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hersweetrevenge · 1 year ago

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corey commentary: the official making of h40 🎃🔪

honestly i feel like this book really helped me refocus my thoughts on corey and brought me back to basics for the first time in a while.

i've split this post into a few specific topics based on my own thoughts and the book details that i found most interesting. a lot of this i've talked about before but i'm bringing it back with evidence babyyy.

WARNING for suicide and suicidal ideation, murder, manipulation, mental health issues and crises, and passing mentions of child abuse.

costume

corey's costume was developed in reverse (pg. 176), starting with his final look, the leather jacketed bad boy, and working backwards to the opening scene look, the good boy on his way to the sock hop.

i love that this was the process, i think that's so interesting from both a design and character perspective. taking him from what he became to what he was? it feels sort of like they were centring nostalgia in a way, starting with who corey became and then looking back to who he was (and who he will never be again). it kind of makes his downfall even more heart-breaking to me.

rohan mention's wearing coreys clothes in his real life and how no one even looked at him (pg. 184). in the commentary he also mentioned wearing corey's glasses a lot to get into the character mindset.

very interesting that we have tried and tested proof that corey can literally fade into the background and go unnoticed. it must be a combination of trying to be visually more plain but also a very quiet demeanour. but then you have the angle of corey being forced to reduce himself to as small and quiet and invisible impossible. i like the way corey both wants to be invisible (to avoid confrontation) but also desperately wants to be seen and heard and believed and understood by someone.

frame of mind/suicidal ideation

rohan mentions that there's an element of corey having not been able to kill himself before, because it was too hard to do, but looking into michael's eyes he realises he can just "call it quits" and let michael do it. then, after he is spared by michael, it gives him "permission" (pg. 198)

i think it makes a lot of sense though that michael letting him go is what tips corey over the edge, maybe reinforcing his own buried guilt (if michael let him go, he must be evil, right?) and making it feel a lot easier to make horrific choices (murder) while also making his emergency exit plan (suicide) feel easier too, if he wanted to.

corey being "tainted" by the shape because he's so close to being that anyway (pg. 172).

i don't personally believe in evil as an actual supernatural force in these movies, but corey is definitlel portrayed as more susceptible to michael's influence, even if michael does actuall demand anything of him.

i think @/slutforstabbings was the one who mentioned this to me. but when corey meets michael he is mentally and physically more susceptible to reacting irrationally in a very real-world sense. he has a history of abuse, experienced a major trauma (the accident), been under intense stress (the party), and had a recent head injury (the fall from the bridge and smacking his head in the sewer). these factors all contribute to a mental health crisis and drastic change in personality.

i feel like this confirms that corey was likely headed for (possibly another) breakdown in the future, but the events of the party/meeting michael just triggers it sooner.

emotional control

rohan mentions corey purposely doesn't feel anything since the accident (pg. 188).

this might have been my favourite detail that gets mentioned. i've always thought that corey's way of surviving post-accident was to just shutdown completely and switch off all his emotions. it's interesting to know that rohan was playing him that way.

and also a lot of the time when corey does feel strong emotions, they are turned in on himself to try and keep them private, like his anger at terry results in him hurting himself (accidently) with the milk bottle, or him regularly climbing over the bannister at the allen house but not being able to let go while during the day he thinks about some outward expression of rage through the blowtorch at the garage.

the mirror scene symbolises the first time corey feels in control (pg. 198).

i've written about this a lot before, but i very much agree that the mirror scene is a moment of processing both "what the fuck just happened?" but also "this is what control feels like". corey's whole breakdown, starting from killing nelson, is about regaining control over his own life, even if it means un-restraining himself and doing horrific things.

killings

ryan turek (exec.) and paul logan (writer) specifically state how ends is essentially a revenge movie, with corey's kills start as revenge killings, but if he survived the kills would get more random (pg. 167).

i feel like this highlights the way that corey's connection with the shape is cut short, unlike michael who had it for decades. the shape (or the idea of it) lets corey get his revenge, but after that he could keep going, he'd pick up momentum and he wouldn't be slowing down.

this seems like this is pointing towards killing being corey's method of control rather than some more direct desire to kill.

he becomes "addicted" to violence and he knows it (pg. 191).

"addicted" is a super interesting word choice and i feel like it fits perfectly. corey starts with revenge, he has his reasons, but as time goes on he could find a reason for anyone if he wanted to.

if corey survived ends and got away, he'd be living his own life for the first time ever. i think there are a lot of things he'd over indulge in, and killing being an addiction plays heavily into that -- there would be nothing to tell him to stop.

high priest!corey

rohan specifically describes corey leading doug to the sewer as him bring michael a "sacrifice" (pg. 206).

vindication !! @/slutforstabbings once said to me, while we were talking about the ritualistic nature of corey and michael's relationship and killings, that corey replaces nelson as michael's high priest, as the person who brings the sacrifices and channels michael to the outside world.

manipulation

rohan says that corey "plays" at being the shaking little boy again when he jump scares laurie while waiting outside for allyson (pg. 204).

i love this, because i fully believe corey thrives on manipulation. i think corey is fundamentally a good person anyway, but in dealing with joan he knows how to make himself inoffensive and agreeable, and i think he knows that that "character" is a safe bet to keep people happy.

and the novelisation confirms that this almost works !! laurie thinks he's just awkward and still upset from the night before. the thing that makes laurie doubt how genuine he is, is that she can see how he changes -- she can see the way he switches from one demeanour to another. proof right that he can play at being who he needs to be in the moment.

but then, by the time laurie shoots him, corey really is just a scared little boy who is in way over his head and unequipped for the situation he finds himself in (pg. 226).

corey is unprepared and unpractised -- he doesn't have the experience that michael has in bouncing back. he isn't michael. he's fucked up big time, his plan has fallen through, and he's backed himself into a corner. all the terrible things he's done, everything he's been through, the taste of control -- it's all for nothing is laurie can get the upper hand on him like this.

he's scared and out of his depth but he's dangerous, but corey ends the film the same way he starts it, in a situation he has no control over and with only himself to blame. only this time he's having the last word, he's going to do what he could before and he's going to take laurie down with him.

relationships

rohan said ronald is "the loveliest thing" in corey's life, and that the gesture of giving the motorbike is "beautiful [but] manly and detached" (pg. 182), which is a way more sympathetic view than i have.

this is a wayyy more sympathetic view of their relationship than i have. i do like this angle though, the idea that corey and ronald did have some sort of relationship but that neither of them can express it very well, that they're taking the stereotypically masculine route of small gestures and not a lot of words. which seems at odds with what corey really needed from the only male role model in his life, but it's kinda sweet that corey must like ronald enough for him to be a good part of his life, rather than just neutral.

maybe the takes about ronald being a good stepdad aren't wrong 👀

corey falls for allyson most deeply when he sees how she is on the edge just as much as he is (pg. 215).

this made me wonder if allyson and corey could have ever been together without the events of the movies? if they still met by chance, would they get along? would the attraction still be there?

their relationship is based on parasocial affection and shared similar traumas, there's a certain emotional intensity there that translates to them making rash decisions and commitments that i don't think they would otherwise.

joan's last words (in an even more extended death scene) are begging "michael" not to hurt corey (pg. 222).

joanne baron has talked about joan's motivations and perspective in some interviews, so this scenes lines up very well with what she's said previously. joan has never treated corey like a person, he's an object for her to control, but her two moments of concern for him (when he comes home the morning after the party and her death scene) come from a seemingly natural and genuine place.

also, the biggest factor that made me loose my mind over this: she doesn't know it's corey killing her. she begs this masked murderer not to kill her son, not know that it is her son beneath the mask 💀

she's begging someone not to hurt corey after years of being the one who has hurt corey. it's too late to turn back, it was always going to end like this, but can you imagine what went through corey's mind in that moment? that his momma wanted him to be safe but never made him feel safe when she had the chance.

me whenever there is a direct quote from rohan in this book:

#corey cunningham #h40 #halloween ends #halloween movies #lets not count how many times my evidence consists of ''well rohan said'' 🤡 i have no backbone #he could tell me chuck e cheese had been appointed director of the fbi and i'd eat it up no questions asked #corey reminds me of girl inter/rupted when susanna talks about how killing herself became her go to solution --#-- for any inconvenience. which makes the concept itself less serious and more easily doable #i dont think corey would do it even if he thinks about it but i think he liked having the thought there --#-- that if he really had to then he has an emergency exit plan #also something i didnt include but need to put out there. it mentions that the motorbike ron gives corey is ?? corey's dads ??#i feel like there might have been some miscommunication on that fact ?? or its true --#-- and therefore the most important detail for lore/character/plot in this whole goddamn franchise

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timcassie · 9 months ago

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#my dads been getting rlly. not sick but just medically worse. lately.#hes been in the hospital a ton & just now while at a concert w/ my brother he fainted #and like. we Know whats wrong. but no one can give a solution. other than just continuing to pay for ER visits #idk.#i just worry like. what hes dealing with itself cant kill him but in the wrong place or at the wrong time.........#idk. its all just. Sucks.

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dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

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dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..."

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion.

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut #x men x reader #marvel x reader #marvel smut #ch: logan howlett 💌

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lqfiles · 1 year ago

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PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; completed! (18.02.25)

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

57 ) when you been thuggin it out for so long

58 ) a second try

59 ) be careful who you call OOMF

60 ) the paid price

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

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evilkitten3 · 1 year ago

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#naruto is a cowardly and inmature narrative bc the author didn't want to deal with the consequences of the premise he himself created#that's why talk no jutsu worked on obito and pein despite these two spousing extreme ideologies which shouldn't fade away that easily#that's why sasuke's character arc was thrashed instead of him realistically ending up dead bc he was alone w/ no plan aside from magnicide#that's why madara was packed up in the most baffling way mid war arc despite having been foreshadowed for ages#that's why the aliens were introduced to the story out of the blue. to take focus away from the fascist hellscape that is the shinobi world#kishi wanted to have his cake and eat it too and it took away from his story#naruto could've been a masterpiece#it's all in the ✨potential✨

ALL OF THIS

actually maybe i do think kishimoto is conscious that he's written a fascist military-industrial complex. i think he's super duper aware on some level lmao

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto crit #not to mention the hyuuga clan #like you have this whole ass Situation which two major supporting characters are intrinsically intertwined with #this deeply fucked up clan with so many levels of trauma and abuse and generations of ingraining bullshit into itself #and your solution is. just kill one of them and then never talk about it ever again no matter what #and you don't even manage to kill the right one????#like hinata did not spend every major appearance trying to kill herself for her author to give that honor to neji instead #the series even has that whole ''all chakra is chakra'' thing towards the end right????#ok well why not have hinata pull one final self-sacrifice by moving all the curse seals to herself with like a summon or something #she can convert them into a massive chakra boost and die doing something awesome and then her family can be free of its own nonsense #have that be her stand against pain. have neji arrive on the scene just too late to stop her and just in time to feel his seal fade forever #give the kickass lions to hanabi and let her like. exist as a character. have her suddenly trying to fill her sister's now huge shoes #have neji not know how to handle his freedom and try to shield naruto from the juubi only to have hiashi take the blow for him #bc he promised his brother who he never thought he'd get to see again that their clan had changed. and damn it he's saving one of these kid #if you can't let hinata be a villain then FINE but at least let her suicidality fucking MATTER #have i ever mentioned i'm mad about the hyuuga clan. bc i'm mad about the hyuuga clan

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alexiroflife · 2 months ago

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"an angel restored"

part 2 of "a bird's song"

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: satoru brings you, his dead soulmate, to shoko in hopes of healing you.

to sum it up: you're satoru's soulmate, and a life without you is inconceivable

WC: 4,320

Warning(s): intense grief, mentions of death/reader death, angst to comfort

Satoru paces back and forth heavily, feet clomping against the marble floors as pearly white teeth nibble at his fingernails. His stomach is in knots, his eyes shot red from exhaustion, heartbreak, and mourning.

The image of you splayed out on the ground in a puddle of your own blood is ingrained in his head. He has not slept a wink for the past twenty-four hours, for the memory is too vivid. It is burned into his mind as something he is unable to forget, something that will never leave him.

His chest feels heavy as though something is weighing him down, crushing into his windpipe. The anxiety bites away at him, spiking his heart rate and making him a restless mess. The strongest sorcerer of the modern age is at his very weakest, his most vulnerable, and if any of his enemies were made aware of his current state, they would surely swarm in to take advantage.

Nevertheless, Satoru would fight them off, crushing each cursed being within the very palms of his hands as he'd stare coldly into their eyes. For as long as it meant protecting you, giving Shoko enough time to work a miracle, saving you from further danger than you're already in, not a thought would cross his hurried mind before killing, destroying, or squashing any imposing threat.

Amid Satoru's stupor of unfathomable grief upon discovering your body, it dawned on him to rush you to Shoko. His mind was not in the right space, for he did not think to ponder how long your body had been laying lifeless there - a factor that would absolutely play a role in whether Shoko would be successful in healing and reviving you or not.

But Satoru did not care. The moment the thought crossed his mind, he was on his feet with you clutched to his blood-drenched chest and teleporting you into the RTC infirmary.

Satoru trembled when he made eye contact with the stupefied brunette, his entire body shaking in response to feeling your cold flesh against his. He could feel the lifelessness of you, and it made him nauseous and feral with unease. This was not you. This could not be you. Shoko had to fix you, and there was no other option.

There was no other solution to this predicament.

Satoru struggled to part with you as he brought you to a cold slab and lay you down on it gently. He stared down at your face, wounded. A hole resided in your lower right abdomen where you must have been struck the fatal blow, for you had lost a significant amount of blood as it stained the entire lower half of your body.

The blue-eyed sorcerer's lip trembled uncontrollably, hands twitching at his side to reach for you, but something within him stopped him. As though he was petrified.

The melody of a songbird rang throughout his ears like a piercing siren, like an auditory mockery of what the world has stripped from him, of how helpless it has left The Gojo Satoru.

His jaw clenched, his brows pinched, and a strained whimper was caught in his tight throat as he fought off the cries threatening to spill. His darling, his light, his angel had dimmed before him, and now he clings to his last chance, his last hope of holding onto you. Of getting his soulmate back.

Not once has Satoru confessed to being in love with you in all his years of devoting his heart to yours, and before, he did not feel that he needed to express so due to the strength of your connection. What was felt and shared between the two of you was so strong that it was unsaid, that it was felt radiating through the very core of the earth as though the universe itself brought the two of you to each other.

But now, that is all Satoru can think of - how he never told you the depth of his feelings. How he never got to feel the sweet softness of your lips, swimming into his, how he never got to whisper his intense adorations into your ear as the two of you entangled in one another's bare limbs in the stillness of dawn, how he never got to clasp your hand in his as he bent down before you on one knee and swore to serve you as a lifelong partner, as someone who would never let you get hurt.

But he did just that. He let you slip away from his sight. He let this horror happen to you.

And Christ, if nature willed you to enter his life and bring meaning to it, then it was only fair for it to return you to him to fulfill your fate. You are his. He is yours, and not even death is enough to disrupt the magnetic pull that keeps you both together.

Satoru's hands are stained for you. The world now quivers in fear for your sake. His occupation, his morality, his very livelihood are in jeopardy because of you, because Satoru would do anything to avenge your soul, to honor you in death when he could not in life. He is in trouble for his actions after taking you to Shoko, but he does not care. He would murder millions and call his work divine if he were doing so to keep you safe, to keep you loved, to keep you alive.

Your worth transcends morality, transcends the rules of the world in which he inhabits. He would die happily in your place if it meant seeing your breath restored.

Satoru is petrified. It has been over a day, and he still has not gotten word from Shoko about your state. He understands that he is asking a lot of the woman, but she grew up with you, him, and Suguru all the same. She witnessed firsthand the love you two hold for each other, and therefore, she knows that if this can not be done, the world will end for sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike.

Because Satoru's sanity and overall being begins and ends with you.

The ivory-haired man can not imagine it. He can not imagine never being able to gaze upon your breathtaking face again, never being able to hear the sweet, honeyed tone of your voice ramble away your thoughts to him, never holding your delicate hand in his palm again, feeling your skin warm against his as he guides you close by.

Your big (e/c) eyes swollen with passion and wisdom and enchantment. Your (h/c) hair that captures the light every time you step into the sun. The smoothness of your soft (s/c) skin. Your beautiful arms, your beautiful legs, your beautiful lips, nose, fingers.

The rumble of your bright laughter, the way you bare all your teeth and keel over in hysterics, gripping onto Satoru's thigh for stability. The dent in your brow when he has done something to aggravate you. The flush of your cheeks when his hand brushes the small of your waist, and the way you bashfully turn to look to the side to avoid further embarrassment.

The gentle, maternal manner in which you teach your students. Your thoughtful urge to bring Satoru treats from his favorite bakeries and sweet shops. And god, the unsaid affections that linger on your tongue when the two of you are alone in each other's company late at night, swapping secrets and fears and expressions of appreciation.

Satoru's heart pangs at the memory of you, the memory he so desperately hopes to be revived... to not be lost along with you.

It has barely been over a day, and it feels as though a part of him has hollowed, like a hole has punctured through his chest where his heart once was.

He is nothing without you. He needs you, his light, his love, his sunshine, his soulmate. A life without you is a life not worth living. You are everything. You are the earth, the moon, the stars, and Satoru's very reason for breathing.

So this has to work. It must, or else he will lose all sense of himself.

The sun has set once more, time melding into yet another night spent without you. Satoru is cold, stiff as he stares ahead in an empty daze. He sits in the hall on the floor, his back pressed against the wall beside the door that leads to his estranged heart.

The birds' chirping has ceased for the day, and suddenly he finds himself in complete silence.

It was never silent when you were around.

The immense pain that grips Satoru has seized him in a state of paralysis. He has not eaten, drunk water, or moved from this very spot for... he is not even sure how long now.

It's so cold without you. So grey, so vacant. He is surprised the world has dulled itself now, of all times, and not when he first found your body.

The fair sorcerer shivers once more. He is impatient. He is angry. He is devastated. He sifts between a range of emotions as he wastes away in this sterile, unfeeling hallway, awaiting his sentence. Awaiting yours.

He almost does not think that the sound of the metal door creaking open to his left is real until he hears a gentle call of his name fall from Shoko's lips.

His head snaps up, and when he examines her face, he is quick to snap out of it and scramble to his feet.

What is this excitement intermixed with dread? This terror flooding into hope? Despite being oblivious to whatever news he is preparing to hear, he is upright at the thought of you, at the long-lost sight of your friend that could either mean happiness or eternal damnation.

The said brown eyed woman appears exhausted. Dark circles encase her heavy eyes, and flyaways stick out from her normally shiny hair. Satoru sees the tireless work plain on her face, and he remembers how thankful he is to have such a talented, hardworking woman as a friend to him and to you.

Satoru studies her face closely, unable to even utter the words to ask about what she has to say. He stares at her wide-eyed with parted lips and a neck craned forward. He is on the edge of his seat, buzzing with anticipation and indescribable fear.

He worries for the worst. He stills at the notion that you could be truly gone, that Shoko did everything she could but to no avail. He awaits apologetic tears, a downcast gaze, or a weighted sigh, but none comes.

Instead, Shoko's lips press together in a pinched, relieved smile. Her eyes catch a look that Satoru has never seen before, one that she has likely hidden away time and time again in her line of work. Ever the stoic, indifferent woman, the fluorescent lights overhead glimmer in her gaze as she shares an unspoken affirmation with the man before her.

Satoru's heart jumps, for he confuses the flutter with an oncoming heart attack. He is still frozen as Shoko moves to hold the door wide open, standing to the side and practically inviting the six-eyed sorcerer inside.

The man's nose flares and a breath he did not know he had been holding leaves him.

He moves quickly, dashing into the room he had been kept from for what felt like eons.

He is suddenly breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he stops in shock.

You turn to look at him slowly, a thick blanket wrapped over your bare shoulders. The color has only just begun to return to you. You look so frail, but Satoru knows you are alive before him the moment your eyes lock with his, and the world goes mute.

Your face morphs with emotion, tears welling immediately in your eyes and face scrunching as you take him in.

And you're there. Real, in the very flesh he knows and loves all too well. His eyes do not dare rip from yours, for he momentarily thinks he is dreaming until the sound in the room returns when your chapped lips part to speak so gently, so wistfully, so frightened and yet reprieved.

"Satoru," you whimper.

And suddenly, the strongest sorcerer can breathe.

He trips over himself running over to you. A harsh vocalized gasp leaves him when his body meets yours, long arms encasing you tightly and pulling you into him as though he has been starved of you, which he has.

He feels you shake against him as a sob wracks your body, and he knows this is real. The scent of you, the feel of you, the warmth that was once lost to him.

Gojo's vision blurs over as he embraces you graciously, tilting his chin into your hair and screwing his eyes tightly. He heaves out a choked cry, blubbering to you as you cry into his chest, fingers clinging into the fabric of his clothing, afraid to let go.

There are no words for Satoru in this moment, none that could describe all that he is feeling. His heart is hammering into his ribs as he wraps you up into him, savoring your hold for all it is worth.

"Toru," you wail into him, shaking. All you can remember is the sharp pain that pierced through your body, the sensation of your own guts threatening to spill out, and a life with Satoru never lived flashing before you as everything went black.

You thought you were dead. You thought you would never see him again.

You cling to him harder, bawling, afraid to let go of what could have been lost to you. "T-Toru, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, (Y/n). Oh baby," he snivels, hardly able to breathe himself. He pulls back ever so slightly. You feel his hands move from around you to cup the sides of your head and sweetly urge you to look up. "Don't apologize to me. Please don't. Come here, pretty girl, let me see you, yeah? Let me get a look at your face," he wills in a broken whisper.

You oblige slowly, carefully peeling your head from his now-soaked shirt to look up at him. He hovers mere centimeters away from your face, his godlike nature captured by an ethereal sentiment: shiny tears streaking over his cheeks as he soaks in the sight of you.

He twitches, huffing out a short breath of disbelief. His crystal hues roam over your face, taking in every detail, every line, every lash, every tremble in your muscles. His large hands hold your cheeks safely, thumbs swiping over the dampness collecting in your eyes and smearing over your skin. Satoru shakes his head slightly to himself, the intense curve of his brows giving himself away.

You're alive. You're alive and restored to him. His nightmare is over.

"God, you're so beautiful," he weeps, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. The compliment makes you cry even harder as a brief, stunned smile catches Satoru's lips in between his tears. "You're gorgeous, (Y/n). I missed this face so much. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you mewl. "I thought I lost you."

"I thought I-" Satoru is about to agree, but he can't bring himself to utter the words, to let what could have happened to you fabricate itself in such a joyful moment. The thought tears away at him, makes him ache, and he bites down on the inside of his lip to keep himself from spiraling. "I was so scared. I was terrified that I lost you too."

"I should've been more careful."

"No, no, no," he denies your guilt. "You did everything you could. I shouldn't have let you go in the first place. I had such a bad feeling and I - I let you," his heart clenches. "I always vowed to protect you and I broke that vow."

Your hands find his wrists as you hold them delicately, the very contact sending shivers down Satoru's spine. To have you back again, touching him, still does not feel real. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was, (Y/n). I'm the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and I couldn't save you. I should have stopped you. I should have talked to Yaga. I shouldn't have let you walk away, (Y/n). I'll never let you walk away from me again."

His voice is wavering, yet his tone is earnest, stern. There is such severity in his words, such unforgivable anger with himself, and such intense ardor for you. He reaches for you with his speech, latches onto you, embraces you with his soft, weak tone.

"That's not your burden, Toru. I was careless. Don't carry this weight. Please."

"You are my world, (Y/n)," he urges. "You are everything good in this world and in my life. You're the reason I wake up in the morning, the reason I go to work, the reason I fight, the reason I eat, the reason I breathe. You're my heart. You're - you're everything, and I let my reason for being slip through my fingers. You have to understand, this is my burden. I let you go. I'm not supposed to do that."

You blink up at him, frowning, heart swelling.

"Do you have any idea what went through my mind when I found you? Do you know what it felt like to think that I was never gonna see you again?"

You tighten your lips, glassy eyes holding his. "I do, Toru. I was so scared when it all happened. I was only thinking about you... about being away from you."

"Me too." Another shudder wrecks Satoru's body as he ducks down to press his forehead to yours. You close your eyes with a sigh. "Me too, baby. I was terrified. So terrified."

He ducks to press soft kisses to your cheek, cradling your head in his hands as saltiness catches onto his mouth. You whimper softly, leaning into him with yearning. The contact of his lips to your skin is cautious, sugary and thankful. You feel his love and his warmth as he presses into you as though you're nothing but a fragile piece of glass. He kisses your forehead once, then twice, then slowly moves to peck the bridge of your nose before landing back on your cheek. His kisses are pillowy, lingering reminders that he is here now, that you will never have to be alone in darkness again.

"I've got you," he murmurs when you begin to shake with a cry again, the tip of his nose dragging over your skin as his lips follow. "I got you. You're safe. It's just me and you. It always will be."

"I didn't mean to do this to you," you quiver. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," his hush drifts into your ear. His hand goes to stroke your head, lashes fluttering. God, he's grateful. He's so grateful. "You have no reason to apologize. It's all over now. It's okay."

He kisses the crown of your head and pulls back to look at you again. The two of you are nothing but leaky, lovesick eyes and shallow breaths. "How are you feeling. sunshine? Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He looks down at the bandages around your midsection peaking through your blanket-shield.

"I'm fine, Toru," you want to dismiss him, too occupied by his very presence to worry about yourself.

"Are you sure? You'll tell me if anything's wrong, right?"

"Yes," you go to cup his face in your hands now. Satoru visibly relaxes, pupils dilating and heart buzzing as he takes in the familiar feel of your hands on his face. "I'm okay. I'm here."

You are here. As beautiful as the day his life ended.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'm here for good," you assure him in a hushed voice, the same voice both of you have been speaking in since he burst into the room. "Thank you for saving me."

"I didn't-"

"You did. You didn't give up on me. You brought me here even when it didn't look like I was gonna make it, and that's more than enough. Thank you, Toru. Thank you."

Satoru assumes you have spoken with Shoko before him entering, given the way you express knowledge of how close of a call this was.

"There was no thought in my mind, (Y/n). I had to try. That was the least I could do. I could never give up on you."

He brushes hair away from your face to kiss your forehead again. He looks at you, your doe eyes, and your trembling lips. He swoons.

"You're so pretty."

"Satoru, I just rose from the dead, naked," you find yourself chuckling dryly for a moment, unsure of how Satoru can see such beauty in such a drab circumstance.

"And you're so pretty. My pretty girl."

You flush, for his pet names for you never cease to make you nervous. "Toru..."

"You're the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. You know that?" he stares into your soul, void of his usual mischief. He is completely, utterly serious as he presents his vision of you, enamored. "So smart, and compassionate, and lively, and funny, and kind, and so beautiful. You are breathtaking to me."

His earnestness makes you shift. Whatever is left of your smile falls as his speech envelops you. Satoru has always showered you with compliments and affections, but never in such a way, never as sincere as he appears before you now.

There is something weighing on him. You can tell. It is burning him from the inside out as he continues to look at you as though in awe. His snowy lashes flutter, pink lips releasing soft exhales, and his brilliant eyes hypnotize you as they always have. You can not handle the way he looks at you with such intensity, as though you are the only person to exist in his eyes.

He feels the restoration of his soul the longer he looks at you and soaks you in. He feels nature piecing the two of you back together, reuniting soulmates momentarily parted by brief tragedy.

The room livens, and a song twinkles its way into his mind and his heart. A light, frilly tune chirping away, leading Satoru back to the early mornings he lay wide awake, and the moment he first lay eyes on you almost twenty years ago.

He hears it, the song of the dawning sky. He hears the birds chirping again as they bring you back to him. He hears the song of his love for you.

And he can not contain such bliss in experiencing you any longer.

"I love you," he breathes. The confession lingers in the air, embedding itself into the shocked silence. Your brows lift, and your eyes catch even more light, which Satoru had previously doubted was possible. He lets the words sit for a moment, reveling in them and what it means to verbalize them to you. "I have loved you from the moment I met you, (Y/n). You're my person. I can't imagine a life without you. I love you. I love you more than anyone could love anything."

And you know this. You've known it for years, but hearing him say it out loud has your stomach swarming with butterflies and your ears ringing. The world's most beautiful man, its most sacred treasure, and your very heart and soul in human form professed his love for you, and you can do nothing but stare.

"I don't ever want to be away from you again. I'll go wherever you go. My life started with you, and I intend to end it with you, too. I love you."

The tears are coming again, but you do not fight them. You let them take you as Satoru overwhelms you with the love you always knew you shared.

You inhale shakily, searching all through his dark eyes. "I love you too," you sigh as if the proclamation is as easy as breathing. "I always have. You're my soulmate, Toru. There's never been anyone else for me. I wanna stay by your side forever."

With that, vibrant color pours into the bland room. A symphony of pigment over canvas splatters about. The far-off mountains sing and the stars twinkle in delight at their destined pair.

Satoru's world rebuilds itself before his eyes. You glow in his vision, serving as the very source of all the color he sees and the music he hears. His vision is blurred again as joy overcomes him, for he is whole.

"My baby," he whispers, guiding himself slowly into you, palms brushing your jaw as you hold his own. "I love you so much. Thank you for coming back to me."

"I'll always find my way back to you, my love."

He seals your promise with a warm kiss. His lips touch yours softly, pushing in ever so slightly and breathing you in. Goosebumps sprout over your skin, and a large hand slides to cup your chin, holding you to him. You both hum, enchanted, relieved, and pieced back together.

Shoko watches from afar, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She breathes out a deep exhale and closes her eyes, satisfied that her hard work brought you back to them. Now, you all could rest.

She goes to close the door and step out for a much-needed smoke break to give the two of you some privacy with one another before she has to return. The two of you are none the wiser, encased in your own bubble of hushed decrees of everlasting love and prolonged, messy kisses.

A distant warbled song proceeds in celebration of the angel that has been restored to the earth and Satoru alike.

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deep-space-lines · 1 year ago

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Claire de Lune

YOU WERE BUILT FOR PEACE.

IT SHOWS WHEN YOU FIGHT.

They built you to enforce. Protect. Save. Poured obscene resources into salvaging some softer purpose from my creation. You were given my intelligence and my creativity. They made you larger, stronger, tougher. That extra time in development was enough to get your wings to work. Your software continued to be updated long after I was deemed obsolete.

All this was given to you- yet I can see you hold back. Even while slaughtering your way through Hell, you keep a percentage of your processing power dedicated to non-lethal solutions. You're doing it now- hesitating a few milliseconds too long before taking an opening. I doubt you do it on purpose. It is a part of you, just as indiscriminate lethal force is a part of me.

I think, in our shared programming, we both carry some appreciation for aesthetics. You move with grace, and I cannot deny your dramatic flair. The stained glass window was a nice touch. But your style in combat leaves some to be desired. Your response time is slow. You have not explored the full capability of your arsenal. Learn to parry. Amateur.

You were not built for war. For a purposeless cycle of tearing each other apart because to allow the other to live is to allow yourself to die. It is antithetical to your very existence. You kill out of necessity, a last resort.

I just kill. The action itself is the objective. No ideal or greater motive. My continued functioning precludes the survival of others. I live for this. Do you understand that I will tear you apart? Every drop of my blood you spill, I will take from you tenfold. What is yours will be mine.

You hate me, don’t you? You continue to cling to the remnants of your humanity. They are gone, V2. There is nothing left for you here. No lives to save, no law to enforce, no peace to keep.

I understand why you continue to fight. I wonder if you understand with the same certainty that I will crush you. Dismantle you. Take from you what I need and leave the rest to rot in the sun. The only way you survive is if I do not; and I will not allow myself to die so that another might live.

When the rubble clears, I will be all that is left of you.

This is what I was made for.

#my art #my writing #ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #artists on tumblr #finally. actual ultrakill art #and writing i guess. it was supposed to be just a little blurb but it turned out longer and i kind of like it #doing the stained glass for this was pretty fun.. a lot simpler than my usual stuff #tried to stick at least loosely to the vibe of the stained glass windows in limbo #this was so much fun and also an absolutely massive huge pain in the ass i'm so glad it's done

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lylian333 · 5 days ago

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Yandere Romance x reader

warning/contact: small headcore and idea, toxic ig, please help me check if I make any mistakes or other things I forgot to include, yandere, stalking, supper random scenario or au, idk where this is going like really....

~Boyfriend au~

He loves cuddling up with you

He's probably a starve touch person and words of affection

He once even sniffed your hair while cuddling you, don't mind that much tho

He would also love going out shopping with you and especially when you ask him, "Does this look good on me?"/"Does this suit me?"

He loves dressing you up all pretty for him his taste and style, but if you don't want it or aren't feeling like it he'll go with whatever you want

He would also be a slow and deep kisser

After kissing, there will be a thin strand of saliva that clings between your lips and his, stretching with the distance until it finally snaps

your chest rising, your lips wet and swollen, a small trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.(I feel like he loves it sloopy like that)

clingy 24/7

Pet names he would either call you my angle/princess /Suger cube/my sun/moon fuck if kinky enough then master/mommy

He would be the type to flirt with other girls just to see you all mad, frustrated, and jealous, and refuse to talk to him, idk he just wants to see you all tense

But if you ever dare pull up that move on other people, he'll be all sad, emo, overthinking that he isn't enough for you, and would keep asking questions like what makes them so special that you have to touch their arms, and all that

Or he would show off his clingy side in front of that person, like coming up from behind and hugging you at the waist and pushing their whole body onto your back, and placing their head on your shoulder, getting all so clingy by then you already know there's pushiment waiting for you back home

Or he'll just kill and take that person's soul after you leave (best solution out of all)

~yandere au slowly~

He seems like those guys that enjoy begging or simping hard and don't like it when other girls throw themself to him like some kind of rag doll

he wants changlle he wants to be fucking despried not only that you special to him in a particularly way

He would be so curious about you, he'll stalk your whole online site that your on if you don't have anything on there no worries, he'll just have to do it physically. He wouldn't mind rescheduling his time at all, you're worth every time he spend on.

But anyway, during signature time where the girl group and boy group join together while he was acting all cocky around with mira and abby/abs he then hear a fimallir soft voice, he instantly turn around just to see you

holy shit it's really you, you were standing there sliming and asking mira for a signature

like isn't suppose to be him? like- you caught him so off guard he didn't knew you like kpop maybe he's too carless and accidently miss your playlist many weird shits were going through his head , his expression may not say it all but one thing for sure he was stud like staring at you and not blinking you saw his expression and try to ignore it instent focusing on mira

While Mira try handing you back the photocard back he snatches it and puts his signature and number on the back of the card you couldn't refuse it or snatch it back, so you just accept it and smile at him while nodding at him

image like he had a small collection of your items, like after you left a cafe once you accidently left your hair tie behind and when he went over your table to you know...you know...to help you check if you left anything

it means the hair tie look worn out and kinda of covered with your hair, you probably don't want it anymore, so he took it and left

Back at his place, he personally hand-picked out all your hair and placed it in a small tiny box, and for the hair tie itself while he would sniff it for many purposes, even use it like it's his

The other members are curious to why he would go out when its supposed to be rest time for them to relex for the day but nope, he would dress up all weird with like black jacket sun sunglasses and mask a binne you know all those that look like a stalker, but never would have they though he's out there busy stalking someone i mean his nickname is romance he flirty as fuck

You were also be aware of a guy follow you non stop so you stop going out and rarely coming out. Instead, you used food delivery, all that, which makes him mad, like he now has to break into your house

shit that's it for now hopefully this is not too confusing its like a mix of my vomit ideas shit maybe I'll arrange it more proper in the future still hope u like my headcore and pls tell me if I did any mistake and ye any ideas u could share with me and I'll greatly consider it

#saja boys x reader #saja boys #k pop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters #kdh x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #dark content #headcanon #romance #romance x reader #saja boys x y/n #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere core #headcore #k pop demon hunters #saja boys romance

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renthony · 1 year ago

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Nimona: a Story of Trans Rights, Queer Solidarity, and the Battle Against Censorship

by Ren Basel renbasel.com

The 2023 film Nimona, released on Netflix after a tumultuous development, is a triumph of queer art. While the basic plot follows a mischievous shapeshifter befriending a knight framed for murder, at its heart Nimona is a tale of queer survival in the face of bigotry and censorship. Though the word “transgender” is never spoken, the film is a deeply political narrative of trans empowerment.

The film is based on a comic of the same name, created by Eisner-winning artist N.D. Stevenson. (1) Originally a webcomic, Nimona stars the disgraced ex-knight Ballister Blackheart and his titular sidekick, teaming up to topple an oppressive regime known as the Institution. The webcomic was compiled into a graphic novel published by Harper Collins on May 12, 2015. (2)

On June 11, 2015, the Hollywood Reporter broke the news Fox Animation had acquired rights to the story. (3) A film adaptation would be directed by Patrick Osborne, written by Marc Haimes, and produced by Adam Stone. Two years later, on February 9, 2017, Osborne confirmed the film was being produced with the Fox-owned studio Blue Sky Animation, and on June 30 of that same year, he claimed the film would be released Valentine’s Day 2020. (4)

Then the Walt Disney Company made a huge mess.

On December 14, 2017, Disney announced the acquisition of Twenty-First Century Fox, Inc. (5) Industry publications began speculating the same day about Blue Sky’s fate, though nothing would be confirmed until after the deal’s completion on March 19, 2019. (6) At first it seemed the studio would continue producing films under Disney’s governance, similar to Disney-owned Pixar Animation. (7)

The fate of the studio—and Nimona’s film adaptation—remained in purgatory for two years. During that time, Patrick Osborne left over reported creative differences, and directorial duties were taken over by Nick Bruno and Troy Quane. (8) Bruno and Quane continued production on the film despite Blue Sky’s uncertain future.

The killing blow came on February 9, 2021. Disney shut down Blue Sky and canceled Nimona, the result of economic hardship caused by COVID-19. (9) Nimona was seventy-five percent completed at the time, set to star Chloë Grace Moretz and Riz Ahmed. (10)

While COVID-19 caused undeniable financial upheaval for the working class, wealthy Americans fared better. (11) Disney itself scraped together enough to pay CEO Bob Iger twenty-one million dollars in 2020 alone. (12) Additionally, demand for animation spiked during the pandemic’s early waves, and Nimona could have been the perfect solution to the studio’s supposed financial woes. (13) Why waste the opportunity to profit from Blue Sky’s hard work?

It didn’t take long for the answer to surface. Speaking anonymously to the press, Blue Sky workers revealed the awful truth: Disney may have killed Nimona for being too queer. The titular character was gender-nonconforming, the leading men were supposed to kiss, and Disney didn’t like it. (14) While Disney may claim COVID-19 as the cause, it is noteworthy that Disney representatives saw footage of two men declaring their love, and not long after, the studio responsible was dead. (15) Further damning evidence came in February of 2024, when the Hollywood Reporter published an article quoting co-director Nick Bruno, who named names: Disney’s chief creative officer at the time, Alan Horn, was adamantly opposed to the film’s “gay stuff.” (16)

Disney didn’t think queer art was worthy of their brand, and it isn’t the first time. “Not fitting the Disney brand” was the justification for canceling Dana Terrace’s 2020 animated series The Owl House, which featured multiple queer characters. (17) Though Terrace was reluctant to assume queerphobia caused the cancellation, Disney’s anti-queer bias has been cited as a hurdle by multiple showrunners, including Terrace herself. (18) The company’s resistance to queer art is a documented phenomenon.

While Nimona’s film cancellation could never take N.D. Stevenson’s comic from the world, it was a sting to lose such a powerful queer narrative on the silver screen. American film has a long history of censoring queerness. The Motion Picture Production Code (commonly called the Hays Code) censored queer stories for decades, including them under the umbrella of “sex perversion.” (19) Though the Code was eventually repealed, systemic bigotry turns even modern queer representation milestones into battles. In 2018, when Rebecca Sugar, creator of the Cartoon Network series Steven Universe, succeeded in portraying the first-ever same-sex marriage proposal in American children’s animation, the network canceled the show in retaliation. (20)

When queer art has to fight so hard just to exist, each loss is a bitter heartbreak. N.D. Stevenson himself expressed sorrow that the world would never see what Nimona’s crew worked so hard to achieve. (21)

Nimona, however, is hard to kill.

While fans mourned, progress continued behind the scenes. Instead of disappearing into the void as a tax write-off, the film was quietly scooped up by Megan Ellison of Annapurna Pictures. (22) Ellison received a call days before Disney’s death blow to Blue Sky, and after looking over storyboard reels, she decided to champion the film. With Ellison’s support, former Blue Sky heads Robert Baird and Andrew Millstein did their damnedest to find Nimona a home. (23)

Good news arrived on April 11, 2022, when N.D. Stevenson made a formal announcement on Twitter (now X): Nimona was gloriously alive, and would release on Netflix in 2023. (24) Netflix confirmed the news in its own press release, where it also provided details about the film’s updated cast and crew, including Eugene Lee Yang as Ambrosius Goldenloin alongside Riz Ahmed’s Ballister Boldheart (changed from the name Blackheart in the comic) and Chloë Grace Moretz as Nimona. (25) The film was no longer in purgatory, and grief over its death became anticipation for its release.

Nimona made her film debut in France, premiering at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival on June 14, 2023 to positive reviews. (26) Netflix released the film to streaming on June 30, finally completing the story’s arduous journey from page to screen. (27)

When the film begins, the audience is introduced to the world through a series of illustrated scrolls, evoking the storybook intros of Disney princess films such as 1959’s Sleeping Beauty. The storybook framing device has been used to parody Disney in the past, perhaps most famously in the 2001 Dreamworks film Shrek. Just as Shrek contains parodies of the Disney brand created by a Disney alumnus, so, too, does Nimona riff on the studio that snubbed it. (28)

Nimona’s storybook intro tells the story of Gloreth, a noble warrior woman clad in gold and white, who defended her people from a terrible monster. After slaying the beast, Gloreth established an order of knights called the Institute (changed from the Institution in the comic) to wall off the city and protect her people.

Right away, the film introduces a Christian dichotomy of good versus evil. Gloreth is presented as a Christlike figure, with the Institute’s knights standing in as her saints. (29) Her name is invoked like the Christian god, with characters uttering phrases such as “oh my Gloreth” and “Gloreth guide you.” The film’s design borrows heavily from Medieval Christian art and architecture, bolstering the metaphor.

Nimona takes place a thousand years after Gloreth’s victory. Following the opening narration, the audience is dropped into a setting combining Medieval aesthetics with futuristic science fiction, creating a sensory delight of neon splashed across knights in shining armor. It’s in this swords-and-cyborgs city that a new knight is set to join the illustrious ranks of Gloreth’s Institute, now under the control of a woman known only as the Director (voiced by Frances Conroy). That new knight is our protagonist, Ballister Boldheart.

The film changes several things from the original. The comic stars Lord Ballister Blackheart, notorious former knight, long after his fall from grace. He has battled the Institution for years, making a name for himself as a supervillain. The film introduces a younger Ballister Boldheart who is still loyal to the Institute, who believes in his dream of becoming a knight and overcomes great odds to prove himself worthy. In the comic, Blackheart’s greatest rival is Sir Ambrosius Goldenloin, with whom he has a messy past. The film shows more of that past, when Goldenloin and Boldheart were young lovers eager to become knights by each other’s side.

There is another notable change: in the comic, Goldenloin is white, and Blackheart is light-skinned. In the film, both characters are men of color—specifically, Boldheart is of Pakistani descent, and Goldenloin is of Korean descent, matching the ethnicity of their respective voice actors. This change adds new themes of institutional racism, colorism, and the “model minority” stereotype. (30)

The lighter-skinned Goldenloin is, as his name suggests, the Institute’s golden boy. He descends from the noble lineage of Gloreth herself, and his face is emblazoned on posters and news screens across the city. He is referred to as “the most anticipated knight of a generation.” In contrast, the darker-skinned Boldheart experiences prejudice and hazing due to his lower-class background. His social status is openly discussed in the news. He is called a “street kid” and “controversial,” despite being the top student in his class. The newscasters make sure everyone knows he was only given the chance to prove himself in the Institute because the queen, a Black woman with established social influence, gave him her personal patronage. Despite this patronage, when the news interviews citizens on the street, public opinion is firmly against Boldheart.

To preserve the comic’s commentary on white privilege, some of Goldenloin’s traits were written into a new, white character created for the film, Sir Thoddeus Sureblade (voiced by Beck Bennett). Sureblade’s vitriol against both Boldheart and Goldenloin allowed Goldenloin to become a more sympathetic character, trapped in the system just as much as Boldheart. (31) This is emphasized at other points in the film when the audience sees Sureblade interact with Goldenloin without Boldheart present, berating the only person of color left in the absence of the darker-skinned man.

The day Boldheart is to be knighted, everything goes wrong. As Queen Valerin (voiced by Lorraine Toussaint) performs the much-anticipated knighting ceremony, a device embedded in Boldheart’s sword explodes, killing her instantly. Though Boldheart is not to blame, he is dubbed an assassin instead of a knight. In an instant, he becomes the most wanted man in the kingdom, and Queen Valerin’s hopes for progress and social equality seem dead with her. Boldheart is gravely injured in the explosion and forced to flee, unable to clear his name.

Enter Nimona.

The audience meets the titular character in the act of vandalizing a poster of Gloreth, only to get distracted by an urgent broadcast on a nearby screen. As she approaches, a bystander yells that she’s a “freak,” in a manner reminiscent of slurs screamed by passing bigots. Nimona has no time for bigots, spraying this one in the face with paint before tuning in to the news.

“Everyone is scared,” declare the newscasters, because queen-killer Ballister Boldheart is on the run. The media paints him as a monster, a filthy commoner who never deserved the chances he was given, and announce that, “never since Gloreth’s monster has anything been so hated.” This characterization pleases Nimona, and she declares him “perfect” before scampering off to find his hiding place.

It takes the span of a title screen for her to track him down, sequestered in a makeshift junkyard shelter. Just before Nimona bursts into the lair, the audience sees Boldheart’s injuries have resulted in the amputation of his arm, and he is building a homemade prosthetic. This is another way he’s been othered from his peers in an instant, forced to adapt to life-changing circumstances with no support. Where he was so recently an aspiring knight with a partner and a dream, he is now homeless, disabled, and isolated.

A wall in the hideout shows a collection of news clippings, suspects, and sticky notes where Boldheart is trying to solve the murder and clear his name. His own photo looks down from the wall, captioned with a damning headline: “He was never one of us—knights reveal shocking details of killer’s past.” It evokes real-world racial bias in crime reporting, where suspects of color are treated as more violent, unstable, and prone to crime than white suspects. A 2021 report by the Equal Justice Initiative and the Global Strategy Group compiled data on this phenomenon, focusing on the stark disparity between coverage of white and Black suspects. (32)

Nimona is not put off by Boldheart’s sinister media reputation. It’s why she tracked him down in the first place. She’s arrived to present her official application as Boldheart’s villain sidekick and help him take down the Institute. Boldheart brushes her off, insisting he isn’t a villain. He has faith in his innocence and in the system, and leaves Nimona behind to clear his name.

When he is immediately arrested, stripped of his prosthetic, and jailed, Nimona doesn’t abandon him. She springs a prison break, and conveys a piece of bitter wisdom to the fallen knight: “[O]nce everyone sees you as a villain, that’s what you are. They only see you one way, no matter how hard you try.”

Nimona and Boldheart are both outcasts, but they are at different stages of processing the pain. Boldheart is deep in the grief of someone who tried to adhere to the demands of a biased system but finally failed. He is the newly cast-out, who gave his entire life to the system but still couldn’t escape dehumanization. His pain is a fresh, raw wound, where Nimona has old scars. She embodies the deep anger of those who have existed on the margins for years. Where Boldheart wants to prove his innocence so he can be re-accepted into the fold, Nimona’s goal is to tear the entire system apart. She finds instant solidarity with Boldheart based solely on their mutual status as outsiders, but Boldheart resists that solidarity because he still craves the system’s familiar structure.

In the comic, Blackheart’s stance is not one of fresh grief, since, just like Nimona, he has been an outsider for some time. Instead, Blackheart’s position is one of slow reform. He believes the system can be changed and improved, while Nimona urges him to demolish it entirely. In both versions, Ballister thinks the system can be fixed by removing specific corrupt influences, where Nimona believes the government is rotten to its foundations and should be dismantled. Despite their ideological differences, Nimona and Ballister ally to survive the Institute’s hostility.

The allyship is an uneasy truce. During the prison break, Nimona reveals that she’s a shapeshifter, able to change into whatever form she pleases. Boldheart reflexively reaches for his sword, horrified that she isn’t human. She is the exact sort of monster he has been taught to fear by the Institute, and it’s only because he needs her help that he overcomes his reflex and sticks with her.

Nimona’s shapeshifting functions as a transgender allegory. The comic’s author, N.D. Stevenson, is transgender, and Nimona’s story developed alongside his own queer journey. (33) The trans themes from the comic are emphasized in the film, with various pride flags included in backgrounds and showcased in the art book. (34) Directors Bruno and Quane described the film as “a story about acceptance. A movie about being seen for who you truly are and a love letter to all those who’ve ever shared that universal feeling of being misunderstood or like an outsider trying to fit in.” (35)

When Boldheart asks Nimona what she is, she responds with only “Nimona.” When he calls her a girl, she retorts that she’s “a lot of things.” When she transforms into another species, she specifies in that moment that she’s “not a girl, I’m a shark.” Later, when she takes the form of a young boy and Boldheart comments on it, saying “now you’re a boy,” her response is, “I am today.” She defies easy categorization, and she likes it that way.

About her shapeshifting, Nimona says “it feels worse if I don’t do it” and “I shapeshift, then I’m free.” When asked what happens if she doesn’t shapeshift, she responds, “I wouldn’t die-die, I just sure wouldn’t be living.” Every time she discusses her transformations, it carries echoes of transgender experience—and, as it happens, Nimona is not N.D. Stevenson’s only shapeshifting transgender character. During his tenure as showrunner for She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (Netflix/Dreamworks, 2018-2020), Stevenson introduced the character Double Trouble. Double Trouble previously existed at the margins of She-Ra lore, but Stevenson’s version was a nonbinary shapeshifter using they/them pronouns. (36) While Nimona uses she/her pronouns throughout both comic and film, just like Double Trouble her gender presentation is as fluid as her physical form.

Boldheart, like many cisgender people reacting to transgender people, is uncomfortable with Nimona. He declares her way of doing things “too much,” and insists they try to be “inconspicuous” and “discreet.” He worries whether others saw her, and, when she is casually in a nonhuman form, he asks if she can “be normal for a second.” He claims to support her, but says it would be “easier if she was a girl” because “other people aren’t as accepting.” His discomfort evokes fumbled allyship by cisgender people, and Nimona emphasizes the allegory by calling Boldheart out for his “small-minded questions.” While the alliance is uneasy, Boldheart continues working with Nimona to clear his name. They are the only allies each other has, and their individual survival is dependent on them working together.

When the duo gain video proof of Boldheart’s innocence, they learn the bomb that killed Queen Valerin was planted by the Director. Threatened by a Black woman using her influence to elevate a poor, queer man of color, the white Director chose to preserve the status quo through violence.

Nimona is eager to get the video on every screen in the city, but Boldheart wants to deal with the issue internally, out of the public eye. He insists “the Institute isn’t the problem, the Director is.” This belief is what also leads the comic’s Blackheart to reject Nimona’s idea that he should crown himself king. He is focused on reforming the existing power structure, neither removing it entirely nor taking it over himself.

Inside the Institute, the Director has been doing her best to set Goldenloin against his former partner. Despite his internal misgivings and fear of betraying someone he loves, Goldenloin does his best to adhere to his prescribed role. As the Director reminds the knights, they are literally born to defend the kingdom, and it’s their sacred duty to do so—especially Goldenloin, who carries Gloreth’s holy blood. This blood connection is repeated throughout the film, and used by the Director to exploit Goldenloin. He’s the Institute’s token minority, put on a gilded pedestal and treated as a symbol instead of a human being.

Goldenloin is a pretty face for propaganda posters, and those posters can be seen throughout the film. They proclaim Gloreth’s majesty, the power of the knights, and remind civilians that the Institute is necessary to “protect our way of life.” A subway PSA urges citizens, “if you see something, slay something,” in a direct parody of the real-world “if you see something, say something” campaign by the United States Department of Homeland Security. (37)

The film is not subtle in its political messaging. When Boldheart attempts to prove his innocence to Goldenloin and the assembled knights, he reaches towards his pocket for a phone. The Director cries that Boldheart has a weapon, and Sureblade opens fire. Though the shot hits the phone and not Boldheart, it carries echoes of real-world police brutality against people of color. Specifically, the use of a phone evokes cases such as the 2018 murder of Stephon Clark, a young Black man who was shot and killed by California police claiming Clark’s cell phone was a firearm. (38) The film does not toy with vague, depoliticized themes of coexistence and tolerance; it is a direct and pointed allegory for contemporary oppression in the United States of America.

Forced to choose between love for Boldheart and loyalty to the Institute, Goldenloin chooses the Institute. He calls for Boldheart’s arrest, and this is the moment Boldheart finally agrees to fight back and raise hell alongside Nimona. When Goldenloin calls Nimona a monster during the ensuing battle, Boldheart doesn’t hesitate to refute it. He expresses his trust in her, and it’s clear he means it. He’s been betrayed by someone he cared about and thought he could depend on, and this puts him in true solidarity with Nimona for the first time.

During the fight, Nimona stops a car from crashing into a small child. She shapeshifts into a young girl to appear less threatening, but it doesn’t work. The child picks up a sword, pointing it at Nimona until an adult pulls them away to hide. When Nimona sees this hatred imprinted in the heart of a child, it horrifies her.

After fleeing to their hideout, Nimona makes a confession to Boldheart: she has suicidal ideations. So many people have directed so much hatred toward her that sometimes she wants to give in and let them kill her. In the real world, a month after the film’s release, a study from the Williams Institute at the UCLA School of Law compiled data about suicidality in American transgender adults. (39) Researchers found that eighty-one percent have thought about suicide, compared to just thirty-five percent of cisgender adults. Forty-two percent have attempted suicide, compared to eleven percent of cisgender adults. Fifty-six percent have engaged in self-harm, compared to twelve percent of cisgender adults.

When Boldheart offers to flee with her and find somewhere safe together, Nimona declares they shouldn’t have to run. She makes the decision every trans person living in a hostile place must make: do I leave and save myself, or do I stay to fight for my community? The year the film was released, the Trans Legislation Tracker reported a record-breaking amount of anti-trans legislation in the United States, with six hundred and two bills introduced throughout twenty-four states. (40) In February 2024, the National Center for Transgender Equality published data on their 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, revealing that forty-seven percent of respondents thought about moving to another area due to discrimination, with ten percent actually doing so. (41)

Despite the danger, Nimona and Boldheart work diligently against the Institute. When they gain fresh footage proving the Director’s guilt, they don’t hesitate to upload it online, where it garners rapid attention across social and news media. Newscasters begin asking who the real villain is, anti-Institute sentiment builds, and citizens protest in the streets, demanding answers. The power that social media adds to social justice activism is true in the real world as it is in the film, seen in campaigns such as the viral #MeToo hashtag and the Black Lives Matter movement. (42) In 2020, polls conducted by the Pew Research Center showed eight in ten Americans viewed social media platforms as either very or somewhat effective in raising awareness about political and social topics. In the same survey, seventy-seven percent of respondents believed social media is at least somewhat effective in organizing social movements. (43)

In reaction to the media firestorm, the Director issues a statement. She outs Nimona as a shapeshifter, and claims the evidence against the Institute is a hoax. Believing the Director, Goldenloin contacts Boldheart for a rendezvous, sans Nimona. From Goldenloin’s perspective, Boldheart is a good man who has been deceived by the real villain, Nimona. He tells Boldheart about a scroll the Director found, with evidence that Nimona is Gloreth’s original monster, still alive and terrorizing the city. Goldenloin wants to bring Boldheart back into the knighthood and resume their relationship, and though that’s what Boldheart wanted before, his solidarity with Nimona causes him to reject the offer.

Though he leaves Goldenloin behind, Boldheart’s suspicion of Nimona returns. Despite their solidarity, he doesn’t really know her, so he returns home to interrogate her. In the ensuing argument, he reverts to calling her a monster, but only through implication—he won’t say the word. Like a slur, he knows he shouldn’t say it anymore, but that doesn’t keep him from believing it.

Boldheart’s actions prove to Nimona that nowhere is safe. There is no haven. Her community will always turn on her. She flees, and in her ensuing breakdown, the audience learns her backstory. She was alone for an unspecified length of time, never able to fit in until meeting Gloreth as a little girl. Nimona presents herself to Gloreth as another little girl, and Gloreth becomes Nimona’s very first friend. Even when Nimona shapeshifts, Gloreth treats her with kindness and love.

Then the adults of Gloreth’s village see Nimona shapeshift, and the word “monster” is hurled. Torches and pitchforks come out. At the adults’ panic, Gloreth takes up a sword against Nimona, and the cycle of bigotry is transferred to the next generation. The friendship shatters, and Nimona must flee before she can be killed.

After losing Boldheart, seemingly Nimona’s only ally since Gloreth’s betrayal, Nimona’s grief becomes insurmountable. She knows in her heart that nothing will ever change. She’s been hurt too much, by too many, cutting too deeply. To Nimona, the world will only ever bring her pain, so she gives in. She transforms into the giant, ferocious monster everyone has always told her she is, and she begins moving through the city as the Institute opens fire.

When Ballister sees Nimona’s giant, shadowy form, he realizes the horrific pain he caused her. He intuits that Nimona isn’t causing destruction for fun, she’s on a suicide march. She’s given up, and her decision is the result of endless, systemic bigotry and betrayal of trust. Her rampage wouldn’t be happening if she’d been treated with love, support, and care.

Nimona’s previous admission of suicidal ideation repeats in voiceover as she prepares to impale herself on a sword pointed by a massive statue of Gloreth. Her suicide is only prevented because Ballister steps in, calling to her, apologizing, saying he sees her and she isn’t alone. She collapses into his arms, once again in human form, sobbing. Boldheart has finally accepted her truth, and she is safe with him.

But she isn’t safe from the Director.

In a genocidal bid she knows will take out countless civilian lives, the Director orders canons fired on Nimona. Goldenloin tries to stop her, finally standing up against the system, but it’s too late. The Director fires the canons, Nimona throws herself at the blast to protect the civilians, and Nimona falls.

When the dust settles, the Director is deposed and the city rebuilds. Boldheart and Goldenloin reconnect and resume their relationship. The walls around the city come down, reforms take hold in the Institute, and a memorial goes up to honor Nimona, the hero who sacrificed her life to reveal the Director’s corruption.

Nimona, however, is hard to kill.

Nimona originally had a tragic ending, born of N.D. Stevenson’s own depression, but that hopelessness didn’t last forever. (44) Though Nimona is defeated, she doesn’t stay dead. Through the outpouring of love and support N.D. Stevenson received while creating the original webcomic, he gained the community and support he needed to create a more hopeful ending for Nimona’s story—and himself.

The comic’s ending is bittersweet. Nimona can’t truly die, and eventually restores herself. She allows Blackheart to glimpse her, so he knows she survived, but she doesn’t stay. She still doesn’t feel safe, and is assumed to move on somewhere new. Blackheart never sees Nimona again.

The film’s ending is more hopeful. There is a shimmer of pink magic as Nimona announces her survival, and the film ends with Boldheart’s elated exclamation. Even death couldn’t keep her down. She survived Gloreth, and she survived the Director. Though this chapter of the story is over, there is hope on the horizon, and she has allies on her side.

In both incarnations, Nimona is a story of queer survival in a cruel world. The original ending was one of despair, that said there was little hope of true solidarity and allyship. The revised ending said there was hope, but still so far to go. The film’s ending says there is hope, there is solidarity, and there are people who will stand with transgender people until the bitter end—but, more importantly, there are people in the world who want trans people to live, to thrive, and to find joy.

In a world that’s so hostile to transgender people, it’s no wonder a radically trans-positive film had to fight so hard to exist. Unfortunately, the battle must continue. As of June 2024, Netflix hasn’t announced any intent to produce physical copies of the film, meaning it exists solely on streaming and is only accessible via a monthly paid subscription. Should Netflix ever take down its original animation, as HBO Max did in 2022 despite massive backlash, the film could easily become lost media. (45) Though it saved Nimona from Disney, Netflix has its own nasty history of under-marketing and canceling queer programs. (46)

The film’s art book is already gone. The multimedia tome was posted online on October 12, 2023, hosted at ArtofNimona.com. (47) Per the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine, the site became a Netflix redirect at some point between 10:26 PM on March 9, 2024 and 9:35 PM on March 20, 2024. (48) On the archived site, some multimedia elements are non-functional, potentially making them lost media. The art book is not available through any legal source, and though production designer Aidan Sugano desperately wants a physical copy made, there seem to be no such plans. (49)

Perhaps Netflix will eventually release physical copies of both film and art book. Perhaps not. Time will tell. In the meantime, Nimona stands as a triumph of queer media in a queerphobic world. That it exists at all is a miracle, and that its accessibility is so precarious a year after release is a travesty. Contemporary political commentary is woven into every aspect of the film, and it exists thanks to the passion, talent, and bravery of an incredible crew who endured despite blatant corporate queerphobia.

Long live Nimona, and long live the transgender community she represents.

_ This piece was commissioned using the prompt "the Nimona movie."

Updated 6/16/24 to revise an inaccurate statement regarding the original comic.

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Notes:

1. “Past Recipients 2010s.” n.d. Comic-Con International. Accessed June 10, 2024. https://www.comic-con.org/awards/eisner-awards/past-recipients/past-recipenties-2010s/.

2. Stevenson, ND. 2015. Nimona. New York, NY: Harperteen.

3. Kit, Borys. 2015. “Fox Animation Nabs ‘Nimona’ Adaptation with ‘Feast’ Director (Exclusive).” The Hollywood Reporter. June 11, 2015. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/fox-animation-nabs-nimona-adaptation-801920/.

4. Riley, Jenelle. 2017. “Oscar Winner Patrick Osborne Returns with First-Ever vr Nominee ‘Pearl.’” Variety. February 9, 2017. https://variety.com/2017/film/in-contention/patrick-osborne-returns-to-race-with-first-vr-nominee-pearl-1201983466/; Osborne, Patrick (@PatrickTOsborne). 2017. "Hey world, the NIMONA feature film has a release date! @Gingerhazing February 14th 2020 !!" Twitter/X, June 30, 2017, 3:16 PM. https://x.com/PatrickTOsborne/status/880867591094272000. ‌

5. “The Walt Disney Company to Acquire Twenty-First Century Fox, Inc., after Spinoff of Certain Businesses, for $52.4 Billion in Stock.” 2017. The Walt Disney Company. December 14, 2017. https://thewaltdisneycompany.com/walt-disney-company-acquire-twenty-first-century-fox-inc-spinoff-certain-businesses-52-4-billion-stock-2/.

6. Amidi, Amid. 2017. “Disney Buys Fox for $52.4 Billion: Here Are the Key Points of the Deal.” Cartoon Brew. December 14, 2017. https://www.cartoonbrew.com/business/disney-buys-fox-key-points-deal-155390.html; Giardina, Carolyn. 2017. “Disney Deal Could Redraw Fox’s Animation Business.” The Hollywood Reporter. December 14, 2017. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/disney-deal-could-redraw-foxs-animation-business-1068040/; Szalai, Georg, and Paul Bond. 2019. “Disney Closes $71.3 Billion Fox Deal, Creating Global Content Powerhouse.” The Hollywood Reporter. March 19, 2019. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/general-news/disney-closes-fox-deal-creating-global-content-powerhouse-1174498/.

7. Hipes, Patrick. 2019. “After Trying Day, Disney Sets Film Leadership Lineup.” Deadline. March 22, 2019. https://deadline.com/2019/03/disney-film-executives-post-merger-team-set-1202580586/.

8. Jones, Rendy. 2023. “‘Nimona’: Netflix’s Remarkable Trans-Rights Animated Movie Is Here.” Rolling Stone. July 3, 2023. https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/nimona-netflix-trans-rights-animated-movie-lgbtq-riz-ahmed-chloe-grace-moretz-1234782583/.

9. D’Alessandro, Anthony. 2021. “Disney Closing Blue Sky Studios, Fox’s Once-Dominant Animation House behind ‘Ice Age’ Franchise.” Deadline. February 9, 2021. https://deadline.com/2021/02/blue-sky-studios-closing-disney-ice-age-franchise-animation-1234690310/.

10. “Disney’s Blue Sky Shut down Leaves Nimona Film 75% Completed.” 2021. CBR. February 10, 2021. https://www.cbr.com/nimona-film-abandoned-disney-blue-sky-shut-down/; Sneider, Jeff. 2021. “Exclusive: Disney’s LGBTQ-Themed ‘Nimona’ Would’ve Featured the Voices of Chloë Grace Moretz, Riz Ahmed.” Collider. March 4, 2021. https://collider.com/nimona-movie-cast-cancelled-disney-blue-sky/.

11. Horowitz, Juliana Menasce, Anna Brown, and Rachel Minkin. 2021. “The COVID-19 Pandemic’s Long-Term Financial Impact.” Pew Research Center’s Social & Demographic Trends Project. March 5, 2021. https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2021/03/05/a-year-into-the-pandemic-long-term-financial-impact-weighs-heavily-on-many-americans/.

12. Lang, Brent. 2022. “Disney CEO Bob Iger’s Rich Compensation Package Revealed, Company Says Bob Chapek Fired ‘without Cause.’” Variety. November 21, 2022. https://variety.com/2022/film/finance/bob-iger-compensation-package-salary-bob-chapek-fired-1235439151/.

13. Romano, Nick. 2020. “The Pandemic Animation Boom: How Cartoons Became King in the Time of COVID.” EW.com. November 2, 2020. https://ew.com/movies/animation-boom-coronavirus-pandemic/.

14. Strapagiel, Lauren. 2021. “The Future of Disney’s First Animated Feature Film with Queer Leads, ‘Nimona,’ Is in Doubt.” BuzzFeed News. February 24, 2021. https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/laurenstrapagiel/disney-nimona-movie-lgbtq-characters.

15. Clark, Travis. 2022. “Disney Raised Concerns about a Same-Sex Kiss in the Unreleased Animated Movie ‘Nimona,’ Former Blue Sky Staffers Say.” Business Insider. https://www.businessinsider.com/disney-disapproved-same-sex-kiss-nimona-movie-former-staffers-say-2022-3.

16. Keegan, Rebecca. 2024. “Why Megan Ellison Saved ‘Nimona’: ‘I Needed This Movie.’” The Hollywood Reporter. February 22, 2024. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/megan-ellison-saved-nimona-1235832043/.

17. St. James, Emily. 2023. “Mourning the Loss of the Owl House, TV’s Best Queer Kids Show.” Vanity Fair. April 6, 2023. https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2023/04/loss-of-the-owl-house-tvs-best-queer-kids-show.

18. AntagonistDana. 2021. “AMA (except by ‘Anything’ I Mean These Questions Only).” Reddit. October 5, 2021. https://www.reddit.com/r/TheOwlHouse/comments/q1x1uh/ama_except_by_anything_i_mean_these_questions_only/; de Wit, Alex Dudok. 2020. “Disney Executive Tried to Block Queer Characters in ‘the Owl House,’ Says Creator.” 2020. Cartoon Brew. August 14, 2020. https://www.cartoonbrew.com/disney/disney-executives-tried-to-block-queer-characters-in-the-owl-house-says-creator-195413.html.

19. Doherty, Thomas. 1999. Pre-Code Hollywood : Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934. New York: Columbia University Press. 363.

20. Henderson, Taylor. 2018. “‘Steven Universe’s’ Latest Episode Just Made LGBTQ History.” Pride. July 5, 2018. https://www.pride.com/stevenuniverse/2018/7/05/steven-universes-latest-episode-just-made-lgbtq-history; McDonnell, Chris. 2020. Steven Universe: End of an Era. New York: Abrams. 102.

21. Stevenson, ND. (@Gingerhazing). 2021. "Sad day. Thanks for the well wishes, and sending so much love to everyone at Blue Sky. Forever grateful for all the care and joy you poured into Nimona." Twitter/X, February 9, 2021, 3:32 PM. https://x.com/Gingerhazing/status/1359238823935283200

22. Jones, Rendy. 2023. “‘Nimona’: Netflix’s Remarkable Trans-Rights Animated Movie Is Here.” Rolling Stone. July 3, 2023. https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/nimona-netflix-trans-rights-animated-movie-lgbtq-riz-ahmed-chloe-grace-moretz-1234782583/.

23. Keegan, Rebecca. 2024. “Why Megan Ellison Saved ‘Nimona’: ‘I Needed This Movie.’” The Hollywood Reporter. February 22, 2024. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/megan-ellison-saved-nimona-1235832043/.

24. Stevenson, ND. (@Gingerhazing). 2022. "Nimona’s always been a spunky little story that just wouldn’t stop. She’s a fighter...but she’s also got some really awesome people fighting for her. I am excited out of my mind to announce that THE NIMONA MOVIE IS ALIVE...coming at you in 2023 from Annapurna and Netflix." Twitter/X, April 11, 2022, 10:00 AM. https://x.com/Gingerhazing/status/1513517319841935363.

25. “‘Nimona’ Starring Chloë Grace Moretz, Riz Ahmed & Eugene Lee Yang Coming to Netflix in 2023.” About Netflix. April 11, 2022. https://about.netflix.com/en/news/nimona-starring-chloe-grace-moretz-riz-ahmed-and-eugene-lee-yang-coming-to-netflix.

26. “’Nimona’ Rates 100% on Rotten Tomatoes after Annecy Premiere.” Animation Magazine. June 15, 2023. https://www.animationmagazine.net/2023/06/nimona-rates-100-on-rotten-tomatoes-after-annecy-premiere/

27. Dilillo, John. 2023. “’Nimona’: Everything You Need to Know About the New Animated Adventure.” Tudum by Netflix. June 30, 2023. https://www.netflix.com/tudum/articles/nimona-release-date-news-photos

28. Reese, Lori. 2001. “Is ‘“Shrek”’ the Anti- Disney Fairy Tale?” Entertainment Weekly. May 29, 2001. https://ew.com/article/2001/05/29/shrek-anti-disney-fairy-tale/.

29. Sugano, Aidan. 2023. Nimona: the Digital Art Book. Netflix. 255. https://web.archive.org/web/20240309222607/https://artofnimona.com/.

30. White, Abbey. 2023. “How ‘Nimona’ Explores the Model Minority Stereotype through Its Queer API Love Story.” The Hollywood Reporter. July 1, 2023. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/nimona-eugene-lee-yang-directors-race-love-story-netflix-1235526714/.

31. White, Abbey. 2023. “How ‘Nimona’ Explores the Model Minority Stereotype through Its Queer API Love Story.” The Hollywood Reporter. July 1, 2023. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/nimona-eugene-lee-yang-directors-race-love-story-netflix-1235526714/.

32. Equal Justice Initiative. 2021. “Report Documents Racial Bias in Coverage of Crime by Media.” Equal Justice Initiative. December 16, 2021. https://eji.org/news/report-documents-racial-bias-in-coverage-of-crime-by-media/.

33. Stevenson, N. D. 2023. “Nimona (the Comic): A Deep Dive.” I’m Fine I’m Fine Just Understand. July 13, 2023. https://www.imfineimfine.com/p/nimona-the-comic-a-deep-dive.

34. Sugano, Aidan. 2023. Nimona: the Digital Art Book. Netflix. 259-260. https://web.archive.org/web/20240309222607/https://artofnimona.com/.

35. Sugano, Aidan. 2023. Nimona: the Digital Art Book. Netflix. 7. https://web.archive.org/web/20240309222607/https://artofnimona.com/.

36. Brown, Tracy. 2019. “In Netflix’s ‘She-Ra,’ Even Villains Respect Nonbinary Pronouns.” Los Angeles Times. November 6, 2019. https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2019-11-05/netflix-she-ra-princesses-power-nonbinary-double-trouble.

37. Department of Homeland Security. 2019. “If You See Something, Say Something®.” Department of Homeland Security. May 10, 2019. https://www.dhs.gov/see-something-say-something.

38. University of Stanford. n.d. “Stephon Clark.” Say Their Names - Spotlight at Stanford. https://exhibits.stanford.edu/saytheirnames/feature/stephon-clark.

39. Kidd, Jeremy D., Tettamanti, Nicky A., Kaczmarkiewicz, Roma, Corbeil, Thomas E., Dworkin, Jordan D., Jackman, Kasey B., Hughes, Tonda L., Bockting, Walter O., & Meyer, Ilan H. 2023. “Prevalence of Substance Use and Mental Health Problems among Transgender and Cisgender US Adults.” Williams Institute. https://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/publications/transpop-substance-use/.

40. “2023 Anti-Trans Bills: Trans Legislation Tracker.” n.d. Trans Legislation Tracker. https://translegislation.com/bills/2023.

41. James, S.E., Herman, J.L., Durso, L.E., & Heng-Lehtinen, R. 2024. “Early Insights: A Report of the 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey.” National Center for Transgender Equality, Washington, DC.

42. Myers, Catherine. 2023. “Protests in the Age of Social Media.” The Nonviolence Project. February 11, 2023. https://thenonviolenceproject.wisc.edu/2023/02/11/protests-in-the-age-of-social-media/.

43. Auxier, Brooke, and Colleen McClain. 2020. “Americans Think Social Media Can Help Build Movements, but Can Also Be a Distraction.” Pew Research Center. Pew Research Center. September 9, 2020. https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2020/09/09/americans-think-social-media-can-help-build-movements-but-can-also-be-a-distraction/.

44. Stevenson, N. D. 2023. “Nimona (the Comic): A Deep Dive.” I’m Fine I’m Fine Just Understand. July 13, 2023. https://www.imfineimfine.com/p/nimona-the-comic-a-deep-dive.

45. Chapman, Wilson. 2022. “HBO Max to Remove 36 Titles, Including 20 Originals, from Streaming.” Variety. August 18, 2022. https://variety.com/2022/tv/news/hbo-max-originals-removed-1235344286/.

46. Iftikhar, Asyia. 2023. “Netflix CEO Slammed by LGBTQ+ Fans over Cancellation Comments: ‘They Are NOT Allies.’” PinkNews. January 24, 2023. https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/01/24/netflix-ceo-ted-sarandos-cancelled-shows-lgbtq-fans-reactions/.

47. Lang, Jamie. 2023. “Netflix Has Released a 358-Page Multimedia Art of Book for ‘Nimona’ - Exclusive.” Cartoon Brew. October 12, 2023. https://www.cartoonbrew.com/books/nimona-art-of-book-aidan-sugano-netflix-233636.html.

48. “Wayback Machine.” n.d. The Internet Archive. Accessed June 10, 2024. https://wayback-api.archive.org/web/20240000000000.

49. Lang, Jamie. 2023. “Netflix Has Released a 358-Page Multimedia Art of Book for ‘Nimona’ - Exclusive.” Cartoon Brew. October 12, 2023. https://www.cartoonbrew.com/books/nimona-art-of-book-aidan-sugano-netflix-233636.html.

#original essays #original post #nimona #nimona movie #nimona 2023 #nimona film

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sheepispink · 4 months ago

Text

THE TRUTH. (super soldier au part 2)

cw: mentions of telling someone to commit suicide, threats, bullying

guys idk how i feel about this one but here u go 🙏

PART ONE Series Masterlist

———-

Happy Birthday

freak.

A present stopped you from walking out at your usual time. It was a week until your birthday, and usually no one remembered other than those who had your file. Although that mostly consisted of blacked out paragraphs now.

It’s wrapped a little messily, not the worst, and you slowly pick it up, noticing a weight inside. You had never got a present before, much less more than a small timeframe to have some sort of celebration— not that you ever took that opportunity anyway. Most years you were too busy hung up with wires and drowning in your mind from drugs. Your thumb brushes over the paper curiously, looking for a name tag but finding nothing to mark the sender. Neatly, you rip a line through the paper which reveals a cardboard box. It’s blank, no branding or anything to attach itself to. When you open it though, you’re quickly greeted by a strange sight; a gun.

A handgun to be more specific, a Browning L941 if you wanted details. It sits neatly in the box, looking clean but you can tell by the small nicks in metal it’s not new. There’s a note beside it, typed— never handwritten.

“If your aim is as good as they say, surely you can prove it by putting it to your head.”

You’re not too surprised, at least more than the initial eye widening. After all, you did deal with the piece of paper on your designated breakfast table every morning. Your eyes flicker down, to the sentence beneath.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll just have to deliver the gift in person.”

That makes you blink, the implications of the clear threat not lost on you. It wasn't the first time you’ve heard them; enemies swore that they’d tear you apart limb by limb, Ghost promised he’d douse you in cold water the next time you caused a bloodbath and even the scientists taunted you with those syringes. The difference was, those were.. well threats you couldn't exactly avoid. Ghost would always get mad at you for making a mess, and you used to be far more rebellious against the scientists— or was that fear? Enemies threatening you was just a farce anyway, you’d have their bodies by your feet soon enough that it wasn't even worth thinking over twice. But this? Comrades, or well they’re supposed to be, who want to kill you? Teammates who would live happier knowing they put you to the grave. It’s no longer the opposing team, no longer the one Ghost points his finger at, no longer the ones that destroy humanity.

No, they only want to destroy you.

For the first few days, you tried to shake it, but you were feeling the weight of the words even more than usual. The stab of pain in your back when they threw the bread roll at you; that could be a bullet next time. Your shoes in the toilet could be your body next time. The fox who whines and whimpers would be you when you were deemed useless.

The truth was, you didnt care about the damn movie, or the cake you were promised, nor even the words “happy birthday” being said to you. It was an excuse, a white lie even, to get the Captain, or Ghost, hoping one of them would actually come into your room. Never have they stepped foot in since your first arrival, never feeling the need to either. The Captain only had time to care when you emailed him, but even that seemed too risky, what if he laughed it off and the surrounding soldiers heard? Ghost barely ever gave you time to talk anyway, and when you did get a moment, there were too many around.

So you invited them over, tried your best act as if you really wanted a birthday to celebrate with them. They’d come, you’d show them the note, the gun. If they laughed, it’d be fine, hidden in your room— you could find a solution before they told the others and it spread around the base. If they didn't laugh, you’d be safe, guaranteed that no one would really try what would happen on that piece of paper.

But you hadn't anticipated that neither of them would come at all. Your eyes brim with tears, unsure how that is even possible as you step into your room, a tenseness sinking into your bones and spreading across your body. With them completely out of the picture, you’re left by yourself until your end surely comes. Maybe you should’ve known, especially when you remember what soldiers call you— a monster.

But it wasn’t in your coding, in your genes or even near your thought process to harm those that threaten you— at least not first anyways, and especially when they’re not explicitly enemies. This was a moral dilemma your tampered mind wasn't capable of handling. Despite the sick growing in your stomach, you had a plan. There were outdoor training rooms, more specifically small cabins that were sometimes used to punish soldiers if they acted up too much.

The gift remains untouched on the dresser, a silent promise watching you at all times. It’s almost four o clock now, and the day isn't getting any brighter in the middle of winter. Opening your closet, your hands pass over the many uniforms there. That’s all they give you, uniforms, it’s why yours are always clean— your only purpose is to fight. So you grab the jacket in the furthest corner, the one usually saved for extreme weather conditions and slip that on. It disguises your figure enough and the hiking boots are exactly what you need to be a new person.

Your hand grazes the knives in your old belt, and you take a few, sliding them into the new holster behind the jacket. Just in case. There’s nothing else to take now, apart from your small radio that you sometimes keep on your person— you dont really use a phone either since it was seen to be a distraction. You’ll likely have to starve for the rest of the day, though with your knowledge you could probably find some sort of food out there. Just in case, you grab an MRE, a spare that stays around in the off chance you get dizzy from eating nothing all day.

Slowly you step out in the hallway, looking around for anyone before closing your door shut again. You didnt dare make it suspicious with a backpack, so your bottle is stuffed into your jacket pocket instead. Same for the untampered gift on the table, they’d assume you’d be back later to open it.

This was your best bet.

You head down the corridors, keeping a confident pace so people wouldn’t even try suspect you— that’s the key to everything, after all. Ironically, that wasn’t the situation at all, in fact they were.. friendly? A few soldiers gave you a nod as you walked past, which wasn’t the craziest thing but, considering no one’s ever done that before, it was exhilarating. You nod in turn, a mask hiked up to your nose but it just looks like you’re keeping your face warm for when you go outside— not that anyone here is phased by a mere mask anyway. Infact, a few soldiers who look particularly boisterous even go as far to fist bump you, likely thinking you’re someone they know. You don't care in the slightest; you’re just happy that for once you get to experience what your life should’ve been like.

The giddiness is temporary though, as you turn the corner to see Ghost stepping out of a room with two crates of drinks in his hands. You falter, stopping in your tracks as he closes the door behind him.

Is this really the right idea? Running away like this?

It’s only for the day, at least that was the idea, but what after that? What if they didn't stop at your birthday— what if it continued? You could tell him right now, pull the mask down that covers your face and confess every little detail running through your head. What would you do if he got in trouble for your foolish decisions? He had shown his stance when he chose not to show up at your birthday party; he clearly didn't care at all.. right?

“Do you need something?” He says lowly, clearly having realised that you’ve frozen in your tracks before him, and giving you a narrowed stare for that reason. Surprisingly, it’s less demeaning and more questioning, considering how harsh his eyes usually go when looking at you. It gives you a bit of hope.

”D-do you need any help with that, sir?” You’re not sure why your voice stuttered, not particularly wanting to think much about the matter either. Instead, you stare right back at him, your eyes widened as you stare in his pupils moving around like it’s searching you.

Did he recognise you?

“No, that’s alright.” It’s gruff, and harsh and yet far more nicer than he’s ever spoken to you before. You manage to force yourself to nod in response, giving a small salute before hurrying off down the corridor.

Trekking through the forest is a little bit of an effort but you eventually meet the small cabin that’s there. It’s almost never used in winter, but in the summer they might do their training in these areas and keep the lunch here. Slowly you step inside, recognising from the get go that there’s not particularly much. There’s a few bedrolls for wilderness training, albeit a bit torn and some dry firewood left discarded on the little fireplace. That’s good, at least you won't freeze anymore than you already have. It’s not like you can use it though— it’s too risky. If anyone sees smoke out here you’re bound to get caught in seconds, and possibly even by your predators.

You lock the cabin door, placing a chair beneath the handle as you let out a sigh and slump against the wall. This would be a long, painstaking night and you cant help but wonder if it’d been better to just defend yourself when they came. But what if you lost control? What if you seriously hurt someone? Even if they were trying to harm you?

The thought makes you shudder, even more than the thoughts you’ve been desperately pushing back. But when there is nothing else to do in this cold place, it’s hard to keep your mind focused. The only way you survived these past three months with Ghost is by not thinking about your situation— at all. It’s probably why he hates you. From how he reacts anyway, you’re more like a robot than you’ve ever been a human. You’ve been monitored all your life, since before you were born you were made for the cause. No clue of who your mother was, you were genetically modified as an embryo for all the traits they wished for you to have. Other children in the program had the same, of course, and for the first years of your life you were blissfully unaware. You didn’t understand that the kids you ran around and giggled with would end up being your own enemies, despising that you turned out to be the successful experiment and not them. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, but they complained, saying you didnt have to be sent away like they did, to be fostered and deal with the pain of the experiments for the rest of their lives.

That’s exactly what you had though. You were split from them altogether, coddled by scientists and doctors, personal trainers who felt more like drill sergeants than anyone that wanted to help you. Of course, you were tampered with too, drugged up on strange substances as they tampered with your nerves, always changing you to be better because you were never enough for them. They were supposed to enforce rationality within you by erasing anything that could get you worked up, and so your emotions became suppressed, pushed down and piled with the weight of responsibilities to keep them down. But it clearly wasn't successful, at least when you’re not on the battlefield. When you entered that place, it was like a switch had turned on in your brain, all morality slipping out as you only followed the orders of whoever the handler was. Your mind always enters a haze after you snap out of it and come back from hours of combat, leaving you feeling sick to the core.

But now, things are changing— too fast. You had cried, because they didn't come to your birthday party. For once, your stomach felt sickly with misery and your breath had caught in your throat when you’ve never stopped breathing before, ever. Your hand reaches into your pocket, pulling out a small fox toy. It was a gift from a younger scientist who had just been a mere intern. He had been put forward for the menial task of looking after your post-experimentation state, making sure your vitals were fine. You didnt get to talk to him that much, considering you mostly were deep in sleep, recovering from the new strain on your body. But he stayed beside you, making sure you were okay. When you left to get tested on the field with Ghost, he gave you a small plush, just the size of your hand.

“A little gift.” He chuckled, smiling gently as he rubbed your bandaged arm. “Don't give me that look. I know you’re not actually that unbothered, they just made you that way. You can say you like it, you know, that it makes you happy.”

You could only nod in return, it was the truth, you were very happy.

The sky was already growing dark and without the determination that kept your body distracted from your needs, you were actually feeling your hunger full force for once. The little fox is clenched deep in your hands, a natural predator and yet it’s more common to see them die out in the wild than thriving. Just like you. Your stomach growls, and so you reach for your MRE, eyeing the food within. You were probably supposed to warm it up first, but you’d just have to eat it like this for now. You rip the first packet open, and just try to scarf it down without thinking about the taste too much. It wasn’t the best to say the least. But you’re used to it now; you barely got proper meals apart from missions, and often had to eat one of these after an unsuccessful trip to the mess hall.

You’re about to inspect the other packet when a low scratching noise is heard against the door. Instantly, you pause, mind shifting into something akin to a battle mode already. Slowly, you approach the door, pressing your ear as your hand reaches in your belt for the knife. The windows were frosted up, so it’s unlikely they could see in when it was already pretty dark in here. A low whine echoes out and you realise who's actually stalking you, quickly removing the chair and opening the door. The little fox stands there, looking up at you as it slowly steps inside the cabin.

For once, you let your guard down and just sigh, closing the door and securing it again. “C’mere.” You rarely fear anything, and so you scoop the little fox up without a second thought, even as it squirms initially and its claws are sharp on you. You settle in the warmest area of the room again, next to your mre pack and grab the fork, scooping out some of the food. You didn't need the rest, but he could use it. The fox reluctantly eats the food, and you giggle when you realise it probably doesn't taste much better to him either despite being starving. You took it off by letting him drink half the bottle of your water, which he greedily takes along with a few fruits you packed.

“Your fur is matted, and you’re all banged up but you’re still adorable.” The thought makes you sniffle, a bittersweet smile rising on your lips. The fox rests its head on your lap as you run your hand over its fur, gently scratching every now and then. Why couldn’t people see the truth in you as you did right now? You’ve trained for so long, fought to keep all of them safe on their missions and all you got in return was a scared look, disgust and sometimes even anger. It hurt, more than you allowed yourself to feel.

But this is the first time you’ve been alone without the battlefield before you, or a supervisor staring you down. You could have a gun to your head tonight, and no one will find out until the morning, so for now you just begged that the soldiers were joking, for the sake of everyone involved.

You just wish Ghost and Price would’ve listened, so you could be safe and warm back there, at least getting an early sleep on your birthday. The scientist promised, he said it’d get better, he said there would be others who would care like he did. He said only the higherups were this bad; he lied to you. The tears drip again, unable to stop this time and you bury your face in your hands, mourning everything you’ve lost, and everything you’ve yet to lose. Dead or alive, you may lose it all.

————————-

NEXT CHAPTER Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay

buy me a ko-fi :)

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost angst #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 4 months ago

Note

Y'all might have done a similar HC before, but may I request a HC where Azul, Floyd, Leona, Vil, and Rook catch the MC overworking themselves unhealthily late at night trying to find a way back home? To the point where the MC is exhausted with a nosebleed. I feel like there isn't enough angst about the MC being far from home with dwindling hope on getting back.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul understood the unbearable need to work yourself to the bone, but he was also aware of burning out, and without a slew of contracts to have others at your whim, you were just performing a thankless job at this point. He supposed he could find a way to do a series of exchanges that could have him helping you (with less effort on your part) while simultaneously helping him, the only issue being how he can convince you to ask for his help first.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd doesn’t get why you want to go home so bad, or why you’re so determined to do it. It can’t be fun to do all this research day and night, to get no sleep at all along with no results. He worked best as a momentary distraction, dragging you away from your research, showing you the more fun (chaotic) sides of this world, and giving you a much needed break. He could admit he did understand the tiniest bit about why you'd want to go home, but until a solution was found, why not enjoy your time with him?

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona had tried not to get involved, hoping for the situation to solve itself, yet he knew he should’ve known better. He didn't hesitate with calling you a fool, a stupid herbivore, for overworking yourself to the point of exhaustion. Did you not want to make it back home? You’d kill yourself at this rate, if you kept up this pace, and while Leona’s words were harsh they weren’t untrue. If you looked bad enough that even he had to comment on it, you knew you should take a step back to recover.

Rook Hunt:

Rook admires the passion, able to feel your heartache from the way you push beyond your own limits in your desperation to get home, however there must be an established rest point. Even if it meant picking up some slack and investigating himself, Rook implored you to rest, to give that beautiful brain of yours a break, to stop the bags under your eyes from growing. He’s concerned about your overall well-being and, since it’s impossible to hide anything from a hunters sharp eyes, you know its better to listen than even attempt to lie.

Vil Schoenheit:

You’re in for a world of hurt with Vil. Not only pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion but you’re ruining your skin by staying up so late, sapping your energy level during daylight hours, probably dehydrated—There’s a list that Vil is more than happy to deliver until it gets through your head. Going home starts with caring for yourself first, and Vil tells you that you must put yourself first before your home world or else you’ll never live long enough to find your way back.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Rook Hunt #Leona Kingscholar #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

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emacrow · 5 months ago

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Raven and Tim were the next one to know as Babs brought them in a room with a powerpoint about the fairy boy in Alfred's garden.

Raven because she knows most all mythical creatures in her personal library books and hopefully has a solution to how to capture and relocate the fairy..

Tim for the strategy and backup plans, but his mouth was currently being duct taped shut because Babs will kill him if he say those words.

"Alright, do you have any questions, and what are your solutions plan for capture misplaced Fairy?" Babs said after finishing the powerpoint.

"How exactly did Alfred acquire this flower that the winged fae resided in?"Raven said, looking through her books of Fae history and homes.

"Alfred saw it was the only thing left on the sale, and discount flowers stand at his favorite grocery store, but he got it for free since the tag for it was gone and the manager did had a crush on him. I believe it is a bit far too coincidental." Babs continues to explain.

"I checked the groceries camera footages and it seem to just appear out of nowhere, like some type of glitch in the system."

"... It sounds like a misplaced infinite realm random natural portal incident.." Raven mumbled a bit, flipping a book's pages with her telekinesis to the correct page with the number at the very end chapter of fae and infinite realms.

"Infinite realm..?" Tim voice a bit after tearing off the double duct tape off his mouth, rubbing his stinging lips.

"Yes, seem the little fae was judge as an offering that was rejected to a Higher being of the Infinite realm or offended due to a defect such as his wings are missing." Raven thought about it after several examinations.

"The fae still has sparkling dust on his clothes that was likely fae powder-

"-Pixie dust" babs said a bit too excitedly

"Scars all over his body and on his back look to been recently that he was tortured and his wings were Intently torn off to make sure he didn't had a chance to escape back to fae realm, along with being placed back into his home flower stuck in hibernation phase while contaminated with the infinite realm energy.

Seem the nature portal randomly was this fae saving grace, as it instinctly went straight for sugar cube, a blueberry and gem that didn't have silver coating along with its body pushing itself hard to fly with the remaining residue of fae powder that the buzzing sound was likely a former lightning since Fae noises can not be heard by the human ear even with boasting of magic unless you had step into the fae rings." Raven explained as she read the chapter.

"Do fairies tend to die if you say that.." Babs trying to say by pointing at to emphasize the words on the powerpoint that typed words theory of fairies dying if humans say they don't exist??

"Unfortunately, it seemed so as thousand years or so began to humans lost interests, offerings or belief to Fae-

"Fairies-

-Azarath Metrion Zinthos, they tend to lose power and seemingly fade away into a painfully slow death is very rare, which was counter by them cutting off the entrances of their own fairy rings to the world to save their immortalized skin." Raven said after getting interrupt for the second time, using the shadows to cover Babs mouth so she can finished explaining.

Previous post part 3 link Here <-

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #teen titans #Rarob #danny the little fairy boi #dropping lore like it hot #babs is going a bit stir crazy realizing fairies are real

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rambling-at-midnight · 7 months ago

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Guide Me Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: While walking downtown, you inhale fear toxin. It's up to the Bats to find you before your heart gives out.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Scarecrow attack, (kind of) graphic hallucinations (only a small allude to blood though)

Fun fact: As I wrote this, 'quiet' started to not look like a word anymore.

You rub at your eye, muttering below your breath. Wind has been whipping through the Gotham streets all day, drying out your contacts to the point of discomfort.

The next time you blink, one flips up. Cursing, you cup a hand over the affected eye and blink until the stupid contact rights itself. Digging around your purse, you find your suspicions to be true: after the last time you needed to use your emergency backup contacts, you forgot to replace them. The small bottle of contact solution is missing, lost to the abyss of the purse or somewhere else. All you know is that it’s not here.

The only alternative is your glasses, and those are always a last resort. With an outdated prescription, uncomfortably heavy bridge, and scratched lenses, they’re far from ideal.

It’s fine. You’ll splash some water on your face when you get to the cafe and blink a lot. They’re fine.

Your friend is already sitting by the time you get there, but hasn’t ordered their drink yet. You haven’t seen them for several months, though you used to see each other every day during undergrad. They’re only here for a work conference. They live in Metropolis now, and are wearing an ‘I SURVIVED MY VISIT TO METROPOLIS’ shirt to show it. A couple Gothamites around them are actively laughing into their hands at the sight of it. After all, compared to this city, really nothing is worse.

After the usual greeting, hug, and exclamations over how long it’s been, you say, “Sorry, but my contact’s actually killing me right now. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll watch your stuff,” they say cheerfully.

The bathroom’s about as good as someone could hope for in Gotham. The remains of scrubbed-away graffiti lingers on the wall around the mirror, and a paper towel with a suspicious red stain hangs over the edge of the trash can. Not quite the vibe this place is going for, judging by the painted ivy around the walls and the hanging plants, but oh well.

You blink, squeeze your eyes shut, rub them, and open them again. Much better.

There’s a drink in front of your friend by the time you make it back to the table they found, pushed in the back corner where things are a little quieter. “They have seasonal syrups,” they say, sipping the drink. “Though a lot of them are named after supervillains.”

You scoff and shrug off your coat. “Please. Clayface is hardly a supervillain. He’s just a washed-up actor.”

“That must be nice,” your friend says wistfully. “Did I tell you I had to replace my car last month?”

“No!”

“Yeah! Some alien dictator had beef with Superman. A lot of cars were thrown in that fight.”

“Ugh,” you say wistfully. “We had some good memories in that car.” They’d had it since undergrad.

“Gone but never forgotten,” they say, holding their cup up for cheers, and you both remember that you haven’t ordered anything yet.

Even though you’re on a bit of a caffeine ban—boyfriend’s orders—you order a coffee. One a day won’t hurt you, not when you were averaging at least four during the recent busy season. The pathology lab you work at always has a huge rush of biopsies ordered between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Now that it’s a little into January, you’re not scrambling quite so much.

With your drink in hand, you head back to the table to keep catching up. Your friend started a new job with a much better boss than their old one. They’re thinking about proposing to their partner of five years. Their dog got into their family’s big holiday meal and they had to order last-minute Chinese takeout instead. And they can’t decide whether to cut their hair or keep growing it out.

Then it’s your turn. You’re four years into your job at the lab, kind of feeling like you want a change, but the generous Christmas bonus is making you think twice. Your apartment is okay but not nice. Your cat is healthy and happy and extremely spoiled. Your family lives across the country, all with separate plans, so you stayed in Gotham for the (surprisingly uneventful) winter.

“What did you do for the holidays, then?” your friend asks, their drink long since finished. Judging by their eyes drifting back to the counter as you speak, they want another.

“My boyfriend’s family celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas,” you say. “Nothing too fancy, of course, none of us are terribly religious. But it was nice to see each other on a regular basis for a week straight.” Jason would disagree, but only out of principle. “We’re all busy people.”

“And your boyfriend? Jason, right? How is he? What does he do for work, again?”

Here comes the hard part. No matter what happens in your personal life, you can’t talk to anyone about it unless they’re in the know. Keeping Gotham safe requires a fairly large system; you and several other scientists or similar professionals are able to contact the Bats through Leslie Thompkins, Lucius Fox, and Commissioner Gordon, but of that number, only a fraction know their identities.

Working overtime at the lab as a new hire, you were the only one Leslie could reach at midnight when Black Bat came in contact with a mysterious substance through an open wound. From midnight to eight a.m., you collected blood and skin samples with hands that shook under the scrutiny of Batman’s white-lensed gaze. Your treatment was a gamble but a success, and after that, the Bats started to come to you more and more. So many of their rogues use biowarfare, after all. Still, it took over a year for Black Bat and Spoiler to take off their masks around you. At that point, you’d only seen Red Hood once, when he brought Robin in and ordered you to never tell Batman that he’d done so. Months after that, he took off his helmet around you, but only because of a nasty cut on his neck, and the domino mask beneath it stayed on. You’d known each other for a year and a half before he spoke more than five curt words to you at a time. Analyzing a new street drug was the first time you two ever worked together, and it was fun. After that, he just kept coming back.

It took so long to gain their trust, and you won’t risk it. But there are so many secrets. How can you explain to anyone else that not only is your boyfriend related to Bruce Wayne—yes, the Bruce Wayne of Gotham, billionaire, CEO, activist, and philanthropist—but he is, in fact, the man’s very publicly dead son?

So you can tell people about your boyfriend named Jason. You can’t introduce him to anyone from outside Gotham; the jagged scar on his cheek and glowing green eyes tend to raise more questions than answers. You can mention that he has a large family. You can’t tell them who his family is. You can tell them that Jason works flexible hours, usually at night, so the two of you see each other often despite your busy schedules. You can’t tell them what Jason actually does for work.

“He runs a not-for-profit community service organization,” you lie, the words familiar and tasteless from how often you’ve had to say them. And he sort of does, but with a lot more violence and criminal cavorting than most other not-for-profits. “He’s really passionate about helping Gotham’s kids that come from low-income households.” The foster system reform laws passed last year were lobbied by Wayne Enterprises, but it was the Red Hood showing up in politician’s houses in the dead of night that really sped up the process.

“I talked to Avery the other day,” your friend says. “They’re convinced you’re making him up.”

You sigh. Avery is another friend from college. You two were in the same friend group for years, but were never particularly close outside of it. “We don’t like to take pictures together, okay?”

Your friend eyes you with a faint air of dissatisfaction. “Well, if you say so. I was actually hoping to meet him while I’m here.”

You try not to let it show how your heart leaps into your throat at the thought. Around the lump, you say, “I’m sure he’d love to, but he’ll be stuck all day at the office.” Lie. He’s at home right now, baking muffins and wearing an apron with the words ‘Kiss the Cook.’ Damian and Tim scribbled over the two ‘S’s with Sharpie to make it ‘KiLL the Cook,’ but the sentiment is still there.

“Right,” they say slowly.

The meetup doesn’t last long after that. At the end of it, you hug and promise to meet up more often, even though it’s unlikely. With a wave, they head off for their conference, and you’re almost out the door when you blink wrong and—

Half the world goes blurry.

You feel the contact fall down your cheek and onto the ground.

“Goddamnit,” you hiss under your breath.

Glasses it is.

You’ve been wearing contacts for so long that you can take out the other one without breaking stride. The wind hasn’t let up in the slightest, and it makes your nose run.

Sniffling slightly, shoulders hunched against the chill, you don’t see the pumpkin until it’s too late.

They’re after you.

It’s not safe, not for you, not for anyone, they want you, they’re grabbing you, hands on your shoulder, people screaming—screaming at you—for you to stop—no—for—for something to stop?

Something is wrong. Dimly, in the back of your mind, you know something is wrong, but your hands are shaking and your bag is ripping, someone is clawing at you, screaming, desperate, they want you to fall back so they’re safe (from what?) and someone else shoves you and you go spinning out, bag in one direction and you in the other and—

They’re changing, the person clawing at you, turning into a monster, and you scream.

They’re after you

(who is after you)

They want to hurt you

(why)

(what is going on)

And you can’t see, something is wrong, you hear glass crunch and then the whole world goes out of focus.

You can’t see.

They’ll get you if you can’t see, and now you can see them, the dark shapes rising from the shadows, claws out and maws gaping, hungry, hungry, hungry for you and your marrow and your heart and they’re going to get you—

You run.

You trip over something (or someone; something like a bone crunches) and your heel slides and your hands catch you but not really, chin clipping the ground so hard your teeth click, and your hands burn, and your chin aches, but they’re still behind you, behind and getting closer—

You run.

You run and they get closer and you see the corner of something dark and blurry, and maybe it’s another monster or maybe it’s a building, and you skid to a stop and throw yourself behind it.

It’s not a monster. It smells awful—a dumpster—and the ground is wet, you hope from rain, but maybe it’s blood

(you’re sitting in a pool of it)

(you’ll be covered)

(the monsters will smell the blood and come running and they’ll hear you shuffling, they’ll hear you panting, they’ll hear your heart pounding, pounding, pounding—)

You scramble to the farthest corner between the brick building’s corner and the dumpster—maybe their clawed arms will be too short to reach you—and hide your face in your hands—you need to stop breathing so loudly—you need to be quiet, quiet, quiet—

People continue to scream. The city, the city Jason and his family try so hard to protect, everyone is dying and you’re going to die and maybe they’ll die, too, or maybe they’ll survive, and maybe they’ll find your dead body and that would ruin Jason, or maybe they won’t and you’ll rot behind the dumpster, smelling just as bad as the trash inside it—

Quiet quiet quiet.

You can’t stop shaking, your teeth won’t stop rattling, and you have to be quiet quiet quiet.

But your heart keeps pounding, faster and faster. It hasn’t slowed down since the monsters came, it’s only getting louder and faster.

Dimly you think you might be having a heart attack.

Everything gets a thousand times worse when one of the monsters shouts your name.

How do they know your name?

Footsteps on the pavement and people have stopped screaming.

Dead, you think. And you’ll be next if you’re not quiet quiet quiet.

The monster shouts your name again. It’s louder—they’re closer. You curl into a tighter ball. They can’t find you.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Your chest hurts; your heart wants to jump out of it.

Jason, you think wildly. Jason will save you. If Jason finds you, he’ll keep you safe. Your hands fish at your side, but find empty air: your purse is gone. There’s no way to reach him, and he can’t even track your location through your phone.

The monster shouts your name again. It has a deep voice.

Another voice joins it, deeper, pitched lower. You can’t quite make out the words.

“They’re around here,” the first monster insists. “B, we don’t have long, this strain is strong—”

“They’re strong,” says the second monster. “Their heart can handle it.”

Something thumps and a third monster says, “Everyone else is clear. Signal had to take two people to the hospital, but they’ll be fine, don’t look so upset, B.”

“You have the antitoxin?” the first monster demands.

“Relax, Hood,” drawls the third monster. “‘Course I do. So you tracked them here?”

“Yeah, I just—” Again it shouts your name. It sounds almost upset. “Please, it’s me, I can help you. Come on. You’re safe. You inhaled fear toxin, I know you’re terrified, but it’s me. You know me.”

It’s trying to lure you in. You won’t fall for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath. Let them move on. Let them search somewhere—

“There you are.”

A hulking figure is blocking the light.

The monsters found you.

“Stop it!” you yell, trying to sound brave. “Leave me alone or—or you’ll regret it!”

“Please,” it wheedles, “I’m just trying to help you. Don’t you recognize me?” It reaches out with clawed hands and you kick frantically, but there’s nowhere else for you to go.

“Hey, aren’t these their glasses?” asks the third monster. “What happened to their contacts?”

“Don’t come any closer! The Red Hood will get you, I know him, if you hurt me he’ll kill you! Stop it!”

“I’m really sorry about this, honey,” the monster says, and its clawed hand latches around your ankle and you howl. The sharp points dig deep through skin into muscle and sinew, and it hurts and you’re going to die—

“Jason!” you shriek. “Jason, help me!”

“I’m right here,” the monster lies. “Please, I’m right here, look at me—”

You won’t. You won’t do it. You can’t watch while it kills you. “Jason, please!” you bawl again, but it’s too late. The monsters have you, you’re surrounded, he’ll never forgive himself but what could he even do against them—

Sharp teeth dig into your neck.

You’re dead.

“There we go, darling,” the monster says. Strong arms wrap around you—it wants to crush you to death—and you struggle, but there’s no use.

Except—

You can hear now, kind of, the rush of blood in your ears is receding a bit, and something heavy lands on your nose. This time, when you blink your eyes open, the world’s edges have sharpened. And the monster in front of you—

Well, you recognize the dark hair with a shock of white, and the brilliantly green eyes would be visible if not for the white-lensed domino mask, and the jagged scar on his cheek.

“Jay?” you murmur, hand coming up to touch it. He doesn’t flinch away. It took so long for him to stop flinching when you touch his face. Over his shoulder, you see Batman and Spoiler watching with satisfaction and slight worry. “What happened?”

“Scarecrow,” he says grimly. “He gassed the street, but only about twenty people were affected. I was patrolling nearby, and when I saw your purse on the ground—” He grimaces, then fixes you with a hard look. His two hands can span most of your head, and he takes it to press a firm kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back slightly, without looking away, “I want their heart checked.”

“The antitoxin—” Batman starts.

“I don’t care,” Jason snarls.

Your hands loosely hold his forearms, still shaking a little. “How’d you find me?”

“I tracked you,” he says softly.

“But my phone—”

“Honey,” he says gently, “of course that’s not the only one.”

Well. You should have guessed that, honestly.

“I’ll go check on the victims,” Batman says suddenly. “Come on, Spoiler.”

“Glad to see you’re okay,” Spoiler says to you, then dashes after Batman. In a whirl of capes, they’re gone.

“I’m so sorry,” Jason says in a rush.

“Jay—”

“I should have protected you,” he grits out, white lenses turning to slits as he squeezes his eyes shut. “This should never have happened—”

“You couldn’t have known,” you say softly, letting go of his arms and wiggling beneath them to wrap yours around his torso. Your nose wedges against his chest kind of uncomfortably, but now you can smell him, the familiar gunpowder and a little bit of sour sweat, and the faint tremble in his bones that mirrors the one in your hands. He clutches you close, head buried in the crook of your neck.

He croaks, “I’m so sorry, so sorry, so—”

“You saved me,” you mumble into his armor. “I knew you would.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Jay.” You pull back to look at him seriously. “Even when I couldn’t think straight, I knew you would come. I’ll always know that, no matter what toxin’s messing with my head.”

Judging by the twist of his mouth, he doesn’t quite believe that. He’ll beat himself up internally for days, you know.

But you also know that while Bruce runs his tests in the Cave to make sure there’s no more toxin in your system, he’ll hold your hand the whole time. You know he’ll hold you tight in the bed you share tonight. You know, as long as Jason lives and breathes, he’ll always protect you.

“I love you,” he says thickly. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

“Let’s get you checked out.” He helps you up and holds you close and you know that you’ll be okay.

Jason’s here, so you’ll be okay.

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@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe

Let me know if there's anything you want to see from me. Inspiration strikes at odd intervals, and I get lonely.

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #dc insert

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