#won’t make my mama proud? she’s gonna cause a scene? she sees her baby girl? I know she’s gonna scream? god what have you done?

[rhondafromhr]

I’ve mentioned this before but I feel like it warrants its own post: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan is so “Grown up Grace after she distances herself from purity culture and starts to loosen up and let herself have fun” coded I can’t listen to it without thinking about her. I’ve never done a character playlist before but I kind of want to make one based around this idea now??

[picturefirelizards]

Jason Todd would scream the lyrics to pink pony club send tweet

[its-a-hare-pom-pom]

I could say Pink Pony Club but about a transmasc person and you wouldn’t even be able to handle it

“Won’t make my mama proud, it’s gonna cause a scene, she sees her baby girl, I know she’s gonna scream ‘God, what have you done? You’re a pink pony girl, and you dance and the club’”

[divine-toh4]

Pink Pony Club

(Won’t make my mama proud, it’s gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she’s gonna scream!)

Oh to be an 18 year old boy

On the toilet

With his elbows on his knees

Smoking

And listening to Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan

And thinking about how his life’s about to change

Irreparably

Dressed in a slutty tank top and a skirt

With no underwear

(God, what have you done? You’re a pink pony girl and you dance at the club

Oh mama I’m just having fun on the stage in my heels. It’s where I belong

…

I’m gonna keep on dancin’!)

[c22laboutit]

all day long my brain’s like, I won’t make my mama proud it’s gonna cause a scene she sees her baby girl I know she’s gonna scream GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! and you don’t have to stare?! come here get with it no one’s touched me there in a DAMN HOT MINUTE you said ‘we’re not together’ so now when we kiss I have anger issues!! but it’s HOT! when you have a meltdown in the front of your house and you’re getting kicked out it’s HOT oh my god you are heaven sent with your-

[willowdied]

Playlist. List 10 songs that relate to your muse. Then tag 4 friends to do this! ~ C Y R I E L 

monster - dodie ~ “ a meter apart you blankly stare. we shout in our heads ARE YOU STILL IN THERE - well this ends bad then, we knew it would but we won’t eat our words cause they don’t taste good. ” 

belle ( reprise ) - beauty and the beast ~ “ i want adventure in the great wide somewhere. i want it more than i can tell. and for once it might be grand to have someone understand -- i want so much more than they’ve got planned ” 

im not afraid of anything - songs from the new world ~ “ listen to the calling of excitement - the lights are ready, pulse is steady i can start! never stop the calling of a challenge, blessing of the water on the stone and david loves me .... ”

interlude 1 - alt-J ~ “ she looks up at the blue and whispers to all of the above-- don’t let me drown - don’t breathe a lone. No kicks, no pints, no broken bones. ” 

pink pony club- chappell roan ~ “ i’m having wicked dreams of leaving tennesse. oh santa monica, i swear it’s calling me. won’t make my mama proud. it’s gonna cause a scene. she sees her baby girl i know she’s gonna scream. ” 

teir abhaile riu - celtic woman ~ “ she’s never been one to stay at home! home you’ll go and it’s there you’ll stay and you’ve work to do in the morning! give up your dream of going away. forget your sailors in galway. ”

the innocent - aurora ~ “  i have been a dancer but without her feet. i've been a lion but without it's teeth. in the moonlight i will lie awake drinking lava from the lake. you give your all and in return, you get a spark and watch it burn. ” 

corner of the sky - pippin ~ “  every man has his daydreams, every man has his goals people like the way dreams have of sticking to the soul. thunderclouds have their lightning, nightingales have their song and don't you see I want my life to be something more than long! ” 

firmer hand / do right - bright star ~ “ why why why on earth have you been so hardheaded since the day of your birth? why why in the world won’t you do us a favor be a good little girl? you’re the black sheep, a little lost lamb. ” 

once upon another time - sara bareilles ~ “  once upon another time before i knew which life was mine before I left the child behind me i saw myself in summer nights and stars lit up like candle light i make my wish but mostly i believed ” 

tagged by @lovcalivc !  tagging @adveanture ( orym ) , @smokeswirled , @airshari , @ariensoul ( vax and / or delilah ?? ) , @flyingupward​ ( laudna ) , @criticaldragons ( fearne ) , @and-muses ( percy ) , @andessence ( grinpayne ) , @everlightblessing ( pike ) , @sshorthalt , @fallenprince ( essek ) ,  @playedbetter ( fjord ) , @honeycndwildfire ( jester ) , @hellishrcbuke , @greymoralities ( dorian ) , @storiedhistories ( percy ) , @tornies ( keyleth) , @catharsy ( percy ) , @tex-blades & YOU! steal it! tag me. please

[carrekiblue]

May 12, 2017 Rrundren College, Rrundren, Jehk

___________________________

I know you wanted me to stay But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

Beyrek was pissed off.  Even more than usual, but this time the rage was palpable in the air.  The classmate she’d paid twenty glyxs to use their mailbox, and their couch overnight, was getting annoyed.  “I’m sorry, but obviously they aren’t coming,” she said to Beyrek absentmindedly, using some sort of oil to make her tail extra shiny for the next day.  “Either that, or they’re just not good at RSVPs.  You’ll graduate either way.”

Beyrek knew it was a long shot, a miles’ worth of shot, but there was a part of her that thought.  Maybe.  And there had been so many times in the last four years she’d been so tempted to reach out, to try and establish contact, but every time she was close to dialing a number or sending a letter, she stopped herself.  But everyone’s family was coming to see their student graduate, and Beyrek had worked so hard… they wanted their family there too.  To see them finally make something of themself.   Even Mailbox Girl’s parents were coming, so Beyrek had to be out of the house early the next morning.

Won't make my mama proud It's gonna cause a scene She sees her baby girl I know she's gonna scream

The night of rest was anything but.  When their alarm finally chimed the big day, Beyrek shuffled to the bathroom, taking a quick shower before the girl found out, put on a full face of makeup, and tried to act excited.  She did it after all: received a degree of Engineering from a fairly good college, and all it took was nights and nights of sleeping in the library as a home, taking on odd jobs for food, and so much studying.  So much studying.  But Beyrek registered for the first time the hollow feeling in their gut.  Homesickness.  Pulling on their graduation gown, which they would probably wear the entire day as they no longer had a place to change, they left the house with their belongings before Mailbox Girl’s family could see.  Knowing it was absolutely useless to look, Beyrek peered into the mailbox for the last time, and about jumped out of their skin from surprise.  It was a small blue envelope that looked a lot like the one she’d sent to her mother and sisters.  She pulled it out of the mailbox and studied it.  The envelope had “RETURN TO SENDER” written in big block letters.  Beyrek couldn’t be certain from the capitals, but the writing looked like Breksan’s.  Well, they had their answer.  She expected herself to feel angry, but instead all she felt was a deep sadness that rolled over her like a sudden, crushing riptide.  The envelope she tore in half and threw to the ground matched how she felt perfectly.  Blue.

Don't think I've left you all behind Still love you and Tennessee You're always on my mind

[renohasbigtits]

Oh my goodness those Ignis mpreg headcanons were so well written! I really enjoyed them they were really cute, if ya don’t mind me asking could you do Prompto next? I’ll leave all the details up to you but plz give us more uwu

Mpreg Prompto (Final Fantasy 15 Headcanons)

Omg ☺️ I’m glad you liked the Iggy one. Honestly While making the Ignis one, I was thinking about doing a Prompto Mpreg headcanon but I didn’t think someone would ask for a Prompto one.

But I will give the the people what they want!! PROMPTO MPREG!! Expect this to be very silly 🙃

Idk where this takes place, I’ll leave it to your imagination ;) just know that no ones dead! Yay everyone lives!!

One more thing: this does contain Mpreg (Male Pregnancy. Don’t like? Don’t read! Constructive feedback is welcome!)



• He’s a lot of things (being adorable cinnamon roll is one 🥰) but stupid isn’t one of them.

• he’ll noticed 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 how he’s gaining weight and starts to become more insecure (someone hug him pls)

Minor Warning: mentions of eating disorder habits.

• he starts to exercise more but he pushes himself a little to far of what people consider “Normal” and stops eating around people. That caught Ignis’s eye.

• Ignis motherly instincts kick in (Noct ain’t his only kid ya know) he confronts Prompto’s lack of appetite but Prompto doubles down.

• Ignis asks Noctis to, as his Best Friend, To help Prompto. Noctis goes to talk to his Best Friend.

•Noct tries to talk to Prompto about his excessive exercise and seemingly lack of appetite but Noctis’s awkwardness and his unintentional nonchalant attitude, doesn’t help and Prompto just ignores his friends concerns.

•however, one day Prompto passes out while running and is rushed to the hospital.

•it’s only then, he’s given the shocking news; He’s Pregnant! Not just that, he’s already a month Pregnant!

•he’s in shock and disbelief at first. How could that happ-

•oh yeah he had sex (duh)

•to make a long story short, Prompto was at a party, met someone, was getting along great and...well yeah you guess the rest xD (tbh I’m not comfortable or good at describing sex scenes, so I’m not gonna torture you guys 😅)

•after that, Prompto never saw (or heard) from them again.

•Gladio was like “Welp, it least you got laid!”

• meanwhile Noctis and Ignis: 👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

•Now, in a hospital bed, with the news that he’s Pregnant, Prompto feels alone, confused and scared. So he, reluctantly, turns to his friends for help.

•Noctis jaw was on the floor, he wanted it to be a joke. It wasn’t a joke.

•Gladio was: 📉📈📉📈📉📈📉

•Ignis, being the most calmest and levelheaded, tells Prompto to try to contact the baby’s other parent (can you tell I’m trying to be gender neutral? What can I say I love my he’s, she’s, and they’s 🥰)

•this, however, proves to be a colossal failure, since Prompto doesn’t even remember their name!

•Out of stress Prompto begins to cry :’(

• Noctis finally sees the seriousness of the situation, promises his best friend to help him and be there for him.

•Ignis and Gladio as well! Yay Grandma and Grandpa!...I mean Uncles!!!

•One Month: Prompto begun to eat correctly again. He’s lucky that the baby wasn’t harmed.

•this poor boy...gets sick a lot!!

•morning sickness is his worst enemy!!!

• “Now I know what my Mom went through...”

• he has the most RANDOM cravings...poor Ignis.

•he has to make the weirdest shit for Prompto!

•it least he’s eating it, so it’s worth it...kinda.

•Noctis is very protective of his friend. He knows people can be... judge mental.

•if anyone gives Prompto weird looks or glares.

•Oh Hell No!

•Noctis ain’t having none of it!!

•he’ll glare at them back! “What? What the hell are you staring at?!”

•He almost fought someone.

•Gladio had to stop him, he’s making Prompto cry (and that shit ain’t acceptable)

•Ignis just sighs. (Being a single mother is hard guys)

• Second Month: Prompto’s belly keeps gets bigger. He proud and nervous. He feels like he’s getting fat.

•The Doctor assures him that he’s not getting fat, he’s womb is getting bigger, which means the baby is growing fine.

•plus his friends are the best support system!!!

•lris gets him baby clothes, baby toys, etc.

•you better believe he’s taking pics of his baby bump.

•not just because it’s adorable, but because he wants to document it! He wants to scrapbook it!! It’s one of his biggest projects and he wants it to be perfect!

•Third Month: he has to buy new clothes ;-; he’s already outgrowing the ones he has!

• Prompto’s insecurity: 📈📈📈

•Noctis still tries to fight ANYONE who even looks at Prompto.

•Even Gladio gets annoyed with Noct fighting people and arguing with security to not kick them out.

•”Noct stop trying to fight people or your getting nothing but vegetables!!!”

•oh and you just know Prompto is gonna buy some Chocobo plushies, he’s kid is gonna love Chocobo’s as much as he does!

•55% of the baby supplies is Chocobo related.

•Fouth Month: This is it. He finds out the baby’s gender!

•it takes a while cuz the baby was an awkward position.

•”poor little guy, he must feel uncomfortable as much as I do.”

•”she’s actually a girl, Prompto. Congrats it’s a Girl!”

•”AAHAHAAHAH! IT’S A GIRL!” lris had to scream that where Noctis, Gladio and “I haven’t had my Coffee yet” Ignis could hear.

•THAT’S IT! I’M MAKING IT’S A GIRL CAKE!!

•that’s how they celebrate the announcement of the baby’s gender.

•Noct wouldn’t admit it but he’s really excited to be an Uncle.

•Gladio and Ignis as well.

•however, Prompto does not have much experience with taking care of Babies, so he starts practicing.

•for the next couple months, he training to take care of baby.

•he gets better but he fears he won’t be a good father (or mother) to his unborn Daughter.

•he doesn’t want her to feel what he felt growing up; loneliness.

•he promises her that he’ll never let her feel alone. He wants her feel loved and safe.

Eight Months: She’s already kicking. Literally!

•Seriously, She’s the most active baby the Doctor’s ever seen!

•let’s hope she won’t be too energetic....

•lris decides to make a baby shower for Prompto. The plan is simple:

•Ignis makes the food. (So many new Recipeh’s)

•Noctis keeps Prompto distracted. It’s not that hard as it sounds, he takes Prompto to a Chocobo farm!

•all tho, Prompto can’t ride the Chocobros cause he might fall and hurt himself and his unborn daughter, but he’s really enjoying himself. The plan is going smoothly.

•meanwhile Gladio decorates with the material he’s given because Iris doesn’t trust him to bring his own.

•it’s small and not many people came but hey! It’s the thought that that counts.

•Noct gets a text to bring Prompto to the party. The plan is going great!

•Prompto was so moved by all the hard work and the effort his friends made, that he balled his eyes out.

•it went great! They eaten the delicious food (THATS IT! GRANDMA IGNIS ACTIVITY!)

•the gifts were adorable ☺️

•Noct’s gift (note: lris had to drag Noct to a baby store, so she and Noct could get a gift. Much to Noct’s embarrassment) was Rare Black Chocobo plush!

•it was so cute! (In a dark way)

•Gladio’s was an adorable baby book. (He would have gotten a book about Chocobos but they didn’t have any ;-;)

•Ignis’s was a strange one. It was a coffee maker.

•”Iggy...why would I need this l?”

•”Cause your gonna be up all night.”

•believe me. Ignis knows all to well.

•lris’s gift was an Moogle Plush.

•It went amazing! (Prompto got to take some left overs home)

•Nine Month: The last month. The doctor was put Prompto on bed rest. Don’t walk around too much, try to stay hydrated.

•Noctis has to come over to look after Prompto during the last days of his Pregnancy.

•to say Prompto is nervous would be an understatement!!

•he’s sooo scared to feel what labor is like. He knows it’s extremely painful. Yeah he’s having a c-section but....

•Wait! WHAT WILL THE C-SECTION FEEL LIKE?!?!?

•he wouldn’t have to wait long...

•during the night, Prompto was having a hard time sleeping, due to some back pain (you know where this is going...)

•trying to get up, Prompto feels something wet.

•”NOCT!”

•”what I was drea-“

•”Prompto...did your water break?!”

•”I-I don’t know!!”

•unsure what to do, Noct (panicking) calls Ignis.

•”IGGY! I THINK PROMPTO’S WATER BROKE? MAYBE? I DON’T KNOW!”

•”Noct, how about you call the midwife?” Said Ignis calmly. (Let me know if you got that joke 😉)

•Noct calls the midwife, she tell him to bring Prompto to the hospital.

•(weeeeeeeeee wooooooooooo 🚑)

•They figure out pretty quickly that, the baby is coming NOW!

•poor Noct, sitting in the waiting room with a pajama top on and unclean pants (no shoes btw) hoping that it would go well and nothing happen to Prompto and his niece.

•after for what seems like forever, A nurse comes out with a small bundle in his arms.

•”He wanted you to hold her.”

•Noct was stunned. In his arms with Prompto’s baby girl!

•and she was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen!

•this tiny little thing, has his blond hair, blue eyes, even his freckles! She was the cutest thing ever!!

•Noct even shed a tear. He’s definitely not telling anyone about that.

30 Minutes Earlier

•Prompto just woken up. He passed out after he heard her cries.

•now, waking up; he wants to see his baby girl.

•once he sees her again, he basically falls in love all over again.

•Crying while her eyes were looking at his.

•”Hi there...nice to meet you.”

•She cooed in response. OMG.

•everyone else fell in love with her too.

•”She’s Adorable.”

•”hard to believe she’ll grow up so big.”

•she was basically welcome with open arms.

•over the years, shes basically a mini version of Prompto with a bit of a shy streak.

•he takes so.many.pics that she becomes camera shy.

•She LOVES chocobos and love to ride them with her Daddy ^^

•Noct is basically her second favorite person. She’s almost always falling asleep on him. He’s not complaining tho.

•btw, that Black Chocobo toy? It’s her absolute favorite.

•Ignis has to be her third favorite.

•she always refers to him as Mama Iggy. Much to Iggy’s embarrassment.

•She likes helping him cook. She’s a little mini helper and even passes out food. Ignis greatly appreciates the help.

•Gladio gives the best piggy back rides!

•she helps him a little with his exercise.

•Prompto and his Daughter are the closest you’ll ever see.

•she’s his rock and he’s her Father.

•When he finds out his origins and his “Father” he doubt downs to make sure he’s never like him. Period.

•After Noct disappears, She’s helps him get ready for Noctis’s eventual return.

•while getting stronger herself.

•When Noctis returns (and brings back the light) he’s shocked and happy to see that Prompto’s Daughter, has not changed much (besides age)

•she now helps around the Citadel.

•Prompto? Well

•Prompto is truly great full for having his daughter in his life.

•”Hey D/N?”

•”Yeah Dad?”

•”I love you.”

•”I love you too Dad.”

OMG! I did not expect this to be fucking long! 😅 well I hope I did this Justice. To who requested this, I hope you loved it!

I guess it turned more serious than silly huh? Welp, I still hoped you guys liked it!

Please Reblog!!

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch 8

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter Summary: Yes, this is Gotham City but helping people isn’t a CRIME, Red Hood! Eden’s not afraid of some crazy nutzos! Er, well… Okay, maybe she’s a little afraid of some crazy nutzos, but… But that’s not gonna stop her from helping people when she can! 😤

Warnings: minor swearing, very minor mentions of suic*de and previous suic*dal behavior, very minor mentions of previous abuse, abuse forgiven/excused by victim (which I personally don't care for but this is how Eden currently handles/perceives her trauma so...)

---

Eden sat down at the table with a content sigh. The heavenly aroma of homemade garlic bread was more prominent now that the rolls were right in front of her. The scent, mixed with the expectation of company and the eagerness of having some Mad Mountain Fudge chilling in her fridge, made her feel incredibly at-home. Though, to be fair, it was more of a hope for company than an expectation.

Red Hood said he’d try to come this night or the next, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would. Admittedly, Eden's shier half – which vividly recalled Aaron’s earlier, uh… praises toward Red Hood’s… physique – wouldn’t entirely mind waiting a few days to see him. The rest of her was so excited, though, that she had to keep reminding herself it was okay if he didn’t come tonight. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was a busy man, after all, saving dumbasses like herself and doing… whatever an ex-mob boss might do to make a place like Gotham better.

Not that any of that stopped her from hoping he would come, of course. Nor would it stop her from being disappointed if he didn’t. Even so, Eden knew she was just one, very small person among a million other very small people in this city. She understood that visiting a random civilian like her, even with the world's greatest fudge in her fridge, couldn't rank very high on Red Hood’s to-do list. Especially in a city like this, filled with a thousand not-so-very-small people — many of whom were quite dangerous. 

Still, taking in her surroundings, Eden couldn’t help but smile. She was excited for him to come visit. The entire one-roomed apartment – not just the kitchen space – was clean now. She was back in the habit of making her bed every morning, and— okay, fine, the chair by her closet still held her not-quite-clean clothes, but at least they were folded now! Which was an improvement from the misshapen pile of before!

The once-crowded coffee table had also been improved. Now, it only housed her laptop, headphones, and one book (and notebook) at a time. The rest of her books and notebooks – aside from the pair she kept on the kitchen table – had a new home, piled neatly along the wall dividing the kitchen from the main living/sleeping space. They still needed a proper shelf, but the current setup worked for now.

Two plants with tall, twisting stems stood guard on either side of her slow-growing book collection, while a small, mismatched assortment of baby foliage in tiny, colorful pots sat along the edge of her kitchen table near the window. It wasn’t anything compared to rows and rows of crops back on the farm, nor the nearby woods she dearly missed walking through, but it still felt good to be around some greenery again.

Biting into a roll, Eden continued penning ideas into the notebook she kept on the kitchen table; new ways to make her place even homier, things that needed her attention, different possibilities to look into. Though it was the mortifying thought of Red Hood coming back to her apartment in its previous state that had spurred her into action, Eden now found herself genuinely starting to enjoy the little space.

Now that she was putting in the effort, her apartment was actually starting to feel… pleasant. Welcoming, even. And even though her neighbors were still ridiculously loud at times, Eden was finding herself happy with her little home. Enjoying the fruits of her labor whenever she paused to take it in... It was a very nice feeling.

Eden suddenly stopped writing. Her heart leapt in excitement as she looked to the far window, the one that led to the fire escape. It could be nothing, but she could’ve sworn she’d heard— The soft tapping repeated itself.

Scrambling up from the table, Eden flew to the window – nearly slipping in her socks – and beamed at the sight of Red Hood on the other side. He greeted her with a short wave of his hand.

“Hi there, Mr. Hood!” she greeted the moment she had the window open. “It’s so nice to see you again! How are you? Your fudge is almost ready, but it needs another couple of minutes or so to finish chilling. I hope that’s alright? I remembered you said you might stop by tonight, but I didn’t think it would be until later on so I— oh! Where are my manners?” She moved out of the way, her cheeks warming. “Won’t you come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

Eden smiled as he deftly climbed inside, pleased to find she could still easily recognize Red Hood’s humored tone.

“Smells good in here,” he said turning toward the kitchen.

She quirked a brow, glancing at his helmet. “You can smell with that thing on?”

“It has an automatic filtration system." He lifted his chin, apparently quite proud of it. "Keeps Fear Gas out, lets good-smelling food in.”

"Really?” She hummed, making a show of looking over his helmet. “It doesn’t look all that fancy to me, Mr. Hood."

He scoffed. “It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks, Cookie Girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turned up her nose, grinning, as she led him toward the kitchen table. “What kind of high-tech stuff does it have, then, hotshot?”

“All kinds,” he said unabashedly, not afraid to meet her teasing head-on. “There’s the obvious, like night vision, thermal imaging, incendiary devices, and high-frequency—”

“Hold on, wait.” She turned the words over in her head. “Incendiary devices? Isn’t that just fancy talk for bombs?"

“It might be,” he said confidently.

"You have a bomb in your helmet?" She made a humored face. “That doesn’t sound very high-tech, Mr. Hood. Or obvious.”

He hummed, leaning forward slightly, resting his hands on his hips. “You don’t believe me?” Eden could imagine him grinning at her.

She crossed her arms playfully. “No way. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. There’s no way you have an actual bomb that close to your head. You’re not that crazy, Mr. Hood.”

He made an amused sound, tilting his head to one side.

Eden opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked him up and down, faltering. “Are… Are you? Mr. Hood, do you really have— Are you— Please tell me you’re joking. That’s— Do you?”

“Relax, Ede.” He said it comfortably, as if he called her that all the time. Eden blinked, trying to remember if he’d ever called her that before — or anything other than Cookie Girl. “It’s just for absolutely fucked situations where I don’t have any other options.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait— You don’t mean— You don’t mean—” She jabbed at her temples frantically, trying to sputter something out.

Red Hood watched her struggle until what she was trying to say finally clicked.

He jerked forward, his hands up. “Shit, not like that! It’s an escape thing, not a kill myself thing,” he explained. “I take it off and throw it like a grenade.”

“Oh. Cool. Okay. A grenade. That’s cool.”

“Breathe, Cookie Girl," he reminded her.

“I’m breathing! Totally breathing!” She took a huge breath for good measure. Then another. “Sorry, I just—” She shook her head, plopping into her seat. She looked at him, then, in realization, jolted right back up again. “Oh, sorry! Please,” she gestured to the spare chair in front of him, “have a seat.”

“I’m alright.” Red Hood leaned onto its back, watching her sit down again. Her face was red hot. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She took a few slow breaths, her brows pulled together with worry. “Do you… end up in situations like that a lot? Where you have to blow up your helmet to get away?”

Just a few nights ago, there’d been an explosion on the Westward Bridge. One of her coworkers said a friend spotted Red Hood escaping the scene afterwards. Eden, becoming more accustomed to Gotham’s shenanigans than she cared to admit, hadn’t worried about him too much when she’d heard. In fact, oddly enough, she’d felt a bit proud. But maybe she shouldn’t have.

Maybe she was wrong to have assumed he was okay. Maybe he’d been in serious trouble. Maybe he’d needed help. Maybe she should’ve done something. Maybe she should’ve—

“Not really,” Red Hood answered, breaking her dizzying thoughts with a casual shrug. “It’s the last of my last resorts, and it’s pretty rare for me to be so off my game.”

“Oh. Oh, good. That's...” She sighed in relief, then smiled up at him. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hood.”

Of course. What in the world was she thinking? Red Hood wasn’t some small-time, stumbling wannabe. Unlike her pitiful attempts at playing hero, he actually knew what he was doing. If she ever showed up to one of his firefights, she’d probably just end up causing him trouble and end up staggering home with a plethora of healing bullet holes and another encore under her belt. (Maybe two, if she was particularly unlucky.)

Red Hood pulled out his chair and turned it so that its back was nearly up against the wall beside them. When he sat down, angled the way he was, he had a clear line of sight of the entire apartment.

The move was familiar to Eden, but it surprised her to see it done so precisely and naturally. The only other person she’d seen do that – and do it like that – was Mama.

Mama always had to have an eye on her surroundings, so she rarely took a seat without her back against a wall or being tucked in a corner. The habit was one of many from her life before "Louanne Smith". They were so far ingrained into her psyche that if she ever tried to go against them the struggle was obvious to even the blindest fool. Though she feigned ignorance at having ever lived such a life, it had obviously taught her all the skills she now used to keep their “cousins” safe: how to observe and analyze even the smallest detail, how to fight and defend unflinchingly, how to disappear without a trace, how to… make other people disappear.

It made Eden curious to see Red Hood with a habit like that. On the bright side, it probably meant she didn’t have to worry about him the way she had been. If he was even half as capable as Mama was, chances were he could handle just about anything thrown at him — even in a place like Gotham.

But… on the not-so-bright side, she had to wonder...

Red Hood tilted his head slowly. “What?”

“Hm?” Eden blinked and realized she been staring. “Oh, sorry! I was just remembering my, uh… um… well, it doesn’t really matter, I guess. I just got lost in thought. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Right, sor— I mean, uh, thank you. I guess.” Cheeks warm, she glanced around quickly for something else to talk about. “Um, would you like some garlic rolls, Mr. Hood?” She picked up the plate and offered it to him. “They’re stuffed with cheese.”

He leaned closer to the food, inhaling it. “So that’s what smells so good.”

She smiled. “Try some!”

He started to grab one when his head turned toward the kitchen. He looked into it a moment then lowered his hand, sat back, and said, “On second thought, I’m okay.”

Eden lowered the plate slightly, surprised. She glanced into her kitchen, wondering what he’d seen to change his mind. The space was perfectly clean and tidy, as she always kept it. The only thing “out of place” was the baking sheet cooling on her stovetop. Any other dishes were already drying in the sink wrack.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind… I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your dinner. Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “I need to save room for the fudge.”

Eden nodded slowly and set the plate down. Glancing toward the kitchen again, she wondered what had tipped him off that the rolls were her meal for the night. The empty baking sheet? The drying dishes? 

Always have more than you think you’ll need, she remembered. That was a tried-and-true rule on the farm. They never knew when they were going to have company, so there was always more of things than Eden’s family could ever go through on their own — more blankets, more clothes, more toiletries, more food. Especially food. If there were seven people in the house, they made enough food for ten, and those extra servings came in handy more often than not.

“Can I get you something to drink, then, Mr. Hood?” she asked, picked up her pen and writing the old rule into her notebook. “I have sweet tea, orange juice… uh, water…” She paused, thinking. “Milk?”

He snorted. “I’m good.”

She quirked an impish brow. “Does your fancy, high-tech helmet even have a way for you to drink things? Some built-in twisty-straw component or something?”

He shook his head, edging forward. “Nope. Sorry. No twisty-straws.”

“Your helmet can be an emergency grenade, but it has no cool twisty-straw thingy?” She tsk-tsked, trading her pen for a roll. “I’m disappointed, Mr. Hood. It’s like you’re not even trying to impress me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get right on that, Cookie Girl,” he assured, a smirk-like quality to his voice.

Eden shook her head at him, trying to hide her grin behind the roll.

He nodded to the notebook in front of her. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just some ideas.” She pushed it toward him, inviting him to look. “I haven’t been treating this place right,” she explained, pulling apart the roll. “Acting like it’s a prison when it’s a home in need of as much tender loving care as any other.”

Red Hood hummed, going over her lists. “Hard to make a home in a neighborhood like this,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t mean I need to let it sit and rot like I was. It’s nice to have a place you’re at least a little proud of.”

He gave a half-shrug and nodded.

He flipped to a previous page in the notebook, glancing up to see if she minded. Eden shrugged, knowing most of the pages were haphazardly filled with everyday nonsense that likely wouldn’t mean much to him. He looked them over while she ate and she looked over him, a little embarrassed when he started reading out random thoughts.

“‘Mary: Superfluous, plain but extra, well-meaning but unaware’?”

“Uh, that’s a… That’s a thing for work.”

“What do you do for work? Evaluate assholes?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’m a…" She fixed her posture, feeling a bit proud. "I’m an actress, actually."

“A professional liar? Great.”

“Wha—? No! Lying and acting are two very different skill sets, Mr. Hood!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Cookie Girl. Whatever you say.”

“No really! I’ll have you know I’m an awful liar but a really great— er, uh, well, okay, maybe not a really great actor— I mean, maybe not a great actor either, but, you know, I— Well, actually—”

He snickered, then moved on to the next blurb he could tease her with.

“Are all your notebooks filled like this?” he eventually asked, glancing at her collection against the wall.

She gave a half-shrug as she finished the last roll. “Some are more coherent. This one’s mostly for stuff that pops in my head while I’m eating or in the kitchen. It’s easier to have my thoughts written down where I can see them instead of fighting through them all in my head.”

“Makes sense.” He leaned forward brazenly. “Am I in any of those thoughts?”

“Not any of the written down ones,” she said with a laugh, assuming that was the real question. “I’m not that dumb, Mr. Hood.”

“Good to know,” he said with a nod. “Speaking of dumb, though…” He leaned back in his chair and fished out a cell phone from inside his leather jacket. “I was wondering if you could help me connect some dots here.”

“Me? I don’t know what you could possibly need my help sorting out, Mr. Hood," aside from an urgent, impromptu lesson on goat milking perhaps, "but I’ll certainly try.”

“Oh, you can help a lot more than you think, Edie.” Red Hood set the phone down on the table and pushed it toward her.

Eden blinked again at his sudden use of one of her everyday nicknames, suddenly nervous. She looked down at the phone, at the picture on its screen, and her brows lifted in surprise. She immediately recognized the sleek, minimalist decor of Café Très Boissons and the slightly hunched, unassuming man who’d been taking her picture earlier that day. But more than that, she recognized the angle the picture had been taken from.

Turning to Red Hood, wide-eyed, she faintly recalled the faces of the boys in the corner booth. The younger two were obviously out of the running, but between the smiling one and the one in the red hoodie… It wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make.

“Wait, were you the guy—?”

“I have contacts all over this city,” he told her. “They keep me informed.”

Eden’s brow furrowed. She worked her mouth to say something, not really sure she believed him, but he leaned over the table and swiped the screen to the right, moving the conversation forward before she could. The new picture was taken closer to the scout and clearer than the first, better showing his face and overall frame.

“So imagine my surprise,” Red Hood went on, “when I learn a small-time heiress has a look-alike who can clock up a potential threat in a heartbeat, and it turns out that look-alike—” he swiped right again, this time to a grainy, blown-up picture of Eden, Veronica, and Aaron crossing the street “—is you.”

Eden stared at the picture: she and Veronica arm-in-arm, Veronica’s purse over her shoulder, a flippant expression on her face that didn’t seem to fit quite right. The picture was from an entirely different viewpoint, somewhere up in the air looking down on them, and of a far poorer quality than the first two.

“Security camera?” she guessed glancing up at him. His permeating stare was hard to meet through the angry “eyes” of his helmet.

“Traffic cam.”

Eden sank a little lower. “You’re making me feel like I’m in trouble here, Mr. Hood,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you?” he accused. “You’ve practically got a flashing neon sign on your forehead that says In Deep Shit.”

 “No, I—!” She huffed and moved some hair out of her face. “I do not. I meant trouble like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.”

“Funny.” He moved to rest his jaw on his fist. “I didn’t.”

Eden lowered her gaze, unable to meet the unbreakable scrutiny of his “eyes”. “I’m not in any trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her socked feet together under the table. “Not like that, anyway. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Y’know,” he half-teased, “I think I’m starting to understand what you meant about being able to lie and being able to act.”

She struggled with a response to that. “What… What even makes you think I’m in that kind of trouble anyhow?”

“You want the short list or the long?”

She stared at him. His certainty was unshakable.

There’s no way it was that obvious she was in trouble… But it wasn’t deep trouble like he seemed to think. Just… ankle-deep trouble. That she was slowly sinking in. No big deal.

Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. Her “trouble” was just between her and her parents. And her siblings, sort of. And… probably the people Frank worked with... and for… But, like, at its core, it was mostly just her and her parents.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Nothing vigilante worthy, anyway.”

Red Hood tilted his head, silently encouraging her to continue regardless.

“It’s just… family stuff.”

Just a looming fight between divorced parents; their adult child stuck in the middle and trying to put out the fire before it sparked. A totally normal thing for a totally normal "family".

Only, like… kicked up to a ten because Eden was a metahuman, her father was a superhero-obsessed farmer-turned-geneticist who basically stole samples of her DNA, and her mother was not afraid to get her hands dirty. Especially if she perceived something as a threat to her daughter’s well-being — which Frank’s recent work and actions could definitely be perceived as.

Plus, everyone in that facility seemed to know about her powers. Mama would not like that. That Eden regretted helping them – that she’d tried to rescind her consent, been denied, and her DNA taken anyway – just made the whole thing even messier.

The only way to hide any of it from her mother was to literally take the money Frank gave her for her "donation", run off, and hide away while she tried to string everything together. Because once Mama knew, Frank was a dead man. Unless Eden could figure out some way to cushion the information and keep her from digging deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that Mama would wipe every last trace of him – and his colleagues – off the face of the earth.

And Eden… Eden didn’t want that.

Despite everything he’d done and put her through, despite all the hurt and tears, part of her still thought of Frank as her father. As the man who read her stories every night and taught her to ride a bike and a horse. The one who called her “Champ” and always carried her up on his shoulders when they went into town. Who told her she was meant for great things, encouraged her compassion, always put her back on her feet… told her he loved her every morning and every night when she was young…

They were both older now, and him colder. He’d abused her trust and love in pursuit of his own goals. Again. This time with intent. But he was still the man who, above all else, wanted to help others. Eden knew that. He just… didn’t seem to mind hurting her in the process. And a part of her hated him for it, but she still loved him, too. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, or worse.

Which, you know, with her mama a hairpin trigger away from… removing him… sorta left Eden caught between a rock and a hard place. But, again, that wasn’t any of Red Hood’s business.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she stressed. “And anyway, Veronica’s the one with the scout right now, not me.” She swiped back to the picture of the man in the suit and pointed to him firmly. “He cared about getting her picture, not mine. Even if he mixed us up, it still means she’s the one in real trouble here.”

Red Hood hummed. The disharmony was hard to interpret, but she was willing to bet he was neither fooled by nor satisfied with her answer.

“What?” she shot back, crossing her arms, acting defensive to force the conversation forward. “It’s not my fault he confused me for Veronica.”

“No, but you wanted to keep him confused. In fact,” he reached over and swiped back to the traffic cam picture, “you did everything you could to make sure he thought he had the right girl.”

Eden lifted her chin, waiting for the real question. Red Hood studied her, possibly waiting to see if she’d answer it herself. Maybe blubber out something as she was wont to do. But she was determined to keep her mouth shut this time.

She tipped her head, politely prompting him to continue. When he didn’t, she huffed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hood,” she said rubbing her forehead, “but I really don’t know what you’re trying to ask me here. I’m not a mind reader.”

He stayed quiet for a few more beats. His consideration shifted from her to the picture on his phone. “For now, I guess my biggest questions are why and how.”

Eden sat up a little. “Why?” she repeated, not sure she understood.

“Yeah. According to my source,” he said slowly, “you two,” he nodded toward her and Aaron in the picture, “figured out the scout was there for Veronica before she’d even entered the building and that he’d mixed the two of you up.”

“Right,” she agreed cautiously. “And?”

“And?” He gestured in front of him as though he’d clearly laid everything out on the table itself. “Didn’t it occur to you that if he saw the real Veronica, the scout would’ve pieced it all together and left you alone?”

Had that occurred to her? She couldn’t remember. Probably not.

But even if it had, Eden wouldn’t have wanted him to leave her alone if it meant throwing Veronica under the bus like that. Eden at least knew how she was supposed to act in that kind of situation, which was more than Veronica could probably say. And besides, no matter what might’ve happened, she would’ve been fine in the end. Veronica didn’t have that guarantee. Nobody did. Except Eden.

“It was better for him to bother me than her,” she said firmly. “At the very least it threw them off her scent for a bit. Hopefully, she can get some sort of security team or something before they get too wise.”

“They?”

“Whoever wanted those pictures in the first place,” she explained. “I seriously doubt that scout was taking them for his own sake, or he would’ve left the moment “Veronica” started noticing him.” She tilted her head at Red Hood and gave him a wicked smile. “Or did your source not mention that part of my theory?”

“He did,” he said simply. “All the more reason to want to stick your head in the sand, though, don’t you think? It’s what anyone else would’ve done.”

She frowned, finally realizing what he was saying. “You Gothamites are so weird. I’d have thought a vigilante would at least understand..."

“Uh, rude?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be, but… It’s just I think I figured out what you’re really asking me, and Aaron and Veronica asked me the same thing earlier, too, and it’s just…" She shook her head, finding it hard to wrap her brain around. "Y’all…” She huffed. “Y’all’re just so weird to me.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she said again, more genuinely. “But you’re asking me why I helped her, right? Even if it wasn’t… oh, how did Veronica say it?” She turned her head, trying to remember. “Wasn’t my problem, I think? Something like that…” She refocused on him. “Anyway, my answer to you is the same as it was for them: because it was the right thing to do.”

Red Hood made a short, unamused noise. “The right thing was pretending to be that girl? Putting yourself in danger?"

“The right thing was helping her,” she corrected. “And that scout had already taken my picture anyway, so…” She swiped between the pictures. “At least I stopped him from taking the real Veronica’s picture, too.”

“But now he’s got your picture.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Which means his employer’s going to have your picture. If they don’t already.”

“Which they probably do, since he was using a cell phone," she pointed out.

He threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! And he could be some sick, psycho fuck!"

"Well—"

"This is Gotham, Ede," he went on, imploring her to listen. "Even if they know you're not Veronica, they'll know you tried to fuck with their plans for her, whatever they are. People get themselves killed for way less here. You know that, right?”

“No, I... I guess I hadn’t really…” 

So that was why a lot of Gothamites didn’t go out of their way to help others! Of course! There was no guarantee offering their hand to one person wouldn't put a huge target on their back with another. And nobody in their right mind would want to risk gaining the attention of one of Gotham’s scarier characters. It all made perfect sense now. Gothamites kept their heads down and only focused on their own problems because they had to. If they didn't, they could very well be signing their life away. And when people asked her why she was helping others, they weren't really asking her that; they were asking her why she was so willing to put her own life in danger for someone else.

But Eden wasn't like them. No matter what happened or what anyone did to her, she would be fine. She was always fine. It didn’t mean she had to throw on a cape and go looking for trouble every day like Frank had wanted her to, but it also meant she didn’t have the same excuse as everyone else. If she could step in and help somebody, she should. She was one of the few in this town who probably could. And, most importantly, she wanted to.

“I still would’ve helped her,” she decided. “Even if someone scary thinks I’m her for a little while, or gets mad at me, at least Veronica is safe for now.”

Red Hood stared at her, unmoving. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking or feeling, but Eden could imagine he might not like what he was hearing. After all, as far as he knew, Eden was just a totally normal, would-die-and-stay-dead civilian.

“I mean, if they have any brain cells at all, they should realize pretty quickly “Veronica” doesn’t look like she should, right?” she said trying to reassure him. “And even if they don’t, all they have to do is follow me home once and they’ll realize they’ve got the wrong girl.” She pointed out the window. “Even a total rock-for-brains moron would start scratching their head if Veronica Bradford came to a neighborhood like this.”

He followed her finger, seeming to consider her words. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But they’d probably just say fuck it and stick around anyway. Especially if it was some goon following orders.”

Eden bobbed her head from side to side, agreeing with the possibility. “They’d still figure it out eventually, though. Veronica’s a socialite. And I’m definitely not. Eventually, she’d post a Snapstagram story or go somewhere fancy while I’m hanging about here and things wouldn’t add up. And if they were still convinced I’m Veronica after something like that, then I don’t think they’re smart enough to be considered much of a threat to anybody but themselves.”

“Everybody is a threat in this city,” he warned her. “And the last thing you want is some twisted mother fucker knowing where you live. Especially if they think you messed with them.”

“I’d rather someone like that know where I live and make my life difficult than let someone else get hurt or killed because I didn’t help them,” she said stubbornly.

Red Hood let out a gruff, half-groaning sound as he sat back to stare up at the ceiling. "Of course you would," he grumbled. He stayed like that for a minute, perhaps trying to gauge how serious she was. He sighed, apparently finding his answer. "I don't get you. You freak out when a stranger shows up to warn you inside, but the idea of some asshole coming here and actually trying to fuck with you? That doesn't scare you?"

"In my defense, this is the ninth floor and it was my private fire escape. I had every right to freak out when some big stranger with guns and a mean-faced helmet suddenly showed up out of nowhere."

He huffed.

"And I'm not completely helpless, Mr. Hood," she told him. "I have a little fighting know-how under my belt."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure. And how's your neck, again?"

"My...?" She blinked at him, then remembered the healed cut and frowned. "Hey, I'll have you know I was doing very well for myself until I got stabbed!" she said pointing at him.

He looked up again, this time as if asking a higher power for help. “So if someone broke in here with a gun or another knife, you think you'd be able to fight them off?"

“I'd be fine."

"So you do think you could."

"Not really, no."

He stared at her. “Y'know... a little lie might be nice right about now.”

"I could 100% fight them off no problem, Mr. Hood."

He groaned, covering his eyes. "God, you are an awful liar."

Eden tried very hard to suppress her giggles. “If it makes you feel any better," she offered, "I wasn’t planning on it. Pretending to be Veronica, I mean."

Red Hood sighed, but he lowered his hand and gave her his attention anyway.

"Veronica’s not very… Well, let’s say she’s not the most observant person around. And I know my foresight’s not exactly great in the heat of the moment, and I might end up paying for it eventually, but… I couldn’t just... not do something when that scout noticed her, you know? She needed someone to help her and she didn't even know it. So I just… did.”

Red Hood let out a sharp laugh, which sounded sharper with the distortion. He looked away, subtly shaking his head. “So you just did,” he muttered to himself. He turned to her again. “Didn’t you agree not to do anything stupid before I came by again, Cookie Girl?” he teased.

Eden smiled apologetically, then turned coy. “I did try, Mr. Hood,” she said sweetly. “And I promise that that was the stupidest of the stupid things I did. Which I’m willing to bet is still a million times better than the craziest thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Who me? Do something crazy? Never.”

“Uh-huh. You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I heard someone say something about a red vigilante being involved with that big explosion Friday night.”

“Nope. Wasn’t me. Must’ve been Red Robin. I’m completely innocent.”

Eden nodded along, not admitting she only knew of the other vigilante because she’d thought Red Robin was just another of Red Hood’s names until somebody corrected her.

“Oh, completely innocent, I’m sure,” she goaded. “And what was it that you were doing oh-so-innocently while the bridge was blowing sky high, Mr. Hood?”

“Hey, the bridge is still standing, isn’t it? He made sure there wouldn’t be any structural damage. Just a little mess of things. He knows what he’s doing with shit like that.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I sure hope he does. Especially if he also has a helmet full of explosives.”

“Not to worry, Ede," he assured her. "I’m the crazy Red.”

“Oh. Good. I feel so much better now. Thanks."

He laughed.

“Wait.” She pointed at him. “Do you both go by Red?”

“We do," he nodded, "but Double R’s usually Red if we’re using shorthand,” he said crossing his arms. “They call me Hood to keep it simple.”

“Oh, well, that’s not confusing at all. Though I suppose y’all can’t exactly call him Robin. That’d be even more confusing.”

Red Hood scoffed. “Demon Spawn would have an absolute fit if we did that.” He looked to the side. “Then again…” He rubbed his chin, seeming to consider it.

“Um,” Eden lifted a tentative finger to catch his attention. “I’m sorry, but this is Gotham City, so I’m gonna need you to clarify: do you mean, like… a real demon spawn or…?”

“I mean I think he is,” Red Hood joked, “but, no, not really. That’s just what I call Robin ‘cause he’s a little shit.”

She perked up. “You mean Robin like… Batman's Robin?” He nodded and Eden scoffed with certainty. “Well, he can’t be that bad, then.”

Red Hood let out a short, sharp laugh. Something about it a bit painful. “Are you an expert on Robins now, Ede?”

“Well… no,” she mumbled, a little embarrassed. “But if he’s a Robin then… I dunno. He can’t be all that bad.”

“Have you ever met the brat?”

Eden shook her head slowly, fighting the urge to scowl.

No, she hadn’t met the boy Red Hood was talking about… But she’d met one of his predecessors. And that Robin? He’d saved her life. Not just from a fight or another encore. She could handle those things on her own. Poorly, sure. But she could.

No, what he’d saved her from was a life full of fights and encores. And pain. Endless, endless cycles of pain.

Without him, who knows where she’d be today. Who she’d be. Certainly not the person she was. Not the civilian trying to make the best of an awful situation by following her theatrical dreams. If he hadn’t knocked some sense into her, she would probably be what Frank wanted her to be. A… A hero. A constantly struggling, hurting, dying, pitiful attempt of a superhero.

Robin saved her from that. From a life of wishing every day, every death, would be her last.

As far as she was concerned, she owed that boy every good goddamn thing in her life. So to hear Red Hood call her hero a brat or a demon spawn, even if it was a completely different boy, even if Red Hood obviously knew him a thousand times better than Eden knew the one she’d met… Well, it upset her. In her heart, “Robin” was still the boy from her childhood.

Though, even she could admit it was hard to remember him clearly after so many years. She could remember the way he’d spoken to her and how it had impacted her, but not most of what he’d actually said. She could remember him joking and laughing with her, but not the way it sounded. She could remember the way he’d smiled and offered his hand before lifting her up into the air, but the scene was fuzzy.

“Sorry,” Red Hood grumbled, rubbing the jawline of his helmet. “I guess you’re more of a Gothamite than we thought.”

“Huh?” She squinted at him, confused. “No, I’m not. What do you mean?”

“Well...” He leaned back, spreading out slightly. “People these days tend to be pretty protective of their Robins. Even when this one first started out and was swinging his sword everywhere—”

“This one’s got a sword?” she blurted out, shocked. 

“Yeah, a katana. He hacked up a couple of goons pretty good with it, too. Which I thought was great,” he said gesturing to himself, “but B didn’t.”

“B? As in… Batman?” she whispered.

He snorted at her. “He’s not the boogeyman, Ede. He’s not gonna jump out of your closet if you say his name too loud." Despite saying this, he was clearly doing a quick survey of her apartment.

“Wow. I feel so reassured,” she droned. “Anyway, no, I should be the one apologizing. You clearly know this Robin well, so if you think he’s a—” her mouth twitched slightly “—a brat then... you… probably have your reasons for it. I suppose. And I should... respect that,” she half-snarled.

Red Hood clapped slowly. “Wow. What a beautiful performance, Edie. How’s it feel to be such a great actor?”

“Oh—” she reached over the table and shoved him “—shut it, you!”

He just laughed her off.

“You better start being nice to me, Hood," she said standing and moving toward the fridge.

“Or what?” he asked confidently.

She grinned at him. “Or you’re not getting any Mad Mountain Fudge,” she teased right back.

---

Feedback always loved and appreciated! 🥰💕🥰

Next chapter

[yourdeepestfathoms]

God Forgive Us All (part five; finale)

[Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Tag list: @avmlife @shoujingshen

Word count: 12,566

TW: Blood and gore

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

-A Night We’ll Never Forget-

It was the opening night of Heathers: The Musical and the sun was just starting its descent in the sky, bleeding pastel pink across grey-blue clouds. There was no big storm in the forecast that day, just mist and fog, which was good because thunder and lightning might knock out the lights and ruin all the tech.

It was just one of those evenings so refreshing and peaceful that you HAD to be doing something nice. The sunset reached in through your window and dragged you towards it, flinging you out and out and out into the beautiful, mind-numbing twilight. You had to drive or hike or hang out with friends because an evening this perfect may never come again.

And sometimes you had to make sure an overly-cautious girl got a taste of such exhilaration because the mist was glittering and the sky was glorious and the setting sun probably that nothing bad could possibly happen. 

  “Do you think she’s okay?” Anne asked as she and Cathy sat outside the ivy-swathed house. She’d been more worried about their girl than herself since the moment she woke up, and for a good reason, too. Cathy didn’t blame her.

  “I’m sure she is,” Cathy answered.

  “Yes, but she’s only had a few days of rehearsals. What if she—”

Cathy set a hand in her girlfriend’s and squeezed it. “Take a breath, Annie.” She said. “She’s proved to us that she knows what she’s doing. Hell, she probably knows my lines better than I do! I’m sure she’s doing just fine.”

( “I can see your dirty pillows,” Bernadette said bitterly.

  “They’re breasts, mama.” Joan corrected, not looking up from where she was testing necklaces to her skin tone. Jewelry was few and far between in the house, so she had to make do with whatever she could find because something told her that the theater wouldn’t want her touching any of their accessories with her ‘grimy freak hands’ if she didn’t have to. “Every girl has them. Even you. And I’m just in a tank top to get ready, but my costume will cover more.” She paused. “You’ll see that if you come. I have a spot reserved for you.”

Joan can already imagine herself onstage, boldly and amazingly belting out her lines and being watched in awe by hundreds of people. Even better than that, she could imagine her mother being there, eyes sparkling with pride, grinning widely, and at the end howling through the applause, “Did everyone see? That’s my daughter! My wonderful, glorious, marvelous baby girl, Joan! Oh, how amazing and talented she is! I am truly blessed to have her! The happiest mum in the whole entire world!!!!”

But, instead, Bernadette is shaking her head frantically, not at all looking proud or happy to be her mother at that very moment. 

  “No, no,” She said. “And you can’t go, either!”

  “It’s too late, mama,” Joan turned away from her mother and slipped on a jacket. “I’m going. My friends are expecting me.”

  “Friends?” Bernadette actually choked out a high pitched, startled laugh. “Is that really what you think those two women are to you, darling? I’m sure they care about you so very much. Do you think anyone would cry if your decapitated head was dropped in their hands? Admit it: nobody loves you the way you are except me. You are my baby. That’s always been true, and it always will be true.”

  “No, it’s not!!” Joan cried. Her powers pulsed like a racing heartbeat in her veins. “There are other people who like me! Miss Cathy and Miss Anne! Miss Aragon, too!” She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She didn’t want to blow her voice out before the show. “They aren’t like the others, mama. They’re good. I know they are.”

  “But wouldn’t they all change you if they could?” Bernadette said, causing a starling, uneasy revelation to zigzag through Joan. “They would strip away your lovely weirdness and reshape your mind until it’s to their liking. But I love every inch of you, my perfect darling little disaster.”

Would they do all of that? Joan wondered. Would Miss Cathy and Miss Anne and Miss Aragon change me if they got the chance?

For a moment, she was almost swayed to her mother’s side, but then she remembered something.

I wouldn’t blame them... I would want to change me, too.

  “I want to be normal,” Joan said defiantly. “So I wouldn’t care.” 

She turned away from her mother and marched into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but still couldn’t go past the crucifix without casting it a fearful look.

  “They’re all going to laugh at you!”

Something snapped in Joan’s chest.

  “NO!!” She roared.

She whirled around to her mother and extended a shaking hand, seizing Bernadette in her place. She bared her teeth in a flash of rage.

  “No, mama.” She said lowly. “Not this time. You aren’t going to ruin this for me.”

She telekinetically pushed Bernadette backward into the prayer closet as pieces of furniture rose into the air around her with her growing anger.

  “You’re going to—stay in there—until I leave.” Joan said. She jerked her head, and the door slammed shut.

  “Johanna! Stop this at once!! Stop this devilry!!”)

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Anne nodded. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “Come on, let’s go get her.”

The two of them stepped out of the car and walked up the front porch. When they knocked on the door, they heard a giant crash from within the house, like the roof had just caved in. They exchanged looks, suddenly worried again. Joan peeked out a moment later.

  “Hey!” Anne greeted her with a smile. “Everything okay? Did your ceiling just collapse or something?”

  “...Yes.”

Cathy blinked. Anne laughed.

  “Cool. Can I see?”

  “...No.”

Joan slid outside, and, for a brief second, Cathy and Anne could see into her house at all the furniture strewn on the ground. The door shut quickly, and Joan smiled up at them.

  “Come on!” She said with a new bout of eagerness. “Come on! Come on!”

  “Someone’s excited,” Cathy chuckled as they all walked to the car.

  “We’re coming, darling,” Anne called at the same time.

  “Darling!” Joan echoed in a gleeful voice. “Darling! That’s me!” She hurled herself at Anne and latched onto her, nuzzling into her chest.

  “Oof—” Anne staggered backward with a laugh. “Easy there, kiddo. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Joan giggled. “You’re not THAT old!” She gave Anne one more nuzzle before galavanting her way over to the car and leaping inside, leaving Anne and Cathy exchanging amused looks.

The drive to the theater was spent with Joan murmuring her lines to herself and fidgeting in the backseat, and upon arriving, she practically flew inside, darting straight to the dressing room she was getting to use. She immediately got to applying makeup and fixing her hair, but she appeared to have a hard time doing everything correctly, so Cathy stepped in while Anne went to go get ready.

It didn’t take long for Joan’s anxiety to kick in. As Cathy was pinning back locks of her long blonde hair, she could feel her start to tremble.

  “Joan?” She asked. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

  “Y-yeah,” Joan stammered. “Just a little n-nervous.”

Cathy smiled sympathetically at her in the mirror. “I know that feeling. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

  “N-nervous about Dead Girl Walking,” Joan mumbled, fidgeting with her jacket sleeve.

Cathy barked a laugh. “Yeah, me too.” She admitted. “I’ll be more hands-off, okay? I won’t grab you anywhere.”

  “B-but won’t that r-ruin the scene?” Joan looked up at her.

  “Your comfort is more important to me than the enjoyment of the audience.” Cathy told her. “It’ll all be okay. You’re gonna do great.”

There was a knock on the doorframe. The two of them turned to see Aragon in the doorway, smiling. Cathy greeted her, then slid out of the room to get ready. 

  “Miss Aragon,” Joan said. “You look so pretty!”

Aragon laughed lightly, gazing down at the suit she was wearing. “Thank you, Joan. You look beautiful.”

  “Oh—thank you.” Joan blushed. “Although I don’t, not really, but thank you anyway.”

A small frown twitched momentarily on Aragon’s lips before she wiped it off. “I just wanted to come and check on you. How are you feeling? You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

Even with foundation and blush on her face, the dark bags shadowed under Joan’s eyes were still visible. It was worrying, but what came out of Joan’s mouth next was even worse.

  “Oh, yeah,” She said. “I was just a little nervous. But I’m okay. Trust me, I’ve stayed awake longer. When I was fifteen, I was having these awful nightmares and got so scared of them that I stopped sleeping. Whenever I would start to nod off, I put this cross that my mother would—heat up—” She faltered for a moment, wincing at something that didn’t have to do with the current story, but hurried to continue, “—and uhh, I would heat it up and press it to my skin until the pain woke me up.” And then she rolled her sweat pants up enough to reveal an old, cross-shaped blister on her thigh.

Aragon shuddered, staring at it in horror before it was concealed again. It was awful that nightmares could push a child to such an extreme, but she had to give Joan some props for her bravery to burn pain into the body that betrayed her by daring to be tired. But that didn’t erase how sickening it was.

  “Oh, Joan—”

  “Oh dear,” Joan frowned at her, cutting her off. “You’re getting that funny look on your face again. The one you and Miss Anne and Miss Cathy make when you get all concerned.” She tilted her head, then gently touched Aragon’s hand. “It’s okay, Miss Aragon, trust me. If I’m willingly telling you about it, then it’s not that bad.”

That didn’t comfort Aragon at all because it meant that Joan had gone through things even worse than burning herself to avoid nightmares.

But Aragon nodded, not wanting to stress the girl out by prodding her, especially right before a major performance.

  “Alright,” She said in a half sigh.

Joan gave her a wry smile.

  “Well, you better get into your costume,” Aragon said, standing up. 

  “Oh!” Joan jumped to her feet. “R-right!”

Aragon smiled at her. “When you’re done, come down to the wings to get your mic set up. And break a leg! You’ll do great, honey!”

Joan nodded and turned to her first costume once Aragon left the room: a long brown skirt with flowers on it, a cream shirt, and a blue jean jacket. She wore her primary costume, a blue checkered skirt and a lighter blue cardigan with an azure undershirt, underneath it for quick change reasons. After putting everything on, she was about to walk out when she paused and looked at herself in the mirror.

She...did look pretty. 

Except for—

  “Sorry, mama,” Joan whispered, taking off her cross necklace and setting it aside on the makeup table. 

The backstage was a mess when she stepped down the staircase leading up to the dressing rooms. Joan felt like she’d been flung into a war movie with the amount of running around and screaming that was going on around her, and she could already feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead in the hot, thick air of the wings. Footsteps trampled heavily, as people fretted over costumes, over makeup, over props…

Over the fact that the theater freak was playing the lead role.

And over the fact that one of their actors was lying on the ground, writhing and wailing in agony so loud that the early birds already filing into the house could probably hear.

  “What’s going on?! What happened?!” The sound director squawked, flapping over. She was done up in way too much makeup and jewelry for someone who wasn’t going to be seen by the audience. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?!”

  “I-I don’t know!” A stagehand cried. “He-he fell and—”

  “Oh god—” Another said in a gag. “That is bad.”

  “Kinda cool,” Commented her friend, earning her an elbow to the ribs. “Ouch! Unnecessary!”

The actor on the floor howled.

  “This is a catastrophe,” A techie muttered to the far left, the boy shaking with visible distress, running a hand through his newly greasy locks. His eyebrows were drawn in considerably more than usual, and he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A girl at his side looked remarkably similar in her emotional state but didn’t move from her place of wrapping a mic around Cleves.

The whole cast was crowded together, in various stages of mentally prepared, gawking down at someone that Joan couldn’t see. There was still an hour until the show began, but in theater, an hour was essentially five minutes if you were stressed out enough. And clearly, everyone was. Maggie and Kitty didn’t stand far apart, despite Kitty’s current position of being fretted over by two technicians, who were trying very hard not to look over at the current commotion. Russel and Luke, the Kurt and Ram, looked like the epitome of the American jock stereotype- white shirts with varsity jackets slung over them, jeans too baggy and hair too messy for the current decade. Cleves looked as calm as she always was, seeming out of place considering the hectic nature of the environment, and Anne was the only actor who didn’t look nervous about performing with Joan or about what was going on. In fact, she gave her a small, warm smile that Joan couldn’t help but return.

But then the injured actor cried out again, and she snapped back into awareness.

She stepped towards the crowd. Several people saw her coming and cleared off quickly. One stagehand that was even younger than her nearly fainted at the sight of her. She brushed the arm of a background actor, and he shuddered so badly she genuinely thought she had hurt him. 

Oh. She realized grimly. They don’t just think I’m a freak. She frowned. They think I’m a monster. They’re SCARED of me.

Anger boiled up inside of her for a moment, but she stamped it down. She didn’t love that burbling feeling of vengeance rising within her. She just wanted to hug them, all of them, and tell them not to be scared, that she wasn’t scary at all, not anymore—not ever. She wanted to be their friends. Because this performance was going to be the birth of New Joan, Ordinary Joan, Loved Joan, and everyone was going to be begging on their knees to be her best friend by the end of it. 

That thought made her absolutely giddy, and she nearly did a happy dance but managed to stop herself. Doing such a thing wouldn’t be appropriate at the moment, especially when she was gazing down at a moaning, groaning, broken-looking young man.

He was lying at the bottom of the Stairs of Death, as they’re called, sprawled in a position that looked extremely uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as the angle his right arm is bent into. With a wince, Joan realized it looked slightly similar to how her arm had looked when she got pushed down the staircase at school.

It was Mike, the man who played both JD’s dad and the principal—and was the only actor they had who knew those parts since it never occurred to anyone that even minor parts may need understudies.

  “Fuck!” Cried the sound director. “What happened?!”

  “I think he fell,” Observed Cleves calmly.

Mike groaned as if to prove that theory.

  “Oh, you bumbling idiot!” The sound director snapped at the poor man.

  “Hey!” Joan barked. “Don’t be mean! It’s not his fault!”

Everyone looked at her in surprise, including Mike, who halted his process of squirming miserably to blink up at her. Even she was a little shocked. Wasn’t she supposed to hate these people? 

  “It definitely is his fault,” The sound director hissed. “Or is it yours? Did YOU do this?”

Well, she definitely hated her, that’s for sure.

  “I bet she did,” Maggie said helpfully, and Kitty nodded in agreement at her side.

And she absolutely hated those two.

  “No, I didn’t!” Joan said, wounded. “I don’t hurt people!”

  “Yeah, I can vouch for her, Rachel,” Anne spoke up. “She wasn’t anywhere near the steps when Mike fell.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Joan, not really believing Anne’s words. “Well,” She dropped the accusations for the moment. “What do we do?”

  “Call 999.” Anne said.

  “No!” Rachel yelped. “We can’t! We don’t have an understudy for him!”

  “So you expect him to perform with a broken arm?” Anne struck back. “Look at him! He can’t even sit up!”

Joan peered closer at Mike’s arm and noticed that it was at an abnormal position slightly above the shoulder. He wasn’t moving it at all, either, like all connection to the rest of the body had been cut off...or displaced.

  “It’s not broken,” She said. “It’s dislocated.”

All eyes turned to her again. She quickly went on, pointing at the injured arm, “Look at the way he’s moving. His arm should be moving like that, too, but it isn’t even twitching. Plus, it’s not swollen and bruising. And listen to his screams—he’s in a lot of pain. Broken bones burn, but they wouldn’t cause that much distress.” She looked around at all of them, then said again, “It’s dislocated. And I know how to fix it.”

Mike looked ill at the thought of her touching him, and she barely managed to keep herself from giving him an injured look. Everyone else, however, weren’t spared from it when they noisily began to get suspicious and skeptical of her information. 

  “How do you know that?” Asked one stagehand with a bowl haircut.

  “I’ve had my arm broken and dislocated before,” Joan answered, remembering the time a bully shoved her against the wall hard enough to jar her left arm out of its socket when she was fourteen. “And I was able to help myself. I know what to do.”

  “Why should we trust you?” Said another stagehand warily, eyeing Joan as if she thought she was going to rip Mike’s arm off and beat him with it.

  “What other choice do you have?” Joan said. “Unless you’d like to go one without a father for JD and a coach.”

Somehow, to all of them, that alternative seemed even worse than her tearing off an innocent man’s limb and pummeling him with it. Mike realized this, too, and didn’t look very happy about it, giving them all an injured look.

  “You’re right,” A guitarist from the pit said. “We should probably trust her.”

  “What?” Kitty said sharply. “Are you alright?”

  “Of course,” The guitarist said, giving Kitty a weird look. She tipped her head towards Joan. “We should let her try, right? And if she fails, well, that’ll give us more of a reason to despise her.”

Joan kind of wished she had left that part out, but appreciated the trust nonetheless.

  “Yes,” She said, deciding to appeal to their hatred and fear for just a moment. “If I make him worse, you can—you can hate me all you’d like. Better yet: I’ll quit. How does that sound?”

That seemed like a dream come true to several of the younger cast members and techies, but a nightmare to Anne, who gave Joan a wide-eyed look and shook her head at her. Joan smiled gently and lightly touched her shoulder, then approached Mike. He tried to wiggle away when she crouched down next to him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” She whispered to him, and he looked up into her bright silver eyes. He must have seen something in her because he nodded a moment later and stopped moving. “Thank you.” She paused. “Okay, well—slight change to what I said. This WILL hurt, but it’ll make you better, I promise.” 

Mike went even paler but just nodded again. Joan thanked him again, then gently took hold of his arm, wracking her memory to remember how she had relocated her arm. That was the time, she recalled, that she realized that she had to start nursing her own wounds because nobody else was going to do it for her.

What am I doing? She thought. I’m the problem, not the solution.

But then she looked down at Mike’s pained eyes and saw herself in the deep shade of blue—hurt and wanting help. So, she took a deep breath and pushed upwards.

Mike let out a yelp of shock and pain, jerked, and then stopped. Joan pulled her hands back quickly so he could see his normal-looking shoulder. He tried to move it, wincing when it bent at his muscles’ command, then gave her a look of surprise and awe. She smiled at him.

  “All done!” She beamed, then turned her head to the crowd around her. “See? I did it!”

Nobody gave her a hug or cheered for her success, but she did get several appraising and approved looks, which was good enough for her. 

  “It’s probably gonna hurt for a few weeks,” She said to Mike. “Definitely take painkillers before the show, and don’t do anything crazy with it if you don’t have to.”

Mike nodded. “Th...thank you, Joan.” He said.

Something blissful fluttered inside her stomach. Someone said her name! In a way that wasn’t disgusted or full of hatred!!

  “Good work, kiddo,” Anne praised Joan when she returned to her side. “You’re amazing.”

Joan blushed. “Thanks.”

She was SO going to have friends now. These people have seen that she’s not dangerous! Well, unless you consider unnatural psychic powers as dangerous, but that can just be a perk to being her friend! She can move things with her MIND!! Maybe even do more things. Maybe she could help people.

She glanced down at her hands and wondered about all the amazing things she could do with her powers. She could help major constructions by lifting heavy objects without breaking a sweat. She could save people from burning buildings by levitating them when they fall. She may even be able to cure cancer and end world hunger!! Of course, telekinesis couldn’t do that, but maybe she had other abilities that could. 

She could be a hero.

And then Kitty’s gazed snapped over to her, and Joan didn’t feel like a hero at all. Just a worm trapped beneath the talons of a hawk. She instinctively shifted uncomfortably, tugging on her skirt to distract herself. Even after helping a man with his dislocated shoulder, Kitty and Maggie still looked at her as if she had just murdered their parents in front of them.

  “Joan, you look…” Kitty trailed off with a sneer, still staring at Joan’s slightly pudgy legs and the thigh highs that concealed them. 

  “Great.” Anne cut in, glaring at her cousin in some sort of warning. “She looks great.”

  “Not the word I would have used,” Kitty muttered, and Maggie giggled obnoxiously at her side.

Joan grit her teeth, but her flash of anger jolted away with a stagehand shoved the notebook she needed for the opening number into her hands silently. He glanced up at her for just a moment, then wrinkled his nose and scurried off to help someone else.

Joan felt more and more uncomfortable as she was prepared for the show. A few crew members, ones that still thought she was repulsive even after helping Mike, hadn’t wanted to touch her to put her mic on, so Cathy did it when she came down, apologizing to Joan softly for how stupid people were being. Joan, however, was too focused on all the stares she was getting. Out of the corner of her eyes, she swore she could see the director’s jaw drop when he saw her for the first time. He, at the very least, blinked twice at the sight of Joan, and the girl felt a small ounce of victory from that resolution. Of course, that good feeling was immediately washed away when the reality of the situation set in.

In less than five minutes, she was going to be performing in front of hundreds of people, some of which probably knew her and hated her, having not studied the script or the blocking/choreography with the intention of playing the character she was about to parade around as. And then, if that wasn’t enough, she had to have fake sex on stage with another woman and probably kiss her and attempt to have some sort of chemistry with her despite her girlfriend also being in the production. And, most importantly, her mother wasn’t there to support her through it all.

Holy fuck. Joan was going to die.

The stage lights soon dimmed, and she could hear Aragon’s voice over the intercom, reminding people to switch off their mobile devices. Joan wished that she heard Aragon say that a fire had started in the building so she wouldn’t have to step on stage, but no such luck. She felt someone nudge her forward onto the darkened stage as soon as the audience quietened, and Joan sucked a breath in. This was it.

  “Break a leg!” Anne whispered somewhere from the darkness of the wings.

Joan took one more big breath.

And then she walked on stage.

She could barely feel her legs as she walked, as though she was working on autopilot.

    “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name,” Joan murmured to herself, far too quietly for the mic to pick up (she didn’t even think it was on yet), “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” She stood in the position she had seen Jane stand in so many times before. “Amen.”

There was no turning back now, was there? She was in this for the long run. She was really doing this. As everyone else settled into position, she prepared herself to recite the lines she knew so well but never imagined she would be speaking.

  “September 1st, 1989. Dear diary...” 

As the music kicked in, the stage lights flickered on, nearly blinding her. She suddenly much preferred her nice, dark pit, but the bright light blocked out her vision of most of the audience, which she was so very thankful for. She couldn’t hear a single snicker or a mumble of disapproval, her voice didn’t crack, and she stood in the correct position. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

The beginning of ‘Beautiful’ passed like a dream, though she struggled to contain her giddiness as stage fright slowly melted away, and she fully got into her role. It was a lot different being part of the ensemble, actually hearing lines being spoken directly in her face, than being in the pit where she just vaguely watched and frantically played music. It was only when she had to speak to confront Kitty that she felt her nerves kick in.

Because Kitty was looking at her like she wanted to fucking kill her.

Kitty, like Cleves and Anne, was dressed in a preppy, rich girl outfit from the ’80s, looking like an absolute vision in yellow. And she was glaring at Joan as though the other was wearing a trash bag, and Joan wasn’t wholly convinced it was a character choice. 

So much for McNamara being the slightly good Heather.

Something about the look in Kitty’s eyes, though, was different than her usual leer. This seemed...personal. Even when Kitty was saying compliments to Joan’s character, there was an edge of spite that hadn’t been there before Joan had switched roles.

Joan’s musing was cut short by Cleves’ voice and Kitty’s hand brushing over her chest.

  “And you know, this could be beautiful.” Cleves sang in her traditional deep bellow, a sardonic hint in her voice that only a few seemed to catch. 

Kitty’s hand on Joan’s chest trailed across her body as Cleves sang, putting a cold emphasis on every time she said “beautiful”, as though pointing out to Joan that she was speaking something far from the truth. Joan barely had time to register this before she croaked out her line and was ushered backstage for her quick change.

Joan’s protective shroud—the skirt and cream shirt and coat—was ripped off of her before she had a chance to shrug it off. Her hair was brushed painfully into a more pristine style and more makeup was applied roughly before being shoved back onstage so hard she nearly fell flat on her face. She regained her balance, luckily not being seen by the locker set pieces, and waited.

What was with Kitty? Was she cranky because Jane didn’t get to perform with her?

Joan ended up being absorbed in conspiracies internally the whole time she was on stage, unwillingly. She spoke her lines with conviction, and her singing didn’t falter, but she was still thinking. Even during the finale of the opening number, where she had to hold what she knew was the Note of Death, she still had these thoughts in her mind. She barely even had time to gauge the audience’s reaction to her costume change or see if they realized who she was before the song ended and the dialogue began. Joan zoned out for most of it, reciting the lines she knew, until-

  “Are we going to have a problem?” Cleves’ bold statement cut through the silence. Joan realized this was the start of the second number, and she swallowed thickly when she saw a menacing smirk stretch on Kitty’s lips. Her behavior the whole time had been off, and this was a song in which the entire aim was to push Joan around and show a display of power.

Cleves continued, saying her lines, which were laced with spite and malice towards a teenage girl who was just trying to save the show they’d worked so hard on. Joan didn’t have to do much other than accept the mild shoves off of the three Heathers; Cleves grinning, Anne smiling apologetically, and Kitty pushing Joan so hard she was sure there would be bruises. The blonde could not wait for the song to end, and as soon as she heard the roaring applause, she wanted so badly to make a run for it and escape the abuse but knew she had to stay. She had to prove that she was worthy of being there. 

That she was just as good as them, if not better.

  “You shouldn’t have bowed down to the swatch dogs and the diet coke heads. They’re going to crush that girl.” A deep, honey-slicked voice broke through after the applause died down.

Joan turned reluctantly and saw Cathy sitting on the part of the set made to be a staircase in her character’s trademarked trench coat, looking through her fringe at her. Some of the anxiety eased its process of clawing up Joan’s insides when she saw a warm, comforting look flicker in Cathy’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought after all. Cathy was there with her, and even with her face twisted into one of cunning and deception, Joan felt much more comfortable with her nearby. 

And then, something happened.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” She said further in the first scene with Cathy.

  “I didn’t throw it.” Cathy retorted smoothly, and Joan could see why Anne was so in love with her. 

Joan giggled giddily, tugging on her sleeves in a way she thinks a girl would react to such a comment, and was surprised to hear the audience erupt into coos and awws. She blinked at them in delight.

They thought...she was cute.

Nobody ever thought she was cute, certainly not hundreds of people watching her on a stage.

Happiness welled up from within her. She could feel her doubt starting to melt away even more. 

They liked her.

Joan couldn’t lie. Seeing Cathy fake fight two men in slow motion was something she was prepared for but didn’t expect it to be as amazing as it was. Joan wasn’t really paying attention to the scenes that didn’t concern her, conserving her efforts for when she was needed, but…damn. Cathy didn’t have to go off that hard, but she did anyway. 

As Joan sang and maneuvered around the stage in the way she’d seen Jane do countless times before, she could barely even look at Cathy as she had to touch the woman. She attempted to keep her touches brief, but she really wanted the audience to like her, so she committed to the role of a lovestruck teenage girl. She had to remind herself that it was just the choreography, that it was just a stupid, kinda boring song, that Anne definitely wouldn’t think she was stealing her girlfriend.

Most of the beginning parts passed by in a blur. Whenever Joan was rarely offstage, she was wiping sweat off of her face as best as she could without ruining her makeup, taking quick sips of water, and attempting to catch whatever breath she could. When she was onstage, she spoke with as much effort as she could, and whenever Cathy was with her, she always felt her voice rise with more power and conviction. It was noticeable, she realized when she caught glimpses of the impressed audience through the blinding glare of the stage lights.

Big Fun soon came along, and Joan danced with more energy than she ever had in her entire life. She was so wrapped up in singing and laughing and smiling that she didn’t even worry about the possibility that there may have been poison in the shot glass she had to drink from (there wasn’t, but you never know). She had never felt so free before, so young and careless and happy.

This—this was what freedom was like.

She never wanted it to end. She could perform Big Fun for a hundred years and not be tired of how bouncy and crude she got to be. But alas, the party scene soon came to a close, and her anxiety made itself known again deep in the pit of her stomach.

Dead Girl Walking was about as awkward as she expected. She stammered over her lines for the first time, but managed to keep her singing voice steady enough to not completely crack beneath the sudden surge of stress and embarrassment, and was suddenly glad her mother didn’t come because she surely wouldn’t have liked seeing her up there straddling another woman.

Cathy was gentle like she promised, and Joan was so very relieved. But still, she wasn’t sure how she felt about losing her first kiss to another female who was already taken by someone and quite a bit older than her.

But it was over now! It was okay! Dead Girl Walking was over, and Joan didn’t throw up all over Cathy from the anxiety. Although she really, really felt like she was going to near the end, but not anymore!! In fact, she felt pretty damn proud of herself.

Me Inside Of Me and Blue came and went without a problem, although Joan swore Kitty was a lot meaner than her character was meant to be during Blue. The younger girl looked at her as if she actually wanted her to get sexually harassed by a group of guys, which made Joan give her an appalled look. She forgot about that too, though, and moved on. She shouldn’t think so much about someone who hated her guts.

Our Love Is God was frighteningly beautiful. Joan wasn’t expecting her and Cathy’s voices to go so well together, but she found herself being entranced to their harmony. The audience was into it, too. Joan swore she could hear them cooing in awe.

Joan couldn’t help but squeal in glee when she got offstage for intermission. She was so wrapped up in celebrating her current success that she almost forgot to rehydrate until Cathy pushed a water bottle into her hand with a laugh.

  “I know you’re happy, sweetie,” She said, “but you need to drink some water.”

  “Water!” Joan yelped. “Right! Got it!” She quickly got to guzzling down the contents of the bottle.

  “Not that fast—!!”

Joan and Cathy both giggled. Out of the corner of her eye, Joan noticed Maggie roll her eyes, but Kitty continued to just stare at her with a weird look in her eye. When Maggie saw that Joan had noticed, she nudged her friend and they both bustled off further into the backstage area. Joan shrugged it off.

  “Hey, Joan,” Said a voice Joan didn’t recognize. “You’re, um, doing really good!”

Joan turned around and saw three stagehands standing there looking sheepish. She blinked at them.

  “Oh- thank you!” She smiled at them, and they all seemed surprised that she did. Then, they smiled back.

  “Yeah, your vocal range?” Another piped up. “It puts Seymour to SHAME!”

Joan blushed. “Don’t say that! She’s really good!”

  “But not as good as you!” The third said. “How did you get cast as the backup understudy? YOU should be in the all-star cast. YOU should be the main Veronica Sawyer.”

Joan felt dizzy from the flattery. She knew these three were trying to win her over with compliments because they were ashamed of their treatment of her, but she didn’t really care. She craved it. She wanted their uplifting words so badly that she didn’t even care if they apologized or not.

  “Thank you,” She said again modestly. “Really. That means so much to me.”

They grin at her brightly. One looked over his shoulder when a name was called.

  “Oh, gotta run,” He said. “Come on, guys. Break a leg for act two, Joan! Can’t wait to hear you sing again!”

  “Did you see that?!” Joan cried to Cathy once they were gone, shaking her co-star. “Did you? They were praising me! They said I was better than Jane! ME!!”

  “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart!” Cathy said. “I’m sure Anne is, too.”

  “Where is Anne?” Joan asked. She turned to a stagehand. “Hey, do you know where Anne is? I haven’t seen her at all during intermission.”

The stagehand looked a tad uncomfortable, but not because of Joan’s presence. He fidgeted for a moment, then said, “There was...an incident. Anne had to be thrown out. Her understudy is finishing up the show.”

Cathy and Joan’s eyes widened. 

  “What?” Joan said.

  “Thrown out?!” Cathy shrilled at the same time. “What did she do?!”

( “I should have known,” Aragon snarled, dragging the green-clad woman out the back door. “I should have known you were with Jane!”

  “No!” Anne cried, struggling fiercely. “Catalina, you don’t understand! There’s a-!!”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” Aragon roared. She shoved open the door and threw Anne to the ground. The bright moonlight illuminated her horrified facial features. “You are SICK, Anne Boleyn! You and Jane Seymour and your little weasel of a cousin! I knew you were going to try and ruin this for Joan! Well, I’m not going to let you. I hope the rats eat you out here!”

  “No, Catalina, wait!!” 

But it was too late. Aragon slammed the door shut and promptly locked it. Anne slammed on it and yelled as loud as she could, but nobody opened up. Every other entrance was locked and guarded by someone, too. 

Anne sunk to the cold asphalt, tried not to cry, and prayed to God that she hadn’t actually seen Jane Seymour and her boyfriend up in the rafters with a bucket of something poised over the stage.)

  “I don’t know,” The stagehand said with a useless shrug of his shoulders. “I just heard them screaming. Catalina seemed really mad about something.”

  “Goddamnit, Anne,” Cathy muttered, then caught the anxious look on Joan’s face. She gently touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’ll be just fine. I’ll give Anne a very stern talking to tonight.”

Joan nodded, even cracking a small smile.

It wasn’t long before act two began and Joan had to enter again. She nearly burst into tears when the audience cheered and clapped when she stepped into view and she tried very hard not to beam at all of them.

They liked her. They really, really liked her!

My Dead Gay Son had Joan giggling throughout its entirety. At the same time, as she sang along and danced to the silly lyrics, a part of her wished her mother was like the dads in the song. She wished that she was as open-minded and accepting and less overzealous.

She wished she was there.

Bernadette would have been so proud of her, she just knows it. She would have been proud of her vocal range during Seventeen and funny, but on-point dancing in Shine A Light and rebellious voice when she yelled at Maggie after that song, which felt AMAZING, by the way. Especially when she actually saw the girl reel back slightly at her venom-flecked words. And then, there was the scene that sent Joan on cloud nine.

  “No! Stop!!” Joan yelled, darting across the stage and barreling into Kitty with enough force to actually send her sprawling to the ground. Watching the younger girl squirm on her side like a flipped-over turtle wasn’t something that Joan had always wanted to see until that moment.

  “Suicide is supposed to be a private thing!” Kitty whined in a woebegone voice, but her eyes reflected great hatred for Joan. Definitely not a good acting choice in Joan’s opinion- the front row was gonna notice that and be confused.

  “Throwing your life away to be another statistic in the USA Today is probably the least private thing I can think of,” Joan rattled off perfectly.

  “But what about Heather? And Ram and Kurt?” Kitty replied.

  “If everyone jumped off a bridge, young lady, would you?” 

  “Probably,” Kitty mumbled, and then gave Joan a fierce look that said, “But not without pushing you off first.”

  “If you were happy every day of your life, you wouldn’t be human. You’d be a gameshow host.” Joan told her, letting her gaze slide off of her. There was something very satisfying about the look of powerless fury on Kitty's face, and she soon realized it was because Kitty couldn’t do anything to her onstage. She couldn’t harm Joan, or else she would ruin the show and be hated, too.

Kitty spits the fake pills (which were really just TicTacs) into her hands. Joan was sure she was grinding her teeth when she said, “Thanks for coming after me.”

And then they had to hug. Which was supremely awkward. And Kitty dug her claw-like manicured nails into Joan’s back, but Joan got to discreetly pull some of her hair, so it was okay. And it still didn’t ruin Joan’s good mood that lingered for the remainder of the show.

She was amazing. She was talented. She was a star. 

The audience liked her, Cathy and Aragon and Anne liked her, some of the crew were even starting to like her, too. 

Never before had Joan heard so many people cheering. Cheering for her.

When the lights came back on after the final number and cast members went out one by one for curtain call, the audience screamed and clapped so loudly. The background characters went first, then the parent characters, then the teachers, then the Heathers, followed by JD, and finally, it was Joan’s turn. 

She went out rather timidly at first, instinctively being way too modest, but then the audience shrieked, and she lurched into a gleeful run. 

She stood beside Cathy on the apron and Cathy gestured grandly to her, which made the audience scream again. Joan almost crumpled to her knees and thanked THEM when she bowed, but she managed to remain on her feet. She smiled at everyone watching, finally able to see them with the lights dimmed, and she hadn’t realized how many people there really were. And they all adored her performance. They were even on their feet cheering! For her! She got a standing ovation!! 

She squealed and leaped into Cathy’s arms, who laughed and twirled her around happily.

  “You did amazing, sweetheart!!” Cathy cried over the ending music. The others were dancing behind them blissfully. Joan started to dance a little, too, kicking her feet and swaying once she was released. Cathy laughed and brushed her cheek affectionately. “Look at you. You little bundle of energy.”

Joan giggled, blushing harder. “Thank you, Cathy.”

They clasped their hands together and did a final bow. The audience howled, and Joan smiled wider than she ever had in her entire life, for once not gripped by the fingers of anxiety that were usually wrung so tightly around her throat. She was free.

And then there was a hushed bark from above, a clatter of metal and creaking of rope, and the doors to the booth burst open just in time for Aragon and the other crew members to step out and watch as a bucket of blood dumped out right over Joan’s head.

Silence. 

One by one, the clapping stopped, the cheering died off, and the smiles fell until the only sound was the creak of the rope the bucket was attached to and the splattering of blood on the floor. Nobody moved, nobody breathed, nobody spoke a word.

But then Joan began to tremble.

And then cry.

And then scream.

She screamed a horrible, nightmare-haunting scream that reverberated throughout the auditorium and jammed itself into the ears of the audience and cast alike. She brought up her shaking hands to hug her blood-soaked body tightly, continuing to shriek and keen as she did so. Blood was covering her entire frame, sliding down her face and mingling with tears, soaking into her hair, washing her blue costume an awful shade of purple-red. She screamed and screamed and screamed, staring helplessly out at the audience. There, she saw a young boy clutching onto his mother and father with fear in his eyes. She saw a group of teenage boys, but none of them were laughing like their normal punk demeanor would imply they would do. She saw two girls clinging to each other, shaking. She saw another girl with her phone poised on her bloodied body. She saw Aragon among the crowd, staring up at her with a terrified expression, a hand clamped over her mouth. And Joan stared back at her—back at all of them—and sobbed, soaked to the bone by blood and misery and humiliation.

And then the video of Joan in the showers, completely naked, bleeding all over herself, crying in confusion flickered on the background sike. And people started laughing. Not everyone, but several cast members, Kitty and Maggie being the loudest, and dozens of other cruel audience members.

  “WHAT THE HELL?!” Cathy roared in outrage. She was the first to snap out of her frightened trance and began to twist around, looking for the culprit. “WHO DID THIS?!”

She found them in the wings: Jane Seymour and Henry Tudor, limbs entwined, cackling, disgustingly gleeful expressions on their faces.

  “JA—!!” Cathy went to scream at them, went to call attention to who had done such a thing, went to attack them both, but she was cut off by a creaking from up above and something heavy and hard slamming into her head.

The metal bucket fell first, and then Cathy, whose legs crumpled horribly inward beneath the weight of her body. She collapsed into an awkward sprawled position, and Joan darted down to her side in an instant, crying out her name. Joan shook the woman vigorously, begging her to wake up, but Cathy didn’t budge. A moment later, Joan sat back rigidly because her hands were covered in blood so dark it looked black. Blood that wasn’t there before.

There was a gash on the top of Cathy’s head, a crack in her skull, and some of her brains were pouring out onto the stage.

Joan noticed this, along with a flash of fragmented white bone, but, this time, she did not scream. Or cry out. Or whimper.

Instead, she sat there, staring levelly at Cathy’s ruined head with both hands laid flat on the trench coat that was slightly spattered with blood from the bucket. She was still crying, but something was different. A steely glint had entered her eyes and there was a strange, off tightness to the way she was sitting now.

There was no ripple or twitch that went over her face or any other real indication that there was anything wrong. It had just suddenly stopped weeping and gone very, very still.

Sometimes people did crazy things when they were worked up. There was always some dumb high school student who would think it was a good idea to threaten a bigger, much tougher upperclassmen just to show everyone how masculine he was or some poor sucker that got cocky enough to hit on that hourglass-figured woman in the tiny dress, only to find out that she was happily married to someone named Biff, who had biceps the size of small dogs and also happened to be standing right behind them.

That was normal. That was just people for you. Everyone had seen or heard of all of that and more.

But sometimes, you’d get the individual who had something else wrong with them. Something deep inside that was there way before even a bout of stubbornness flicked on their brain. They’d look perfectly normal because whatever was wrong with them, it was the sort of break that you could patch up with metaphorical glue and hide from the world as long as you had the presence of mind to do so. Then the anger or misery or pain melted that glue away and split the break wide open and let all those bad things that were locked away come boiling out like pus from an abscess.

And, out of nowhere, that same calm, smiley person who you were just talking to about the Red Sox-Yankees game could suddenly be pressing your head into the bar with their elbow in your throat, eyes alight with hysterical rage, all because you’d done something as small as accidentally scoot your drink a little too far in their direction.

And right now, somewhere behind those horrifyingly blank silver eyes and that tight frown, the bucket of blood and Cathy’s cracked open head had made those last strands of glue stretch out and break, like the little filament in a light bulb fraying and making that final ping! sound before it snapped and burned the bulb out.

There was something very, very wrong with Joan Meutas.

And she was a walking nightmare that nobody had seen coming.

An uncomfortable silence had descended on the audience and cast. They had all sensed it, too, that weird light that had turned on behind the blood-soaked girl’s eyes like the tiny, silvery start of a fire, flickering silently in the corner of a room.

Joan stood very, very slowly as if she were underwater, or her muscles were buckled into place. Her movements weren’t right- they were too twitchy and abrupt like a robot with rusted limbs. And her eyes—god, her eyes... They were wider than humanly possible.

She stood, dripping with blood, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and stared out at the audience. What they didn’t know was that she was sending her powers through the theater, locking every possible exit securely from the outside to ensure that none of them got out—especially those who were on the stage with her.

Her head jerked to the side, and a giant gash was opened up in the wall. The people shrieked in fright, and those who were suddenly lifted into the air screamed even louder. Judgment was nigh, and Joan was reading their souls. Those who were worthy of life, like the children and anyone who didn’t laugh at her, were thrown out of the hole in the wall. But everyone else, the girl still recording her, the boy who she could see had knocked up his girlfriend and dumped her once he found out, the man in the second row who had been in a hit-and-run, everyone onstage, even if they had been nice to her that day, were locked inside. She closed the hole, not caring if families had been separated (like the mother who wailed for her husband and the baby that she forced him to have, which both had been thrown out), switched a spotlight on her to a dark shade of crimson, and prepared for purification.

Starting with the ringleaders of her torture.

Kitty and Maggie screamed as an invisible force dragged them up to the front of the stage and made them kneel before the crowd. 

  “Please, please stop, Joan!” Kitty whimpered.

  “We’re sorry!” Maggie added fearfully.

Joan didn’t answer them. She didn’t even look at them, rather stared at the very edge of the stage with her impossibly wide eyes and those wretched sick lights flickering behind them, and that alone was enough to tell Kitty and Maggie that they were getting no mercy. But still, they begged.

  “We’re sorry!” Kitty said, now sobbing. “We’re so, so, so sorry! Please don’t hurt us!”

  “We’ll do anything!!” Maggie wheedled.

Joan glanced at her, then Kitty, and then Kitty’s hands began to raise against her will. Joan looked back down at the floor as Kitty started to squeal in fright and cry harder.

  “What are you doing to her?!” Maggie cried.

  “Please, please stop!!” Kitty howled at the same time. Her manicured yellow nails rested against her belly and pressed inwards, guided along by inhuman telekinetic strength. “Stop, stop, stop— no!!!”

With a sickening squelch, Kitty’s fingers breached her flesh and sunk knuckle-deep into her stomach. She threw her head back and screeched in pain, which became more and more gargled as her nails cut the gash open wider.

  “Mummy! Daddy!” She suddenly sobbed to the audience, blood pouring out of her mouth. “Help me, daddy! Mummy, please!”

Joan stiffened, and Kitty’s hands froze their process of emaciating. Kitty took a deep, sharp breath that was thick with blood, coughed a few times, then looked up at Joan, whimpering. Joan looked down at her, too, and it was only when she turned to look at the frozen video of her naked on the sike that Kitty truly realized all she had done to this girl.

  “I’m sorry,” Kitty whispered.

Joan stared at her for a long time, then closed her eyes, and Kitty ripped out her small intestines.

The audience shrieked. Horror rolled off of them in waves that crashed against the stage like a restless ocean during a thunderstorm. The tide of their terror mingled with Kitty’s blood, which was spilling out all over the apron as she fervently pulled out all her organs and showed everyone what she was truly like on the inside. 

Joan didn’t wait to watch her finish. She turned to Maggie with a wry expression and made her lift her hands to her mouth. Maggie shook her head and whimpered, her eyes becoming round holes of horror as she reached inside, grabbed her tongue, and pulled it out. 

Her body fell before Kitty’s did. It tumbled limply off the stage while she was still gagging and gargling; Joan was leaving her to choke to death—to suffer before she finally died.

Suddenly, from behind, Cleves lunged forward with her fists raised, screaming in fury. Joan didn’t even look at her as she wrenched an overhead pipe loose from up above and plunged it into her chest, pinning her to the ground.

Several actors began to scatter. The pipe flew around and jammed itself through the spot that connected the victim’s jaw to her neck. It went all the way through and left her nearly decapitated, spasming wildly on the ground before death overcame her and she stilled. A moment later, the pipe spun and sailed straight through a man’s stomach. 

By this point, pandemonium has erupted throughout the entire theater. Everyone was running around screaming, panicking, crying. They’re trampling over each other like caged cattle—and they very well may have been, because they were all going to burn like the filthy cows they all were.

Sparks shot out from wires and spotlights overhead. Fragments of tech equipment exploded everywhere and tongues of fire curled outward hungrily, roaring like angry dragons. Kitty finally teetered off of the stage, dead and very, very empty. The curtains went up in flames. A chunk of a spotlight slammed into a man’s face and killed him instantly. 

Fire. Everywhere. The destruction was instantaneous.

Joan stood amid the havoc as flames billowed out across the theater, consuming everything in its path. A few daring plumes attempted to wrap around her and devour her flesh, but it didn’t get very close before she pushed it away. It sizzled and hissed at her in a disgruntled manner, then sprinted off in another direction, giving up. Joan huffed in through her nose and then breathed in the acrid scent of burning flesh and smoke, but she willed herself not to cough. She would not show any sign of weakness, even to the lack of air around her. 

And then, there was a scream.

  “JOAN!!!!”

Joan jolted and stared out at the crowd in horror. There, she found Aragon, bleeding and bruised from being trampled, struggling forward. Towards her. 

Aragon was coming to her. 

Joan watched with wide eyes as Aragon pushed through screaming people and burning people and dead people, through wreckage and flames, just to get to her. 

Aragon stepped into a pool of Maggie’s blood and reached out a hand, which was speckled with burns from flying ashes and sparks. Joan stepped back, her foot squelching under what she thinks is Kitty’s kidney, but Aragon persisted, reaching out further, even if it meant pressing up against the pools of blood and organs on the stage. After a moment of resistance, realizing that she wouldn’t be hurt, Joan crouched on her weak knees and took Aragon’s hand.

  “Please,” Aragon whispered, squeezing tightly. “Please stop.”

Joan looked into her eyes and, despite the things she’s just done, still saw so much love inside of Aragon. Love she has for her. Love she wanted to shower her with. Love that could always be hers if she just stopped.

Joan smiled tightly, painfully, lifted Aragon in the air, and threw her outside through a weak part of the wall. She’ll be burned and may have a few broken or at least cracked bones, but she’ll be alive. Joan patched up the hole her body made and then turned to the rest of her victims. 

The girl who had recorded her when she got dumped with blood stumbled to the ground, her limbs turning crisp and black. Behind her, several people were screaming as their hair and clothing caught fire. Someone howled in pain from within a larger portion of the fire. A few people that were so charred that their gender couldn’t even be determined lay half in, half out of the flames, gasping as dark smoke filled their lungs. Dozens more were already dead in various stages of burning. And Joan watched them all in silence before turning and walking through the flames engulfed in the backstage, slipping out the back door.

The moon was high in the sky, glowing nearly as bright as the inferno that was the theater. Joan avoided the police and firefighters she could hear from the front by using the back alley and exiting out onto a dark, abandoned street. 

She could start to feel the burns she got from the fire more and more as she staggered home. Each step brought starbursts of agony sparking through her flesh, flashing bright colors behind her eyelids. She tried not to keep her eyes closed for too long.

Up ahead, a fancy red car pulled around the corner. The headlights glared against her, causing the blood drenching her body to glimmer like melted rubies. She narrowed her eyes. The car sped up, and she could soon see Jane and Henry through the windshield.

  “Fucking run her over, Henry!” Jane was screeching like a madwoman. 

Henry pressed on the gas. Joan stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him. The car began to wobble treacherously. Henry grunted in pain.

  “Henry? What the fuck?” Jane cried. A moment later, she watched as her boyfriend’s head imploded and showered her face in blood, flesh, bones, and brains. She screamed.

Joan tilted her head slightly, catching the car before it could crash. She ripped Jane out of the car and threw her to the asphalt.

  “You fucking monster!” Jane yelled. “You’re a fucking pig! What have you done?!”

Joan squinted at her, then jarred free any sharp objects she could locate on the car. They floated nearby, trained on Joan’s back.

  “What have you done?” Jane whispered again, this time with growing terror in her voice. “TELL ME!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! Wh...where is Kitty?”

The impromptu knives pierced Jane’s flesh. Jane let out a gargled scream, blood splattering from her lips. Joan watched her silently, then began walking away.

  “Joan!” Jane cried, feeling her guts leaking out from several different holes. “Joan, don’t you fucking leave me here!”

Joan kept walking, deaf to her words.

  “Joan!” Jane yelled again, this time with a voice that was thick with tears. “Joan, p-please, don’t leave me! I don’t want to die! Please, I’m sorry! Please don’t let me die!”

Joan doesn’t stop.

  “Joan?! JOAN!!!”

———

The house was deserted, lit only by moonlight filtering in through the windows and a few flickering candles. Joan trudged up the staircase, dripping blood as she went, and careened into the bathroom. She hauled her aching body over the edge, still in her Veronica Sawyer costume, and collapsed into the bathtub before it was even full with an inch of water. She remained curled up in a ball until it became too deep for her head to stay above the surface comfortably and she had to stretch out. She watched as the water around her turned a reddish-pink color with glazed, hollow grey eyes.

The tears came fast. She cried silently, not making a peep, not even shuddering. Her shoulders didn’t even shake. She just laid back in the tub and stared up at the dark ceiling, weeping in the dark bathroom. 

She wasn’t sure how much time passed after that, but she eventually heard the creak of the old floorboards in the hallway. A moment later, her mother appeared, illuminated by musty shafts of moonlight from the small bathroom window. 

  “Mama,” Joan croaked. Her voice was so weak.

Bernadette approached slowly, but her fear of being attacked diminished when she realized that Joan was in no condition to attack anyone. She just lay there in the tub, shivering and crying, surrounded by bloody water. Tears streamed down her ashen face, which was still drenched in coagulated streams of blood. There were yellow-brown, painful-looking burns spattered on her shoulders, neck, and upper back. 

She looked utterly pathetic. 

Bernadette crouched beside the bathtub. Joan strained her burned neck to look at her.

  “What happened at the—” The pitiful thing couldn’t even form a complete, coherent sentence. Her voice died off halfway through and didn’t come back.

  “The Lord says thou shalt not suffer,” Bernadette said.

  “They called me—monster—mama,” Joan said with great difficulty, but even then her sentence was choppy and missing words that had been so mumbled that they were indescribable. She was so disorientated and out of it that she looked close to near unconsciousness.

And then she noticed the bloody water she was submerged in. 

It was like a switch being flipped. Only then did Joan seem to realize what had been and still was coating her body. She let out a strangled, high-pitch whimper and looked helplessly up at her mother.

  “P-please t-tell me what h-h-happened,” She begged, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “You were weak, Joan.” Bernadette said, plucking away a bloody lock of hair that had been glued to her daughter’s face. “I told you your sin would find you.”

  “I can’t remem—remember.” Joan squeaked out. 

But she could, clear as day could she remember killing all those people. She was just too dazed to firmly grasp the situation.

  “H-h-help me.” She begged. “Mama—help me.”

Bernadette looked down at her for a long time, studying her bloody child, then said, “Let’s pray.” She cupped Joan’s wet face. “Say it with me: lay me down to sleep.”

  “L-lay me—lay me d-d-down to—sleep,” Joan choked out.

   “And pray the Lord,” Bernadette said. 

  “A-and pray—the Lord—my s-soul—” Joan struggled. “My soul—to kee—” The rest of the word was gargled when she was shoved roughly under the bloody bathwater.

Joan’s reaction was instant. She began to squirm and struggle, splashing water out everywhere, but she was much too weak and small and frail to fight her mother, who held her down firmly. But still, she screamed and she cried and she swallowed down bloody water until she couldn’t anymore.

Joan’s thin little body began to still in the tub, but her mind still flickered. Blackness was glazing over her head, tugging her into a peaceful void, and she leaned into its serene coldness. But not without breaking the window and sending a jagged piece of glass straight into her mother’s throat.

———

After watching the theater go up in flames and losing Cathy, Anne didn’t think the day could get any worse. But then she drove to the Meutas house and found the mother with her neck cut open wide and the daughter submerged in a bathtub full of bloody water and things turned to hell. 

Anne lurched forward with a cry of shock, pulling Joan out of the tub. She pressed her ear against the girl’s chest and barely heard the flutter of a heartbeat. What she could hear, though, was the sloshing of water inside of lungs.

  “God, please do NOT let her die,” Anne muttered, her nails digging into Joan’s forearms. “Please don’t let her die.”

She released her vice grip, and jewels of blood drops bloom from the contact area. That’s the least of her concerns, though.

Her fingers move to pinch shut Joan’s nose and open her mouth. Remembering very vague lessons of revival, Anne began to give the tiny girl CPR.

The first attempt did not work.

  “If you die- if you abandon me too- I WON’T forgive you! You hear me? I won’t!”

Joan’s features remain horribly pale.

Anne is shaking all over. The thought of this little girl dying is utterly terrifying.

She tried again, forcing air into Joan’s lungs and pressing on her chest.

Nothing. 

Joan doesn’t stir.

  “Please, Joan, please just breathe. Please come back, I-I need you!”

Once more.

Nothing.

Tears are gathering in Anne’s eyes.

  “Breathe, damnit! Don’t you dare die on me! Do you hear me? Listen to me, young lady! JOAN!!!”

Anne’s fists come down on Joan’s stomach, and water is spit up into her face.

Anne fell backward, clawing at her eyes as if she thought she had been sprayed with acid. In front of her, she can hear horrid coughing and wheezing, but also breathing. Joan was breathing and alive.

Alive and very, very shaken.

  “MAMA!!!”

Joan threw herself at her mother’s corpse before she had even fully recovered from her coughing fit. She smothered her face against her mother’s chest, and it came back red with fresh blood when she pulled away.

  “Why?!” She shrieked at Anne. “Why did you bring me back?!” 

  “You were going to die!” Anne said.

  “Maybe I WANTED to die! Have you ever thought about that?!” Joan held tighter to her mother, weeping. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? N-none of this would have happened...”

  “I—” Anne faltered. “I’m sorry.”

Joan’s body shuddered and she grit her teeth. An unseen force coiled around Anne’s body and suspended her in the air tightly. It felt as if the atmosphere was crushing her.

  “Look what you turned me into.” Joan whispered.

  “P-please don’t hurt me,” Anne begged.

  “Why not?” Joan asked, a pained smile tugging on her bloody lips. Tears start to roll down her cheeks again. “I’ve been hurt my whole life.”

Anne stared at her in horror, realizing it was true. The girl before her had been hurt more than she ever had been in her entire twenty-seven years of life.

How has Joan lived with so much pain inflicted on her tiny little body?

Joan bent over her mother and whimpered against her bloody shirt. She kept nuzzling into her chest, keening softly, and then looking up at her mother’s face, as if she was hoping her affection and presence would wake her up. When it didn’t work, she tried again and again and again, and it was the saddest thing Anne had ever seen in her entire life.

  “I killed my mama,” Joan whispered. “I want her back...”

It was awful to see a child bound to such a witch of a woman. Anne knew this lady had hurt Joan severely, and yet Joan still loved her. 

A crack suddenly zigzagged through the wall. Anne managed to jerk her head around to see several other cobwebs of crevices splinter through the walls around them. The earth began to shake without stopping, a continuous tremor that jarred Anne’s teeth in her head and made her feel as though the floor was about to drop out from under all of them.

  “Joan!” Anne cried. “We need to leave!”

  “No,” Joan held firmly to her mother’s corpse, curling against it loyally. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Joan, please!” Anne begged. “I can’t lose you, too!”

That made Joan look up.

For just a moment, Anne felt a glimmer of hope when Joan sat up slightly, but then she looked back down at the corpse and the costume she was still wearing and crumpled right back into a fetal position. Anne then realized that she didn’t just want to stay with her dead mother—she was immobilized by pain and grief and trauma.

Joan wanted to die.

And there was nothing Anne could do to stop her.

  “Goodbye, Miss Anne,” Joan whispered, smiling weakly up at her. She was curled into a tiny ball under her mother’s arm with her head on her chest. The tears running down her cheeks didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. “I’m glad—I got to know you.”

And then, Anne is thrown out through the wall by a psionic blast.

She tumbled, rolled, spun through the air in a deathly freefall before she’s caught again and gently set on the grass. She bolted up instantly and watched through her tears as the house was swallowed by the earth, devouring the walls and the floors and the furniture and that awful crucifix Anne had seen in the kitchen until there was nothing left to mourn. 

Joan Meutas was dead, and no amount of praying would bring her back.

———————————————————

  “What’s mama doing?” The auburn-haired six-year-old asked, peeking out from the backseat. Her red-headed toddler sister burbled in curiosity at her side. “Where ARE we?”

  “Just...a place, Mary,” Aragon answered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. She tried to take deep breaths, but she still began to scratch at the pale burn scar that wrapped around her upper back and shoulders- a constant reminder of that night. She could feel tears start to prick in her eyes like hot needles. She didn’t know how Anne was out there.

It’s been five years since the West End Massacre, and Anne and Aragon alike were still both reeling. One hundred and twenty-seven people had died that night by the wrath of a tortured child. And, after a long time away from London, they finally decided to visit the grave of that child.

  “JOAN MEUTAS BURNS IN HELL” was scrawled across the tombstone in bright red spray paint. Anne read it over and over and over again, her nose twitching with disgust. She can feel her body shaking and she tried her best to stamp down her nerves. She’s thirty-two, goddamnit, and it was five years ago. So why was she still clinging to the memories of a girl she knew for six days?

She set down the bouquet of white roses at the grave and stepped back. Standing on the property of the old Meutas house felt wrong like Bernadette Meutas might claw her way out of the dirt and pull her down to hell. She shivered, then bowed her head, trying to pray, but prayers only made her feel sick nowadays. 

  “Damnit,” She sighed, rubbing her face slowly. When she looked up again, she saw something in the nearby trees...a raven with patchy plumage that reflected rainbows across the black feathers in the sunlight. It tipped its head at her, cawed once, then flew off in a flurry of sparkling ebony.

  “I have daughters now,” Anne whispered. “If you care. Probably not, but...” She kicked a pebble. “Their names are Mary and Elizabeth. They’re wonderful. I love them with all my heart.” She paused, her voice softening. “I miss you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. And then another. And then another.

  “Catalina does, too.”

Another beat of silence. Anne sniffled, trying to wipe away any more tears, but they just kept coming.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t visit you. You must be so lonely.”

Silence. In her head, Anne begged, Please. Please say something. Move something. Show me that you’re still there.

  “I miss you,” She whispered again. 

When she got no reply of any kind, she hiccuped. Which built into a whimper. Which built into a sob. 

Anne began to sob, sinking to her knees. She dug her fingers into the gravel and rubble surrounding the vandalized tombstone, relishing the feeling of flint and rocks scraping against her skin. She shivered and shuddered, unable to calm herself because waves upon waves of bottled-up grief and guilt were slamming against her at max force. All she could do was kneel there and cry and cry and cry until she couldn’t cry anymore and just gasped pathetically.

  “You were amazing, Joan, I hope you know that.” Anne choked out. “You truly were a blessing. And I am so honored I got to meet you, you wonderful, sweet girl.”

She sniffled and wiped her stinging eyes. She tried her best to smile as if the girl were actually there with her.

  “I have to go now,” She said. “Goodbye, Joan.”

  “Mummy’s coming back!” Mary yipped excitedly from inside the car as Anne walked back over.

  “Mama bwought fweind!” Elizabeth babbled.

Aragon tensed. Anne froze. And they both whipped around to the tombstone and the squishy parrot toy that hadn’t been there before.

[thinklink]

“Pink Pony Club”

[AU Headcanon]

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

Link Neal is a stripper. He has a signature pair of pink & sparkly boxer-briefs that he mesmerizes the crowds in. All the boys & girls at the Pink Pony do.

I'm having wicked dreams

Of leaving Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica

I swear it's calling me

He did the whole graduate-from-college-marry-a-pretty-blonde-woman-and-have-2.5-children but they now live several states away. He’s a great dad and was a good husband but it wasn’t what he wanted.

Won't make my mama proud

It's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl

I know she's gonna scream

God, what have you done

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

There is no greater freedom than when he’s spinning, prancing, working the stage. Something about bathing in the flashing lights and dry ice, the sticky sweet scents of sweat and bourbon, the fluttering of crinkled bills that surges life into his veins.

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

One sunday night, a slow night by any account, the club is close so Link is practicing a new routine. Something with stilletos a little too tall & he twirls too far & keeps twirling right off the stage into the arms of the tallest man he’d ever been held by.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

I thank my wicked dreams

His name is Rhett & he’s here to pick up his friend Stevie who is the bartender & he is both visbly uncomfortable but blushing profusely, holding onto Link with strong & callused hands. It’s the first time they meet but it won’t be their last.

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony club

Rhett gets hired as a bouncer after Link and a couple of the girls are harrassed by a unruly group of clients. He makes it a point to walk all the girls & boys to their cars or watches from the door. He’s six-foot-seven, never handed a punch in his life but he sure looks like he has.

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern draw a thousand miles away, saying

God, what have you done

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Rhett has never kissed another man. Link never met a man he actually wanted to kiss. They fall into a pattern of work & music & dancing & laughing & Link seems to fit so easily underneath Rhett’s arm & Rhett won’t stop keeping Link from harm.

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing

I'm gonna keep on dancing

[basically-i-write-shit]

You Feel Like Home

I had to write a Danbrey wedding. Takes place in the Mama’s home universe, but could be read as a regular old human AU.  Ao3 link 

Aubrey fidgets with the hem of her skirt, leg bouncing nervously as Jake drives Mama’s truck out to the small botanical gardens between Kepler and Greenbank that her and Dani’s wedding is set to be. She wonders if she’s under dressed. Dani’s wearing a whole dress, she’s going to look so pretty, what if Dani wants to get a divorce because she can’t even dress nice on her wedding day? 

She’d thought her wedding outfit was cute, but maybe it’s not. She didn’t even go with a full suit! Just a black button up and tucked into a black tulle skirt. The most color on her is her tie, which is a nice fiery red, and the sequined cropped jacket that’s definitely way too hot right now, she’s burning alive-- 

“Aubrey. You’re going to be just fine.” 

Aubrey’s head whips up, eyes finding the rear view mirror, and finds Mama looking up at her. Mama’s wearing a suit. Aubrey should’ve worn a suit. 

“I-- I feel so stupid, Mama. What if I-- What if I don’t look good? I know it’s stupid to think about when I’m getting married, it’s not important in the long run, but what if--” 

“Aubrey Little, are you really scared right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you scared in all the years I’ve known you, even in that first year I had you.” 

Mama’s stern voice is enough to calm Aubrey down, or at least get her to stop word vomiting. She takes a deep breath, actually turns in her seat so she can face Mama. Jake makes a distressed noise, and she feels bad a moment because she knows how paranoid he gets while driving, but he doesn’t argue with her any. 

“I just love her so much, Mama. I don’t want to mess anything up on the first day of the rest of our lives.” She says, and her voice cracks, and no she can’t start crying now, her makeup is already done--

The car pulls to a stop, and Aubrey lifts her head again, confused. They still have a couple miles to go. Jake places a hand on her shoulder, smiling softly. 

“I think you need a bear hug right now. Get in the back, and I’ll start the car up again.” 

“Thanks, Jake.” Aubrey kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick stain, and clambers in the back of the car without getting out. Mama doesn’t complain, only hugs her tight and tucks her hair back in place. 

“Aubrey, you and Dani are the first I’ve ever been able to see get married. Y’know that?” 

“Yeah?” 

The car starts to move, and Aubrey takes a few deep breaths. They’ll be there in a couple of minutes. 

“You’re the only ones who’ve even made it close. That’s how in love you are. I’ve seen my kids have flings and hookups, but no one -- and I mean no one, not even Barclay -- has stayed together long enough with someone. You and Dani are meant to be, and I mean that with every fiber of my being. Jake and Barclay and I, we all watched you two from the beginning. There ain’t no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna make it through the first day, the next day, and every other day after that.” 

And just like that, Aubrey thinks she might cry again. She sniffles, hugging Mama closer and hiding her face against Mama’s shoulder. “You really mean that?” 

“Of course I do. But this stress ain’t about you lookin’ good, is it?” Mama asks. Aubrey stiffens a bit, before shaking her head. “If you think it’s better for your daddy to walk you down the aisle instead of Ned, that’s fine. I’m sure it won’t cause Ned no hard feelin’s and if it’ll keep your dad from causin’ a fuss...” 

“No, I want it to be Ned. Ned’s been more of a dad in the last few years than my dad has. I just...will you be there with me when I tell him, Mama?” 

Mama smiles, rubbing her back soothingly. “Of course I will. Then I’ll go check up on Dani, and give her the same talk because I’m sure she’s panicking just as much as you. Mama’s gotta take care of her girls today.” 

“Thanks, Mama.” Aubrey laughs a bit, smiling. She sits normally for the last minute of the car ride, and once the car is stopped she hops out and makes a beeline for Ned, who’s standing near the altar talking to the officiant. She knows Jake’ll help Mama out of the car, right now she just needs to talk to Ned. 

-

“You’re going to be just fine, Dani,” Moira’s almost done curling Dani’s hair, so she can’t do much to comfort Dani but make eye contact through the mirror and use her free hand to pat her shoulder. “Aubrey’s been snapping me all day, and she’s so excited she won’t stop asking about you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“She looks gorgeous, too. Oh, you’re a lucky one.” 

“Hey, that’s my wife,” Dani laughs, tilting her head back, and Moira laughs along as the pushes her head gently back in place. She sighs happily as they settle down. “I’m so lucky. How do you think she’s doing?” 

“Probably equally as nervous. That’s how I know you guys are going to be the best gay wives.” 

-

“Aubrey!” 

Aubrey smiles as her father engulfs her in a hug, hugging back stiffly. “Dad, hi, how are--” 

“I waved when you got out of the car, but you must not have seen it, you ran straight to Edmund over there.” 

“Right. I must not’ve seen.” Aubrey says. Things are still awkward between them, and they don’t see each other often, so of course Aubrey would run to Ned. Right? It’s not weird. 

Aubrey’s father smiles at her, pats her shoulder. “I’m so happy to get to see you get married, baby girl. After-- After everything, I thought you’d never let me back in your life, let alone invite me to your wedding...” 

“We’re doing really great, dad. I wanted you here. Dani makes me really happy.” 

“Good. Good!” Her father pulls her in for another hug, laughing a bit. When he pulls away he has tears in his eyes. “Gosh, you look beautiful Aubrey. I always thought you’d wear a tux. Your mother wanted you to wear a dress. I guess we both got what we wanted, huh?” 

“Yeah, I, uh-- Neither of those felt right, but a little bit of both just...fit.” 

“That meant to be a bi joke there, Little?” 

Aubrey laughs as Duck’s hand finds the place behind her shoulder blades, the park ranger finding her side as Mama stands off to her other side. “Yeah, just a teeny one. Was it that obvious?” 

Aubrey’s father looks a bit uncomfortable-- they never really talked much about Aubrey’s sexuality, let alone joked about it, and so it’s quite odd for him to hear it happen. He smiles nonetheless, offering out a hand to Duck. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Aubrey’s father.” 

“Duck Newton, it’s a nickname,” Duck says, and Aubrey snorts. He’s sticking with that introduction, alright. “I was here Aubrey’s first night in Kepler, and I gotta say, she’s grown some even in the last few years. You must be very proud of her.” 

“Oh, the proudest. I can’t believe I’m walking my baby down the aisle tonight.” 

Aubrey sucks air through her teeth, cringing, and her father looks at her confused. 

“Aubrey?..What-- What was that?..” 

Aubrey looks at Duck for help. He squeezes her shoulder. She takes a deep breath. Duck’s right there. Mama’s right there. Jake’s nearby. Dani’s nearby. She can do this. Like a-- Like a bandaid. 

“Dad, you’re...not walking me down the aisle. Ned is.” 

“I’m sorry, wha-- Who’s doing what?” 

“...Ned is wa--” 

“I heard that. I just-- You-- Aubrey, I am your father!” Her father says sternly, and Aubrey flinches. Almost immediately Mama wraps a protective arm around Aubrey’s shoulder and Aubrey leans into her thankfully, tearing up a bit. Fuck, this is so stupid. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited him. “I am your father, Aubrey, and fathers walk their daughters down the aisle--” 

“Now Mr. Little, you ain’t gotta cause a scene.” 

“I quite think I do, Miss Cobb. My own daughter has decided that I’m not enough for her!” 

“That-- That’s not it at all, dad! I just-- Ned-- he--” 

“After everything I’ve done to get you back, Aubrey--” 

“That’s enough,” Duck’s deep drawl calls out over the shouting, and silences them all. Jake had come running up, and now leans against his legs panting. He reaches a hand out and Aubrey takes it, squeezing as she tries to figure out the right words to make him not so angry. Luckily, Duck and Mama have their own words ready apparently. “Mama? Got anythin’ to say to Mr. Little here, or should I?” 

“Oh, boy do I.” Mama hands off her cane to Jake and steps up to Aubrey’s father and for a moment Aubrey thinks she might punch him. “Mr. Little, I highly advise you don’t use any guilt trippin’ on my kids, and yes she’s my kid. You ain’t earned that right back yet. You say you fought to get her back in your life, well you’re fixin’ to lose her again you keep talkin’ like that. I’ve got four ‘r five big fellows around this venue who’d just love to throw you out, myself included, but Aubrey wanted you here. So be grateful you even got the invite.” 

Aubrey and her father both look at Mama in shock, though for two completely different reasons-- Aubrey’s father because no one’s ever spoken to him like that before, and Aubrey because Mama defended her so vehemently. Sure, Mama loves her like her own kid and has said it enough times, but hearing is different than witnessing. 

“Aubrey Little is one of the best people out there, and you’ve caused her a helluva lot of pain. I’d suggest apologizing to her and sittin’ pretty until the reception.” 

Mama returns to Aubrey’s side as Aubrey’s father processes her threat. He clears his throat and swallows thickly. 

“I...I’m sorry, Aubrey. It’s your decision, and I’m sure you have your reasons. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go...find my seat.” 

-

“Knock knock,” 

“Aubrey Little, don’t you dare, it’s bad luck!” 

“Well I’m sure glad I still sound young to you gals,” Mama teases as she peeks into the storm shelter Dani and Moira have set up shop in. She has a warm smile on her face as she steps all the way in, and she looks like she may cry again. “My, don’t you two look gorgeous. You especially, Dani.” 

“Thanks, Mama.” 

“Y’know, it seems like just yesterday I was lettin’ this scared little eighteen year old into my home, and now here she is at twenty-three and getting married.” 

The look on Mama’s face alone has Dani tearing up, and she fans at her eyes so her mascara doesn’t start to run. “Mama, don’t go making me cry like that! I’m already on an emotional roller coaster right now! How’s Aubrey doing?” 

“She’s just fine. A bit shaken up after tellin’ her father he ain’t walkin’ her down the aisle, but she’s just fine. With Jake and Duck and Ned right now.” 

“I wish I could’ve been there for her when she did that, I know she’s been worried about it...” Dani sighs. “But she’s alright now?” 

“She’s gettin’ taken care of, don’t you worry.” Mama says, moving to sit down, and only then does Dani realize something. 

“Mama, where’s your cane? You know the doctor says you need to use it,” 

“Must’ve left it with Jake after chattin’ with Mr. Little. I’ll get it in a minute.” 

Dani turns to Moira, and she nods, kissing Dani and Mama on the cheek before disappearing to go grab Mama’s cane. That leaves them alone. 

“Is Aubrey really alright? If her dad made her cry, I swear I’ll go out there in my dress and--” 

“Dani, she’s just fine, sunshine. I promise.” Mama says exasperatedly, reaching over and grabbing Dani’s hand. She has the most fond look on her face, and Dani can’t help but smile. “How you doin’? Really?” 

“I’m good. Nervous. But that’s normal for your wedding day, right?” 

“Well, I don’t know from experience, but I think so,” Mama laughs. 

“I’m so happy, Mama. I love Aubrey so much.” 

Mama squeezes Dani’s hand with a soft smile. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual. You two are one of the most well-rounded couple I’ve seen in a while, and it’s clear you’re crazy about each other. You’re gonna go far, and if you ever feel like you don’t like livin’ in your own place, Mama’s always got room for her favorite girls.” 

Dani laughs brightly, tossing her head back. “I think we wanna live on our own for at least the first year, but we’re both gonna miss you guys.” 

“Well I’m expectin’ you two to come over for dinner at least once a month. It’s gettin’ lonely with Jake spendin’ more time at Hollis and Keith’s.” 

Dani hums and nods. “Definitely. No need to worry about that, Mama.” 

Moira comes back in with Mama’s cane and Mama stands, taking it. 

“I’ll be back in a little while to walk you down the aisle, kiddo. You look gorgeous, you’re gonna do great. Now, I’m off to check on Barclay and make sure he gets here on time.” 

Dani stands, follows Mama to the door. “Thank you, Mama. It means a lot that you’re here.” 

Mama smiles. He puts a hand on Dani’s shoulder, squeezing. 

“You’re gonna do great, kid.” 

-

Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Aubrey’s heart is beating so fast. Dani looks so fucking beautiful. Oh god. 

One of Moira’s compositions plays from a speaker, and Aubrey bounces nervously at the altar, Jake on her side and Moira on the side Dani’ll be standing on; Ned, from his seat, gives her a quick thumbs up, but she doesn’t see it, she can’t take her eyes off of Dani. 

It looks as if they both decided on nontraditional outfits, because Dani’s dress is a light blush pink and reaches just below her knees, sweetheart neckline, a tasteful amount of sparkle. Her hair is down, long blonde hair pinned away from her face by some sparkly pins that Aubrey is for sure stealing after this, her makeup is impeccable. 

It feels like Dani will never reach her-- Aubrey almost runs down the aisle to meet her in the middle, but she does’t, she sits patiently until Dani is in front of her, Mama giving them both a kiss on the cheek before she finds her seat in the front row next to Ned. Aubrey tears up a bit, and she eagerly takes Dani’s hand. 

“You look beautiful,” She whispers, and Dani giggles. 

“You too, babe. Love the jacket.” 

Aubrey grins as the officiant clears his throat and begins the ceremony. 

It’s officially the start of the beginning of the rest of their lives. 

[4llmywr1tings]

Early Arrivals

Characters/Pairing: Jensen X Reader, Kim, Jared, Words: 1,851 Warning: pregnancy hormones, water breaking?... A/N: you are Kim Rhode’s little sister. (Y/N): your name. Tagging: @autoblocked

+

Jensen’s Point Of View

“I know, I just wish I was there. With you.” You sigh as you walk down the hall. Jared and Misha were up ahead of you, goofing off while making some live stream for some reason.

‘I know, and I wish you were here too, but you know how much the conventions mean to your fans. And I know that it means a lot to you too.’

“Babe. I. I don’t want to miss the birth of our daughters.” You finally find yourself in the green room with the rest of the cast for the day. Kim gives you a smile, but stops short of hugging you when she sees your face.

‘First off, I know you want to be there and you’re going to be there. I still have a month and a half.’ (Y/N) gave a sweet laugh and it made you really missed your wife right now.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore babe.” you order, laughing slightly.

‘Yes sir.’ she mocks with a giggle. ‘Babe, go have fun. If anything is going to happen, you’ll be the first to know. If I can’t get ahold of you, we’ll do what we’ve practiced. I’ll call Kim, then Jared, and then Misha. You’re only in Seattle, so a flight back home will be quick. I promise you won’t miss anything.’

“Promise?” you ask quietly.

‘I promise. I want you there when I’m pushing, so I can break your hand. If I have to.’ she laughs, trying to make the mood lighter.

“Ok. I’ll hold you to that baby.” you sigh, motioning to Jared who was calling after you. You hold up your finger and clear your throat. “I’ll be back later and I’ll call you baby. Okay? I gotta go.”

‘Okay handsome, I love you Texas.’ she replies.

“Right back at you gorgeous. I love you, my brown eyed girl.”

+

Your Point Of View

After hanging up with Jensen, you stand from your resting spot in Kim’s hotel room. There were three things you knew. One, you hated being apart from Jensen. Your husband was your life, and you loved every waking minute with the handsome dork. Two, it was only a two and a half hour drive, so flying wasn’t an option, and you were going to be with him this weekend. He seemed to need it. Three, if you were having the babies - it would be in Seattle. There was no way you’d let him miss out on this opportunity. You saw him as an “uncle” of sorts to Thomas and Shep, and you knew you wanted him to be a dad two your two angels.

Coast is clear, they’re at their panel, and Misha is doing. Something. Being Misha. You should come down.

You smile at the small hidden message about Misha, and quickly respond.

Sounds good. I’m just getting my lazy butt out of bed. I’ll see you soon!

You put your hand on your swollen belly and slip in to your shoes, pulling yourself together you rush out as quickly as you can; only excited to see the look on your husband’s face when he would see his surprise.

+

“Wow, for someone holding two kids in there, you made time mamma,” Kim giggled as she watched you waddle into the green room.

“Well, I miss Jay, and the only way I’m going to make it is to walk fast.” you wrap your arms around Kim in a hug and join her on the couch. She puts a hand on your tummy and after a few seconds, your babies had started kicking, knowing their aunt was near.

“Well, how are you feeling?” she asks, handing you a water bottle. “Ready to have these kids?”

“Yes. Very much.” you yawn. “One minute they’re giving mom too much energy, and the next they’re making me tired. And the heartburn.” you clutch your stomach as a Braxton Hicks contraction hits, painfully in the usual spot on your stomach. “And the Braxton Hicks. Always with the Braxton Hicks.”

“Just a month and a half, and they’ll be full term. Come on little bear. You can do it."

“Ugh, why did I ever let you start calling me that? Mama Bear.” you stick your tongue out and scrunch your nose.

You loved your big sister, but Kim had become more and more of a mama bear once you had announced you were pregnant.

“Because I’m a big sister, and I have to be that way.”

“Yeah. I know. Man, I just want them to be here. I wanna be a mama.” you smile at your sister, and suddenly go to clutch your stomach.

“Are you okay?” she asks with a worried tone to her voice.

“Yeah. They’re just getting to me. And you know me and pain. I’m a big baby.”

“Try walking around. I know you can’t take a hot bath, but walking may ease your pain.” She instructs, standing to help you up.

But things were going to happen differently. After a sharp pain, your sister gave you a look of all looks - eyes almost bulging out of her head.

“Did that just happen?” you ask grabbing on to your sister for support. “Did my water just break?”

“Yes. What do you need?” she goes into mommy mode and stands, gripping her phone almost to the point of breaking it.

“All my clothes are in your room. I want to change, but. I. I just want Jensen.” you wail, holding to your stomach.

“Well, let’s get you changed, and then maybe you can go and tell him yourself.”

+

By the time Kim had returned with fresh clothes, an aide had gotten you a blanket. Your sister helps you into comfortable clothes, and then she slowly leads you towards the stage. You wanted Jensen to be involved and you wanted to be the person who told him his kids were on their way.

Even though you knew he was having a good time and you almost felt bad to stop him, you knew he’d want to be there.

The crowd was laughing by the time you made it backstage, laughing at something the boys had done.

‘Well, all I know, after ruining that scene for like the hundredth time, I knew she was going to be pissed.’ Jensen chuckles and clears his throat. ‘I see her walking towards me, one of the fastest speed-walks I have ever seen in my entire life. She grabs me by the collar of my jacket - my Dean leather jacket - and almost drags me away before I can even get my footing under me properly.’

‘He’s right. I didn’t see him for an entire weekend.’ Jared snorts, getting a laugh out of the crowd.

‘Well, it did start me on the best adventure of my life.’

You take a microphone from a stage hand and walk out slowly, putting your finger to your lips as the crowd starts to cheer.

“He has to say that. He may or may not be scared of my big sister and her best friend.”

Jensen shot around - almost too quickly for his chair - and let the chair clatter to the ground as he heard your voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, while Old Man Ackles calms down, everyone. Meet Mrs. Ackles, and Ackles 1 and Ackles 2.”

It had been almost two weeks since you had seen your husband last – between your last moments before maternity leave and his schedule, you had no time to be together. So you weren’t surprised when Jensen buried his head into the crook of your neck. You tighten your hold on him and let him breathe in a few times.

After a few seconds, over Jared’s babbling and the crowds laughing, you hear Jensen clear his throat and then straighten up to kiss you on the cheek.

“It’s like they’re so gross and in love and its. Ugh.” Jared shakes his head at you as you both finally look to him.

“Well, it’s been two weeks since we’ve been together, and I missed her. What’s your excuse when you and the wife are together?” Jensen retorts, causing you to laugh.

“Sure, sure. I mean not that I don’t like seeing you (Y/N), but what are you doing here? Weren’t you in Vancouver?” Jared looks to you, and your husband content to have one arm around you, and another placed comfortably on your stomach, rubbing your swollen belly methodically.

“Well, about that. I decided to get a few amazing people in on this, and they got me here and I was hiding out in my sister’s room until they came here. But unfortunately I need to steal Jensen away from y’all.”

“Why?” Jared whines. “I don’t want to be left alone with Misha.”

“Yeah, well looks like Ackles 1 and 2 are going to be a little early. Ready to be a dad soon?” You meant the last part for Jensen, but the crowd went wild anyway.

“Um, I. I gotta go guys. I’M SO SORRY! I’M GONNA BE A DAD!”

+

By the same time the next day, you were the proud parents of – not the two girls you were expecting – two beautiful boys. You were at a loss for words that you were finally a mom and couldn’t have been happier. It gave you immense joy to watch as Jensen held tight to his two small and swaddled sons. So much in fact, that you were caught staring, too many times.

“What, what are you staring at?” Jensen asked with a grin. Right about now your two boys were sleeping soundly on Jensen’s chest, and he was content to miss the game on TV and stare at his babies.

“Oh, you.” you stretch quietly and turn to your side.

“Me, why me?” your first born Ashton shudders a big sigh before going back to sleep. Jensen’s hand goes to the baby’s back for reassurance.

“Oh, because daddy looks good on you, and I am so in love with this picture right now.” You reach over to your hospital tray and find your charging phone. You aim the camera at him and he gives you a tired smile. After viewing the photo you had taken you smile back at him. “So in love.”

“We make two cute kids, don’t we?” Jensen asks with a happy gleam to his eyes.

“We sure do, now let’s snuggle as a family. Here,” you order, wiggling your fingers to your husband. He swiftly stands with both babies, and walks to the edge, handing you the younger one - Lucas - as you sit up. Jensen walks around the bed, toeing off his boots as he makes it to the other side. Slipping into the bed, he turns to you and gives you a long, passionate kiss.

“I sure do love you Mrs. Ackles. You and my two boys. You. Are. My. World.”

You let out a small yawn and clutch to Lucas, as you put your head on Jensen’s shoulder. “Yeah. My boys. I like the sound of that.”

[von-eldritch]

@candyredmuses​ said: 11

MUSIC MEMES MY BELOVED

11. a song that reminds my muse of their family

Pink Pony Club - Chappell Roan

I’m having wicked dreams Of leaving Tennessee Oh, Santa Monica I swear it’s calling me Won’t make my mama proud It’s gonna cause a scene She sees her baby girl I know she’s gonna scream

“God, what have you done You’re a pink pony girl And you dance at the club” Oh mama, I’m just having fun On the stage in my heels It’s where I belong

[bucky-on-a-bike]

Unexpecting (2/?)

Super soldiers don’t get stomach bugs. No one believes you when you tell them you’ll be fine in a few more days, so your loving husband Bucky makes you go to the doctor. Turns out, you’ve got a parasite.

Words: 1360

Warnings: None? There’s like... a scene but without any details at all because I’m shy as hell to write smut. Also that right there was the only “bad word” I used in this whole thing I think. Mama would be proud.

Part 1, Part 3

       You drug your fingers against the painted cinder block walls as you shuffled down the hallway towards your room.

     PREGNANCY: POSITIVE.

     Someone was calling out at someone else down the hall and faint footsteps were coming your direction, but none of it broke through the fog in your brain.

     PREGNANCY: POSITIVE.

     The concrete felt rough beneath your fingertips and you wanted to pull away. You didn’t, though. You were sure that if you weren’t touching something solid, you would fall over and never get back up. Part of you was overjoyed at the thought of having a sweet little baby to hold and to love. Oh, how much fun will it be to pick out little outfits and snuggle and read bedtime stories. But…what happens when a mission goes sideways? What happens if there’s an accident, or a new super villain even stronger than the last one? What if there comes a fight you can’t win? Oh…What about Bucky? He’s terrified of having a kid…of being a dad and dealing with his mental scars while raising a baby. You turned the corner and continued your hike to your room. The walls changed from cinder block to drywall and the difference in texture caught you off guard for a moment. You paused and glanced at the wall, sighed, and kept going. Just a few doors down was your apartment. You can make it. Bucky won’t be too mad, right? He can’t be. It’s a baby after all, and one that he made! This is his child too. And it’s not like we’re teenagers that got knocked up…we’re married. For better or for worse. Or for children. Oh no…I’m pregnant. I’M PREGNANT.

         Just as your panic was reaching a critical point, Nat popped up beside you and wrapped her arm around you.

         “Hey, hey, hey, breathe please. Come on, let’s get you to your room. Are you going to be sick?” She kept talking softly and quietly to you as she opened your door and guided you to the couch in the corner. She retrieved the sick bucket from beside your bed and set it beside you. “What did Bruce say?”

         You whimpered and looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “I’m…I’m…pregnant,” you whispered. You dropped your head onto her shoulder and said it again, even quieter if possible.

         She wrapped her arms around you and smiled. “That’s a good thing, right? We used to dream about being able to be mamas, and now you’ve defied the odds and done it. Aren’t you thrilled?”

         You pulled back and gawked at her. “You know Bucky won’t be happy. You’ve heard our conversations and even been a part of them when kids came up. We never really argued about it because I thought it wasn’t possible, but you KNOW he doesn’t want kids. He doesn’t think he deserves to bring life into the world and enjoy it after all the death he’s caused. Plus, you remember when Tony and Pepper had Morgan. He wouldn’t go anywhere near them for months. What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby? What if he doesn’t want to be around me? Nat, what do I do?” You burst into tears and fell back into her arms. After sobbing and snotting on her shoulder for a while, your tears subsided and you caught your breath.

         Nat passed you a tissue and sat you up. She brushed the hair out of your eyes and smiled at you softly. “You know Bucky adores you. You know that he would give you the world if he could, and it seems like he succeeded. You’re going to be wonderful parents together. I tell you what, why don’t we go shopping for a few little baby things and we can plan how you’re going to tell him. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

         You nodded and giggled. “I’m gonna have a baby. Can I go in shopping in sweatpants?”

         Nat giggled with you and stood up. “Absolutely. How far along are you?”

         “I didn’t ask specifically, but Banner said the baby would be here in about eight months and it’s May right now so…a January baby maybe? Do you think we’ll be able to find blankets and booties in May?” You picked up your purse and the two of you headed out into the hallway.

         “Haha! The Winter Soldier is having a Winter Baby! Honey, I think we can find you whatever your heart desires. Especially since I have Tony’s credit card information.” She looped your arm through hers and away you went.

. . . . .

         You bought blankets, toys, bibs, bottles, and diapers that day. You decided that instead of telling Bucky tonight, you were going to wait until tomorrow. Bruce was going to do an early ultrasound to confirm a due date, and you would use a picture of the ultrasound to break the news to Bucky. That way, you could give him a more solid due date. It would also give you one more night just the two of you without thinking and worrying about Baby. When you got back to your room, you opened your go-bag under the bed and stashed the baby things in it. Bucky would never need to go through that bag, so it was the perfect storage place. Just until tomorrow.

         You stripped down and got into the shower. As the hot water cascaded down your back, you sighed and leaned your forehead against the shower wall. I can’t wait to meet this baby. I wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl? What will we name it? Will the baby and I even survive childbirth?

         Suddenly, two hands wrapped around your waist and your husband stepped into the shower with you.

         “How is my beautiful wife feeling? Did you go talk to Bruce today?” he left kisses on your shoulder and pushed the hair out of your face. You leaned into him and pressed your face into his chest.

         “Yeah, I went to see him. He drew some blood and ran some tests, but they were…inconclusive. I’m going tomorrow to get the rest of the details. I’m sure I’ll know what’s up when I see you tomorrow afternoon and I can give you a better answer. I did go shopping with Nat today though, which was fun. I feel a little better after getting out of the building for a while.” Don’t ask any more questions, I’m begging you.

         “That sounds good. I’m glad you’re going to Bruce directly instead of fooling with the clinic. They’re wonderful people, but this is very important to me, and I’m sure the test would have taken longer than just a day. I trust him with my life, and yours. Here, turn around.”

         Your husband washed your hair, massaging your scalp and getting every strand clean. He also used your loofa to get the rest of you clean before washing himself. You tried to help him, but he pushed your hands away. “No, not tonight my love. Tonight is about you.” He got done quickly and grabbed towels for both of you. After he dried you off and wrapped you up, he tied his towel around himself and picked you up. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

         “I do believe you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been around a long time. Do you think a girl like you would want to come back to bed with a guy like me?” He kissed your cheek and you grinned from ear to ear.

         “Well, I suppose I could, as long as you don’t kiss and tell. I’m all yours, Sergeant.”

         Bucky’s eyes darkened and you knew tonight was going to be one of the good nights.

. . . . .

Several hours later, you were lying in bed with your husband spooning you, arms and legs tangled together. He was gently snoring. It was one of your favorite sounds in the world because it meant he was really sleeping and not faking it for your sake. That was one sound he could never quite imitate right, and you always knew.

While he was far away in dream land, you were lost in thought. God, please let him be as happy as I am. Please…I need him to want this baby. Please.

TAGS: @buckysberrie, @100acresofwood, @whatsbetterthanfantasy, @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush @bellenuit45, @ificouldhelpyouforget, @38leticia, @thisisthelilith, @englishwriter15

[kunderdogs]

Topp Dogg / Jealousy

Basically what the members are like when they’re jealous. I love TD but unfortunately, I will not write for them any longer. TD has disbanded and I will write for Xeno-T (which is B-Joo, Xero, Sangdo, Sangwon & Hojoon) so these few TD reactions will be the last :( Also, with all the drama between P-Goon and Yumin, I’ve decided to not include him any further. It’s just messy.

Hansol: Jealous? PFFT. He’ll deny it until he is blue in the face that he’s. not. jealous. Will swear up and down and sideways - nope! Jealous, who is she? Never heard of her! But all the while, he’s glaring at whoever is talking to his s/o. Like daggers for eyes. Definitely will pout and whine until all the attention is back where he needs it - on him only!

A-Tom: Quiet. The kind that leaves a dark feeling hanging in the air. His s/o is not going to be out of his sight when he notices some guy flirting. He’ll hang back and wait to see what you’ll do but just now he’s lurking in the shadows, ready to come to defend you if he has to. If he’s feeling a little bold (or drunk), he may just crash the conversation like “Yah, back the fuck up off my chick.” 10/10 would throw hands but you try to avoid conflict because you don’t want him to get hurt, so you end up dragging him home. He’ll talk the most shit to anyone hitting on his s/o though, “Get the fuck outta my face, you broke ass, living witcho mama, umpa loompa looking ass moth-” He can back up his shit talking with these hands. Lots of confrontation when he’s drunk and someone hits on you. You just can’t take him no where cause he be wildin.

Nakta: You wouldn’t know until it’s too late. If it was innocent flirting and you quickly shut it down, he’ll just roll his eyes and continue on with what he’s doing. If the guy was persistent, he would pull you close to him and keep you there for the duration of the night. Woudn’t say much but would glare at this guy, promising death if he continued. If it came down to it, he would say something but it would be super passive aggressive. He wouldn’t throw the first punch but he’ll damn sure finish it. “Baby girl, stop entertaining these clowns.”

Jenissi: It would take a lot to get him jealous. He’s very secure with himself and his s/o so it would have to be someone really pursuing you aggressively for him to act. He’s the kind of guy to encourage his gf to wear sexy clothes because he’s proud and wants to show her off to the world. Big dick energy, istg. If someone had grabbed you or was in your face, trying to holla at you, then he doesn’t mind getting physical at all but he is going to say some words. “Touch her again and I’ll break your fuckin’ arm. Real shit.” He’s the silent type of jealous, but over protective as FUCk. Depending on his soberness, he might swing first and ask questions later, especially if he saw you were uncomfortable.

Sangdo: Probably the most sensible of the bunch. Will rarely ever get jealous because like Jenissi, he’s also very secure about the relationship. He also doesn’t mind if others find his s/o attractive. They can look but can’t touch. If you’re uncomfortable with someone flirting, he will intervene with a simple “Hey baby, you okay? Sorry there was a line at the bathroom.” and steer you into a different direction. He doesn’t resort to violence since he knows it will accomplish nothing besides ruining the night for you two so he tries to avoid it as best he can.

Hojoon: Another one who is not going to resort to violence. Hojoon will respect you to handle anyone flirting with you and, if he’s in a good enough mood, he’ll even find it amusing at how someone was trying to hit on you when you were shooting them down left and right. He couldn’t blame them, you were fine as fuck and even the blind could see that. He won’t let it go on too long, his pride wouldn’t let him so he’ll cut into the conversation rudely by locking lips with you. He’ll even smirk when he breaks it too and say something cocky like “Babe you look good tonight. Let’s get you home, yeah?” And that’ll be the end of that.

Xero: It’s so obvious when he’s jealous. Anyone looking at you is on his shit-list, even his members, like no one is safe. Yeah, you’re hot, but damn can’t they keep their eyes to themselves?! He tries his best to keep it inside but he ends up commenting under his breath, “That cheeky fucker keeps giving you looks. I’m going to have some words with him.” 10/10 will throw the first punch but he can’t fight so you have to calm him down every time. Denies that he’s jealous because “it’s a respect thing! You don’t go around looking at girl’s asses like that!” Feels like defending your honor but you have to remind him that you can take care of yourself. Doesn’t let you out of his sight so no one has the chance to hit on you anyway.

B-Joo: Offended (for you) and loud af about it. “You just gonna give my girl the bedroom eyes, huh? Damn at least say hi before you stare at her like that, you creep.” Literally can’t take him anywhere because he’ll make a scene. He’s a hard one to make jealous because he needs constant reassurance so you’ll be telling him sweet shit every day. He’s upset that men will just oogle you so openly. Did they not have manners? When he does get jealous, it’s only if his s/o is giving someone close to him more attention and then he’ll be a fucking BRAT. Glaring at whoever has your attention and when you notice his sulky mood, he’ll be childish af like “Why don’t you go hang out with Hojoon since you like him more than me.” Pouting baby all day until you attack him with kisses and hugs.

Yano: He’s not going to be irrationally jealous. Another member who understands that you’re capable of handling it on your own. His jealousy will only surface if the other person didn’t stop pestering you. Then he’s stomping over to you with murder in his eyes. He’s a mix between A-tom and Hojoon, like he won’t throw the first punch but he’ll 1000% make sure anyone in a ten mile radius knows that you’re his. Will kiss you or grab you around the waist and then make eye contact with whoever was flirting with you. “So, what’s so funny? I like jokes.”

(Hansol looks so disgusted with him lmao I couldn’t resist)