#what matters is that she's getting there!! wherever it is!!!

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{ Heyyy, so I’ll gonna be busy for a bit so this should hold you feral gremlins off for a bit so I don’t have you all on the edge of my woods with fire and pitchforks, soo hope you like }~

•The Dancer•

So when John Constantine walked into the house of mysterious only to see the FUCKING embodiment of time itself which is known to almost never bring good news [and who he has has had a few “one night” stands with, even if said “one night” lasted like a month with no change in the outside world] so John is internally freaking out inside.

And that’s when Clockwork turns to him and floats over to him until he’s in front of John and he says in his old and ethereal voice.

“Hello Constantine” Clockwork says and John feels like the pit in his stomach has grown into a cavern by what the embodiment of time may want from himso john turns his charm up to a fucking 11.

“Hello to you Clockwork, may this be a house visit maybe we could start where we ended last time~” John says in a flirty tone but in his voice in a underlying nervousness that he knows Clockwork can hear.

That’s when he hears Clockwork chuckle and responds with “Fear not, John I do not carry misfortune with my visit”The Ancient of time says with an air of amusement and mirth in his eyes as he looks at John. “Than why the sudden visit?” John ask still with a bit of a flirty undertone in his voice, look his not taking ANY chances with Clockwork anytime soon.

“The introduction of new Prince of death is in the coming days and you are in attendance” Clockwork says with finality that told john that he didn’t have a chance in the matter of his attendance and before John can say anything back Clockwork says “I will summon you when it is time, be prepared.”.

And he’s gone back to wherever Clockwork goes to do his job and John is just relieved there was no bad news for the world but then John realizes what clockwork said.

“THERES A NEW BLOODY FUCKING PRINCE???”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

After a bit the ghost side of Danny’s (half)life has chilled out with him and the other ghost coming to an agreement for them to leave amity Park alone and Danny will go to The Ghost Zone three times a week to make sure he stays healthy and to hang out with them.

And turns out the observers wanted more power around a few thousand years back and used their influence and power to turn Pariah Dark insane and put him in the nap-time box so they could rule The Ghost Zone so Danny beat their collective asses and help Pariah Dark chill TF out so he’s back to normal and over this time has grown close with Danny and has come to think of him as a son so there chill.

Oh and don’t worry Pariah Dark also beat the ever loving shit out of the observers for turning him insane and turning him into a tyrant

But for the human side of Danny’s life has become more dangerous for Danny.

The G.I.W and his parents have somehow managed to get ahold [ VLAD ] of blood blossoms and turning their weapons more and more deadly for him and with Jazz off to college and Tucker, Sam having their own things. Danny is not having a good time and he talks about his concerns for his safety with Pariah Dark and he suggest that Danny moves over to the ghost zone full time as it is too dangerous with the blood blossom weapons and it’s not like the Fentons will notice him missing.

So Danny grabs his things and moves to the ghost zone full time and as he’s basically Pariah Dark’s ghost son at this point he is welcomed as the new prince so he’s just been hanging around the ghost zone for awhile [3 months].

And in this time Danny picked up dancing from a new friend of his who in her life was called..what was it again, oh yeah a gypsy! And she taught him how to dance and it has been affecting his ghost form so that’s fun and after he was found dancing in the gardens.

He had earned the nickname “The Dancing Prince”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-•Appearances•

Danny’s dancing wear-

[ He likes to dress in more airy clothes when he’s dancing and the hair the accessories for when he’s dancing was given to him by his new friend ]

Danny’s normal wear-

[ Danny’s hair grew out a bit so when he’s not dancing he just holds it up with ribbons]

+ Danny has jewelry but I can’t find any good ones so that really up to you gremlins

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

~{ And that’s it! Hope this holds you guys off for a bit and the new friend I mentioned is mostly based off one of my OCs so just a random thing and if you gremlins like this I’ll probably add more but anyways byeeee }~

[raayllum]

You. Please ramble about Rayllum, I need to be rambled at.

(Literally talk abt anything! I need to have the FEELS!)

god it's not like this is anything New in terms of how the fandom (or show) has been writing Rayllum for a while but by far the most satisfying thing about them in S7 for me is the reaffirmation of just how unconditionally ride or die they are for each other, for better or for worse

Like nothing that happened in S7 was really news to me? Of course Callum is going to mediate with Ez and Rayla but unquestionably inevitably take Rayla's side no matter what the cost and bail her out immediately when she gets in over her head, because saving his dad was the first thing she ever offered to him on that first night together of strange and reluctant allyship. Of course they're going to talk about planning a sweet quiet life together, whether in the Silvergrove or elsewhere. Of course Callum's biggest hesitation when it comes to dark magic again isn't that doing so would mean signing his death warrant, but what Rayla will think / whether she'd still love him and if he's letting her down. Of course he does it anyway because if he doesn't it'll mean her death alongside their friends and family ("if you love her, you'll be the you that can save her"). Of course Rayla will submit herself to something she wasn't willing to let either of her parents live through, of living without him if he truly thinks this is the way and needs her to do this for him (of course Callum is her whole heart whereas in her letter to him pre-S4, she thought she had only a piece of his). And of course on the other side of it all, Rayla still loves and accepts him unconditionally just as he's done for her

It was like, Incredibly On Brand "Callum takes the first step in the more batshit direction ('even if you have to sacrifice your sense of right & wrong') / because helping/saving her will always be the Right Thing To Do and then out of love Rayla follows him, stapling her sense of identity right on top ('an assassin doesn't decide right or wrong, only life and death')" + bonus Callum always chasing/following her down into the dark and dragging each other back into the light hand in (un)lovable hand, and barring that, completely willing to go down together in whatever way that means.

That said, just cause something is On Brand and within their pattern does not mean it's not delightful (and occasionally heartbreaking / thrilling) to watch, and I'll eat it up every time

Snake Boi Callum and Prime Enabler Rayla are a match made in heaven and hell and I cannot wait to see wherever they go next

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; “from Andromeda to your eye”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, and Superboy squeezes her tighter. It feels–strange. Weird. She never would’ve–she never–she’d thought he might be able to help her get away. Thought he’d at least probably be willing to try. But she hadn’t thought he’d touch her face or try to make her laugh or let her cry on him or hug her. 

Hadn’t thought she’d be saying “sorry” so many times either, though that one she probably should’ve expected. 

“I know. Like–I get it,” Superboy says, rubbing her back a little. She almost starts crying harder. “Just . . . c’mon, babe. Come with me.” 

She goes, obviously. 

Obviously she goes.

.

.

.

Superboy takes the clone deeper into Cadmus, leading her by the hand. She manages to stop crying, though not really on purpose, and no one stops or questions them. No one seems to have noticed the clone isn’t Wonder Girl, and Superboy hasn’t seemed to see any point in telling anyone. She wants to tell him not to be so trusting, but she really, really needs him to trust her. 

She thinks she might just degrade into nothing and collapse into genetic scrap, if he didn’t. 

She doesn’t know what she’d do, if he didn’t, and she doesn’t want to have to figure it out. She doesn’t want to. The Agenda made her in the image of a superhero–made her from a superhero–but all she wants is for someone to save her. 

And she wants that someone to be someone like Superboy, if she . . . if she gets the choice. She’d take anyone, if it came to it, but she doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want saved by someone who’ll hurt her for it; who’ll use her for it. Who’ll make her pay for it. 

She wants saved for nothing except the fact that she needs saving, like someone might do for a real person. 

Like someone might do if they thought she mattered like a real person. 

Superboy doesn’t let go of her hand the whole way to wherever he’s taking her, and she–obviously–doesn’t let go of his either. Just–the holding cells so she’ll be contained, she assumes, or an interrogation room so Guardian can have her questioned, or . . . 

It’s someone’s personal lab, she finds out when they get there, and finds out whose when Superboy barges right into it without feeling any apparent need to knock and yells, “Hey, Doc, need you to take a look at somebody here!” 

He doesn’t say “something”, and of course he wouldn't, but the clone still nearly starts crying all over again. If she did, though, she definitely wouldn’t be able to stop doing it this time. 

“Oh, you got date night already, youngblood?” a voice says, and Serling Roquette rolls out from behind a row of computers in a desk chair, smirking up at Superboy and clearly having just kicked off the wall. She’s wearing cat-eye glasses, a knee-length leopard-print vest instead of a lab coat, and very loud jewelry. Her shoes are neon pink platform heels that lace all the way up to her knees and are definitely not OSHA-approved. The clone has no idea how she even walks in them, though rolling a chair around a lab environment doesn’t actually imply very much “walking” anyway, she guesses.

[geeneelee]

Jayce has an unusual character flaw - an overactive sense of responsibility. There's the other obvious issues, like his fear of failure and fear of disappointing others, which tie into his desire to be responsible, but I think it's worth talking about by itself.

I think the most obvious instance of this is the fallout of Progress Day--Jinx kills a bunch of enforcers and injures Caitlyn and then steals the gemstone. Someone else might (reasonably) have said that it was due to Piltover's incompetent security that that happened. But he doesn't.

He accepts the position of Councilor because Mel tells him it will allow him to take responsibility for the damage the stolen gemstone could cause, he offers Caitlyn a job to make up for the one she lost during the attack, he starts cracking down on the smuggling being committed with the Hexgates that he helped invent. And once he accepts the position of councilor, all those responsibilities that he's trying to take seriously pile up until he fucks up by agreeing to go and handle Shimmer production by himself.

There are other aspects of his character that can be seen through this lens--conceding to Heimerdinger's request because being safe is the responsible thing to do, trying to be responsible by fulfilling his duties to his house, feeling a responsibility to the entire city by wanting to improve quality of life for everyone. But it's all unsustainable and repeatedly leads to him getting in over his head.

Thus, I think it's an important way to read his character arc at the end of both seasons. At the end of season 1 he abdicates his perceived responsibility of "fixing" the situation in Zaun, instead admitting that he is not up to that task and proposing Zaunite independence to the council. And then, at the end of season 2, after achieving maximum suffering and reflecting on everything that's happened, he decides to abandon every responsibility he has except for Viktor. He decides that Viktor is what really matters above all else--not Piltover, not his house, nothing except his partner, and he follows that to the end, "finishing" it all with Viktor, wherever that leads.

[nnightskiess]

the dance of death, part five

₊° - 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦...

the dance of death, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .���

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸

Now, more than ever, every fibre in Wednesday's being called for her to figure out what Nevermore was hiding. She knew her gut feeling had been right from the first night. It hadn't been just a violin player. It hadn't been just a girl. And it definitely hadn't been just a made up story to scare the students. Y/N had been real. She'd existed, or else Wednesday would have never been able to grasp visions and moments of her life by touching her portrait. Though, her dips into visions had never left her so physically exhausted before, nor had she felt like an intruder the second she'd jumped in. Even now, she could feel the prickling humming of the vision's phantom feeling plaguing her. She liked it, though. It kept her focused on the task.

She'd noticed the Nightshades following her wherever she went. They weren't trying to be subtle about it either, that much was clear. She could feel their eyes on her at all times. They'd even started to rotate shifts on who would guard the library entrance for days now, which had irked her immensely at first. There was more information to be found down there, Wednesday knew it, and she knew they knew. What she also knew, was that they couldn't change the password to the entrance. With two simple snaps of a finger, the statue of Edgar Allen Poe would open. So it was only a matter of time until she would be able to slip by them without anyone noticing. But, there was another obstacle— Weems had been on her case as well, and Wednesday wondered if Bianca or any of the others had whispered something in her ear, or if the woman had been looking at her more closely than she'd initially assumed. But Principal Weems couldn't know the truth, obviously, for Wednesday was sure she would have been kicked from school in that case already.

Wednesday walked through the quad, head held high but eyes glued to her peripheral as she glanced at the lurking nook to her right. She'd noticed the pattern— Ajax took the mornings, always having been an early riser; Xavier took the free periods, happy to sketch away on his own; Kent and Divina the breaks, keeping each other company; Bianca would usually take the hours right after dinner, her need to not miss her clubs, classes or social hour during break too high, and Yoko stayed during the night, her lack of need for sleep making it an easy decision. Wednesday had felt their eyes on them each time she left their sight, only for one of them to shadow her wherever she went. But they were forgetting one thing. While they were so heroically guiding the Nightshades library, Wednesday had all the freedom in the world to go where they weren't— their dorms.

Wednesday accepted the paperclip Thing handed her, immediately going to work to unlock the door she sat crouched in front of. The dorm room hallways were quiet right now, all the students either in the classrooms or at the quad... just like Xavier, the unlucky victim of her current mission. She'd half hoped Enid would be useful to her, maybe distract Xavier or get them off her track, but with the girl's track record of blurting things out and her inability to lie, Wednesday rather took her chances to do this alone.

"Remember, it is a black leather bonded map we're looking for," She reminded Thing as soon as the door clicked open.

She spent five alienated seconds taking in the typical teenage boy room of Xavier with a slight scowl of disgust on her face— heaps of clothes, kicked-off trainers, a messy desk and walls filled with posters and drawings. She scrunched up her nose, the teenage boy's pheromones of sweat mixed with cheap aftershave giving her nausea.

"I want to know what else he drew in there, as he's clearly hiding something from me. They all are." Wednesday flitted through the papers on his desk. She bent down to watch all that had fallen out of his backpack, which he'd clearly thrown against the foot of his bed in a rush.

"Eureka." Her eyes lit up ever so slightly, her hands quickly brushing through the pages and skipping through drawings of animals and plants. The patter of Thing's fingers approached. He jumped out from one of the shelves and climbed onto Wednesday's shoulder, just as eager to see if breaking into Xavier's room had paid out.

Xavier had drawn Nevermore's water fountain from the gallery above the quad at night during a full moon.

Another drawing depicted Eugene's beehive. Another one Jericho's town square.

There was nothing interesting about any of them. She flipped the page. Another spider. Then a squirrel on a branch. Then another shadowy blob with eyes. The next one was a mansion in the woods, shadowed by the treetops of the forest it was in.

"It's the mansion from my vision," She muttered quietly, fingers touching the page in the hope of another vision. Nothing happened. She took the drawing in. Xavier had scribbled a family of three on the porch in charcoal, the outline of their garments making it clear that it wasn't a family from this time.

"The vision from the portrait." Wednesday glanced at Thing from over her shoulder when realisation dawned on her. She turned back to look at the sketch and could almost hear the calming rustle of the wind through the leaves, the creaking of the swaying rocking chair in the corner of the porch, the barking of a faraway dog, the crackling of a fire and the tuning of an instrument. She felt the unease, the fear of being kept between four walls, of oppressing, of concealing. But Xavier hadn't drawn any of that.

"I'm telling you, we just need to let her in on what we know."

Wednesday's body froze as she heard the muffled voice on the other side of the door approach. It was Xavier, and he wasn't alone.

"And let her set off another chain of murders? No, thanks." Bianca added.

Quickly she shoved his bundle of drawings back where they'd been and slipped underneath the bed, Thing following her example.

"Wednesday won't do that."

"Are you sure? Because her entire existence seems to be fuelled by getting off on death and horror."

The door clicked open and Wednesday watched from underneath the bed as Bianca and Xavier walked in. The boy walked to his closet, rummaging through the mess.

"We don't even know how it happened that first time. We weren't even around for that. Not even born. Hell, no one here was."

"Yoko was."

"Barely."

"Long enough to know that that girl's not to be messed with! She needs to be left alone! You know the rumours of what happened in the 40s, too. And then in the 80s as well, in case you forgot." Bianca huffed.

"Exactly. Rumours. Stories born from fear and meshed together by whispers." Xavier started cramming stuff in a bag.

"Rumours are always based on some form of truth."

"Then I guess they deserve the benefit of the doubt. Both of them."

"Are you really asking me to give Wednesday the benefit of the doubt when I saw with my own eyes how that portrait was upside down? You mean to tell me it did that out of itself after years of hanging straight, right up until crazy braids appeared on our doorstep?"

Xavier threw his closet door shut and walked into the bathroom, throwing more stuff into his bag.

"Hello?!" Bianca followed him, still frustrated. "There's a reason previous principals took all those measures. Lord knows why Weems is so negligent about them, but we shouldn't be! You know what's written down about her. Don't you believe all those books?!"

Xavier reappeared from the bathroom, "I-I don't know. Maybe I don't."

It was quiet for a beat.

"You know what you draw isn't always true, right?"

"Exactly."

Bianca, exasperated, threw her hands in the air. She walked off but hovered in the doorway,, "Students died, Xavier. Whether she killed them or not, they died." She puffed a breath out of her nose, "Our responsibility as Nightshades is to keep that from happening again, to keep that story buried, to keep her buried. We promised that, and generations before us did. And unless you keep to that promise, we can't trust you anymore."

"Bianca-" Xavier sighed and threw a pile of papers on the ground before running after her, not without ramming the door close.

Wednesday glanced at Thing from under the bed, determination set in her eyes. She was now, all the more, keen on figuring out all she could find out about this girl, this violin player, who had intrigued her since the day she'd stepped foot on Nevermore grounds. Something had happened here, something sinister, and she never liked being kept in the dark when it came to the macabre.

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

A mere half hour later, Wednesday sat in class, thinking about what she'd secretly discovered.

So, there had been deaths. Of students, no less. And, multiple, apparently.

And other principals had been aware of... what, exactly? Well, aware of it enough to take measures to... save the school or to play dumb and pretend nothing had happened? Because, so far, it seemed only the Nightshades knew of this piece of Nevermore history. And why did they? Had they accidentally found something out? And if it was so deeply buried, where had they found out? And how had anyone been able to keep the truth from coming out? Why did silly teenagers who were part of a silly club with an even sillier kidnapping rite of passage know about this? Wednesday had done her research beforehand, and not even one article had come up when she'd searched Nevermore online. The lack of articles, when she'd put murder, death and accident after Nevermore in the search engine, had quelled her excitement to enrol even further.

And... what had that been about the 40s and the 80s? Had something happened then, too? And why had Weems let her play the cello, encouraged her to, even, if other principals had apparently shuddered at the thought?

Stricken with all these thoughts swirling in her mind, she was thankful that through it all, she had found her next person of interest—Yoko. Apparently, the vampire had already been inhabiting this sad excuse of a planet around that time. So, for now, that made Yoko complicit in her next steps of action.

"Wednesday."

Her train of thought popped in a split second. Irritated, she looked to her right, where the voice had come from, but no one was standing there. She was sitting alone at her desk, no classmate seemingly eager to keep her company, especially not after her glare had warded them off.

She locked her jaw and pursed her lips, hoping whoever had stopped her train of thought wouldn't do it again, when she noticed a small piece of parchment on her desk.

It was written in an esteemed calligraphed handwriting that the average teenager with their modern scribbles or block lettered fonts could learn something from.

Memento Mori, it read.

Memento mori... the inevitability of death. She knew all about the Latin phrase. Of how it symbolised the end of life, of how it was portrayed in paintings like hourglasses or clocks, of how it could be seen as a reason to live each day to the fullest or a morbid reminder that you must die.

Her eyes flashed from left to right again, but no one was looking at her strangely or anticipating a reaction from her. And so, she wouldn't give it to them. She'd just crumple the paper and-

The second her fingers touched the parchment, she felt the air get sucked out of her, constricting her throat as if hands squeezed it shut. It burned. It ached.

Her head fell back and after the welcome feeling of a nagging migraine coming up, she opened her eyes to see she was somewhere else.

The sky was gloomy, even for what seemed to be the middle of the day. The structure of the buildings around her made it clear she'd gone back in time, and quite some years, too. A wooden notice board stood to her right with advertisements— a clipped drawing of a horse on sale, a five hundred dollar reward for the arrest of a train robbery, a request for a housemaid, a newspaper clipping of the public trial and confessions of some Grace Marks and James McDermott.

Wednesday turned around as a flock of people rushed past her, all dressed in the appropriate attire of the mid-1800s. A horse and cart wheeled by, sending dust clouds across the square. People started mumbling amongst one another, retreating from shops and houses or opening wooden shutters from above to watch.

The cart stopped on the other side of the town square and two large men jumped out before a third person appeared. The crowd now went haywire.

Unsure but intrigued, Wednesday walked up to the town square of screaming and chanting people. She cursed at her height, for what was happening on the wooden staging was hard to see.

"Kill her!"

"She's a witch, fire is the only way!"

"Witches don't exist, you medieval vazy!"

"She is one! I've seen it with my own eyes!"

"Only true evil can do such a thing, kill her!"

"She's but a child!"

"I saw her talk with the dead!"

"Hang her! Jericho doesn't need murderers!"

"Save our children from this evil, save Jericho!"

Wednesday walked further, finding a draw-well. She hauled herself atop the edge, holding onto the pole to keep her balance. She could finally see what all the fuzz was about. All the way to the other side of the muddy and filthy town square, a girl stood trembling on the staging, hands tied behind her back, burlap bag atop her head with two men on either side of her, cutting off the blood flow in her arms by how hard they were squeezing. It had to be her, the girl from the portrait. Why else would the vision have taken Wednesday here? But what was she supposed to see? To learn from this?

Another man walked onto the staging, opening one of the nooses enough for the girl's head to fit in. Sobs racked her body, making her shake with the fright in her bones. Things were being announced, but the crowd was too overbearing to make out his words.

Before Wednesday could witness her first public execution, the world turned on an axis. Horizontal became vertical, up became down. Her eyes felt like they zigzagged in their sockets. Suddenly, she fell onto the damp ground. A groan left her as she felt something hard poke into her abdomen.

She was in the middle of a forest.

The entire forest floor was covered in vegetation. She had to be careful not to put her hand in the nettles around her. Though she liked their pain, she'd never been that fond of the itch. The ivy around her feet seemed to have crisscrossed against the earth, but as she moved her feet, it came undone. A small stone plaque, no bigger than her hand, appeared. Anyone would've tripped over it, had it not been covered by layers of greenery. Two words were engraved into it.

Memento Mori.

The same words. On what had to be an unmarked grave. It was clear that whoever had been behind the grave had not felt any importance to respectfully lay this person to rest. The grave came with no name, no date or anything else except for those two Latin words. Wednesday felt for whoever was buried here. Back at the Addams Mansion, their entire backyard was a graveyard. Each Addams that had come before her had a giant, imposing grave to declare their final resting place, to celebrate their death and their journey behind the thin veil of life. It was as if whoever had buried this person here hadn't felt they were deserving enough of a respectful resting place. That or... the lack of information on the grave hadn't been entirely accidental... but rather done with purpose. Keep her buried... Bianca had said. Could this be...?

Wednesday looked around to properly take in her surroundings. She recognised these woods. The eerie but comforting feeling that she was being watched by the trees around her, that the wind would travel further and alert whoever of her presence. She'd been here before, in her first vision, albeit as she'd watched from a distance. Was she still in the 1800s? Or was this place overgrown or built on back in her time?

"Is this where you're buried?" She breathed out, wondering to herself. Before she could investigate further, a force pushed her out again, back into her conscious body, back to the classroom, where her classmates now looked at her with critique, fear, bewilderment and raised eyebrows.

"Everything all right, Miss Addams?"

She gave a curt nod to her teacher and straightened her back. When the class stopped dwelling on her... moment, she fixed her bangs and looked out the window to the treetops of the forest in the distance.

Nevermore was a place for outsiders or gifted kids, depending on who you asked, but there was no denying that there was a common denominator.

Why this town in Vermont to start the school, of all places? Something strange was definitely afoot in Jericho, probably always had been, and Wednesday was going to find out how it all tied to Y/N.

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Wednesday tossed and turned in her bed, tiny beads of sweat coated her hairline for the first time in her life. Wednesday didn't sweat, on no occasion, ever, but the locks of her bangs clung to her forehead. It disgusted her and made her feel revolted at the lack of control over her body and senses. She hated the warmth that flooded her entire body, the unknown temperature filling her with more loathing. Even if she could feel it, she couldn't do anything about it. Because Wednesday was asleep, and she was awfully aware of that.

Most days, she either vividly dreamed of the most beautifully horrific things, or her mind would be empty entirely during her sleep. What she was feeling right now... it was new. She had no control, and it bothered her.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her brows furrowed even deeper as she let herself get pulled and pushed and plucked at. She only saw darkness... and she felt it too. It wasn't the kind of darkness she was used to. There was something incredibly evil and torturing latching onto her, and if she wasn't so focused on regaining control, she would've revelled at the feeling of being in its dark presence.

"It's all lies. You see what they see."

Rang through her head in a female sing-songy voice, feigning sorrow, hiding a smirk. Wednesday wanted to talk, she wanted answers, but it was as if her mouth had been sown shut with needle and thread.

"Will you be my friend?"

A small child's voice mixed with a deep and dark voice, something inhuman, yelled into her right ear before a string of apologies was heard in her left one.

"Leave. Her."

Wednesday heard the female voice beg before she felt her hair being pulled, as if the only goal behind it was to pluck her bald. It hurt and made her eyes water, even in her dreamlike state. It burned as if she'd ducked her head in boiling water or as if an entire beehive had stung each part of her head. She could feel it all. This was the torture she'd usually love to dream about. Not tonight.

"Hey-" Echoed and echoed through her mind, the same female voice sounding like a choir with its reverb, "Fight it."

"Alone. Cold. Water. Wolf. Hair. Hair. Pretty. Book. Portrait. Book. Alone. Hand. Play. Hand. Hand. Fire. Betrayal. Hurt. Kill. Kill. Nevermore. Let her go. Kill. Kill. End it. Here. Wolf. Girl. End it. Up. Up. Wake. Help."

A string of words followed in a way that made no sense to Wednesday and sounded a lot like the monotone voices from the Ghost Boxes she'd seen some idiots use in one of the paranormal courses she'd taken once in hopes of experiencing an exorcism.

"Wednesday!"

The constant buzzing of messy words and white noise was interrupted by the soft, gentle voice of a young woman speaking her name. Then she saw her— a young woman clad in dated attire and a hairdo to match. It was her. The girl from the portrait. Only, the evil eyes were gone and a panic struck her face instead.

She came to life in Wednesday's mind, now no longer an idle drawing in a frame but a person. A person whose touch she could feel, whose pain and fear she could sense.

"Go now!"

The woman's hands pulled at her arms, then pushed her away, out of the dark, into another abyss as Wednesday could feel herself falling and falling until she opened her eyes.

Wednesday bolted up from her sleep, chest heaving, hair dishevelled as if it had really been pulled and played with. She shot backwards against her headboard as soon as she saw Enid's face hovering just above her own, the girl's hands still on her to shake her awake.

"Wednesday!" Enid's concerned voice rang out, "Are you okay?!"

It was then that she realised the state she was in, with her covers half draped on the ground, her clothes sticking to her skin, her hair mussed and that same awful chilly but warm wetness covering her face, neck and back. She could feel the forming of a plethora of bruises all over her body, and she doubted that Enid was to blame for some of them with her still tight grip on her forearms. Wednesday reared back in shock and disgust at the physical contact, too panicked to notice the flash of hurt across Enid's face.

"I'm going to get Ms. Thornhill."

"Don't." Wednesday immediately muttered, regaining her breath, her chin held up again to not give in to the slip of her facade and the moment of weakness Enid had caught her in.

"You're clearly not okay! You were saying all kinds of weird things in your sleep, and you look... even paler than usual."

"I'm fine. Where's Thing?" Wednesday glanced across their dorm room, the lights Enid had turned on doing nothing to help her find him quicker.

"Oh, I... I don't know... but are you sure?" Enid tried to approach again, but one look from the raven-haired girl, and she stopped herself. "Wednesday, you don't look fine. And you talked in your sleep, you've never done that before."

"You talk in your sleep every night, but I don't go to get someone after all the troubling things I hear you mutter, do I?"

Enid visibly blushed in embarrassment, hands bundled against her chest, wondering if she really did talk in her sleep, and what she'd said exactly. Then, as if a light had been switched on, Enid reared back even further, panic lacing her features and her voice.

"Oh god! It's happening!"

Wednesday looked at her in confusion, the fact Enid was wearing her bunny slippers, pink pajamas and rainbow sleeping mask making the thing entirely more ridiculous.

"The slow descent into your insanity? I can see that." Wednesday muttered, hauling her duvets back onto her bed, eyes still flashing across the room in case Thing showed up. Why wasn't he perched atop her bed already?

"The start of yours, more like!" Enid started freaking out, her breath coming in heaps as she paced by the end of Wednesday's bed, "She'll drive you mad, visit you in your dreams and then come for you. It's exactly like Xavier said! And now she'll come for me too simply by association, oh god, oh god-" She rushed out.

Wednesday was about to shut her up, but a loud thunk sounded not even a second later, making both their heads rear to the large glass-stained window in their room.

"Oh god, there she is, there she is." Enid hurried back to her corner of the room, her colourful side of fairy lights and plushies giving off a warmer and safer ambience than Wednesday's dark nook of death and destruction.

Intrigued, Wednesday got up, walked up to the window and tried to peer through it. But the dead of night was a black canvas against the reflection of the lights inside their dorm. She only saw her reflection staring back at her, the dark shadows of her eyes making her look possessed. She looked over her shoulder, feeling a warmth beside her, but Enid wasn't nearby.

"Turn off the lights."

"Are you crazy?!" Enid wheezed, now hiding underneath her blanket and peeking from through her fingers.

"Kooky," Wednesday corrected, mumbling, as she switched the main lights off herself. The balcony behind the window was more visible with the shine of the remnants of the full moon lighting it up.

"Did you see that?" But Wednesday knew Enid hadn't, for the girl was still hiding in her corner. "There's something on the floor. Right outside."

"Wednesday Addams, if you open that window-"

Enid whimpered when she heard the familiar creak of the glass window and ducked behind her bed, now completely out of view to whoever Wednesday would be inviting inside.

Wednesday stepped one foot onto the balcony, eyes adjusting to the darkness as they took in the balcony. No one was there. The harsh autumn wind was like sandpaper scrubbing against her face, but it was a nice change to the heat she'd felt moments before. There was no light on in any of the other windows of the school. The night seemed quiet, like any other.

Finally, she looked down. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw it. By her feet, something was trembling and spasming on the floor.

It was Thing.

"Thing!" She rushed to pick him up and glared around the balcony one last time in case someone was watching her, her eyes flashing a silent threat, before closing the window and rushing over to her desk with him.

Enid felt like she could breathe again the second she heard the window click shut with a creak and realised only one pair of feet rushed through the room, but Wednesday's hurried steps didn't ease her nerves.

"Who was out there? You're scaring me, Wednesday. What-" Enid hurried over but halted as soon as she saw what Wednesday was holding in her hands.

Thing. With his fingers bruised and bloodied from a string that had tightly bundled them together. Wednesday was already working on removing the string from his flesh, gently unwrapping it from further digging into the slashes and wounds it had created. She kept silent, brows furrowed and eyes focused as she worked on the task, but her mind could only retreat back to one thing—

It was a violin string. Which could only mean... Wednesday was being warned.

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸

☾ ⋆*·:⋆*·:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

© 𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘀

@ghostheartbeat @the-night-owl-blr @engenelxver @screechcat @mary-jinx @mxal24 @novastargalaxydesigns @randomawesomeperson102 @reginassweetheart @mjoiner1136 @rockwyn @lostgirl1415 @rainbow-love4ever @the-lazy-turtle @elduster @queen-bunny @ghostheartbeat @lscvnty @iamnodens @alexkolax @main-queen-bunny @mcnusty @nev-valkyriesdottir @justareader5149

[nakylvr]

Megan is the clingy type that loves with everything she has and I won't accept a different answer. Girly has heart eyes, will definitely stare whenever, wherever. Hickey's? Yes ma'am🙂‍↕️ giving, receiving she doesn't care as long as she gets affection🥰

well yes! she literally stares at you 24/7 with heart eyes no matter what she's literally a lovesick puppy and gets teased for it so much but she doesn't care. she is very clingy and isn't afraid to express it, she loves you and she will express it in every way possible that she can. she loves leaving bite marks and hickeys on you, both cause she just loves doing it and being close to you, and cause it proves to others that you're hers. she loves receiving hickeys just as much, and honestly doesn't try to cover them unless she has a schedule or sophia scolds you both. she needs her affection or else she will complain and whine until you give it to her

[intrusive-thought-library]

Revenge for stealing the last pickled onion from her lunch box in 5th grade

[gumy-shark]

i think the dnd character i played for a halloween oneshot a few weeks ago is one of my favorite characters ive made recently. and her name was fucking paige

[captainhongjoong]

it should not be time yet for my period but it really feels like it is. i’m about to kill my mother over furniture

[blakelywintersfield]

Cat fights don't happen in the UK. And FIV magically doesn't exist in the UK either. There's 0 likelihood of there being anything poisonous that a cat can get into in the UK too. It's just a magical land completely immune of consequence.

talking to outdoor cat defenders like

[murphysiblings]

i think a lot abt how the first time shiv thought tom was flirting with nia dayton she had a problem with it because "come on, she's like a real person, tom" bc she doesnt want to end up losing him to another person she could actually percieve as like, legitimate or a threat .

[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Say my name again

Hwang In-ho x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: blood, gore, violence… if u watched SG, you’ll be fine

as always, requests are open!

You’ve been watching him for some time now. Paying attention to the way his mouth moved when he talked to his teammates, following his gaze wherever he looked. After the second game, you overheard him introducing himself. Young-il. What a coincidence he looked like the police officer that visited your flat so many years ago. The name was what made you suspicious - you could have sworn the police officer introduced himself to you as Hwang In-ho. And it’s not as if you could’ve gotten those mixed up; you two spent many restless days trying to find the ones who were behind the robbery of your home. But, you smiled with some bitterness on your tongue, the outcome was obvious based on your situation.

You knew you were the only one watching him so closely. One of your teammates even joked about it, saying you were mesmerised by that man. But he just made you nervous - his presence planting a bug in your brain. Was he a spy for the government? Or was he just as miserable as the rest of you?

With another unsuccessful vote behind you, you could finally rest and get off of your adrenaline high by leaning against the railing of your bunk bed while nibbling on some bread. You took off your bloodied shoes that always made you nauseous just by looking at them and while doing some breathing exercises your eyes of their own volition found that familiar face in the moving crowd. Of course he is still playing, you thought. He was a cop, no matter what. You watched him give his own share of milk to the pregnant girl. Did he do it out of kindness or to manipulate those people?

“Seriously, Y/N, you must have a problem. What is wrong with you? Staring like that at that poor guy- he might get the wrong idea.” One of your teammates said to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m just watching and that’s harmless on its own.”

“On its own, yes. But what you’re doing is more than that.”

You raised your brow in annoyance and curiosity and moved your eyes to her.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” You pursed your lips.

“Stalking, mildly put.” She grimaced at your look, sensing how close to irritated you were becoming.

“Stalking? Such a nonsense, Se-mi.”

“Well, whatever. Just be careful so he doesn’t notice or in the next game you might have even more trouble staying alive.”

“Yeah? Is that because you’re so done with me you’re gonna finish me off tomorrow?”

Both of you were grinning then.

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

***

The platform beneath you jerked to life but all your eyes could see were the puddles of blood everywhere. Your shoes were already drenched in it, the palms of your hands covered by it. You slipped on the blood so many times that your clothes were already camouflaged.

“Today I die,” you breathed out, ragged and scared. You knew you were right.

The music echoed in your head even as it quieted and the platform stopped. But you still couldn’t look away from all the blood, not caring anymore about the people around you.

“Two.” said the woman’s voice and panic began. You finally lifted your gaze, searching for Se-mi or anyone familiar but no one was around. People were screaming, dragging each other down, pushing, always pushing. And you just stood there, awaiting your unavoidable end.

“Come on!” There, a body appeared, and someone crashed into you with such force it was hard to stay on your feet. Hands grabbed your waist and with unbelievable strength half pushed you half carried you to the nearest unoccupied room. Only when your body connected with the floor and the doors locked behind you did you look up at the person who saved you.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Young-il or In-ho said, blocking the exit with his body, freezing you in place with those piercing eyes. So he has noticed, you thought, finding it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

“I know who you are.” you croaked and In-ho said nothing, but his laugh lines grew heavier.

“Do you?“ he asked after a while, his eyes sparkling. Was this just a game for him?

“Why didn’t you tell them your real name, In-ho?”

“What made you think you could talk to me like that?” You shivered at his words but your face remained impassable. Somehow, you weren’t scared of him, no. Just… curious.

“Same question.”

“You think I don’t remember you, right? But you’re wrong. The moment I noticed you here I knew exactly who you were, Y/ N.” It was hard to pretend that those words meant nothing to you.

“At least I don’t hide behind a different name.”

“It’s a precaution. Some of these people are criminals and if they recognised my name they wouldn’t be as happy as you to see me here, understood?”

Your cheeks reddened but that didn’t stop you from holding your ground. His gaze made you nervous and you started biting your lower lip.

“Would you stop doing that?” In-ho asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not the only one watching, Y/N.” he gave you a tentative smile.

Before you could say anything, the doors clicked and In-ho extended his hand to you as an offering.

“I can keep a secret… Can you?” A corner of his mouth curled up slightly and in answer you accepted his hand.

***

After you walked out of the room, the two of you didn’t speak until later that day in the dormitory. It was as if your roles switched - the whole day you felt his gaze following you wherever you went. It was driving you insane.

Thankfully In-ho approached you on his own, holding you by your elbow and gently leading you to a tranquil corner of the room.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!” you whisper shouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you.”

Again, the blush creeped into your cheeks. Flustered and ashamed, you looked away and bit your lip.

“I shouldn’t be here, you know.” he went on. His eyes were flickering from side to side, probably trying to see if anyone paid any attention to you.

“Well, I can keep a secret, can’t I?” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, a spark in your eyes. A smile crept on his face but quickly disappeared.

“As soon as the lights go out today, the other team is going to attack us so they have more people voting tomorrow for the games to continue. You hide under the bed and be quiet, you understand?”

“Is this a trap?” you asked and stepped away, your hands starting to shake.

“Do as I say.” And that was that. With it, he meant to turn away, but you gripped his wrist.

“In-ho-“

“Would you stop doing that?” he retorted and moved his hand so it was him holding you. His knuckles were all white but he wasn’t hurting you.

“Doing what exactly, In-ho-“ before you could finish the sentence, the palm of his hand covered your mouth. Your nostrils were met with a musky and tangy smell.

“Don’t test me.” He let go of you and stepped aside. As he turned to go, he spoke over his shoulder: “When the lights turn off, come and find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And somehow, no matter how dangerous this place was, knowing that you cannot trust anyone here, you trusted him.

***

“Light out in five minutes.” The woman’s voice resonated in the dormitory while everyone climbed into their beds. You sat at the edge of yours with shoes on, checking for the fifth time In-ho’s location. In your mind, you tried to blindly navigate your way and when you were finally convinced that you could do it, you loosened a deep sigh.

“Why so tense, Y/N?” Se-mi asked from the bed beneath yours. You climbed down onto her level and quickly checked if anyone was listening, before you whispered: “After the lights go out, gen under the beds. Trust me.” Thank god she didn’t question it, because you felt ridiculous enough for the both of you for even listening to In-ho. He didn’t have a motive to keep you safe. He had one to kill you, though. You were the only one here who knew his real name. You just didn’t know if it was information worth killing for.

“Lights out in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…” You looked around for the last time. The air was stale and tense. Your body started shaking immediately.

“Three, two, one.” The darkness fell like a heavy curtain. You quietly stumbled down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible. Your left knee nearly collapsed under you as you made the first step but you kept a firm grip on the railings as you slowly passed between the bunk beds. Two railings, you go right, tree railings, you touch the wall, you follow it into the corner, then four railings before you go left…. But it just wasn’t possible to move as quickly as required. You were three quarters in when hell was unleashed. The sounds of stabbing, screaming and gurgling filled the air but your legs refused to move. You were completely paralysed with fear.

Someone jumped screaming from their bed and stumbled into you. You fell with a yelp on the cold floor and tried to scoot under the closest bed, but someone was already there pushing you out, frantically repeating: “Get out, they’re gonna find me, you have to go!”

You scrambled on all fours and stayed as low as possible while crawling to where In-ho was supposed to be. You were such a fool.

There was a sudden kick to your abdomen and you gasped, pain resonating through your body. Someone tripped over you and fell with a scream, their hands trying to hold onto anything, which just happened to be your hair. You screamed with pain, blindly punching around yourself in a desperate attempt of defence.

“In-ho!” you finally screamed, not caring anymore if someone tracked you down because of it. There was so much noise that it didn’t matter.

“In-ho!” you kept on shouting as you got up and started frantically running in the direction you thought was the right one. You were starting to get desperate, your voice turning into a rasp, tears forcing their way out of your eyes.

Earlier, when you said that you were going to die that day, maybe it would actually happen.

Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle and you were prepared for the worst. But when your name fell off In-ho’s lips, your shoulders sagged with relief and with a desperate cry you got on the ground and slid next to him under the bed.

“I thought I was dead,” you gasped out, hand on your racing heart.

“Well, me too if that calms you down.”

“It certainly doesn’t, In-ho.” you glared at him. He was looking at you in a strange way, something in his expression you didn’t know how to identify.

“What is it?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was he actually betraying you? Or was he trying to kiss you? With that look on his face, you couldn’t say which one.

“Say my name again,” he breathed out, your breaths mingling. Suddenly, you noticed all the points where your body was touching his, your skin heating up at the contact.

“In-ho,” you mumbled and stretched out your hand to tuck a strand of his silky hair behind his ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” In-ho looked at you with a pained expression.

“Not in the slightest,” you whispered softly against his warm lips as you kissed him.

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

So, pack up your car, put a hand in your heart, sing what ever you feel, be wherever you are

We ain't angry at you love. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The pain of the neglected soul. Under the heavy mood lingering in the manor. An architectural design that screams wealth but is never wealthy with love and laughter. well, at least not to the second youngest child of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy, the most powerful man in Gotham City.

Being a product of a mistake between an infamous prostitute and a well-known, almost "celebrity"-like man was not really an ideal life. Being shunned away by the woman who you call Mom, who's supposed to whisper sweet words to you and rock your fragile body back and forth to ease you of whatever you feel bad about, instead shoves you into the arms of an unknown man who's your supposed father. Yeah, that sucks.You've always adored your mom. Despite the horrible words she casually whispers to you - "you ruined me, kid"—you turn a blind eye to her actions and act deaf to her cruel words and instead pretend that she's the mom who loves you and adores you just as much as you do for her. Because it was better. It just was. Your brain can't really process the fact that your abusive mother can be abusive. No, not when she was the one who carried you for 273 days, birthed you, and gave you your name. A 5-year-old's brain can't possibly carry the thought of having that same woman hate you. So even when it was your birthday, you waited for her all day to come home and give you kisses and maybe a birthday cupcake or present. just for once, she comes home drunk, messy, and dizzy with a man on her arms while laughing feverishly. It crazy to think that was the most happiest you've seen her; she was always scowling when she was with you. Strange. Even so you greet her with a hug. "Momma, I've been waiting for you all day—" she cuts you off and tells you to get away from her and calls you this strange name "annoying" huh. Wonder what that means. And for the next hours you spend your birthday alone, in your bedroom. Awake and hungry. But it doesn't matter at least mom came home! Sometimes she doesn't even come home for a few days, but she came home today! That means she must love you. Only for a few days she stays at home with the strange man she brought home on the day of your birthday. It doesn't bother you, it was normal after all. She always do this and then after a few days the man's gone. Yeah, this is just temporary. You say as you clean the house full of dirty clothes and empty alcohol bottles. And then one night the strange man is yelling at your mom; screams filled the tiny apartment with smashing sounds of bottles echoing around the room. You're furious, and you want to defend the woman who you oh so lovingly call "mother" You push the man away, and it angers him. With his bloodshot eyes, he grabbed the bottle and smashed it at the side of your tiny head. You soon wake up in a large room with bright lights and thick white walls. Soon you find out that you're in a hospital; its so cool, it's the size of your living room! Maybe even bigger… Moments later you found out that your mother gave you up to some unknown man who is to be called your "father.". You thrash and scream against the nurse's hold and scream for your mommy, yet she never came.A strange man came and introduced himself. He said he was "Alfred" and said from now on he will take care of you. That's silly because no one in your entire life has had someone take care of you. Soon he drives you to a gloomy big house with lots of statues as Alfred proceeds to tell you that this will be your new home now. Different portraits adorn the walls, and shiny pottery and impressive works of art fill the house. Alfred soon introduced you to your father, Bruce Wayne. Now this is where it all starts. With your new home, hope sparked through your heart, and you believed that somehow, someway, maybe you'll be able to get the love that you have always longed for, yearned for, waited for.

Wrong.

Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, the most powerful man of Gotham, the heartthrob, the Batman, but never the father of y/n l/n. He doesn't even know you. Doesn't even try to acknowledge you and your hard work, desperate to try anything to make him pay attention to you. To give you the attention you crave and yearn for ever since you arrived at the comfort of his home. You weren't stupid. You knew who he was and his nightly activities. You understood. But what hurts was that despite this, he managed to give every. Single. One. Of his children, attention except you. Was it because you weren't like them? Was it because you didn't fight bad guys for a hobby? Or was it because he never deemed you worthy of his time? Why? Were all the things the kids and big adults whispered behind your back true? That you were a child of a whore and you were bound to become one too over a matter of time? Was it true you'll never compare to your siblings? Being compared to your siblings, who had so much talent and had their own special abilities that yours can't compare to, was draining—and partially true. Your little ballet classes can never impress bruce over his other children's combat skills, multilingual abilities, and genius calculations. And you learned to accept that over the years as you grew up.

Richard grayson, dick, the loving big brother, the family guy. Maybe he was a good guy. After all, he managed to acknowledge you for about 6 seconds one time! He even asked you about your ballet classes! Though that was only to distract his self before Damian came. Always the big brother and Lil brother duo! .. Despite being busy with being a full-time cop and a vigilante, he still makes time for family, the ones he considers as family. Not you, never you. Who were you kidding? Dick is the star of the show, and you're just another side character in his main character life! Just a plain, old, boring bystander. That's all you will ever be to little Richard Grayson's glam life story.

Jason todd was different. He was known as someone who was brutal and full of anger. So it was no problem for him to shove you and tell you off. He had no conscience in telling you to go away, and you liked that. You like the fact that at least he had the decency to not give you false hope. Jason todd hates you, and you know it. Jason todd is jealous of your normalcy and how oblivious you are to the danger of the world. In his eyes, you were his replacement; looking at you makes the green monster of envy crawl out of him and take his anger out on you. The way you are so vulnerable stirs something up inside of him, and he realizes that your eyes look just like his when he was full of wonder and innocence. It made him restless and irritated. It reminded him of his mistakes, foolishness, and those memories he buried deep inside his mind to save him from countless nightmares he desperately ran away from.

Timothy Drake, the genius Robin, the hero by choice, the prodigy son. You would be lying if you said that you weren't jealous of Tim at all. I mean, look at him! He's a genius, a hero, a heartthrob, and a role model to several youths of Gotham. He was exactly like Bruce, and I mean exactly like Bruce. His life revolved around solving crimes, fighting bad guys, acing all of his tests, and coffee. Anything was more important other than you. Sure! He has time to cuddle with his family for movie night (without you, of course) but never has the time to play video games with you. Everything seemed to send thrills to his veins and spark an interest in him except your very existence. If you were just a mere bystander in Dick's story, you weren't even in Tim's!

Cassandra. The girl of the family. You have always envied her. Not only was she the only girl of the family and doted on by every single one of your brothers, but you and she also shared the same interest. What's even more infuriating was that she didn't even have to try. She didn't have to beg countless times to have anyone attend her performances because they were all there. Even Jason, who hid in the shadows. They were all there to support her and show her the love you have always asked for, begged for. She swooned all of them with her dancing, and you can't help that maybe her hands are more gentle, maybe her feet are more pointed, maybe her posture is more straight than yours, maybe she's prettier than you, maybe she's more worth than you.

And finally. Damian al Ghul Wayne. The youngest son, the baby brother, the scarred child loved by his family. When Damian came into the manor, you were thrilled. You thought that maybe you and he could bond over the same trauma. Maybe finally someone can understand you.You thought wrong again. Damian thought you were weak and a disgrace to the bloodline of the Wayne family clan. He called you thousands of cruel names and insulted you whenever he had the chance to. He always belittled you and showed you no mercy, going as far as to drag the blade of his sword across your neck, drawing blood, just for him to cruelly laugh in your face and tell you that you are being dramatic. You forgave him. You were a good kid. Right? So why is it that a kid who made thousands of innocent lives bleed through his sword is sitting with his father—your father—on the couch, sleeping soundly on his chest? It's not fair.

They were never fair.

As Dick was checking the CCTV footage of the manor out of boredom, he managed to catch a glimpse of footage—about 2 weeks ago—of a person packing their bags and putting things from the manor into a box and leaving. It must be a thief! But that's impossible. The manor has many securities that even a skilled assassin could not pass through the gates; it's impossible. Unless…Dick took another glance at the footage and zoomed in on the screen and squinted his eyes. And for a second, his breath hitched and his heart pumped fast, his hand trembled, and his eyes dilated.

It can't be.

[cl-0v3r]

Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.