moments later I heard him move into the closet.

Artemis.

Artemis was a former teammate, and from the way Dick told it, they were more than that. I tried my best to push the negative thoughts out of my head. I started making breakfast when I heard a loud crash. “Jason?” I moved away from the kitchen and into the hallway. I heard rustling coming from inside his room. “Jason? Are you okay?” The door opened and Jason emerged with a duffel bag. “Have you seen my holster?” He didn’t look at me as he zipped up his duffel bag.

“It’s in the laundry room.” He moved past me and to the laundry room. He didn’t speak. He moved back and forth between the rooms collecting his things. “I paid this months rent. Alfred will continue the payments on my behalf just in case.” I blinked in shock. A month’s rent? Just in case?

“You’re leaving?” He stayed silent. He looked over the apartment, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Finally he looked over at me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reached for the door and paused. He mumbled something under his breath. He turned back to me and pointed a finger.

“Don’t go out on patrol alone.” With that, he was gone.

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

Dick had noticed a change in Y/N’s behavior. Normally, Y/N was the highlight of patrol. Constantly positive and bubbly, it made the night go much faster. But since Jason left, Y/N was quiet. No more humming, the laughter that had once illuminated the night was gone.

Not even Dick knew why Jason was gone. It was Jason didn’t want any backup, it was something he needed to do alone. He didn’t want to risk Y/N getting caught up in his mess. He was sending updates to Jason but he wasn’t sure that he was getting them. If Jason wanted to be alone, he knew exactly how to do it. He cut off all forms of communication and was consumed by the job. It had been 2 weeks and he was silent. No one knew where he was. No one knew if he was even alive. Roy informed Dick that Jason had stopped by for supplies. But he hadn’t heard anything since.

Whatever he was doing, he was sure to hide it. No news reports caught wind of his activities. For his sake, Dick hoped that Jason was on the right path. The last time Jason broke his promise to Bruce beat him until he was almost unrecognizable. Jason had even remarked he had never seen him hit the Joker as hard.

There was an insatiable anger in Bruce. He had trusted Jason to operate in Gotham under the condition he wouldn’t kill anyone. Then Jason went on national television and nearly killed Cobblepot, by shooting him point blank. The boys were at a loss, neither of them knew what to do. Bruce insisted on dealing with it himself. Jason only got away because Roy saved him. Dick wasn’t sure how they would stop Bruce this time.

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

Jason slung his duffel bag across his shoulder. He released a sigh as he stretched. He had been driving all night to get back as soon as possible. He had a lot of explaining to do. He had received all of Dick’s messages.

Let me know you’re alright.

Tim can’t track your location, just check in.

Jason we haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks.

Y/N’s not doing good.

He felt guilty for just leaving, but he had to. He knew that if he gave explanations then Dick would try and talk him out of it. It would give Tim more time to figure out how to track him. More importantly he knew if Y/N had asked, he would’ve stayed.

Jason entered the apartment. After being gone for so long it seemed almost foreign. There were a few noticeable changes. The curtains that were almost always drawn open to let in the sun were shut. More importantly it looked empty. Almost as if no one was inhabiting it.

There was no evidence of dirty dishes, no laundry, and everything was spotless. It was too clean for anyone to be living here. When he opened the fridge his suspicious were confirmed. There was no food. It was almost empty, apart from a case of water. He sighed, Dick was right. Things were not good. He looked around the apartment, trying to find any hint of where Y/N went.

The only thing missing, was a single outfit.

Y/N’s suit.

Jason decided to visit all the patrol spots he knew. Each one of them came up empty. Just as he was about to give up, he heard something. Jason stopped. He faintly heard a voice in the distance. It was barley audible, but he somehow caught it. He tried to find the source, he walked towards the stairs. It had to have been coming from the roof top. As he got closer, he heard an accompanying soft piano.

“If I could sail a boat I'd cruise across the sea. A sweet adventure for us two. I'll be Jack and you rose.”

The voice began to falter, there were so many emotions just begging to be released. Jason didn’t want to interrupt, in fear of the voice stopping. He didn’t walk completely up the stairs. He was mesmerized by the sound. He stayed at the bottom steps, as quietly as possible. It took him a while to process that he knew the voice.

It was Y/N. He had not ever heard Y/N sad. He continued listening as the voice grew louder. “Just please don't let me go. Cause I'll be nothing without you.” The desperation made Jason want to make his presence known. He wanted Y/N to know that he was there. He wanted to help, more than anything. He slowly walked up the stairs. “Oh when you call me, I'm drifting on clouds. Like I'm dream-ing.”

“But in the morn-ing, I'll wake up and see that you’re stuck here with me. If only you knew what I would do for you I'd jump up and hold you so tightly.”  With every verse, the voice grew softer. There was more sadness in each line. He listened carefully to the lines, trying to piece together the information. Each line made it apparent, unrequited love.

-

“But I will never be able to do these things, so I'm just left imagin-ing.”  As the song ended, I finally let all my emotions go. No one knew where Jason was and I was beginning to give up hope. I was sitting on the ledge of the rooftop. Police scanners were quiet. There were no distressed civilians. For once it seemed like Gotham was having a good night. Jason wasn’t here to see it. I moved to get up, in search of something. I had been trying to distract myself as much as possible with work. I couldn’t stand being inside the empty apartment anymore. For the first two weeks I stayed in hoping that one night Jason would come back and everything would be okay. But by the third week, it was evident he wouldn’t be back any time soon. When I did sleep, I stayed with Roy. We had been working together to try and track Jason but it appeared he had learned some new tricks.

I heard a creak come from behind me. I turned around immediately, but there was nothing there. I was about to venture down the stars when I heard something. “Hey.” I froze. That voice. I turned around and saw Jason. He was in his street clothes. He looked drained. There were a few small cuts and some bruising on his face. I moved closer to him, and let out a breath I had been holding in. I was relived he was okay, but I was angry at him for leaving.

“I didn’t know you were back. I didn’t even know if you were-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence, but he knew. “I went to the apartment and it was empty. I noticed your suit was missing. I figured I would find you out here.” He moved closer and wiped the tears from my eyes. “How much did you hear?” I asked nervously. I was hoping he arrived after I had finished but by the look on his face it was apparent he didn’t.

“Almost all of it.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” He paused, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I just disappeared.” I nodded and thought back to each restless night. Not knowing was the worst part. “A long time ago, someone really bad got away. I lost his trail, but I’ve been keeping tabs on him. He resurfaced and I couldn’t let him get away again.” He put his arm around me, “But I won’t ever leave you like that again.” He placed a kiss on top of my head. Silent tears streamed down my face and I took in his warm embrace.

“Let’s go home. The boy’s have this covered.” I looked at him in shock. He had never called the apartment home. He always said that it was just somewhere he slept. He had never felt that it was home. “I thought the apartment wasn’t home?”

“It’s not home without you.”

We got back to the apartment and Jason reached for the door. He opened the door and I moved to turn on the lights. I stopped, the table was lit by candles. The floor was scattered with rose petals. It was nothing like how I left it. It felt comforting again. “I had Roy bring your things back.” He shut the door behind us. “It’s perfect.” I turned around and wrapped my arms around him. He ran his hands through my hair. “Come on,” He took my hand and led me to the bathroom. It was lit by a few candles. The bath was set with warm water. “I know you haven’t been here much and I thought you would appreciate it.”

“I’ll be in the bedroom, when you get out.” He placed my towel and some clothes on the sink and departed.

Once I got out I followed the petals into the bedroom. The bedroom was back to it was before. Jason had left a mess when he left, and I left a mess moving back and forth between Roy’s. Everything was neatly put away. Jason by now had changed out of his street clothes and into his sleep wear. He was laying down staring at the ceiling. Once I closed the door he looked over. “How was it?”

“I haven’t done that in a long time.” I moved to the bed and joined him. He opened his arms and I put my head on his chest. “Are you okay?” I looked up at him and examined his face. The darkness hid the severity pretty well. Now in the light, it looked worse. “You should see the other guy.” I shook my head and laughed a little. “Really, I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Prove it.” He leaned over and kissed me. It was soft, and needy. After weeks, it finally seemed like it was going to be okay again. He pulled away and pulled me closer. He pulled the covers over me, and kissed my forehead again. “Get some sleep babe.”

“How are you?”

“Better, now.” He ran his thumb across my cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.

MASTERLIST

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[devilrainbunnie]

._ anthurium pt 2 _.

tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

1/X/3

CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)

a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.

Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this. 

But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.

He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy. 

You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine. 

Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks. 

He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him. 

...

The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.

He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.

He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting. 

Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.

“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.” 

“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.

“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.

“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”

“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”

“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”

“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.

“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet. 

“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying. 

The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.

...

Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?

He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t. 

“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.

In another life, I guess.

^^^

The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water. 

You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different. 

Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.

For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?

Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.

You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.

“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”

“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”

“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”

“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.

“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--” 

He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”

“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”

“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.

You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.

After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”

“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”

“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.

“Giran?” you called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.

“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”

“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself. 

Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him. 

Always, and forever, love him.

--

Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything. 

There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.

After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.

“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.

“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.” 

“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”

“Thanks.” 

“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.

“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness. 

“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door. 

--

Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face. 

“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.

Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.

“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.

You loved him.

But could you even forgive him?

[salt-warrior]

RISE FROM THE ASHES

A When Earth Turns to Ashes sequel

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen: The Consequences of Love

Kai cried out as the warm caress of fire etched it way up his back. For one, there was the pain of it. And for another, there were the memories. The ones of burning to a crisp. The ones that felt like dreams he wasn't supposed to wake up from.

But almost immediately, the flames flickered out, leaving him panicked, but relatively unscathed. He could still feel the heat from where the conflagration had grazed him, but it was more of an agitating sort of pain— one felt after holding one's hands above a fire for too long. There had been no damage done to his person.

Cinder, on the other hand, had an expression that conveyed only her own personal destruction.

She stumbled away from him, hand clasped over her mouth as sobs began to pour out of her. Her back hit the wall and she slid to the floor, staring at Kai all the while, terror carved into her expression and horror engraved upon her soul. Cinder watched him from the floor in the seconds it took for Kai to regain his composure.

He made a move toward her, but she thrust her hands at him in a motion of warding off an attacker and screamed. He froze. She dropped her arms. They stared at one another.

"Cinder," Kai said, his voice low and hesitant. She flinched, dropping her hands to cover her face. "Cinder, please don't freak out. Nothing happened. We're fine. It's fine."

She didn't move. Neither did he.

"Cinder, please."

"You got burned," Cinder whispered.

"No, I didn't."

"You cried out. You screamed."

"I was shocked," Kai said. "I wasn't expecting it. It was only a startled response."

"And I caused it."

"No."

"Yes," Cinder said, eyes full of tears. Her nose twitched and she licked at her lips, as if trying to find words there. Her arms folded tight over her midsection. "I scared you, Kai." She leaned forward, her face turned up toward his. "I scared you. Me. I scared you."

"It's not your fault," Kai said, falling to his knees before her. He didn't touch her, but his face was inches away from her own. "You didn't mean to. It's not you—"

"Stars, Kai," Cinder spat, jerking away from Kai. "I hurt you, I scared you, and you're making excuses for me? Can't you see how unbelievably toxic this has become?"

Kai stared at her, stunned. They had their faults most definitely. Things had been more difficult than usual over the past month between his father dying and this new ghost haunting Cinder. But had their relationship become toxic?

Cinder continued, "You're making excuses for me hurting you, Kai. You're—"

"No, you're taking the blame for something out of your power," Kai said. "You're just scared. Too scared to stick this out."

"Scared to stick this out?" Cinder gasped, her face twisted. "Taking the blame for something that's not my fault? It is my fault, Kai. She's my mother. She's killed two of the people I love. Three, really. She killed you last year, Kai. She killed you." Cinder pulled her knees up to her chest. She looked small. Too small. More like a child waiting out a thunderstorm than a woman haunted by the ghosts of her past.

"We don't even know if it's her."

"But we do!" Cinder exclaimed. "There's no other explanation. The Lemuralia Phantoms can have human power sources. The ghost haunting me uses fire, and she only comes when I'm around."

"And me."

"What?"

"It comes when I'm around, too," Kai said. "Have you ever stopped to consider that it could be me? That Cress was right in her first assumption of a poltergeist?"

"You couldn't," Cinder snarled.

"And how are you supposed to know what I can or cannot do?"

"You just couldn't."

Kai grabbed at his hair, frustration taking over. "Why are you so insistent upon playing the victim?"

"The victim?" Cinder's voice dropped. "If anything, I'm the villain, Kai. The one who's screwed your life over too many times to count. The one that you should be running screaming from."

"But I'm not."

"So what does that make you?" Cinder spat.

Kai froze, cheeks coloring. He didn't know why, but the words stung. Almost as if she had called him something obscene.

She saw the change and shut her eyes tight, fists clenched. She inhaled deeply. He couldn't stop examining her— waiting for the moment that she would bolt. Because she was Cinder, and that's all she knew how to do: run. Run away from her problems, from the things tormenting her, from love. Because they were all frightening, and every ounce of her courage had been spent on existing.

"I can't stay here, Kai. You know that. Though you won't admit it to yourself, it's a relief, letting me go. It will hurt—" Cinder's voice broke, "—but it will be for the best. For both of us."

"No," Kai said, the ferocity of his love and his insistent stubbornness getting the better of him.

"Kai—"

"No," Kai repeated. "Cinder, you don't just get to call it quits here. You don't get to just run away from what's going on until we actually know what's going on. This ghost, or whatever the hell it is, we don't know if it's haunting you. It could be mine. Maybe it's my dad, or—"

"Your dad couldn't be a ghost. He didn't die a violent, unnatural death. You couldn't create a poltergeist either," Cinder cut in. "It's me. I'm the problem."

"Or maybe it's neither of us," Kai finished, shooting a glare at Cinder. "Maybe there's something else going on here and you're acting prematurely."

"You're acting like I'm going to go throw myself off a building."

"Maybe because you're acting like you just might."

Cinder huffed, then abruptly got to her feet. She began to pace the apartment, periodically bringing her hands up to her face or grumbling to herself. Then she turned to Kai, pointing down into his face. "Me wanting to get away from you does not equate to me wanting to end my life. It's just... distance might be the only thing that will keep whatever this is away."

"But if you leave, we may never discover what's haunting you," Kai argued. "And then you'd live the rest of your life on the run. Is that what you want?"

Cinder groaned. She put her hands at the base of her neck and pulled down, as if she could drag herself down to the very depths of hell. "We're running in circles here, and you can't seem to understand that there's a problem here that's bigger than our relationship."

"Nothing is bigger than the two of us."

"Your life is."

Kai sank to the floor. There was a terrible ache pulsing within him, as if his sadness had its own heartbeat. Or perhaps it was his heart, tapping out his misery, not wanting him to miss the horrible feeling it was to feel love slipping from one's fingers.

He knew that Cinder was right— of course she was. No relationship was worth one's mortality. But if that was so, then why did he care so little for his own life and so much for his love of Cinder? For her, he would die a thousand deaths, light up in flames a million times, take his final breath by her side every moment of his existence. Because she was all he cared for.

She was the girl he had saved— the one who had saved him in return. Because that's what they did— they saved one another. Only this time, it seemed that their only means of safety was separation.

"I don't know how to live without you," Kai whispered. He leaned his head back against the wall, unashamed as tears trickled from his eyes. "I don't know how to do it, Cinder. First my mother, then my father. Now... you. I can't do it."

"I know," Cinder said, crouching down beside him this time. She planted her hands on either side of his face. "It's not easy for me either, you know."

"Then why are you doing it?" Kai practically sobbed. He stared up into her eyes with earnest, the pulse of aching throbbing through his very soul. "Why are you leaving?"

"Because I love you."

"Is that why you leave everyone? Because that's the only way you know how to love?"

Cinder smiled bitterly. "No," she sighed. "I'm leaving because I know what happens if I don't. I understand the consequences of my love."

Kai searched her eyes for any regret, but found none. It didn't make it any easier to let her go. Because while she did not appear regretful, there was mourning in her gaze. There was sadness, and a sort of loneliness that only the abandoned could feel. It hurt her to leave him, just as it tore him apart to be left behind, but she would not regret it.

"What will I do?" Kai asked. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just move on."

"I know," Cinder said. "But you have to. At least try."

"Just give it more time," Kai pleaded, though he knew it was pointless. He wasn't going to give up on her without a fight, but he could feel the effort of trying to keep her from catching up with him. They'd been fighting this battle for far too long, and she was by far the more experienced warrior. "It hasn't hurt me. Really."

Cinder laughed, though there was no humor to it. "Kai, the back of your shirt is nearly gone. That's not escaping unscathed."

"I'm not hurt," Kai hissed. "Please."

Cinder dropped her hands from his face and stood abruptly. Her face twitched, presumably with the effort of trying not to cry, though no tears escaped. She simply stared at him, her face blotchy and her expression beyond destroyed. She was a woman who had given her all and found nothing left, no semblance of herself, not even a ghost.

Without hesitation, Cinder walked away from him and into their bedroom. He heard her moving swiftly, packing items she would need for wherever she went. It was dark outside, but he knew it wouldn't deter her from leaving. Nothing could stop Cinder.

Mere minutes later, she walked out of the room with her backpack slung over her shoulder. A lump rose in Kai's throat, and suddenly, it hit him. She was leaving him. Not just going to work, but leaving. Abandoning him perhaps forever. And he couldn't bear the idea.

He moved to stand in front of the door, like a pathetic child begging their parents to stay. Because he would fight for her until his heart stopped beating and his soul ceased to be.

"Kai," Cinder said, approaching him with her hands up. "You have to let me go."

"I can't."

A burst of light flared up between the two of them, causing Cinder's eyes to appear more gold than brown, as if she were a being not known to mankind. The flames made her look they way she had the first time Kai had laid eyes on her: like the Angel of Hell.

Kai fell to the ground, unable to quench the fear that burned within him at the sight of the flames. He stared at them in all their glory, watching the unnaturalness of them— the way they floated in the air, fed by nothing.

And when they vanished, Kai was alone.

Tags: @shellyseashell @cinderswrench @healing-winston-pratt @just2bubbly @silverstars21 @gingerale2017 @greasicookies  @the-wee-woo-rita @zephyr-thedragon @bookpapaya @cindersassasin @the-jewel-of-ketterdam

[piracytheorist]

A ridiculously needed defense of Mia Winters

(and I say ridiculously because I don't particularly care for her as a character. But I care for Ethan, and I care that he went through so much shit to save her and never gave up or even thought to, so by extension Mia needs to make sense to me so I need to have a clear image of her in my mind to justify Ethan's ridiculously brave actions in re7, and his devotion to her in re8. But also because my experience watching the show Once Upon a Time and engaging with its fandom has taught me to not hate on characters when they're not fully fleshed out and their bad actions are not adequately explained, especially when said characters are women written by men. And considering that Ethan himself is not fully fleshed out in re7 either, it's no wonder Mia's character is suffering)

So. I'm not here to tell people they're wrong to hate or even just dislike or distrust Mia. That's not my point. But if you do continue to read after the title, you're checking in on your own accord. And my main gripe with people hating on Mia is that they seem to dislike her character when the game itself didn't give much of a good basis on her character in the first place. So yeah, being a woman myself and having seen how fandoms work, I do tend to get a little pissed when people (no matter their gender) are so ready to hate on female characters for no good reason.

Now, I'm not saying Mia is a saint, far from it. RE7 makes clear she holds a lot of the responsibility for what happened, and she even accepts that. But she's also been given redeeming qualities, if you're willing to look for them.

The first glimpse we get of Mia is of her sending a happy message to Ethan, then immediately after we see her admit her wrong and warn him to stay away from her. There's a reason we even get the second video, and that's called setting. The writers wanted Mia to be shown as protective over Ethan while also accepting responsibility from the very first moment - and it's something that repeats itself when we do find her. She apparently has no idea she asked Ethan to come, she self-harms in an effort to stop hurting him, and even through Eveline's control she manages to tell him to leave her.

(like idk why people take lightly the fact that she fucking banged her head on a wall, giving herself a concussion, all in an effort to protect Ethan from what she knew she had turned into but leave it to a fandom to underplay self-harm I guess)

But that's only from the beginning, and from the confused POV of Ethan and a first time player. In Mia's flashback, we see that she'd been given orders that should Eveline get out of control, she had to be eliminated. Now, Eveline had grown fond of Mia, and she was super powerful herself. Taking a powerful being on your side and using them to be on top? That's a super villain origin story if I ever heard one. But Mia doesn't even consider it, from the first moment that civilians are getting in danger, she's ready to eliminate Eveline.

And that's when the first holes start appearing. For what kinds of wars did Mia know that Eveline was made for? How long had she been working with The Connections? Was it before or after marrying Ethan? How did they approach her? How did they know she'd be okay with making a bioweapon to assist in wars? And as herself, how deep was she willing to go in terms of human experimentation?

That's all stuff we have no way of knowing, and frankly any answer, from one extreme to the other, can be assumed. For all we know The Connections approached her, and before she had even realized she was assisting them in creating Eveline. So in general I feel it's kinda unbased to jump on the Mia Hating Train so easily when there's so much missing from the whole story.

Though again, I’m not here to tell people what to like and what not to like. It’s just that I feel there’s a bit too much focus on how Mia is such a horrible person and the true villain of the story and like, it’s getting super tiring, entering fandoms and seeing people being so fucking pissed at some characters. Like, ok. You can’t like everything. But it feels like some people are trying to make that everyone else’s problem.

And the victim blaming is not helping, either. People say all of what happened in re8 is Mia’s fault because she didn’t tell Ethan the truth about what he is, and like. Are we fucking serious. Like I see people call Chris dumb for not explaining the story to Ethan from the beginning, and how it could’ve made things much more simpler if he had, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone call him the villain of the story (if anything because without him being cryptic we wouldn’t have had the story in the first place). He had his reasons to be cryptic, and if you pause your hate train for a moment, you’ll realize Mia had her reasons as well. We don’t know how long she knew that Ethan was all mold - she wasn’t even conscious during the moment Jack killed Ethan in the first place to see how serious the injury was. For all we knew she only noticed while being pregnant with Rose, or after she was born - so we can’t really blame her for not speaking up. If anything, considering she did realize it and still she stayed with him and knew he and his feelings mattered (”We matter, Ethan! You matter!”) is a big thing. She also seemed to want to tell him, but like, how do you even begin such a discussion? Ethan also saw that she was troubled; you can’t convince me that they were like this, with Ethan knowing she was holding something from him, and Mia knowing and knowingly having a child with him who would definitely be infected by Mold, for three fucking years.

Like at some point you start going like “They can’t have shown us such a fucking toxic relationship and expected us to feel sad for Mia at the end.” But like, people do believe that yes they intended them to be so toxic and Mia to be such a horrible person and for us to just shrug at it, so of course they would blame everything on Mia and not like, idk, Miranda, who was actually the one actively harming the entire Winters family. Or that Rose getting kidnapped was because Mia had been working with The Connections, and that’s how Miranda found out about her, and I’m like, y’all can’t separate butterfly effect from actual blame, can you? Ethan and Mia decided to have a kid two whole years after the Baker incident - when they felt they were safe, on the clear from whatever could be chasing them. They were on witness protection, the newspaper Ethan looks at in the beginning says that Ethan and Mia’s whereabouts are unknown; they were understandably feeling safe to move on with their lives, until someone from The Connections found where Mia was, and through them Miranda was able to learn about Rose. That’s an entirely different concept from Mia being careless or carrying the entire blame for Rose getting kidnapped or Ethan being self-sacrificingly determined to save her. But of course, let’s hate on Mia and then seriously ship Ethan with the villains because they have redeeming qualities and Mia doesn’t ig

I don’t know. Maybe I’m a bit too jumpy of people hating on female characters. But on the other hand, it says a lot that I don’t really care much for Mia or her character, so it’s not like I feel defensive because my fave is receiving hate. If anything, Ethan is my fave, he gets much more uncalled-for hate and I just shrug that off because who gives a fuck about them haters right. But with Ethan... I feel that the hate he receives is mostly because he subverted expectations; he’s not your average trained badass who knows what he’s doing and remains calm through anxious situations, he’s the exact opposite, and people hate on him for not being the former like... you’re missing the entire point of Ethan purposefully being clueless, panicking, saying cringy-ass quips, and honestly, your fucking loss lmao. With Mia, it feels like people choose to see the worst in her when there aren’t too many things to see. And knowing stuff about the world of gaming, it’s fucking telling. In the world of fandom, that’s just fucking annoying. I hate stuff too. But after a certain point you learn to not make your biases everybody else’s problem. Or at least you should. What would I know, being here hoping fandoms could be calmer places.

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette Vs Santa: The Final Round

Okay, so it’s 11:38 on Christmas. I promised I would post this today. So I am. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. Enjoy your present.

           The jolly fat man would get his, Marinette swore. She wore a lovely gold, snowflake-embroidered cocktail dress. Her hair was done in a French side braid with voluminous Curls; more than she ever had in her entire life. Honestly, she looked like a princess.

           And it would’ve been a win for her if it wasn’t for the circumstances that made it yet another Tie against Santa.

           Roy has his hand on the small of her back since they step out of the limo. The forced sweet smile on her face was for the paparazzi that had waited outside the restaurant. When they got inside, and as they were shone to their table, Roy's hand slipped south.

Marinette stiffened and leaned close to Roy and whispered in his ear, “If you don’t get your hand off my butt, I’m going to take off one of my five-inch heels and slit your throat with it.”

Roy’s hand was gone in a flash, “Aww babe,” He said, a little loudly, nodding to the table where his parents’ Oliver and Dinah waited; their eyes watching the young couple’s every move. “You know I can’t keep my hands off you.”

           Marinette giggled, as she fought the urge to slam his against a nearby table, “Not in front of your parents. It’s called manners.”

Your lucky homicide is still technically illegal, Marinette thought viciously, and a sure-fire way to get on fat bastard’s naughty list.

           He wouldn’t win. No, Marinette had gone too far; been through too much to lose now.

“Thank you, Marinette,” Dinah stood once the two approached. She pulled Marinette into a hug. “I’ve tried to instill etiquette into Roy for years. His last girlfriends and he nearly in trouble for public indecency. Maybe you’ll do a better job than I did.”

           Marinette laughed, “I will even if I have to cut off his hand.”

           Oliver chuckled, “You’re definitely Bruce’s girl.” The resemblance was uncanny.

           After that the fell into an easy conversation.

“That dress is beautiful,” Dinah said. “Who’s the designer?”

           Marinette beamed, “I am. I love fashion. It’s my dream,” She explained. “I plan on launching my own company. While there’s always room to learn and enhance my designing skills, I feel as if I have that side at least somewhat covered. However, the business angle is something I need to learn. Which is why I plan on getting my MBA at an Ivy League. I was considering Yale or Princeton.”

“Princeton,” Oliver grinned. “Did you hear that Roy?” Roy rolled his eyes, and once again, regretted being born. “Marinette’s considering Princeton. That’s the top school on his list. Queens have gone there for generations.” He pulled his wife into a hug. “It’s where I knew Dinah was the one.”

           Dinah gave Marinette a blank stare, “I couldn’t get rid of him. It was like having bedbugs.” (“Hey!” Oliver cried in protest.) “No matter what I did, he just coming back. The only solution was to burn the entire place down and vanish without a trace. But apparently, that’s illegal or whatever. Stupid.”

“I know, right,” Marinette nodded earnestly. “What’s up with that?”

           They had a wonderful dinner. They watched a paparazzi pretending to be a waiter be escorted out of the restaurant. It was great, amazing even. Oliver and Dinah had been perfectly lovely. Roy had acted like a perfect gentleman. Marinette could’ve almost pretended she was actually meeting her boyfriend’s family. She was about to count the entire night as a win until…

“So how many grandkids should I expect in the future,” Oliver asked, a sincere look on his face, though he was snickering inside.

           Marinette chocked on her chocolate mousse and ended up in a coughing fit that Dinah helped her with. Roy had met his father’s gaze and gave him his most charming smile, “Seven,” He answered.

“Seven!” Marinette barked out and she looked around frantically as if Ashton Kutcher had revived his hit show and was about to pop out.

Oh, gods; please let me be getting punked, Marinette prayed.

            Oliver’s eyebrows went up, “Seven, huh, big family.”

           Roy hummed, “the Wayne-Queens certainly will be.”

“You mean the Queen-Waynes,” Oliver corrected, his hackles rising.

“Well, I figured since we’d be living in Gotham,” Roy didn’t even bother to hide his smirk. “We’d go by the Wayne-Queen family. I actually found this great place not too far from Wayne Manor. Plenty of room for the kids, maybe a dog or two; a rose garden. You know how Waynes are about their roses. You can visit whenever.”

           Marinette might have momentarily blacked out during this. It was how Marinette knew she had officially lost that round to Santa.

           Oliver and Dinah just looked at Roy; their entire bodies stiff.

           Dinah took a long drink from her wine glass, “Gotham has such a high crime rate. Have you considered Star City, Marinette?”

“I’ve never been,” Marinette said sweetly. “But I could live anywhere really. I’m pretty open.”

           Roy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “Yes, but I figured you’d want to spend as much time with your family as possible. Jason’s my best friend. I love Gotham. It just works. Besides Bruce Wayne would make an amazing grandpa.”

           The grip Oliver had on his dessert fork made Marinette fear for Roy’s life. It was time to step in. “I suppose Robb or Thea would love a big backyard to play in.”

           That got the other three’s attention.

“Robb? Thea?” Oliver whispered. His throat was dry. His brain tried to process what was said.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But Roy and I started talking one day and well,” Marinette trailed off. A soft pink blush appeared on Marinette’s face, enhancing her overall innocent aura. She had done background on the Queen family. “Our firstborn; if it’s a boy Robb as in Robert Thomas; for your father and my grandfather. If it’s a girl, Thea Sabine; for your sister and my mother. It was Roy’s idea. He knows how much you loved them.”

           It was then that Marinette got to check off one more wish off her list. It had been made as a joke in passing to Chloe and Kagami months ago. They had been having a girls’ night. When Chloe, ever prepared, asked what they wanted for Christmas. They had been watching a Justice League fight on the news. Marinette had laughed and said she wanted to show them up one day; make a superhero cry.

           However, watching The Green Arrow tear up while the Black Canary comforted himself, made her think that Santa took her to wish out of context.

           Roy was pulled into a big hug by his parents, and he sent her a vicious glare, and mouthed, “What did you do?”

           Oliver pulled back, wiped his eyes, and said, “You know; there’s nothing like a spring wedding in Star City.”

           Marinette threw down her napkin.

Fuck Santa.

-

           The news had a field day. The picture of Marinette in her dress and Roy in his designer suit was what everyone was talking about. The women of the view talked about her outfit. Wendy Williams talked about her outfit. It was as if Marinette was living in another universe.

           Nothing could bring her down.

“What the hell?” Jason asked as he picked her up for school. “Why the fuck is Roy spamming me with hate texts. Why the fuck is Oliver arguing with B over visitation rights to his grandchildren? Who the Fuck are Robb and Thea? And why the fuck is Dad asking Aquaman if Atlantis really sunk on its own, or if it had a little help?”

           Marinette tiled her head, “Is Papa planning on sinking Star City? And that’s forty dollars for the swear jar.” Her parents had implements after one too many curse words were thrown around.

“Worth it!” Jason said. “And yes, I’ve positive that’s what’s going to happen. It’s gonna be amazing. Also, he’s gonna kill Roy!”

“He deserves it,” Marinette crossed her arms.

“Hey!”

“He put his hand on my butt!”

           Jason paused and narrowed his eyes. “Correction. I’m gonna kill Roy.”

           Marinette rolled her eyes, but then she realized something. “Aren’t they’re usually two of you? Where’s the other one?” It was the routine. She was always escorted into school by two members of the Wayne family.

           Jason smirked, “You’ll see.”

           The paparazzi mostly screamed the usual things at her. At that point, she was used to it. It was the few changes at school that she was used to.

           Damocles had been fired for bribes and severe negligence. He was replaced by Mendeleev. Bustier had been fired for her role in Marinette’s expulsion without proper procedure and basically catering to bullies while blaming the victim. She replaced by a sterner teacher name Miss Reed. She was by the book and not afraid to call in the higher-ups if something smelled fishy.

           The first was any and all forms of bullying in class was no longer tolerated. The school had issued a zero-tolerance policy that the kids in Bustier’s class had felt immediately.

           The second was Lila’s supposed medical history. No doctor’s note, no special treatment. It was also required that Lila present a note from her mother regarding any future absences.

           The third was Adrien’s being pulled randomly out of class. CPS got involved real fast regarding child labor laws.

           The days of her classmates getting away with bloody murder were over. Reed saw everything. Everything.

           Alya, who had returned to class always avoided Marinette at all times. Her parents had given her the biggest talking to about respecting others’ right to privacy. Marinette had agreed to drop any legal charges against her former friend provided she adhere to the cease and desist order. The girl knew too much about Marinette. And Marinette needed to make it clear that she would bury the girl in lawsuits before she’d allowed even one-fourth of it to be made public.

           Jason had walked her to class. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he went directly to the back of the class and took a seat next to Chloe. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to ignore the curious looks from the students.

The blond eyed the ripped jeans, the overly sized red flannel shirt, and the beat-up leather jacket, “Grunge died in the 90s. Like it deserved.”

           Jason, not bothering to look up from his phone, “Paris Hilton said it’s cool that you plagiarized her look.”

           Chloe gasped.

           Marinette just looked up at the ceiling, knowing exactly how this was going to go. Chloe would not forgive this. Jason was an asshole. It would be war.

           Miss Reed walked in and didn’t look twice at Jason.

           Marinette narrowed her eyes; something was up.

           The class went on without a hitch though until just about the end of the first period…

           When Tim and a pretty, brown-haired, tanned skin, an older woman walked in the door. They looked to be having a pleasant conversation.

“Mama,” Lila gasped, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?” She looked around frantically.

“Ooohhhh,” Marinette nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” That was what was happening. Operation: Get That Bitch.

“Oh!” Tim feigned surprised. “I didn’t know your daughter was in my sister’s class, Naomi.”

           Naomi had been pleasantly surprised when Tim Drake, the CEO of Wayne Industries reached out to speak to her about potential business ventures in Italy. He was in Paris visiting his sister and wanted an insider perspective on Italy’s economy and tourist information. Her bosses were thrilled. Wayne opening up a site in Italy would do wonders for the overall economic and industrial growth. Then they got to talking about a potential student exchange program that Wayne Industries were willing to fund.

           What Tim hadn’t told the Ambassador was that Wayne Industries had been scouting locations in Italy for their new plant for the last ten months. All the research was done. Everything was primed to go. Still, Tim was kind enough to ensure that Naomi Rossi received the credit for getting Wayne Industries on board.

Mrs. Rossi blinked in surprise, “I had no idea either. Lila, we’re here to discuss a potential international exchange program for kids all over the world. Tim wanted to say hello to his sister. Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Marinette Wayne?”

           Marinette leaned forward in her seat. A slow smile spread across her face.

“I, well, I,” Lila struggled to say.

“We’re not the closest, Mrs. Rossi,” Marinette offered. “She’s always so busy, we haven’t had the time.”

“Ahh,” Tim snapped his fingers. “That Lila Rossi. Marinette told me all about her.” He crossed his arms. “Naomi, how was Achu? I haven’t gone yet. But from what Marinette’s told of Lila’s stories, you two go all the time. You become close to the royal family, yes?”

           Coldness went down to Naomi Rossi’s spine. She stiffened. Her eyes went to her daughter who had a look of dread on her face. Not this again, she nearly groaned. “There’s been some… confusion,” Mrs. Rossi said, gearing up every ounce of diplomacy she learned in her twenty-year career. Lila was so grounded after this. “A miscommunication, I suppose. My ambassadorship has taken my family to England, Spain, and Japan for a little while, and here in France, of course. However, nowhere else. We have never been to Achu. That is a bit above my paygrade, I’m afraid,” She laughed nervously.

           The class was as silent as a library. If Bustier was still there, a few students would’ve started yelling their complaints and cries for explanations. One or two would’ve started screaming at Lila for lying. But Bustier was gone. And the look Reed was giving her class, dared them to try.

           Tim chuckled, “Kids. When I was seven I swore I spent the summer in Greece with my parents. I didn’t find out until I was eleven that I was actually in Rome. What can you do?” He gave her his most charming smile. “England, was that where Lila met Jagged Stone? I think he’s from there.”

“Jagged who now?” Naomi asked. “The Rock Star? No, Lila’s never met him. She’s a huge fan though.”

“But he wrote a song about her!” Alya cried out. “She saved his cat from getting hit by a plane!”

           Miss Reed, “Alya, please raise your hand and keep to a reasonable level while inside. It will be detention if I have to tell you again.”

Miss Reed and Mendeleiev had agreed to The Wayne's suggestion of revealing Lila’s lies to the class. It was the only way they would believe it and that she could lie her way out of. It was unnatural the way the students trailed after the girl, simpering over grand stories and promises of famous connections. They needed to learn to rely on hard work and their own talent, not on how many famous people they might get to the chance to meet.

“A plane?” Mrs. Rossi asked, an affronted look on her face. “You think I would ever allow my child to be in such danger?” She looked at her daughter. “Your grandmother always said you would be a grand writer with all the stories you tell. You could’ve at least come with a sensible lie.”

“I can explain,” Lila said but whether she was talking to her mother or class was anyone’s guess.

           Rose raised her hand, “Lie? Lila can’t be lying. What about all the trips she takes with you? The charity organizations she runs? The famous people she knows like Clara Nightingale who always ask her for help. She’s close friends with Prince Ali. That’s why she’s always away from school. One time she was gone for weeks.”

           Naomi Rossi looked at her daughter, who did everything she could to avoid eye contact with her mother. “You told me that the school was closed due to the Akumas. It was a lie.” She looked at the teacher. “If the school wasn’t closed, Lila should have only missed three days of school this semester due to her being ill with the flu. She should have only missed seven to ten days in total last year. I do apologize, my daughter…” She gave Lila a dark look. “Seems to have a talent for tall tales.”

           Miss Reed stood up, “It’s a matter for the Principle. Her last teacher overlooked many things and wrote off what she couldn’t. Her schoolwork was done the year before; her grades were good enough to pass. She has not missed too many days so far; a few more than the average student but it happens. Any homework missed can still be made up. She is welcome in my class. However, when you get the chance, I would like make an appointment to discuss with you any medical accommodations she has that need to be addressed.”

           Mrs. Rossi crossed her arms, “She never wears her glasses. She has sensitive eyes that prevent her from wearing contacts. Without them, she can’t see more than a few feet ahead of her.” She looked straight at her daughter. “And she knows this.”

           Marinette wanted to bang her head against the desk. Why couldn’t Lila just say that? She’d have understood.

           Mrs. Rossi looked at the class, “I am so sorry for any trouble my daughter may have caused.” She looked at Tim. “I hope this doesn’t cast a negative light on any prospective business relations.”

           Tim shook his head, “Kids will be kids. Let’s continue to speak over lunch.”

“I’ll see you at home, Lila,” Mrs. Rossi said.

           Tim grinned, “Marinette, I’ll see you after school. Jason.”

           Jason got to leave only to stumble nearly down the stairs. He cast a quick glare at Chloe.

           The blond gave him a vicious smirk, “Walk much?”

“Oh it’s on,” Jason hissed.

           Marinette rolled her eyes. Last year, she had wished with all her might that her friends would see Lila for who she really was. Now the truth was out. Lila had been exposed.

           Regrettably, Marinette had already lost all her friends. And those who were still her friends, already knew the truth. So it wouldn’t change much. She’d had already forgiven her ex-friends a long time ago. Marinette just had to intention of being friends with them again. Still, it was a victory.

           Fuck Santa; this round went Marinette.

-

-

           The Justice League had been stunned when they learned that the masked hero Ladybug who was protecting Paris in an adorable bright red suit, who seemed to be made of sunshine, rainbows, and happiness was Batman’s daughter. Like so stunned that as soon as they saw her secret Identity of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and her takedown of monsters twelve times her size; one or two (or twelve) asked Superman to take a DNA test too. Because Bruce Wayne wasn’t the only black-haired Superhero around, and you know things happen.

           …Batman hadn’t been happy when Oracle alerted him that someone in the Watch Tower was running his daughter’s DNA against Superman’s.

“How sure are we?” Hal Jordan asked. “The DNA results never came back. How do we know she’s not Big S’s?”

           The main members of the Justice League were waiting for Batman and his family to arrive. Then they were would officially be introduced to the hero Ladybug.

           Superman glared, “Stop it. Batman already brought out the kryptonite the last time you mentioned it.”

           Wonder man nodded, “Her civilian self is the spitting image of Bruce.”

“All of his kids have dark hair and light eyes,” The Flash reminded them. “One of like seven or twelve, or however many he has now, we know for sure is his.”

“They are all his,” Black Canary stated with a growl. She and Oliver had adopted Roy when he was young but that didn’t make the boy any less hers.

           Just then the light of the zeta beam sounded and Batman and Ladybug appeared in the room. The clear contrast between the two was startling.

           The Dark, brooding, Knight of Gotham dressed in all black with a look on his face that could’ve made Superman wince in fear. Ladybug, dressed in bright red, with a big, cheerful, smile on her face and large blue eyes that looked positively mesmerized by the heroes.

“I brought cookies,” The small girl chirped as she motioned to the goodies in her hands. “And apple pie! It’s a family recipe. I made them myself. I really hope you like them.”

           Batman glared worsen to the point where a few Justice League members feared for their lives. The message was clear; they’d like them. Or else.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Diana smiled. “Come on, let me show you where we’ll be meeting.

           Marinette tried not to stare in awe at her favorite superhero. “I also brought Vegan. And gluten-free cookies. I wanted to make sure everyone could get some.” She said as she was led away.

           The world-renowned heroes visibly cooed at the young hero. She was the most adorable thing they’d ever laid eyes on.

           The Flash laughed, “What did you bring, Bats?”

“Death,” Batman growled as stalked after his daughter.

           Cyborg swallowed hard. “I’m not saying you’re right,” He told Hal and Barry. “I’m saying for this type of situation; Maury is classier than Jerry Springer.”

           Superman groaned. They were going to get him killed.

“Apple pie!” The flash said. “She brought Apple, Clark; it’s a sign from the gods.”

           Ladybug briefing them on her hero journey had been riveting. The Justice League had always been aware of Ladybug's existence. Once aware of her, Diana had told them all the history of the Miraculous and how her own mother used to be one of the users. Ladybug, with Chat Noir for a time, handled herself and protected the city well. They saw no reason to interfere. The Justice League had strict rules of interfering with another’s heroes’ turf. They figured if Ladybug needs help, the hero would call on them. They never knew she was a child.

           Her age bothered them.

“She can’t protect the city,” Aquaman said. “We’ll need to step in.”

“Excuse me,” Marinette said.

           The Flash nodded, “We’ll need to run Intel. I’ll have Vibe take a look at things.”

“Wait! I don’t think you-” Marinette started but was cut off.

“The magic is ancient and powerful,” Hawkman interrupted. “We should call Constantine. Or Doctor Fate perhaps.”

           Ladybug shook her head, “That wouldn’t be a good idea!”

           Green Lantern waved her off, “It’s fine, kid. We’ll handle it. While we’re at it; consider joining Young Justice or Teen Titans. Get you some training before you call yourself a real hero. Until then stick with the little league team.”

           Marinette froze. What did he just say? White-hot anger coursed through her veins.

           And to think she always dreamed of meeting the Justice League; of standing face to face with the heroes after having proven herself; proven that she was just as much of a superhero as they. However, Marinette knew she was already a hero. And no one would tell her otherwise.

           The round went to Santa. But Marinette would have her due.

           Fuck Santa!

Superman said, “We’ll start having unplaced league members scouting the area. They’ll notify us at the first sign of Hawkmoth.”

“ENOUGH!” Marinette yelled. She growled at the heroes. “Who the hell do you think you are?” The silence that followed that question was deafening. “You know nothing of Hawkmoth; saw nothing of what I’ve been through. There is a reason I never called in the league. Superpowered individuals still have emotions; still anger. He can turn any of you into akumas. Get inside your heads; learn who you really are. You’ll be a toy for him. Batman brought me here to meet you; not for you to pretend you know how to do my job.”

           She glared at the room and then zeroed in on the Green Lantern. Within seconds, Ladybug had yanked him out of his seat, pulled the ring off his finger, and held by his collar as the man detransformed. “Real Hero? You think I’m not a real hero? I’ve fought monsters nightmares couldn’t even begin to fathom. You want to see what I’m capable of, Glow Stick? How about I take you to the nearest training room and see if you bleed green?”

           Batman stood up, “My team will be running point on the Paris situation; following Ladybug lead. You’ll refrain from entering the city of Paris until further notice. That is all.” He looked at his daughter and had to fight to keep the smile off his face. “Ladybug let Green Lantern go, and give him back his ring.”

           Ladybug huffed, “I’ll give him back his ring. And then I want ten minutes alone with him.”

           Hal gulped.

“No,” Batman said. “We must leave. You have to get ready for Winter break. Next time.”

           Ladybug glared and then dropped the hero on the ground. “Next time,” She promised.

           Then swiftly the father and daughter duo departed.

           Once the two were gone, Wonder Woman chuckled, “Anyone else want to question Ladybug’s Paternity. Anyone?”

           Barry had to fight the shivers that went through him. Ladybug had Batman’s glare and knew how to use it. “Nope. Never again.”

-

-

           Marinette’s first night in Gotham was memorable. The entire bat family had been waiting for Marinette when she arrived; Bruce, Alfred, Kate, Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, Stephanie, Luke, and Damian. Alfred, the man her brothers had deemed their grandfather, had welcomed her with open arms and a dinner that was more like a feast than a simple meal.

           On the outside, Wayne manor looked like any home in the neighborhood; quiet, idealistic, and seemingly perfect.

           On the inside, as soon as Bruce and Alfred stepped away for a moment, her siblings took her to the Batcave. It was as grand as she always imagined. Then someone (Tim) brought out lightsabers.

           Marinette thought it was a fancy version of the toy she used to love so much as a kid; her only complaint was that the plastic swords only came in green, red and the occasional blue. She really wanted a pink one and had put it on her Christmas list for two years straight.

           She pressed the button, only for the sword handle to heat up, and a pink laser rises out of it. “Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“…This is a real lightsaber,” The heat from the sword threated to burn or hand a little. Or worse. She’d seen all the movies. She knew how this usually ended up.

“Yep.”

           Marinette nodded slowly. Because what the heck.

“Just go with it,” Luke shrugged. “Just-just go with it.” He sounded like a defeated man. A tired one at that.

“Don’t be like that!” Dick smiled, “Family bond time is the best time.”

“Jedi versus Sith?” Marinette just asked.

           Tim pointed a bright gold lightsaber at her, “Jedi versus Sith.”

           Marinette looked around at the different colored and very, very dangerous lightsabers. There was no way this could possibly go well. And with the way her Kate, aka Batwoman, was smirking there was no way Alfred would consider her proper adult supervision. Someone was going to lose a hand. Or die. Most likely both.

           But she wouldn’t back down. This was more or less her eight-year-old self’s dream. It was also likely to get her killed.

           …Marinette would take those odds.

“What team am I on?” She asked.

           Cassandra shook her head, “Up to you. Good versus is a chose; just a game though,” She cast Stern looks at Jason, Tim, and Damian, who now sported black robes, clearly, by the Darth Maul make up that had somehow appeared on Damian’s face, were clearly Sith Lords.

           Santa thought this would scare her. That she would be cowed into submission. Finally admit defeat. Well, Marinette only had one thing to say to that. Two things actually.

“Give in to the dark side, sister,” Damian ordered her. His lightsaber was red and had two sides to it much like the character he matched.

           Marinette got into a fighting stance, “Not today.”

           And Fuck Santa.

           …

           Alfred and Bruce were not happy when they finally located the children.

           Or the fact that someone had to get their hand reattached.

--

--

           It was two to two. Christmas day had arrived. Marinette had expected the worst; had geared up for the worst.

           Nothing happened.

           Marinette spent the day with her family.

           Her parents had even arrived from Paris on the day before Christmas eve.

           They shared presents. They sang songs. The entire family was together. It snowed outside. She and all of her siblings had a snowball fight while her parents and Alfred watched from the porch.

           It was a perfect Christmas day.

           Except for one thing…

           Marinette knew the truth.

           The perfect day was the result of one thing…

           Santa was preparing too. He didn’t back down. The fight wasn’t over yet. He was too busy to mess with her on Christmas Eve or Christmas. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean anything.

           Everyone knew the Holiday season didn’t officially end until January 1st.

           After New Year’s eve.

           That was the final round.

           The match to end all matches.

           On New Years’ Eve, it would be war.

-

-

           Roy wore a tailored tux as he walked her down the carpet, passed the flashing lights of the paparazzi.

Marinette never thought she’d fight the most battle of her life in a ballgown. It was a jaw-dropping, off the shoulder, floor length silver dress with lacy unique floral accents. Her hair was in a side-braid with small forget-me-nots on top of her hair like a crown.

            It was her battle armor, and she was ready for anything.

           It was a promise, she made to herself.

           …

           Okay so it turns out, Marinette lied to herself.

           She wasn’t ready for anything. She did not stand a chance against Santa. He was a jerk. And she was six-second from throwing in the towel and running off crying.

           Marinette had known exactly who was attending the ball. She had memorized every guest on the list. Trying to figure out exactly what the fat guy who throws out her. As soon as she saw exactly which celebrities were coming. She knew.

           The first punch had been the man ten-year-old Marinette swore she was going marry. Harry freaking Styles.

           But Marinette had prepared herself.  It would be a quick conversation and then she wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the night.

           When she met the superstar, Marinette had smiled and laughed; had a good conversation, wasn’t even awkward at all. She wasn’t the overly One Direction obsessed 10-year-old anymore.

           It was a hard hit, and the best conversation of her life, but Marinette didn’t go down.

           Santa’s next move was a cheap shot, and she stumbled.

           Marinette had been trying to find a quiet place to think for herself so could get strengthen up a bit but, to avoid one of her brothers (Dick), she collided straight into Nick Jonas and fell on her butt.

           She hadn’t even realized it at first as he helped her up.

“Thank you,” Marinette said kindly, as she brushed off her dress. When she looked up and saw exactly who had collided with, her face turned a bright red. “You’re Nick Jonas,” She squeaked; literally squeaked. She wanted to die.

           Nick Jonas. She loved Nick Jonas. She listen to all his songs; even his old Jonas Brothers ones. She had always wanted to meet the singer; she had dreamed about it.

“Yeah,” Nick smiled. “You alright.”

           No. Marinette was not alright.

           Still, she chirped a quick, “I’m fine.” And introduced herself.

           Then he said, “Love your dress.”

“I made it! I can make you one!” Slipped out before she could stop it.        

           He just laughed though, “How about a suit instead?”

           Yeah, so that happened.

           And the night just got worse from there.

           …

           Santa gave her a combo hit; worthy of a champion.

           Not many knew but Marinette was a huge Harry Potter fangirl. Hermione Granger was her all-time favorite. She was a hardcore Harmony shipper; Harry/Hermione forever.

           Tim knew it though. He was a big-time fan as well. And he thought it would be a great idea to introduce Marinette to the actress who played her favorite character; Emma Watson.

           It was not a good idea. At all.

The first words out of Marinette’s mouth upon seeing Emma Watson were literally, “It's leviOsa, not levioSA!”

And it was at the point that Marinette just wanted to call it a night.

Emma had laughed it off, promising she got it all the time.

…

Marinette met Chris Hemsworth and just wouldn’t stop giggling.

Stephanie had to pull her away.

It was then that she knew Santa had her on the ropes.

…

She met Big Time Rush.

The boy band had become internally famous over the last few years. Not as big as One Direction but they still had their dedicated fans. Marinette was one of them

Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, and Logan Mitchell. They were all eighteen

It should’ve have been easy. She liked their band but not nearly as much as she liked Harry Styles, or Emma Watson, Or Chris Hemsworth.

Still, she hadn’t seen James asking her to dance coming.

However, Marinette had remained calm and cool.

It’s a pity, she was still such a klutz.

Suffice to say, Marinette wouldn’t be listening to Big Time Rush for a while. And James Diamond wouldn’t be asking strange girls to dance any time soon.

Santa gave her a punch right in the face.

…

She ran into Tom Holland the exact moment she got the hiccups. He did his best to help her get rid of them

…

Marinette had just stuffed an entire cupcake in her mouth when she realized Jennifer Lawrence was standing next to her. It wasn’t too bad. As the blond did the same thing a second later.

…

She pointed at Johnny Depp and said, “Jack Sparrow. You’re Jack Sparrow. Oh my god!!!”

           To which he replied, “Captain Jack Sparrow.”

           …

           Suffice to say, Santa didn’t have Marinette on the robes anymore.

           No, Marinette was on the floor; waiting for the referee to call it.

           …

           It was an hour until the official New Year. Fifteen minutes until Marinette was supposed to perform. She was backstage. Everyone was waiting for her. She promised Tim.

And she found that she just couldn’t do it.

           The entire night was too much.

           It was all too much.

           It was over.

           She had lost.

“Rough night?” Roy, her date and pretend boyfriend asked.

           Marinette was sitting on a chair, her face in her hands, “You have no idea.”

           Roy sat next to her, “Pretty exciting though right?” He didn’t get an answer. “Tim said you met Emma Watson, that had to be awesome.”

“It was embarrassing.”

           Roy frowned, “Sabine told me you used to dress up as Hermione Granger all time. You’re saying meeting the Queen herself wasn’t even a little cool?”

           Yeah, it had been amazing to meet her in person. “A little cool.”

           Roy chuckled, “You met Harry Styles,” He reminded. “And from your blond bestie told me; my only real competition.”

           Marinette giggled. “That had been… awesome.” And everything.

“You met Chris Hemsworth,” He added. “Tom Holland, Big Time Rush, and a bunch of other celebs that I’ve been told you were huge fans of. Yeah, you were a little embarrassed.” He shook his head. “But I don’t get it; I’d be so psyched right now if I were you. So why aren’t you.”

           Marinette paused.

           Why wasn’t she?

           Marinette had met people she never even dared to really hope she’d ever meet one day. She wore the most beautiful dress in her entire life; danced with Roy Queen and James Diamond. Joked with Harry Styles. Talked Emma Watson the actress who played the character she loved most out of all the books, tv shows, and movies she’d ever loved.

           It was all a matter of perspective really. Marinette was so focused on the bad, she never even realized just how great it was. Santa had thrown the worst at her but was still there. She hadn’t run back to Wayne Manor no matter how much she had wanted to. She stayed strong.

           At one point, she knew for certain that she wouldn’t just surrender; after the Chris Hemsworth incident. If Santa wanted to win, he was going to have to knock her out.

“Thanks, Roy,” She said. “I couldn’t wish for a better date.”

           It was the most amazing night of her life.

           And no one was going to make her feel otherwise.

           Marinette stood up, determination on her face.

           She had a song to sing.

           …

           Marinette stood on stage. The crowd looked up at her. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth felt dry. The lights were near blinding.  She had changed the song at the last minute. The music was coming from her phone anyway.

           Marinette knew the lyrics to the song by heart; had sung it a thousand times in her room to herself.

           She could do this.

I will do this, Marinette swore.

           The music started. It was her favorite song. And Marinette was going to sing it so loudly, so proudly; they could hear her in the North Pole.

“What if I told you

It was all meant to be

Would you believe me

Would you agree

It's almost that feelin'

That we've met before

So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy

When I tell you love has come and now.”

           She was doing it. Marinette was really doing it. She always had a good voice. She had taken singing lessons for a long time. And her teachers always praised her talent. But after one terrible incident, she never thought she’d ever get on stage and sing in front of anyone again.

           But there she was.

“A moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this

Some people search forever…

           Honestly, Marinette could fall right on her face and it would stop the euphoric feeling coursing through. This was her victory song.

           Jolly Saint Nick had thrown at her more than she ever thought she could take. But she was still standing.

           And as long as she was, the big red guy would never win.

For that one special kiss

Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this…”

The music faded. The applause from the audience roared.

…

Marinette and Roy slow danced to something my Celine Dion neither could recognize. The New Year was less than two minutes away.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Roy smirked. He knew he was good at Pep talks to matter what Artemis said.

“I feel better,” Marinette admitted. “It’s been an awesome few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Roy asked as he twirled her around.

           Marinette nodded, “Nearly Every. One. Of. My. Christmas wishes came true.” She tried not to growl. Positive outlook after.

“Santa must be out to get you.”

           Marinette looked up at Roy with appreciation, “You have no idea.”

“Anything he didn’t get to?” The redhead asked. “Something you can do for yourself first?”

“Countdown to New Years in 10!”

           Marinette thought about it for a second but she realized there was. There was one more thing on her list, that she added at the very beginning of Christmas.

“Yeah, there is.” She said. “Do you want to kiss me.”

           Roy nodded earnestly.

           The crowd counted down. “7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” And then Marinette kissed Roy.

           Balloons came from above. Everyone cheered. But Marinette kept kissing Roy.

           She always wanted a New Year’s kiss.

           Take that and stick it up your chimney, Santa.

           Marinette was officially the winner.

           Nevertheless, there was always next year.

           But for now, fuck Santa!

[hafanforever]

Tyrant Terror

So I know it’s no surprise to my closest friends and fellow Disney fans on Tumblr that I have a strong, deep affinity for villains, including those by Disney. And over the last several months, the more I wrote about King Runeard in my Frozen II analyses, the more I realized what made him a tyrant, albeit a secret one, and that led me to think about other villains in the Disney animated canon who were tyrants.

The thing is, while most historical tyrants were people of royalty, you don’t necessarily have to be a monarch in order to be a tyrant. The definition of a tyrant isn’t limited to being a KING or QUEEN who is openly cruel, hostile, harsh, uncaring, oppressive, persecuting, and unjust towards the people they rule. I mean, that is one way to express tyranny, and probably the most famous way it is and has been done. But what it really means for a person to be called a tyrant is being in a position of power, authority, and/or control over other people and MISUSING, to the point of ABUSING, that position, and often for that tyrant's own selfish desires rather than in the best interest of the people being ruled by the tyrant.

So from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Frozen II, there are a handful of tyrannical antagonists who are indeed monarchs, such as the Queen of Hearts, Prince John, and Scar, but also plenty others who are not. There are tyrants who are corrupt government officials, such as Governor Ratcliffe, Frollo, and Bellwether, and even those who wield magic, such as Maleficent, Ursula, and Jafar. And like the villainous monarchs, the non-monarch villains prove themselves as tyrants all because they abuse their positions of power, magic or non-magic power, and authority that they have over other characters. In fact, there are even a couple of heroic characters who start off more as protagonist villains because they display tyrannical behavior before they become better people. On the contrary, the main antagonist enemies of these tyrant heroes serve as darker reflections of what the latter characters could have become had they not learned the error of their ways.

Below is my list of all the villains from Walt Disney Animation Studios that I perceive as tyrants, from monarchs to government officials to sorcerers, and what scenes in their respective movies depict them displaying tyrannical behavior. I even listed villains that would have become tyrants had they succeeded in their longterm goals.

Monarchs

The Evil Queen: Though we never see her actively governing her kingdom on screen, the abuse that the evil queen displays in her authority over Snow White by dressing her stepdaughter in rags and forcing her to work as a maid in an attempt to make her (Snow White) unattractive makes her a tyrant for sure. Furthermore, the way she mocks the skeletal remains of a prisoner in her dungeon suggests the queen is indeed a cruel, tyrannical ruler.

Queen of Hearts: If we want to consider the epitome of a true tyrant that is a monarch from Disney, it can be safely assumed that that role belongs to the Queen of Hearts. While every resident of Wonderland is insane in some way, the Queen is the most dangerous one of all by being the ruler of the land. An egotist extraordinaire, she loves to get her way, insisting that “All ways are MY ways!” and enjoys hearing the words “Yes, Your Majesty”. The Queen outwardly abuses her authority and power over her subjects by becoming furious over even the smallest of matters, during which she loses her literally explosive temper and flies into violent rages. She is also extremely irrational and unjust in making decisions, primarily by utilizing executions as her only and immediate solution to any problem, especially whenever she feels someone has wronged her, while also refusing to let the individuals she wants beheaded explain their sides of the stories. Enraged upon seeing her white roses painted red, when she misses a shot in croquet, and when she becomes the target of a prank caused by the Cheshire Cat, the Queen sentences those she deems responsible to death by beheading. All of this proves just how much she persecutes and oppresses the residents of Wonderland, instilling only fear and intimidation into their hearts. (A pun that is VERY much intended by me, the Queen of Puns! 😆😆😆)

Prince John: While possessing a short temper that isn’t nearly as explosive and violent as that of the Queen of Hearts, Prince John is displayed to be extremely incompetent as the ruler of England during the time that King Richard is off fighting in the Crusades. Stingy and greedy, the prince continually finds ways to rob and swindle his people in pursuit of wealth for himself. John shows absolutely no care that the harsh laws he decrees to gain more money drive the citizens of Nottingham into poverty and starvation, and he even cruelly mocks them on their poor states by saying, “Rob the poor to feed the rich!”. After the villagers start making fun of him with the song “The Phony King of England”, John punishes them by further increasing the tax payments. Soon everyone in Nottingham is stripped of their money and they are put in prison due to their inability to pay their taxes.

Horned King: Even though the Queen of Hearts projects herself as the ideal example of a royal tyrant, she is far less evil and scary than the Horned King. A skeletal creature with green, rotting flesh, the Horned King is completely frightening in appearance and in personality. Malicious, cruel, malevolent, sinister, power-hungry, megalomaniacal, ruthless, and merciless, he is the epitome of a tyrant who is nothing but purely and completely evil. His goal is to find the infamous Black Cauldron and use its powers to unleash an army of immortal warriors called the Cauldron Born in order to become immortal and conquer the world.

Scar: Denied a legitimate chance to succeed Mufasa as the King of the Pride Lands once Simba is born, Scar schemes to have both of them killed to become king. After murdering Mufasa and believing that Simba has been killed as well, Scar ascends to the throne. However, because he allows the hyenas unrestricted hunting rights in the Pride Lands, their overeating leads to a shortage of food, and a drought leads to other animal herds moving away. Ultimately, these events turn the kingdom into a barren wasteland under Scar’s reign, leaving it completely devoid of green vegetation, water, and food sources. Incredibly lazy and incompetent as a ruler, and caring about nothing except the power and authority that being king gives him, Scar refuses to accept that his allowance of the hyenas overeating is what leads to the destruction of the Pride Lands. He instead blames it on Sarabi and the other lionesses since the hyenas complained to him that they refuse to go hunt. When she suggests they leave Pride Rock to survive, Scar obstinately rejects the idea, not at all caring that he has essentially sentenced them to death. He argues that his place as king puts him in the right for whatever he decides to do: “I am the king! I can do whatever I want!”

King Runeard: In his life, Runeard openly presented himself as a peaceful, generous leader to the people of Arendelle AND the Northuldra. But Elsa discovers from his snowy manifestation in Ahtohallan that he did not trust the Northuldra just because they followed magic. Despite his kingdom having seen him as a benevolent ruler, the face the figure of Runeard makes as he sneers "of a king!" implies that only really cared about himself as well the power and authority he had in being a king. Therefore, he secretly misused and abused it whenever the opportunity came along. This is displayed perfectly when Runeard had the dam constructed in the Enchanted Forest, presenting it as a gift to the Northuldra. He claimed that it would strengthen their land, but admitted only to the second-in-command that the dam’s effects would be just the opposite. This was all part of Runeard’s subtle plan to destroy the Northuldra, as he feared they would try to usurp him and take over Arendelle using their magical ties.

Government Officials/Authority Figures

Lady Tremaine: Like the evil queen before her, Lady Tremaine has control and authority over Cinderella once the latter’s father dies, and misuses it by turning Cinderella into her servant. Day after day for ten years, Lady Tremaine orders and bosses Cinderella around, forces her to do every single bit of housework and menial task for her and the former’s daughters, and subjects the poor girl to an endless cycle of abuse and torment. When Cinderella is accused by Anastasia of putting Gus under the latter’s teacup, her stepmother refuses to let her explain the truth and unfairly punishes her with extra chores. Later, Lady Tremaine falsely promises Cinderella she may attend the ball if she finds a suitable dress and finishes her chores, but gives her chore after chore to do to keep her from working on her dress. After Cinderella appears wearing the dress her mouse and bird friends fixed up for her, Lady Tremaine subtly and cruelly manipulates Drizella and Anastasia into destroying it so that she can appear to be fair in her side of the bargain (”If you can find something suitable to wear”) while simultaneously keeping Cinderella from going to the ball in the first place. The following morning, when she realizes Cinderella was the mysterious girl who danced with the prince at the ball, Lady Tremaine follows her stepdaughter up to her room and locks her in to prevent her from trying on the glass slipper when the Duke arrives with it.

Sheriff of Nottingham: Despite not being the main antagonist of Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham is as much of a tyrant over the town as Prince John is to it and the entirety of England. This is because he is abusive, ruthless, and completely unsympathetic towards the people’s poverty and continually demands that they pay their taxes, regardless of what other problems they may have that hinders them from doing so. It is because of the Sheriff’s harsh decree of taxes, and then by that of Prince John once the latter takes up residence in Nottingham, that the town’s citizens are driven into poverty. The cruel, immoral way the Sheriff collects taxes includes forcing out the coins Otto had hidden in his leg cast, not caring that his act was causing the blacksmith pain from his broken leg, confiscating the one farthing Skippy had been given for his birthday and insincerely wishing him a happy birthday, and taking the single farthing that was in the Friar Tuck’s church's poor box and laughing as he did it.

Ratigan: A notorious crime lord, Ratigan is the leader of a gang of thugs comprised primarily of mice, but also including a bat named Fidget, who is his second-in-command. Although they willingly help their boss with his crimes, they also participate out of fear for their own lives. Ratigan is an abusive tyrant to his minions and threatens to feed them to his cat Felicia if they ever do something that angers him, even if it occurs unintentionally. This is shown after one of his drunken thugs calls him a rat during "The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind”, and Ratigan threatens his other minions with the same fate if they do not keep singing. Ratigan’s latest scheme is to take over London by murdering the Mouse Queen during her Diamond Jubilee celebration and secretly replacing her with a lifelike robot. He and his thugs (who are disguised as royal guards) infiltrate Buckingham Palace and kidnap the Queen, who is taken to be fed to Felicia by Fidget. As the Diamond Jubilee takes place, the Robot Queen names Ratigan as her new "Royal Consort", and Ratigan, dressed in an ornate robe, immediately presents himself in front of the gathered citizens of Mousedom, terrifying them. He then proceeds to read over his long list of tyrannical laws, one of which is a heavy tax policy for people he deems "parasites", including the elderly, infirm, and children.

Governor Ratcliffe: A completely unscrupulous and greedy man, Ratcliffe leads John Smith and other sailors on an expedition to Virginia to find gold, but he secretly plans to keep all discovered riches for himself. Upon their arrival to America, he forces all of the settlers to dig around their encampment, but refuses to do any manual labor himself out of his own sheer laziness. When no gold turns up in the searches, Ratcliffe becomes greedily convinced that it is because the Native Americans are hoarding it. He refuses to believe John's claim that there is no gold around the land, claiming that the Powhatans’ land is his land for the taking and that he makes the laws. After John is captured by the Powhatans, as they believed he murdered Kocoum, Ratcliffe takes it as the opportunity to take the non-existent gold from them, but claiming to his men that it is a rescue mission.

Judge Claude Frollo: Perhaps the darkest and most malevolent of all Disney Villains in animation (aside from the Horned King), Frollo uses his position as the Minister of Justice in the city of Paris to enrich himself and persecute anyone and everyone he considers inferior. He especially holds a deep-seated hatred for the gypsies and plots to eradicate them from the city. Despite his dark deeds, Frollo refuses to find any fault within himself and he truly believes he is a good person who is only trying to rid the world of sin and malice. Any time he commits a crime or is about to do one, he makes excuses to justify them, saying he is doing it in the eyes of God and that his victims are the ones who are really at fault. After chasing and murdering Quasimodo’s mother since he believed that the bundle she was carrying was stolen goods, Frollo attempts to murder Quasimodo since he believes the latter’s deformity makes him an unholy demon. Years later, after trapping Esmeralda in Notre Dame and upon discovering that she has escaped, he launches a ruthless manhunt around the city to find her, burning down the houses of anyone suspected of sheltering gypsies (including an innocent miller and his family, who survive thanks to Phoebus’s intervention) and interrogating gypsies who are captured. During the climax, Frollo makes the excuse that Esmeralda has proven herself to be a witch and will be executed by burned at the stake as her sentence.

Hades: The reluctant ruler of the Underworld and Lord of the Dead, Hades abuses his authoritative role by subjecting his lackeys Pain and Panic to harsh mistreatment whenever they fail a task assigned to them and any other time they do or say something that angers their boss. The two imps only put up with Hades’s abuse not so much out of loyalty to him, but out of deep fear for him. When he discovers that the two did not succeed in killing Hercules as a baby, Hades furiously grabs both Pain and Panic by their necks and chokes them as he demands they explain themselves. Later, after Hercules becomes a famous hero in Thebes, Pain and Panic adorn themselves with some of the hero’s merchandise, much to their boss’s complete ire.

Shan Yu: The ruthless yet respected leader of the Hun army, Shan Yu is an extremely dark, merciless, and dangerous individual determined to take control of China. His thought-to-be impossible feat of getting through the Great Wall to invade China soon makes him notorious and feared throughout the entire country. In his journey to the Imperial City, Shan Yu and his army destroy one village, then slaughter the entire Imperial Army and residents in another village at the Tung Shao Pass in the mountains. He and five of his elite soldiers are the only ones who survive a snow avalanche caused by Mulan. When the group arrives at the Imperial City and take control of the palace, Shan Yu orders the Emperor to bow to him, and decides to kill him when the latter adamantly refuses to do so.

Turbo: Initially believed to be the ruler of the game Sugar Rush, King Candy is secretly Turbo, a racer from the old game TurboTime who was believed to have died after his game was permanently unplugged. Having stolen the throne from Vanellope Von Schweetz, the true ruler, Turbo turns her into a glitch and makes himself the ruler of her kingdom. While he is viewed as eccentric and flamboyant, yet jovial and benevolent, to his subjects, Turbo is extremely obsessive and possessive of his new royal status. He continuously lusts for power and authority and goes to great lengths to secretly abuse his position, not just by allowing the other racers to ruthlessly torment Vanellope, but especially by keeping Vanellope from racing so that she cannot regain the role he had stolen from her.

Bellwether: The epitome of the famous phrase “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”, Dawn Bellwether pretends to be sweet, meek, and friendly to successfully hide her true prejudiced, ruthless, embittered nature. Initially the overworked assistant mayor of Zootopia to its mayor Leodore Lionheart, Bellwether secretly hates him and all predators, viewing them as nothing more than savage, dangerous monsters. In her scheme to overthrow him, take control of the city, and drive all predators out of Zootopia, Bellwether becomes the leader of a secret organization of sheep terrorists who create a serum from night howlers to turn predators feral. This would give the illusion that they were biologically reverting back to their "primitive savage ways" and eventually be regarded as too dangerous for society, allowing only prey animals to take up the entire population. However, in her goal to become the mayor of Zootopia, rather than subjecting Lionheart to becoming savage, Bellwether instead develops her plot to ensure that he is removed from office and his positive reputation amongst the citizens is ruined, allowing her to rise to power in his place.

Magic Users

Maleficent: Known as The Mistress of All Evil, Maleficent is a ruthless tyrant who rules her own subjects at her home, the Forbidden Mountain. Using her dark magic, she continuously abuses her power and authority over her minions, particularly whenever they display incompetence and stupidity. This is shown when Maleficent flies into a rage and attacks them with her magic upon realizing that, over the last 16 years in their search for Aurora, they were only looking for a baby, not realizing in their idiocy that Aurora would be growing up.

Ursula: Known for her dark reputation as a sea witch, Ursula was banished from Atlantica by Triton. She explains in “Poor Unfortunate Souls” that she uses her magic to help merfolk attain their deepest desires and only imprisons them if they can’t keep their side of the bargain. However, after she takes Ariel’s voice away and turns the latter into a human to try and win Eric’s heart, Ursula reveals she has no intention of letting Ariel follow through with kissing Eric to remain human. She proves herself to be a tyrant because all she really does is backstab the merpeople with whom she makes deals in order to ensure that only HER desires are met! When she bargains with Triton so he will surrender himself to her in exchange for Ariel’s freedom, Ursula steals his crown and trident, then grows to giant size, declaring herself the ruler of the entire ocean.

Jafar: Unbeknownst to the Sultan of Agrabah, his Royal Vizier Jafar plots to take control of the kingdom, and he needs the Genie of the lamp from the Cave of Wonders to pull off this feat. Once the lamp is in his possession, Jafar succeeds with his first to become sultan. But after Jasmine and her father refuse to bow to him, he wishes to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world to have an even greater amount of power. During his brief reign, Jafar proves himself to be a tyrant by turning Agrabah into a dystopian wasteland, dressing the Sultan as a living marionette and allowing him to be abused by Iago, and making Jasmine his own slave girl.

Tyrants-Turned-Heroes

The Beast: From the time he is cursed and until he finally starts to soften, the spoiled behavior the prince had before his curse remains. He is aggressive, rude, impatient, and frequently and easily loses his temper when something annoys or irritates him. Primarily due to his short temper, the Beast acts like a tyrant towards his servants because he is mean and cruel to them as he gives them orders, which makes them deeply afraid of him. Only on some occasions do they openly rebel against him or talk back to him, such as Mrs. Potts ordering the Beast to act more like a gentleman around Belle, and both her and Lumiere deciding to feed Belle despite being told that she was not allowed to eat unless she ate with the Beast.

Kuzco: In the beginning, Kuzco is very arrogant, lazy, selfish, and self-absorbed, viewing himself as superior to all simply for being the emperor. He rules his empire completely without the best interest of his people and always seeks to have his way, never showing any concern over the chances things could turn out badly for other people involved. This is shown when he sets his sights on building his summer home of Kuzcotopia on the top of the hill where Pacha, Pacha’s family, and other villagers reside. Since the plan will only benefit himself, Kuzco shows absolutely no care or concern that destroying Pacha’s village to build Kuzcotopia will render the residents homeless.

Would-Be Tyrants

Gaston: From what I described about him in “Bride and Prejudice” with his growing obsession with Belle and his low, inferior views of women, there is no doubt in my mind that, had Gaston succeeded in marrying Belle and starting a family with her, he would have run his household like a tyrant. He would be very controlling to the point of being physically abusive to his wife in order to get her to obey every single one of his commands and orders. Like many of the tyrants I listed above, Gaston would undoubtedly use fear and intimidation to keep his wife in her proper place of being beneath him, and he would instill these same feelings on to his own children.

Yzma: Her ire drawn after Kuzco remorselessly fires her, a furious Yzma decides to kill him so that she can take over the empire. While Kuzco is initially selfish, callous, and uncaring towards his staff and people living in his empire, he learns to change his ways by the end of the film. Had Yzma succeeded in her goal, she would have been far more of a selfish, ruthless tyrant than Kuzco was at first. This is evident during her introduction scene, which is one of many times she governs the empire whenever Kuzco is not present. As a peasant complains to her that he and his family are suffering from limited food sources, Yzma spitefully says his problem is of no concern to her, and that the man should have realized this ahead of time.

Hans: While taking over as temporary ruler of Arendelle in both Elsa and Anna’s absence, Hans wins the hearts of the people by acting as a kind, caring, benevolent ruler during the harsh conditions brought on by Elsa’s magical winter. Though he reveals his true, dark nature to Anna and his plot to take control of Arendelle, the fact that he earned the trust and respect of the Arendellians suggest that Hans could truly have been a very worthy ruler. However, now that we have Frozen II and it revealed that Runeard was actually a malevolent tyrant behind the same kind of benevolent facade that Hans used, there is no doubt in my mind that had he succeeded in stealing Arendelle’s throne, Hans also would have become a ruthless, power-hungry, selfish tyrant in secret.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part seven

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

     Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

  Operation Whistle-blower

As the first tendrils of sunlight curled through her bedroom’s blind shades, Sarah rolled over in her bed, still unable to fall asleep. Her mind was crowded with thoughts surrounding her evening encounter. What was she going to do? The lines always grew muddy in these situations, and she still didn’t know what to think of Black Noir. If anything, their interaction only added to her confusion.

She was so tired. But nevertheless, she pulled herself into a sitting position and waited for the pounding at her temples to subside. Once it finally did, she stretched and rose from the warm bed.

And so, her morning began. Looking in the mirror, she wondered what had changed. She’d been training for these moments, preparing to execute her plan. When had she gotten so tired? When had she lost her edge? Wherever it went, she needed to find it immediately.

Sarah’s morning routine was precise, meticulous even. First, she made a quick stop in the bathroom to freshen up for the day. This was followed by a morning workout, consisting of either jump-rope hiit or strength exercises. She stretched and drank her lemon water. At that point, she always took a shower and decided her look for the day. Outfit, hairstyle, and makeup. Once she was prim and proper, she would head into the kitchen and make herself pancakes, which she considered to be the best start to any morning.

Once she’d cleaned up, she’d gather her things and head out.

On the other hand, Black Noir needed no more than three hours of sleep and often found himself awake throughout the night. He’d spend his time reading, prowling the city, or watching movies. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d started, but one movie every now and then turned into one or two movies a night.

When the sun begins to rise, he starts his routine of suiting up and eating breakfast. He would then enter the combat training room Vought had built for him and that only him and the company knew about. He clocked many hours in that room, constantly training and sharpening his skills. He’d freshen up before heading out for meetings or events.

Sometimes even missions. Now those were his favorites and he often found himself craving one just to be able to let go, to use his abilities. He was a master martial artist and interrogator. He was a spy supplied with strength, durability, and knife proficiency. When they assigned a target, it always ended up classified as ‘terminated’. He never missed, he never failed.

But that morning was like any other, and he had yet another string of meetings. And so, with great composure he completed his morning routine, slipped his mask on, and left his living quarters.

He found that the only thing he might look forward to as much as a mission, was meeting the woman who had captivated his attention that fateful night at the gala. She was different from what he’d originally imagined, still radiant but imperfect. Up close, watching her while she spoke, he had noted a sadness, a maturity in her eyes he wasn’t expecting. For the first time, he was personally invested in another human being, watching over her like a guardian. She was hiding something, and he’d get to the bottom of it soon enough.

..

The day went by in no rush, the hours slowly dragging along. The burning in her eyes and the heaviness of her limbs were nothing when compared to the pounding in her head.

Massaging her temples, Sarah tried to focus on the task at hand.

Someone hovered over her desk, “Long day?”

Sarah hummed before granting her friend some attention. She didn’t like the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Or should I say long night?”

“Hell no, don’t start up with that,” Sarah immediately rejected the image she had conjured up at Martha’s words.

Martha merely huffed in disappointment but respected her wish to keep quiet about it at the moment. You could never really know who is watching or listening.

“All right, all right,” the blonde swept at her bangs. “Are you sure you’re up for tonight?”

Sarah immediately nodded, “Of course, we need to go over a few things.”

Martha watched her closely, “You hide it well, but you really need to slow down.”

She knew her friend meant well and was probably worried over her fatigued state, but there was no time for rest. She could sleep, but it never truly replenished her. It only kept her going.

And who could blame her for it? People who slept well weren’t constantly looking over their shoulder, afraid of being identified and murdered in cold blood. They weren’t leading a plan to take down one of the biggest, most successful pharmaceutical companies in the world. They weren’t being watched by an enhanced, murderous ninja who could tear their head off. Most of all, they didn’t fear burning up and clearing a block in their sleep.

As a little girl, she’d always sleep curled up at the center of the bed, far from the edges. Under no circumstances would she allow a limb to fall over the side. Now, she always slept with an arm hanging out, her fingers inches away from the backpack holding all the necessities to disappear at a moment’s notice. New passport, keys to a safe house, change of clothes, snack bars, lighter, knife, flashlight…

Sarah stirred herself from her thoughts, “It’s fine, I’m just not sleeping that well.”

The other woman pursed her lips.

..

What Martha had been referring to was their weekly night out every Friday. They would either go for dinner at a restaurant or go clubbing if they had to discuss anything in secrecy. That night, they were heading to one of their favorite clubs for dancing and plotting. A club is the perfect place to talk about sensitive information if you find the right spot inside. The loud music masks your words, and most of the people are drinking, buzzed, or completely wasted. And seeing them out together raised no suspicion because it simply looked like friends going out and having fun. Additionally, they got to dance which was always a plus in the two women’s eyes.

Martha often complained that at twenty-seven they were rapidly approaching the deadline for going to clubs, dancing events and such. She was often very dramatic about it, claiming they had to enjoy it before they got labelled as cougars. Sarah always brushed it off with a laugh, not even attempting to reason with her friend’s logic.

And while she enjoyed going to clubs or bars, that night she truly was regretting it. She slipped into a small, refined black dress and hopped into her heels. She’d already done her eye makeup and moved in front of the mirror to apply a rich, dark red lipstick. Her hair was left down, cascading over her shoulders in tight kinks and curls, a cloud of dark brown locks. She pulled her bangs to the side and took in her appearance in the mirror.

Alluring and mysterious, perfect.

Her phone vibrated from an incoming call. “Hey, I’m two minutes away, start locking doors or whatever it is that always makes you late.”

Sarah laughed and started to, indeed, shut her windows and lock the backdoor. She finally made it to the porch where she stood waiting for her friend’s Honda.

Little did she know, a certain someone was hidden on her roof, listening to her move around on the porch beneath him. Black Noir could smell the enticing perfume she’d applied and could hear the characteristic click of heels on wood. He breathed in deeply and restrained himself from jumping down.

She was lightly humming to herself, and he found the tune oddly familiar, but he couldn’t recall when he’d last heard it.

A light grey car rolled around the corner and came to a stop in front of the house.

When Sarah stepped down from the porch and onto the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but hold his breathe. Frozen in his spot, he grew hot at the elegant form-hugging dress she wore, her hips swaying from side to side. Ringlets of dark hair reached down the curve of her back. Where was she going looking like that?

As the car sped away, Black Noir took a few moments to collect himself. She’d completely clouded his mind, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. One of the things that made him so efficient was his ability to focus, always. In any situation, he selected and categorized his surroundings with an ease unlike any other man or woman. He was controlled. No distractions, ever. His outlet was killing, but even then, it was methodical.

But now he felt an underlying tension grow, right under the skin where he couldn’t reach. She was stunning, and he was sure others would think so as well. He’d gouge their eyes out. If he caught anyone catcalling, he’d rip out their tongues. Yes, that’s appropriate.

He shook his head, almost in an attempt to concentrate. Mostly, he was angry with her. Who was she meeting? He sneered at the thought of another man entering the picture.

And so, fueled by possessiveness and an unfathomable jealousy, he followed from the rooftops with an ever-watchful eye.

..

Having already been there multiple times, Sarah and Martha were quick to settle into their usual spot. Taking in the masses of moving bodies around her, Sarah glanced at the people within hearing range. A good rule a thumb was that if she could he hear them speak, so could they hear her.

She moved closer to her friend as Martha started, “I think this is a good time to proceed with everything. I mean, we’re only missing the codes to the lab.”

Sarah snorted, “Yeah, as well as infiltrating the lab, taking the samples and data—like the whole rest of the plan.” She mused, “Oh and don’t forget, we have to live through it and get everything to Max.”

Martha rolled her eyes, “Okay, you’re right but still…,” she took a sip of her drink, “it’s time. There’s a lot of confusion and change at Vought, it could easily be someone else.”

Sarah thought about it. “The plan is pretty solid. It has its risks, but I don’t think there’s any potential plan that doesn’t have any.”

Martha approved, “Exactly. Plus, it fits in with the timeline so we’re good.”

“Yeah….” Sarah trailed off before finally deciding, “I’ll do it next week. I get the algorithm and you crack it.”

Martha high-fived her and downed her drink. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“To Operation Whistle-blower.”

Sarah smiled, “To Operation Whistle-blower”

After such extensive planning, it felt good to finally act, to make Vought pay. She would just need to hold it together for a little longer, focus and get the job done.

Looking over at the blonde she searched her eyes for doubt or remorse. After all, this wasn’t her battle and she’d gotten wrapped into it almost accidentally. They had met at Mallory’s house as teenagers and had been inseparable ever since. And they made a good team, always looking out for each other in the dangerous world of lies, conspiracies and death they grew up in.

Martha snapped her fingers, “You still with us?”

Laughing at her friend’s impatience, Sarah nodded and focused on the drink in front of her.

“Have you told Mallory how we’re proceeding?”

Growing serious, the brunette shook her head, “I only call at our scheduled time on Sunday. I’ll hint at it then.”

Martha leaned back in her seat, “Yeah, it would be great if she could muddy the waters even more, feed false information here and there.”

“You know she’ll help where she can, but I don’t want her involved,” Sarah repeated for the hundredth time, “She already doesn’t want me doing this, and she’s suffered enough.”

Watching her friend retreat into her thoughts, Martha made the snap decision to get up and literally force her to be present.

“Let’s dance.”

Sarah sputtered, “Well okay.” She stared wide-eyed at her friend, “That was sudden.”

“Well you know all that crap about,” she paused for emphasis, “Ces la vie”

The young brunette stood up and laughed at her friend’s antics as she was swept into the crowd.

Losing themselves to the music, they joined the mass of moving bodies, shaking hips and hands raised. The pounding music had since reached into their chest, their bodies almost vibrating to the fast tempo of the music. It was exhilarating, until Sarah’s head felt like it split open.

Martha touched her neck.

“Oh my god, Sarah what happened,” she yelled over the music.

She dragged her over to a less crowded corner and checked her over for any sign of injury. The bleeding woman could feel her agitation grow and spread throughout her body. Had someone nicked her? She looked back into the crowd, wondering who was hiding in there, waiting to finish her off. The dim lights over the sea of moving bodies concealed everything, both action and sound.

Martha found the source of her bleeding, “Oh god Sarah, it’s your ear, it’s bleeding.” Looking up with knowing eyes she placed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders, steadying her. “Look at me, we’re fine. You need to calm down.”

Sarah’s eyes were traced by thin glowing veins, and her breaths were increasingly shallow. She could feel her heartbeat at the tips of her fingers, her whole body on edge.

When Sarah looked from side to side, Martha lightly shook her to catch her attention. “Hey,” she warned.

Slowly, the net of glowing light blue retreated.

“Are we cool?”

Sarah swallowed, “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

Martha tugged on her hand and led her to the exit. They both knew she needed to go home and fully slow down—come down from her high. The moment of danger had triggered a response that she thought had long went dormant.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you like that.”

Sarah merely wrapped her arms around her waist. After the moment of scalding hot, she was now left cold, almost shivering.

“Has it happened since last time.”

Sarah stared ahead. “Not really.”

“What do you mean ‘not really’?

The brunette kicked at a small rock on the sidewalk. “When I sleep and I remember things, I feel it. But I wake up each time.”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re not sleeping.” Martha looked over at her pensive friend, “I’m staying over tonight. It can be a sleepover like the old days.”

Sarah smiled at the thought of their wild adventures. Their sleepovers were not what people commonly thought of. There was no braiding, nail polish or barbies. It was training, sparring, and eating abnormal amounts of ice-cream.

“You’re going to rest, and I’m going to make you some tea,” Martha decided.

“So a different kind of sleepover,” Sarah pointed out.

Martha looked over, worry in her eyes. “Yeah, a different kind of sleepover.”

When she stayed silent, the blonde made a light-hearted comment, “You know we need to branch out, get out of our comfort zones so that we can grow as human beings”

At Sarah’s laugh she proceeded, “Maybe we should try braiding your hair, too.”

The brunette raked a hand through the ends of her curly hair, “Please, you don’t have what it takes.”

Laughing, Martha agreed. From behind them, someone called out.

“Hey, girls, wait up.” A stocky man with hard eyes but a blinding smile came to stand way too close for comfort, and they both took a step back.

“Can I get your numbers?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I get one of your numbers” he asked again, but slower.

They were both getting bad vibes. Sarah sized him up, still rattled from what happened in the club.

“Yeah, we understand English, we just don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here.”

Martha interjected with a disbelieving tone, “Are you trying to get both of our numbers?”

He smirked and ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking he was cute.

“Well, I’ll take what I can get. One or both.”

Martha smiled widely, “Yeah, no, that was the worst attempt to a get a girl’s number in the history of pick-up lines.”

Sarah agreed, “We’re leaving.”

She promptly spun around but was stopped when he grabbed her wrist and shook her. She looked back at him and down at his hold, feeling the energy bubbling right under the surface.

“Come on, I know you want it, no way you weren’t dancing for attention in there.”

And for an instant she got a glimpse into his mind, pictures clouding her thoughts. Her own mind was now spun up, running a thousand miles per hour as her body grew increasingly hot. Martha attempted to catch her attention.

“Come on, let’s go, we’re leaving now.”

But Sarah stood stock still, staring at the man as he grew more and more uncomfortable. Not as bold as before, he tried to back out. When she felt a looser tension on her wrist, she twisted and grabbed onto his, pulling him close.

Her temperature surpassed what would commonly be considered a fever, and she felt the characteristic burning warmth pervading her chest, like ribbons of fire and smoke swirling though her ribcage.

The man started to feel heat on his wrist, and, confused, he tugged. Sarah never moved. And Martha was terrified, not knowing how to knock her friend out of her trance-like state of focus on the disrespectful man in front of them. She had already been on edge, and him grabbing her like that must have sent her barreling over a metaphorical cliff.

Growing scared, he tugged even harder, to no avail. She saw Jason in his features. And suddenly, her skin was so hot, he was burning. She seared the shape of her fingers onto his wrist and ignored the smell of burning skin in the air.

“Oh god, Sarah that’s enough.”

She pressed harder, and he kneeled to the floor, trying to twist out of her grasp.

“Sarah, you’ll blow our cover,” she tried, and finally pleaded, “Marianna.”

That got to her, somewhere in her mind. It shook her and distracted her from the surge of energy building up inside.

Leaning down, she whispered. “You need to learn to respect women. We’re not weak playthings, you hear?”

He nodded insistently, and she finally let him fall back onto the sidewalk, clutching onto his wrist.

Martha watched her, “Now, are we cool?”

Sarah couldn’t quite meet her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Martha was slightly fuming, but it was worry that truly consumed her.

“You better do some jumping jacks or flap your arms to cool down, because you will not burn my leather seats.”

..

Once they left, the silence in the car was suffocating.

Sarah finally pierced it, “I saw what he was thinking, Martha. Not like I could in the past—just a glimpse.”

She peered out of the window into the night.

“And it was horrible.”

..

Up on the rooftops, Black Noir had watched the interaction with growing frustration.

Ready to make his way down to kill the man, he stopped in his tracks. Was this the secret she’d been hiding? She too was enhanced.

She wasn’t on any of Vought’s lists or indexes, which confirmed the fact that she was using a fake identity. So, if she was hiding, presumably from the company that had made her into what she is, why was she working there? So many questions, and no answers.

And why had the other woman called her Marianna? Was that her true name?

His patience was growing thin, but he decided he wouldn’t advance on her until he had a better understanding of where she stood. He found himself proud of how she’d handled the man. Disappointed that she hadn’t killed him, but proud, nonetheless. If she had simply given over her number, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. Violent thoughts danced behind his eyes but he wasn't sure he'd be able to carry them out, not on her.

He leapt down from where he was perched and followed the man without a sound.

And in the dark of night, one can only imagine what happened when he finally reached him.

-Giulia

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