#► I'm a gallery of broken parts (main)

[pluviacuratio-a]

GOT SUNLIGHT IN MY HANDS

RELEASE IT WHEN WE DANCE

CAN'T KEEP IT TO MYSELF

I TAKE THE PAIN WITH A SMILE, I'M MY MOTHER'S CHILD

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 19

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: heavy themes, character death, mention of violence, death, grief, (somehow) a sprinkle of fluff

Note: hello! finally we're here, this is looking like the second last chapter, which is bitter sweet but I suppose it has to end at some point :( also I know this one is shorter than usual, and since it is very plot driven it may not be as fun to read but I hope the fluff makes up for it! the next chapter will definitely be longer and hopefully less depressing overall lol. anyway, that's it, as always endless thanks for your patience. hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

You can feel heat prickling your skin, the quidditch pitch is a fiery blaze and you could only afford to stare in helpless despair.

The quaffle hoops once stood large and tall, you've flown by them countless times during quidditch practice, and multiple house matches. One of the best memories you've made at Hogwarts– reduced to ash.

Now the wooden stands are nothing but kindling for the fire that devoured them, they come crashing down in pieces of hot red ember.

Smoke is all you can smell in the air, thick hot ash and fear.

You can't move, still– you observed as the flames licked another banner, Gryffindor or Slytherin, they were no match for it's fiery wrath.

More students sprint past, careless and panicked, nudging you in the process. Now you are forcefully pushed further into the doorway.

It works as a shock to your system, a part of you astrayed amidst the chaos, but you had to keep running, in search of Hermione.

You propell down the main hall, soon approaching the gallery.

“Y/n!” Blessedly, you finally hear your love call out to you, but it was a shout of warning.

Somehow, you manage to narrowly dodge the curse coming your way. “Avada Kedavra!” You cast in return, without thought, almost second nature.

The Death Eater is thrown backwards, slamming through a broken wall and into a pile of bricks.

Your plan to advance forward is interrupted as you feel a presence fall into you, arms wrapped tightly around your neck.

The scent of your girlfriend's perfume is now smothered by the smell of sweat and dirt, but it provides you comfort all the same.

“I thought you were– I thought I lost you.” Hermione mutters, scattered, and all you want to do is hold her, kiss her, and take her as far away from the castle as you possibly could.

But as much as you would like it to be, fleeing is not an option.

Instead you cup her face in your hands, committing each feature of hers to memory, every dip and freckle.

“I'm sorry.” You say.

“It all happened too fast, I don't know how we got separated.” You finish, still trying to make sense of mayhem. You've both come face to face with death half a dozen times tonight, maybe more.

None of it makes sense.

“Guys, come on!” Harry's voice forces Hermione to break your gaze, she then tugs on your arm, guiding you with her.

Soon you find yourselves in a steady jog down the hallway, you turn a corner only to be met with a sight that stops the four of you in your tracks.

Greyback was bent over the body of a girl, his jaw clamped firmly on her neck, draining all life from his victim.

“No!” Hermione shouts. Frantically, she throws a curse, causing the werewolf to crash through the wall behind him. Now the beast has been vanquished, but it is too late.

Atop rubble and ash, Lavender Brown laid stiff and colorless, entirely unlike herself.

Her eyes are open, yet they held no trace of her. The girl's mortal soul, taken by death– ever merciless and violent, tonight, he spares very few.

Harry is first to snap out of the terror induced trance that you found yourselves in, consequently followed by Hermione.

Soon you move as well, but as you glance at Ron, you can't bring yourself to take another step.

Despite yourself, you find your hand reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, mate.” You coax, but the man doesn't react to your touch, or your voice.

He continues to stare at Lavender– and the sheer absence of her.

“She's gone– she isn't suffering anymore.” You offer, hoping Ron would find some solace in your words, however minute.

He does.

Nodding, the ginger haired boy tears his eyes away from his deceased lover. The four of you continue your journey through the courtyard and down the winding stairs towards the boathouse.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Hermione's ironclad grip on your forearm doesn't falter as you follow Harry's lead, quietly approaching the boathouse. The four of you immediately crouch out of sight as you caught movement inside.

Voldermort's voice, faint and unsettling, it makes your blood run cold.

He continues to deliver his thoughts with a tone closer to a whisper, the four of you are forced to strain your necks to listen.

Soon you make out a second voice, and you share a quick look amongst yourselves. Trying your hardest to make sense of what was being said between the Dark Lord, and Professor Snape.

“Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it.”

“It answers to you, and you only.”

Unsettling silence fills the air once more, and you feel inclined to shift closer to Hermione.

“Does it?” Voldermort finally inquires, and it is followed by a lack of response, for a beat, you wonder if Snape was still present.

“My Lord?” The Professor eventually says.

“The wand, does it truly answer to me?”

“You're a clever man Severus, surely you must know.”

“Where does it's true loyalty lie?”

“With you, of course. My Lord.” The Professor replies with just a gleam of hesitation, and for a reason unknown to you, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“The Elder wand cannot serve me properly because I am not it's true master. The wand belongs to the wizard who killed it's last owner.” Voldermort continues.

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.”

“While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine.”

“You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever.”

Then, Hermione turns to you, and you give her a similar look of horror in response.

“My Lord-” Severus’ response is strained.

None of you are given a chance to react before a loud thud is heard, you see the Professor's silhouette hitting the glass before you.

“Nagini, kill.”

The panel vibrates violently, but miraculously, it doesn't shatter.

The sound of Snape's body hitting the glass repeatedly with every deathly blow, makes the four of you jump.

Then a cold gust of wind surrounded the boathouse, and soon, it was quiet again. Only the sound of water, and the noise of a boat hitting the wooden dock everytime it swayed. Snape's shallow breathing, unsteady and helpless.

Harry is first to move, he enters the boathouse, and the rest of you can only trail after him silently.

“Professor–” You stutter as you catch sight of the man laying on the ground.

Snape was a formidable man, one you used to fear, even respected.

He has never looked so small.

Harry crouches beside him, he places his hand on the man's neck as Snape lets out a sob. The sight was so foreign that you had to look away.

“Take them– take them.” The man pleads, incoherent at first, but quickly Harry understands his request.

“Give me something, a flask, anything.” The chosen one orders, extending his arm toward Hermione.

Your girlfriend does as she is bid, fishing out the object from her bag before passing her best friend an empty vial.

You watched with bated breaths as Harry held it up to Snape's cheek, collecting the Professor's tears. Once he was done, he cuped the vial firmly in his grasp.

“Take them to the pensieve.” Snape orders with all that's left of his strength.

He was slipping away, you could see it, the way his head was nodding to the side as he slowly fell limp against the glass, his gaze far away and vacant.

The man whispers something intelligible to Harry, perhaps intended for his ears only. In half a heartbeat, Snape was dead.

–

Harry reaches over to gently shut the Professor's eyes.

You step closer, with the intention to lay Snape on the floor properly, so he may be put to rest with some dignity, but before you can suggest it, a blinding pain courses through your arm.

It makes you groan aloud.

Hermione reaches out for you, but then a voice penetrates the air, sudden and invasive.

The Dark Lord is merciless in his attempt, he has lost every ounce of patience– you could feel it in your arm.

Hermione clasps her hands over her ears as Voldermort delivers his second message.

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this.. every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.”

“Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate.”

“If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child, who tries to conceal you from me.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As the four of you walked through the empty courtyard, you can't help but notice just how quiet it was, something that would usually be considered a comfort, is now incredibly unnerving.

“Where is everybody?” Hermione asks, but her question is soon enough answered once you push the doors open to the Great Hall.

The space is unrecognizable.

A scene from a nightmare.

There is not a candle in sight, everyone operating on the bit of light provided by the moon. You spot Mr Filch, sequestered in a corner, miserably sweeping piles of rubble out of the way.

Your stomach turns as you make your way through, an endless line of bodies laid upon makeshift cots.

You can't help but look upon all their faces, one by one. All these bodies– they were once sons, daughters, somebody's friend or lover.

The air is snatched out of your lungs as you spot a familiar face.

Nymphadora Tonks lay unmoving beside her husband, their hands outstretched as if to touch each other– even in death.

“No..” You mutter in disbelief and Hermione follows your gaze, she let's out a sharp gasp.

It could have easily been you laying on that cot.

It could have been Hermione.

The thought alone made you nauseous, you could physically feel your stomach turn. You decide you had to get away before you wretched.

Before you could however, a desperate wail snatches your attention. You look up to find Ron in the distance, he sobs uncontrollably as he knelt over his brother's dead body.

You watched as Ginny held him, now they are both sobbing helplessly.

Molly could do all but console them. What agony it must be, to watch your children die before their time.

There is so much pain, too much– you had to get away.

You turn to leave the Great Hall, or what is left of it, with no destination in mind. You simply needed to escape.

Away from grief, away from death, if there was ever a chance of evading it tonight.

“Y/n!” Amidst suffocating torment, no voice has ever sounded as sweet. Hermione swiftly catches up to you, her hand slips into your own.

Your palm now felt calloused and rough. It is caked with dirt and dried blood, but Hermione holds it firmly in her own still.

“Don't leave without telling me like that, we can't separate again.” Hermione scolds, and you offer an apologetic look.

“I just need to get some air.” You explain, but Hermione doesn't question it, in desperate need of an escape herself.

“Come,” She merely coaxes, tugging on your arm.

You soon realize she aims to guide you somewhere secluded, but it seemed impossible. Everywhere you looked, it was death and destruction. Your home; a battlefield.. a gravesite.

After wandering for some time, you finally find a place to sit, the flight of stairs leading up to the Headmaster's Tower remains vacant and mostly intact. Although pieces of stone would break off from the sides ever so often, when compared to the rest of the castle, it was hardly worth acknowledging.

Hermione takes a seat on the step, gesturing for you to do the same next to her. Your girlfriend runs her fingers through your disheveled hair, tenderly moving it out of your face.

Neither of you speak just yet, even after all that's happened tonight, she manages to smile at you, honest and bright. It nearly breaks you.

The thought of living even a day without her was excruciating, you can't lose her tonight, under any circumstances.

“We'll be okay, we've made it this far.” Hermione utters out loud, as if she had just read your mind.

“It'll all be over soon.” Your girlfriend says, but you catch the faint tremor in her voice. She was fighting back tears.

Yet, you could only wrap your arm around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

After a prolonged silence, you decide to redirect the topic of conversation, however macabre it may seem, you somehow saw it as the perfect opportunity.

Afterall, you could both use a little bit of joy right now.

“There's something I've wanted to ask you– it is going to sound mad, but I need to say it. before it's too late.” You stammer, a sudden sense of nervousness setting in, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“What is it?” Hermione inquires, by the way her brows furrowed you could tell she was concerned as you spoke vaguely.

You quickly realize that it was too late to back out, you needed to take the leap, and hope that Hermione will catch you.

Amidst a sigh you stand up so you could move a step down.

“This is definitely not how I planned to do it, but–” You mutter, looking around before it occurred to you to utilise the ring you already had on your finger.

You take it off as you got down on one knee, albeit somewhat ungracefully. Hermione's eyes widen at the sight, but she doesn't say anything as of yet, watching you intently.

You extend your hand in front of you, and your girlfriend's gaze shifts to the Slytherin crest ring pinched between your index finger and your thumb.

“Hermione Jean Granger, if we make it out alive tonight– would you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?” You finally manage to utter the words you have longed to say.

Hermione's eyes were no longer wide in shock, but her expression is now unreadable. You couldn't tell if she was about to burst into tears or laugh in your face.

In the end, she does neither, but she still struggles to find the words.

“Y/n, I–” She stutters before averting her gaze.

“Are you sure?” Hermione finally asks, meeting your expectant stare, and you can't help but let out a chuckle.

“I have wanted you since the first moment. I knew I loved you from the first time you smiled at me. and I knew I wanted to marry you the first time you ran your fingers through my hair. and then our first kiss– I truly thought if we couldn't be together, I'd die.” You spoke from the heart without missing a beat, not caring about just how dramatic you might have sounded.

“I used to think that I'd be just fine on my own. I didn't believe that I could ever care for someone the way I do for you.” Your voice breaks ever so slightly, you swallow before continuing.

“Hermione when I'm not with you– it feels like I can't breathe.” You barely manage to say, your throat tightens, as a tear escapes your eye.

“my love–” Hermione coos, her own eyes now welling up with tears. She approaches to grab your forearm, although not harshly, she guides you back on your feet.

Your faces are mere inches away from each other before she would crash her lips against yours, a kiss that is restless and unchecked yet somehow equally tamed and loaded with love.

“Of course, I will marry you.” She declares once your lips part, she wipes the tear away with the pad of her thumb, and your heart sings.

You are unable to contain the large grin on your face, one Hermione had no issues reciprocating.

“Really?” You ask, mainly in relief rather than actual disbelief.

Hermione pauses as if thinking of an adequate response

“Well, I do think we should at least wait a year or two, at least until after we finish school.” Hermione admits, and you scoff, even in the midst of a war her priorities remain unchanged.

“but–” Hermione says, grabbing your face so she could force you to meet her gaze once more.

“It is a yes, without a doubt. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else.” Your girlfriend states earnestly, and your smile returns.

You eagerly grab her hand so you may slip the ring onto her finger.

Hermione stares at the piece of jewelry, silently inspecting the intricate carving of a snake, before finally kissing you again.

The feeling of Hermione's lips against your own allowed you to forget the impending threat of death. With her you believe that you could survive anything. This war will be over soon, and you will marry her. Whatever it takes.

Hermione breaks the kiss only when you are both gasping for air, she embraces you tightly, as if trying to savor the feeling as much and for as long as she could.

-

Harry emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, you open your eyes as you hear footsteps. Hermione releases you so she may turn to her friend.

Harry's stare was distant, troubled. In truth, he looked sick. You dread to find out exactly what he's witnessed within Snape's memories, neither you nor Hermione mustered the will to ask.

Unexpectedly, Harry is first to break the silence.

“Where's Ron?” He mutters, finally looking between Hermione and yourself.

“He's with his family still.” Your girlfriend explains. Then the chosen one nods, and he starts to fade once more, disappearing into his own head.

“Harry what is it?” Hermione asks, when Harry looks up at her again, his eyes are glossed over with tears.

“There's a reason I can hear them, the Horcruxes.” He remarks. “I've known for awhile, and I think you have too.”

The newfound resolve in his voice makes your entire body stiffen, soon Hermione is crying again.

Harry possessed a bravery you once envied– but no longer.

He plans to confront the Dark Lord and the thought of it made you ill, he shouldn't have to go through it alone. It seems your girlfriend shared the same sentiment as she spoke her next words amidst soft sobs.

“I'll go with you–” She suggests, but her best friend is quick to turn her down.

“No, kill the snake.” Harry says, glancing between the two of you.

“Kill the snake and then it's just him.” He asserts. Hermione practically throws herself into his arms.

You watched as she cleaved to him hopelessly, Harry doing the same in return.

Soon, The Chosen One shifts his gaze towards something behind you, and you swiftly turn around to see Ron standing a few paces away.

The expression on his face suggests he had been standing there for some time.

His eyes were tired, glazed over with what resembled apathy– or perhaps the harrowing inevitably of acceptance. You could not say for certain.

One thing you did know; in order to defeat Voldermort, Harry Potter has to die.

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Summary: You're part of the Strike team and join Captain America as he tries to live his new life in the 21st century. [Reader is NOT Hydra]

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Rumlow being a dick. Mentions of death. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Happy New Year! This the first chapter in a new series I'm starting! I'm not sure how long it's gonna be yet, but I know it's gonna be longer than Broken. These series is about an alternate universe where the reader exists and lives through the events that happen in the MCU. A lot of the details will be changed to insert the reader, a lot of the lines said by other characters will be changed to be the reader's and I've also made up a lot of things and scenes and added them, trying my best not to change the official timeline and the main events. I hope you enjoy this and all chapters to come!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You heard the boss, newbie, text Romanoff and tell her to pick up Rogers.” Rumlow taps his knuckles twice on the table for emphasis before getting up and exiting the conference room.

You make sure he doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes at the now old nickname before writing ‘New mission, need you at the jet in one hour. Asshole wants you to pick up the old man in spandex’ on your phone and sending the message to Natasha, then you get up and make your way out of the room.

“Armory.” you say as you enter the elevator. 

“Confirmed.” the elevator voice says as the doors start closing. 

You suit up for the mission just assigned by Pierce and go to the jet to start doing the checkups you know the rest of the idiots on the STRIKE team won’t even think about doing. 

After making sure everything’s ready and in order, you can do nothing more than wait for everybody else.

Natasha and Steve get there exactly an hour after your text. 

“Right on time.” you point out.

“It wasn’t a coincidence, YLN.” Natasha smirks, making you laugh.

“Cap.” you greet him with a smile that he returns. “Y/N.”

The rest of the team meets you a few minutes after. “Ready for take off.” Rumlow says to the pilot and the jet takes off.

Once you get close to the target Rumlow starts briefing Steve and Nat. “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asks.

“A billion and a half.” Rumlow answers.

“Why so steep?” Steve questions frowning.

“Because it’s Shield’s.” you answer promptly, ignoring the scowl on Rumlow’s face that disappears almost immediately.

“So it’s not off-course,” Steve says, understanding flashing in his eyes as he glares at Natasha “it’s trespassing.”

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” Natasha offers.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”-Steve seems really annoyed now.

“Relax, it’s not that complicated.” Natasha simply says.

“How many pirates?” Steve’s attention is back on the screen.

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc.” Rumlow pulls up the photo of Batroc on the monitor and looks at you expectantly, making you roll your eyes.

Of course you’re the only one who actually looked through the files.

“Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. The guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.” you fill everybody in, although it was obvious most of the guys aren't listening. At least the Captain is.

“Hostages?” Steve questions you, but Rumlow cuts in.

“Mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” he shows his picture. You’ve seen Sitwell around headquarters, he seems pretty close with the STRIKE team. Not that you hang out much with them outside of mission, or at all for that matter. “They’re in the gallery.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asks more to himself, and he has a point. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Y/N, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pots, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

Yep, he’s definitely in Captain mode.

“Ay ay, Captain.” you salute with a smirk that mirrors Natasha’s while Steve gives you a fake annoyed look.

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow says but you’ve already started getting ready and stopped listening to him.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says into his wrist communicator.

“Seven secure.” Natasha replies. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really.” Steve answers, making both you and Natasha laugh while the pilot lets you know that the drop zone is coming up.

“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.” you point out, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha.

“That’s why I don’t ask.” he fires back

“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pushes.

“Too busy!” He yells over the wind as the door opens and then he jumps. 

You and Natasha both roll your eyes and look at each other smiling, not needing to talk to understand the other.

You barely register Rumlow and Rollins commenting on Steve jumping without a parachute before grabbing one for yourself and jumping alongside Nat.

You and Natasha have known each other for a while now, all the way back since she was first brought in by Clint.

You trained with both of them, went on countless missions together (yes, including Budapest) and you would’ve been right by their side in New York if you hadn't been on an important undercover mission and had strict orders directly from Fury not to blow your cover.

After that you got assigned to the STRIKE team by Alexander Pierce, though you still have no idea why. But orders are orders so you’ve been working with the idiots ever since.

But you and Natasha are thankfully still pretty close and your down time is spent mostly with her, sometimes also visiting Clint and his family at his farm.

 Nat’s still annoyed at Clint about naming his only daughter after you, middle name but still, and not her. But to be fair, you have known Clint longer, a fact that always amuses both you and Clint to bring up.

You’ve just landed when you hear Rumlow saying “you seemed pretty helpless without me” to Steve.

“What about the nurse who lives across the hall from you?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, she seems nice.” you add.

“Secure the engines, then find me a date.” Steve says in his captain voice.

“We’re multitasking.” Nat tells him before turning to you. “you take port, I’ll take starboard and we’ll meet at the rendezvous point”

“Copy.” you say and make your way to the engine room on the right side of the ship. You start taking down guys and can hear Rumlow saying they’re ready in position.

Just as you finish with the last guy you hear Steve calling your name. “What’s your status?”

“Port engine room secure.” you answer.

“Good, make your way to help Rumlow with the hostages.”

“Roger that.” you can almost hear him groan in annoyance as you smile while following his orders.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” you can hear her grunt while she fights through the comms. “Status, Natasha?” 

“Hang on!” She says as she keeps fighting. “Starboard engine room secure.”

You hear Steve countdown from three and then the team moving in on the targets, you get to the rendezvous point just in time to see Rumlow rounding the corner with the hostages on his tail.

“Hostages en route to extradition.” he says in his comms as you look around for Natasha.

“Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.” you let Steve know while helping take care of the hostages.

“Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Y/N and protect the hostages.” he receives no answer and at this point you get a little worried. “Natasha!”

You want to go looking for her but you know better than to leave your post, and you’re also very aware that Natasha can take care of herself. 

So you keep protecting the hostages while listening intently to the comms where you can hear Steve fight, then you hear a voice you assume it’s Batroc’s talking French and are even more surprised to hear Steve answer back in French. Impressive.

You can hear him fighting again and then you finally hear Natasha’s voice but don’t pay too much attention to the conversation, bringing your entire focus on the hostages now that you know she’s okay. 

You’re helping people into the life-pods when you hear an explosion go off somewhere on the boat. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you hear Natasha’s voice again and let it go, feeling even more relieved after hearing Steve too.

The ride back is very uncomfortable as you help Natasha with the minor injuries from the explosion, Steve refusing help and insisting that he’s fine, and in the mood he’s in you’re certainly not about to argue. 

As soon as the jet lands he stomps away angrily and you share a concerned look with Natasha, worried about what he’s gonna do next. 

You help Nat to the medbay and leave her there when she assures you she’s okay and to not make a fuss over her.

So you make your way to the usual conference room for debriefing but when you get there Rumlow very smugly assures you that you’re not needed at this meeting. 

You’re used to being left out of meetings with the STRIKE team and Pierce by now, since you’ve been forced to join you’ve been left out of more meetings that you’ve attended, but it still bothers you sometimes.

Still, at least you don’t have to spend too much time with those neanderthals. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

So you just make your way to the Armory to put away your gear and then the locker room to change and go home for what you think is gonna be the rest of the day.

-

A few hours later you find yourself in the hospital where the STRIKE team has been called in the middle of the night because, guess what? Someone tried to kill Director Fury. Or, as it turns out, succeeded. 

You’re behind Steve, Natasha and Hill alongside Rumlow and Sitwell, watching Fury flatlining and the doctors calling it.

You want to go with Nat to see Fury, be there for her knowing she cared about him as much as you do, but obviously Rumlow has to be a dick and order you to stay put. And, whether you like it or not, he’s your boss.

He rudely interrupts Nat and Steve’s conversation telling him they need him back at headquarters and you can already tell something’s suddenly off.

As much as Rumlow can be an asshole, he’s never been openly rude towards Steve.

You can hear Sitwell in your earpiece telling the team to bring Rogers in for questioning as he and Rumlow get closer.

“STRIKE, move it out.” he orders but you don't start moving until Steve’s by your side, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile. 

When you get to the Triskelion Steve is taken to Pierce’s office and you get ordered to go to Forensics and check into the evidence found on the roof, then go to Operations Control and wait for there for further instructions, so you do. 

When you get to the control room you see Sitwell concentrated on a particular screen so you get close trying not to get noticed and see Steve fighting STRIKE and SHIELD agents in the elevator. 

You barely have time to understand what’s happening before he’s throwing himself off the elevator and lands on his shield near the entrance of the building. Thankfully Sitwell’s “Are you kidding me?” covered your quiet “holy shit.”

You’re in the room when Sitwell gives the orders to track down Rogers to all the Agents and when he’s done, you discreetly follow him and the rest of the STRIKE team out the room.

For a bunch of guys who work for a top secret organization they sure suck at knowing when they’re being followed. 

No one talks until they get to a deserted corridor. “Pierce is going to kill us. Rogers has the flash drive and can use it to find Zola. You fucked up big time letting him go.” Sitwell sounds pissed.

“Take it easy, four eyes.” Rumlow sounds just as angry “You’re not the one that got punched by a supersoldier.”

They keep talking about the flash drive and Steve and Pierce and Zola. That name sounds familiar but you can’t remember for the life of you where you heard it from.

Then it hits you.

Zola was a former Hydra scientist from World War II, turned ally when the war ended. Thank god the Howling Commandos were hot so you actually paid attention during that particular history class. 

You're about to turn away so you won’t risk getting caught eavesdropping when you hear your name being mentioned.

“Someone should keep an eye on her.” Sitwell says, making you worried of becoming the next Shield target, but Rumlow proceeds to ease your worries.

“That’s a waste of manpower. The whole reason she’s even on our team was so we could keep a closer eye on Rogers, but she just spends all her time with Romanoff.” 

So that’s why Pierce assigned you to the STRIKE team.

Yeah, you’re closer to Steve than most people but it’s not like you’re best friends, you sometimes hang out outside of work but most of your interactions are mission related.

You decide you've heard enough to kind of put together what’s going on, but there’s not much you can do to help Steve yet, not knowing where he is. So you stick to following the STRIKE team, praying that your absence in the control room goes unnoticed. 

STRIKE gets a hit on Steve’s location and you follow them in your car to a mall but think better than to follow them in, waiting patiently outside. 

After a few minutes you see Steve and Natasha in their not so well thought out undercover outfits and, once again, the Captain surprises you by hot-wiring a car. 

You follow them, more discreetly this time, knowing Natasha and Steve would be better at realizing they’re being followed. 

You get to an old army camp in Wheaton, New Jersey and are about to follow them in and make yourself known to them, but before you can get out of your car you hear the plan the STRIKE team has through your comms.

The idiots never even thought about using a different channel. Of course Rumlow would underestimate you this much. 

So you decide to drive deeper into the trees surrounding the camp to make sure you’re not visible and wait, knowing Steve and Natasha will need a fast getaway. 

You can do nothing more than watch as a missile hits the bunker and the helicopters start coming. You want to go and help them, make sure they're okay, but you will yourself to stay put and not give away your position. 

When you can faintly see Steve’s figure, almost running with what looks like Nat in his arms, you finally turn the car on and drive coming to a stop right in front of him and startling him to a stop on his tracks.

“Get in.” you urge him, and he seems wary of you, rightly so. “Come on, Cap, they can’t know I’m here!”

He seems to decide to risk trusting you and delicately sets an unconscious Nat down in the back seat before getting in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as his door is closed you drive away as fast as you can, heading back to Washington and you can feel Steve’s eyes on you.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he finally says after a minute of silence, his eyes never leaving you. “You’re part of them, after all.”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but trust me I’m not one of them.” You glance at him and you can tell that he’s not convinced yet, so you go on. “I didn’t even know who ‘them’ were before today. Apparently the reason Pierce assigned me to the STRIKE team was in hopes to get closer to you. He overestimated how close we actually are. If Natasha was awake right now she would tell you how much I hate working with those assholes… You can trust me.”

You take a look at the rearview mirror and see Natasha, but her relaxed face does nothing to ease your worries. 

Steve seems to pick up on your concerns as his features soften and, ever the hopelessly optimistic, he chooses to believe you.

“Okay,” he says, “what do we do now?”

“We have to get you somewhere safe” you check your mirrors as much as you can, making sure you’re not being followed “I don’t know any safehouses outside of Shield's radar. We need a place we can go that they know nothing about.”

“I have an idea.” he says, you glance at him and see him already looking at you, so you nod.

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 7

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is the reader's nickname, angst as always, fighting between our two main characters + smut, and fluff.

a/n: Hello! Chapter 6 is here. First, I want to thank every one of you for reading and reblog and comment on my story, it makes my heart happy. This chapter is shorter than the last two, but is a chapter I had to rewrite 3 times because, but I didn't like it at all, but I hope you do a little bit at least? haha. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated and please share your thoughts with me, I love reading from you No proofreading so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. Happy reading. 💌

masterlist

It's been two weeks since your last visit to Joel's place. It's been two weeks since you showed up on his doorstep, angry and broken because you blamed him for wrecking your plans to move on and start a new life, and two weeks since he kissed you.

Two weeks, and Joel had started to become crazy because of your radio silence.

He had thought that after your emotional outburst, you would simply need time to think, hoping that you would return sooner and ask him to try, for real this time.

After three months of not having you that close, he had replayed every moment of with you, every touch, your eyes, and the taste of your lips. He had poured his heart out to you, declared his love, and yet your response was requesting time to consider his intentions.

He feared you were tired of him, and the accident's wounds didn't hurt as much as his heart. He was recovering faster, yet his emotions were pained.

He recalled the night he crushed your heart, thinking this is exactly how you felt when you said "I love you" and he failed to respond the same back. For him, the irony of pain was how badly you wanted to be comforted by the one who hurt you, but now it was you who wasn't there.

The longing for you got stronger as the days passed, and it became increasingly difficult for him to sit still and wait for you to reach for him. Joel acknowledged that your silence wasn't completely a rejection, but he was afraid that the distance you were creating might shatter what was left of your story.

He didn't want you to become a memory; instead, he wanted to create memories with you.

"I think she's being unfair to Joel," Tommy said over dinner, seeing Sarah, Lily, and Joel's gaze on him.

"Why do you mean by that?" Lily asked, defiantly

 "Joel told her he loved him, wasn't that what she wanted?" he inquired.

Joel threw his brother a cautionary stare as Lily scoffed.

"No, no, it wasn't. She didn't stay because of him."

The weight of the conversation was pressing down on Joel. He was aware that everyone around him were concerned about him, but at the same time he hated how everyone had a say about you and him, not knowing what really was involved.

"It's not like he forced her to stay," Tommy continued.

Joel's irritation was rising, and he felt the tension between his brother and Lily; after all, she was your best friend, and she would defend you from everyone.

Joel pushed his plate aside, feeling that he was in an endless cycle of emotional limbo as he lost his appetite. All he wanted was to have you back in his life, but that was a decision only you could make, and it was driving him insane.

"Can you both stop?" Joel interfered, his voice firm. "I don't need you two fighting over something that was my mistake."

Tommy and Lily fell silent, their expressions softening with concern. They exchanged a glance before Lily spoke, her tone gentler now. "Joel, Tommy is worried about you. We can see how much you're hurting."

Joel nodded, acknowledging their concern. "I know. Thanks for looking out for me, but this is something I have to figure out with Bee. If she needs time, I'll give her time, even if it kills me”

Tommy, understanding his brother's feelings, nodded in agreement. "You're right, Joel. We'll be here for you, no matter what."

Joel appreciated their support, but he couldn't help but wish that you would break the silence and give him some clarity about your feelings. The uncertainty was becoming almost unbearable.

Joel continued going back to the moments you'd had, your most recent overwhelming argument, and your decision to take some time apart. He wished he could break the stillness and tell you how much he loved you. He wasn't just driven by the desire to fix his mistake; he also wanted to repair a relationship that had been harmed due to his commitment.

He felt more anxious with each passing day, his longing for your presence almost unnerving. The gap between you required to be filled with understanding, trust, and reconciliation.

He'd been on edge for days, spending his days recovering from the accident, alone when Sarah departed for school, with only a painful silence echoing in the back of his mind, waiting for any sign from you.

When the doorbell rang one hour later, he felt a rush of hope running through his body, thinking that maybe you had finally come to him to talk things through. He rushed to the door and opened it, only to find you standing there with a serious expression and small envelope in your hand.

"Joel," you said before he had a chance to say something "I've come to give you this."

He was taken aback, expecting an emotional talk rather than a monotonous tone leaking through your voice, indicating an absence of enthusiasm.

You didn't even look like yourself; you were painted in grey shades.

"What's that?" he asked.

You handed him the envelope containing the money he had paid Connell for your shop behind your back "I don't need anything from you, Joel. Not your pity, not the idea that you own me because you bought my shop. I can take care of myself."

Joel's face contorted with an array of emotions as he was taken aback by your words. "Bee, it's not about that. I—"

But you cut him off, your frustration evident in your voice. "Joel, you can't just buy something I love, throw your money at my back, or kiss me and expect everything to be fine." You won't be able to buy your way back into my life."

He struggled to hold back his anger in the midst of your stubbornness any longer. "I'm not attempting to bribe my way in, Bee. I thought I was showing how much I cared, how much I was willing to do to in order to make things right."

Your eyes were filled with rage. "What?" you ask. "You thought that once I found out you were the one buying my shop, I was going to run back to you?" "That I was going to be over heals for you?" you hit him in the chest.

Joel's rage and pain welled up within him. He tried to narrow the gap between you and make amends, but every step he took appeared to push you farther away. In an outburst of rage, he cried out, "What do you want from me, Bee?" "How long will it take for us to get things right?"

You shook your head, the annoyance clear in your voice. "You can't expect grand gestures to fix everything." It takes time, effort, and faith to repair what has been damaged."

"All right," he said, taking a step closer to you and leaning in closer. "If you despise me that much, leave!" "Leave as you said you were going to"

You stared at him agape, your own anger rising at him. His words stung.

Joel's remarks had hurt deep, and you couldn't deny that you had been holding resentment and rage. But his closeness, his intensity, made you feel weak "Maybe you want to go back to what we used to be, all the fighting, all the cursing," he whispered in your ear, "Maybe you loved that."

The harsh tone of his words caught you off guard. Your feelings for one other were a tangled knot of love, anger, impatience, and hurt.

You were drawn in by his dark gaze, and you cupped his face firmly feeling the warmth of the skin beneath your fingertips. The rage remained, but beneath it was an obvious spell that kept you together.

"Shut up," you commanded, your stare locked on his, his lips inches from yours, his breath against your mouth.

"Make me," he challenged you, staring you in the eyes.

Joel's dare hung in the air, challenging you to break the distance dividing you, to let go of your rage and fury, and eventually give in to the magnetic pull that had always been between you.

You crashed both of your lips with not a single word, going into an intense kiss. It was laced with desire and frustration against each other, the climax of all the tension that had been building over the weeks you were together once and three months apart. Your lips moved eagerly together, each of you pouring all of your feelings into the kiss.

And now that his arm was healed, he clutched your hips and push you against the door, without intentions of stopping devouring your mouth in this hungry kiss. Your arms found their way to his neck to tangle into his locks, and Joel groaned into your mouth.

"You fucking idiot," you muttered between kisses, but he bit your bottom lip to silence you as his hands moved from your hips to your bum and to your waist, drawing you closer to him. His lips started kissing your neck until they found your mouth once more, you whimpered against his mouth.

His hands found the gem in your top and yanked it off. He'd spent the last three months longing to see you like this again, and now he was on cloud nine.

"Bedroom," he whispered softly, not breaking the kiss.

Once you stepped in his room, you were lying on your back with him on top, taking your lips back to his again.

You placed your arms around his neck and opened your legs so he could go closer to you, moaning at the sensation of him against where you wanted him most.

"This doesn't mean anything," you whispered as he ground his hips against yours, sending electricity running through your body.

"Shut up," he said, and you chuckled, grabbing his pants.

"Make me," you said, with a smirk on your face just like he did minutes ago.

He groaned into the skin of your neck, yanking his jeans and underwear off. Your gentle grasp on him caused him to whimper.

He drew you closer to him by your hips as you continued to devour one other, his hands going under the denim skirt you were wearing.

You knew this was bad, that allowing him to do these types of things with you was a show of weakness, but you couldn't stop the joy and the dazzling fireworks traveling up to your lower stomach were stronger than your thoughts. You were utterly out of breath, and you wanted him so bad it ached that you felt your lungs would catch fire. 

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

He paused kissing you and spreading kisses on your chest for a moment to gaze at your parted lips and your chest rising and falling as a result of him, and he couldn't lie, he felt proud of his lasting control over you.

"Are you going to keep looking or are you going to f-"

You couldn't finish before he snatched your lips back, dragging you around his waist and grinding himself against you, making you moan against his lips. With such want, you could feel the aching growing up between your tights.

"You don't seem so mad at me right now, do you?" he huskily whispered in your ear, making your knees weak.

Before you could fire your retort, his fingers teasingly pulled your underwear down, careful to avoid where you wanted him the most. He seemed to be having a good time and enjoying every second of you squirming under him. Your head fell back to the bed, a gentle but irritated murmur from your lips. When he saw your reaction, he smiled, and you felt the delicate touch of his fingers stroking across your core.

"Oh," you whimpered, out of breath.

His soft lips caressed every single area of your skin on your chest, just over your red bra, with an agonizing slowness that made you insane and roll your eyes of pure pleasure. The one he unhooked with one hand so swiftly you gasped, a sound drowned out by the sensation of his lips over your nipples while he continued to pound on you at your core.

He greets you with a laugh, his cheeks exposing his dimples, and his eyes shining at the sight of you.

"Stop teasing, you idiot," you grumbled.

He sucked on a nipple, causing your back to arch as he gripped your hips to the bed before meeting your eyes, absorbing every inch of your face lost in the joy of the moment, stroking your checks with his thumb.

As he grabbed for a condom from his bedside table, you grip the gem of his t-shirt to remove it, leaving no barrier between the two of you.

He moved between your tights, spreading them apart once more, and welcomed himself into you. You hadn't had him since that night when you confessed to him, and he felt even bigger than you remembered, and you both gasped when he began thrusting inside. He pushed his forehead against your neck, kissing you softly over the skin.

"You're amazing like this," he said into your ear, "God I could just-"

He could complete it since he focused solely on making you pleased picking up his pace and thrusting quicker. He was completely inside you, feeling like he was breaking down your defenses as he pushed it on and on. You were out of breath, and all the air in your lungs didn't feel quite enough. You bucked your hips, allowing him to move even more quickly. And that's exactly what he did, giving you everything you asked for.

As your nails left red lines on his naked back and he thrust his hips harder into you, you could feel the heat spreading all over your body, like diesel meeting fire, causing an imminent explosion.

You struggled to breathe, but it didn't matter since the surge of ectasis he gave you was enough to make you feel alive. His finger traced the patterns over you, leaving hot flames all over your skin, and you clutched him, trying to appreciate this closeness before it was ripped away.

And he continued to rock into you. The sounds you both produced were completely hot, forcing your blood to rush into your checks as you continued to toss your head back to give him permission to mark the skin of your neck.

"Fuck you," you said in ecstasy,

"you’re doing it, love" he retorted.

You grasped for his hair to hold him tight against your lips, kissing the warm skin under his ear as if you wanted him to hear you, panting for air, feeling your climax come so close that you trembled against his body. Not long after, your world spun around you, and you tightened your grip on his waist, feeling the release as you cursed in his ear, forcing him to release after you. His push grew sloppy, sending small sparks up your tights, till he came to a halt and you saw a delicious sight.

He kissed your temple for a few seconds longer, enjoying the sweat drips on your skin. Finally, you looked into his eyes. His brow eyes' delicate brightness sent thrills down your spine, leaving you with a lump in your throat.

 Joel chuckled as he caressed your warm face, his touch on your skin radiating affection. All of the tension and resentment that led you to have sex before disappeared into the void.

"You don't have to go anywhere," he leaned in, his lips brushing against your brow. You're exactly where you should be."

You closed your eyes, appreciating his proximity and the soothing sound of his voice. “How can I trust you?”

Joel's lips lingered on your forehead as he replied, his words filled with sincerity, "Because when I hold you like this, it's where I find peace and meaning, Bee. I was a fool not to see it then. It took almost losing you to realize I'm in love with you."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, everything seemed to align. The honesty in his confession left you breathless. The anger, the passion, and the pain you both had shared had led you to this moment, where the love you had for each other was undeniable.

Your heart ached at his words "Joel, it's not that simple. There's so much we need to work through, so much we need to rebuild."

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I know, Bee”

Joel rested his forehead against yours, enveloping the both of you in comfortable silence.

“Can you give me my clothes, please?” You asked breaking the atmosphere

With a heavy heart, Joel nodded and reluctantly pulled away from you.

He moved to take your clothes from the ground of his bedroom and handed them to you. The air between you felt charged. The lust, and passion you felt for each other leaded you to crossed the line once again, this time, being the anger, the main feeling holding you together.

“You don’t have to go now, you know that?” he pleaded,

You avoid looking into his eyes, you knew you were weak for the man and you could fall for his words.

“I know, but I need to” you answered, as you quickly dressed, convincing yourself, you didn’t want to give yourself so easily to him again.

"Can you give me my clothes, please?" You spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. 

Joel nodded, involuntarily breaking away from you, with a heavy heart.

He took your clothes from the floor of his bedroom and handed them to you. The space between you now felt tense again. The lust and passion you had for each other drove you to cross the boundary once more, but this time with fury as the main feeling holding you together.

"You don't have to go now, you know that?" He begged,

You avoid looking into his eyes because you know that you were vulnerable for him and you might be persuaded by his words.

"I know, but I have to," you replied as you hurriedly dressed, assuring yourself that you didn't want to give yourself so easily to him.

Joel sat there silently watching you, his eyes full with love and need for you. He knew what had just happened was fueled by rage and desire, and that didn't mean you were okay with him. It would be difficult to repair your connection.

You turned to face Joel as you finished dressing. "I need some time, Joel." Time to reflect, heal, and figure out where we stand."

“It was good by the way” you addressed smiling at him, referring to what you’d had “But it doesn’t mean I want to be with you right now."

With those words, you made your way to his bedroom door.

“And what was that back at the hospital when I got into the accident?” he asked before you left, “Would you rather for me to be dead or what?”

You came to a halt as his words impacted you like a punch in the gut. You turned back to face Joel, your rage returning.

"That's not fair, Joel," you replied, your voice shaking with emotion. "You know I would rather die than lose you like that".

"Then why are you so scared?" he questioned, reaching for you once more.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to fight the oncoming storm of emotions. "Because I'm not just afraid of losing you." I'm afraid I'll lose myself again. "I'm afraid of getting hurt." You let out a sigh. "You led me on back then, how can I trust you again?"

Joel took a step closer, his voice desperate. "I promise not to hurt you again, Bee." I've learned from my errors. Give us a chance to make things right."

You shook your head, unable to find the appropriate words. "Joel, I need more than promises. I need time for healing and rebuild trust. That is a process that cannot be rushed."

Joel sagged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "I'm at a loss for words, Bee. I love you and will do everything for you."

You took a step back, putting distance between you two. "Joel, love is more than just saying the words. It's all about showing it through actions."

You turned and walked away from Joel, leaving him with a broken heart and a need that mirrored your own.

You had taken refuge in your own peace a week later, evaluating your alternatives in all facets of your life. What were you going to do with your work, yourself, and even Connell, since despite his assurances that he would never hate you, you own him more than you realize.

And on the opposite side, there was Joel. He had expressed his love for you, but you had learned that words are insufficient in this instance. You knew it would take time to reestablish confidence. But as time passed, you couldn't help but miss him even more than you did the first time. He had a tremendous power over you. The times you spent together, the laughter, the shared moments, and how he taught you to fall in love again.

You remembered that night at the gallery when he showed you the drawing he had made of you. When he first caressed the skin of your body, leaving his mark on you.

Deep down, you knew that love was a tricky and imperfect emotion that didn't always follow a straight line. Despite your concerns, you wished to give Joel another chance.

A knock on the door broke through your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, cautiously approaching the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Lauren standing on your porch. She looked concerned, her gaze avoiding direct contact with yours.

"Lauren, what are you doing here?" "How do you know where I live?" you wondered. Your tone was a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Lauren took a big breath and looked you in the eyes. "I need to speak with you. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a second before stepping aside and allowing her to enter. She entered your living room and sat, her posture eager and apprehensive.

You joined her on the couch after closing the door behind her. "What's this about, Lauren?"

Lauren looked at you, her eyes searching for understanding. “I know our first encounter wasn’t friendly, and I want to apologize. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted”

Lauren's honesty in her eyes was not lost on you. You were afraid she was coming to tell you she was now with Joel, which could break your heart.

Lauren continued "And I'm really ashamed of this but I think you should forgive Joel"

You took a big breath, unsure what to say. Lauren's apologies caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for words. "I appreciate your apology, Lauren," you said after a little pause. It means a lot to me." "But Joel isn't a topic I want to discuss with you," you said timidly.

"It is," she replied. "I know you weren't together. He told me."

Your pupils dilated, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"And yes, at first I wanted to be with him," she admitted. "I wanted my family back, but it's too late now." And I have to thank Sarah for accepting me back into her life after what I did, but Joel? will never love me again."

"Why are you so sure?" you questioned, your tone tense.

"Because he has been in love since the beginning."

"The eyes, he had been looking at you with such adoration, neither I had those eyes looking at me like that."

You were out of breath, and a knot formed in your throat.

"No, that's not-"

"You love him too," she said, "and let me tell you something, the years I lost with Sarah?" I'm not going to get them back. So, if you and Joel truly love each other, don't waste more time."

Lauren's sudden comments stunned you while also leaving you conflicted. Her apology for her prior behavior was a step toward peacemaking, but her admissions regarding Joel and his sentiments caught you off guard.

You paused before responding, your mind racing, "I'm not sure I want to get hurt again."

She nodded in agreement, and he dug inside her purse for something, that turned out to be a journal.

She nodded in understanding, and then he reached for something inside her bag for something, it was a journal.

“I stole this from Joel. I think you should take a look” she laughed, giving the journal to you.

“I just don't want to see you both miss out on something beautiful because of fear or doubts. Life's too short for regrets."

You looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I need time, Lauren, to figure things out and heal. I'll consider what you've said, though. Thank you for your apology and for your concern."

Lauren smiled warmly at you “Good luck” she said.

You couldn't help but stare at the book in your hands as you saw Lauren leave your house.

The journal she had given you caught your curiosity, and you couldn't stop yourself from opening it to find out what was inside.

You started flipping the pages, knowing it was Joel's journal. The entries spanned several years ago, from the years you arrived here, and reading them made you feel touched by the depth of his feelings and the journey he had been on. The pages were crammed with his ideas, hopes, and dreams, many of which were centered on you.

Joel had written about the day you two first met and the times he had spent with you, but it was the drawings of you that grabbed your attention.

"The pretty florist next to my gallery looking at her flowers"

"The florist in her environment, framed by a floral tapestry."

"The pretty florist, a captivating muse for my brush and canvas."

All of the entries were from the last four years.

However, the most recent one, from a year ago,

"the florist who stole my heart"

And you realized Joel had been loving you long before you had feelings for him.

a/n: Okay, so you know things may get better between them...

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981

[zellk]

My question is about Qalaa! She’s got an amazing design in every iteration so I wanted to ask what were your main inspirations for her? Also could you tell us a bit more about her story?

Hi there ! Thank you so much for your kind words about my babygirl ;A; !!! Everything started circa 2014 when I started to play Wakfu again with @shuuzaar and decided to make a red-skinned osamodas. She also now exists in multiple universes (a minotaur or tiefling in DnD, a demon/oni, a dragon, etc etc).

It wasn't a very conscious & willed thing but since I put a lot of 'myself' into her (more than all my other OCs, who have more... handpicked bits) so her build started to grow towards the larger / bigger side naturally. I'm definitely not as big, nor tall as her though (I am short and she's like, 209cm tall or sth).

Her general themes / traits are : A kind, soft & gentle soul in a body that is 'made' for killing / hurting easily because of it's size and strength. Feeling inadequate / dysphoria / struggling to accept her body because it doesn't fit what she likes (petite and feminine girls). Struggle to control flares of emotions & physical strength. And being very, oh so very gay about girls and feminine people (this is a very important part ok).

In time I've been slowly collecting pictures of athletes and people that make me think of her and trying to refine how she looks in my head ! Though, like many of my characters, the specifics tends to change depending on how I feel on the moment... sometimes I want her nose a bit more like this or like that... don't be surprised if her gallery isn't the most consistent in terms of facial features :,^)

One thing that definitely DID inspire me for her though are the marks on her body ! They are inspired from scarifications of the Chambri tribe in Papua New Guinea https://bodyartforms.com/blog/sepik-river-scarification.asp)

As for her story, well, my current DnD group where I play her has given me a lot of opportunities to flesh it out a little more >:^D I'll try to keep it short.

Qalaari was born from an unplanned pregnancy. Her mother, Aamira Molandine, was someone with a very weak health due to a blood curse running in her family (more on that later) ; but despite her health she decided to keep the child and see the pregnancy through. Her father, Temhos Croquelune, is a member of a tribe of "beast folk" (this is tweaked and adapted to fit in various universes when I can) and, while enamoured with Aamira, was really not ready to have a child, and to potentially have to raise it alone should Aamira die while giving birth. After yet another argument with her about getting an abortion for her sake and the sake of them both, Temhos ran away during the night and never came back.

~6 month pregnant Aamira found refuge in the Croquelune tribe under Temhos' sister roof, Olgha (who also had a crush on Aamira & both her and her brother tried to court her). The travel took a heavy toll on Aamira's already weak health and yet she somehow miraculously survived the delivery of her (very) big and healthy baby girl Qalaari. Qalaari was raised in a very loving home by Aamira and Olgha, but developped a big resentment towards her blood father, especially since after giving birth, Aamira remained a very sickly person with a broken heart. Aamira died when Qalaari was 13, which kind of forever scared her and worsened her struggles to control her emotions.

Remember the Cursed Blood thing ? Well basically, it's a curse that either 1) eats you alive if your body is too weak to handle it (Aamira's case, which is why she had a weak health from the beginning) OR 2) enhances the physical potential of your body, but tends to make you lose control and become little more than a beast (Qalaari's case). So yeah... she's trying to get better but she has a lot of healing to do with her inner child and that's not easy... especially with the layers of self hatred the cycles of her life are bringing in :^) !

EDIT : I FORGOT TO ADD that Qalaari is currently exiled from the Croquelune tribe. The circle scar on her clavicle is the mark of the exiled, who are sent away from the tribe for 3 years before they can come back. The practice exists to try and get people to grow 'outside of the community' before coming back in it as a slightly different person. The once-exiled people are reintegrated in the tribe when they return if possible. Olgha, Qalaari's aunt-in-law and adoptive parent, has a mark like this! This exile is definitely not the best solution ever but it's been done for so long in the tribe that it's hard to yknow... challenge the system of it.

Anyway if you've read to this point, thank you for listening to me fail miserably to keep this short... Qalaari is one of my dearest OC, so it's really hard not to gush about her in a 3 hours TED Talk everytime...

Thank you for this kind ask ! Hope you'll have a good day :> !

[canmom]

Annecy photodump 2 - museums

On Sunday, before the festival began, I went to a few of the museums around Annecy! Starting with the Palace de l'Îsle, then on to the Chateau d'Annecy and the Museum of Animated Film!

Probably the most iconic Annecy Building, it is presently a museum to both the building's own history and the industrial history of the town, which flipflopped countries a few times before becoming an industrial centre after the French rev. The Palace itself has been at various points a mint, a courthouse and a prison.

The museum is mostly captioned in both French and English. The industrial history gets a bit dry, but the downstairs section on the history of the building itself is cool.

My ticket got me into the castle too so I went up this absurdly picturesque little path...

...to be rewarded with the town skyline. Probably not quite as the dukes of Savoy saw it.

The castle doesn't tell you a lot about its own history for the most part, but it does have a couple of art galleries.

I saw a version of Peter Brueghel the Elder's Massacre of the Innocents - though apparently there's a whole bunch of different versions and this one might not be the real one? Art history is funky.

Much of the lower floor of the gallery had these big romantic nature paintings. And when I say big these are really fucking big, like very much 'this would be the whole wall if we weren't in a literal castle' big.

One thing that is really interesting to me here is that the panorama with its cylindrical projection seems to actually predate panoramic photography. Although I can't say whether this is strictly a cylindrical projection, the insanely wide aspect ratio seems to suggest it would be.

Here's a closeup, showing how a tree breaks down into individual dabbed brushstrokes which suggest the texture of leaves without getting lost in noisy detail - the 'painterliness' so beloved of shader designers. It's fascinating seeing these paintings up close like this!

I'm fairly sure this kid is a chimneysweep? Unfortunately I managed to frame this photo so the painting gets perfectly bisected by the corner of the glass box. I'm not quite sure the relationship of the sculpture and the painting.

They also have a bunch of furniture from the castle, if you like wooden boxes. They built things well chunky back then.

The upper floor of the castle was devoted to contemporary pieces. I don't seem to have taken many photos of these, but here's a bike wheel with bits of broken glass which look like mountains when a projector shines through them:

Later in the week I would go to the Museum of Animated Film! It's a bit of a walk from the town centre but well worth the trip. They had various 1800s-era gadgets that form the precursors to animated film...

...though sadly in the low light of the museum, not all my photos came out good. It's remarkable how well these devices work though! The narrow 'shutter' created by the slots works perfectly to make the images appear animated rather than spinning around. Also the illustration quality, and even general sense of motion, is remarkably sound! Like honestly they could give today's animators a run for our money!

The rest of the museum had production materials showing the full range of different animation techniques: storyboards, key drawings, cels, backgrounds, stop motion puppets, pinscreens etc. They covered the history of animation pretty damn well - go figure, it's the animation museum in Annecy of all places.

They also had a special exhibit on showing drawings from Regina Pessoa, whose films I saw as part of the Portugese animation block. These are so cool to see up close. I'm still not entirely sure what techniques she used to make this film, its style is unique.

(My main camera didn't do great in here due to the low light, but I'm learning how to control ISO to get that exposure time under control. My phone actually did a lot better.)

One thing I didn't manage to photograph was the intro panels to the museum where they defined animation. After various definitions based around e.g. constructing frame by frame, they eventually resorted to a negative definition - animation is basically any film that isn't live action. It was pretty funny reading them struggle to pin down such a broad but intuitive concept.

Next up: more movie related stuff!

[cassolotl]

Blown Away (Netflix)

This season is HOT and FIERY and DANGEROUS and we have a HUGE HOT SHOP! Our contestants are here to compete for some prize that none of the viewers really understand or care about! This is...

BLOWN AWAY

~

[interview clip, Contestant A:] I'm here to WIN

Judge lady: Hi everyone, here's our guest judge, Dr Sandy McGlass from Fancypants University

[they walk in]

Contestants: WHOAAAAAA *nudge, gasp, knowing nods*

[interview clip with Contestant F:] Dr Sandy McGlass is a LEGEND.

Viewers: I have no idea who this is

Guest judge to the contestants: In my job I like/do things, so you better impress me

Judge lady: Your job is to make a piece based on this theme, and then we're gonna judge you

[interview clip, Contestant B:] I'm gonna take it right to the final

Generic presenter: Your time starts... now!

~

[shots of molten glass getting rolled around in colourful sugar crystals, people breaking up giant crayons, etc]

Contestant D: [drawing on something with chalk] I'm just doing this for my kids, you know?

[interview with contestant E:] I've done a lot of glass and I really like it, so I'm making this cool thing

Contestant A: Blowing guy, blow into the tube

Blowing guy: [blows into the tube]

Contestant A: Stop that

~

Presenter: What's your favourite topical item?

Judge lady: Probably this thing, hahahaha

Guest judge: ????? I guess??

~

Contestant F: [just, putting a stick into a fire hole to scoop up some gloop] I'm in this minority group so I'm making something to represent my culture

No one: The final winner will definitely be a white person though

Contestant C: Making caaaaane~

[interview clip, Contestant D:] I'm clearly the best, but I am worried about [contestant who is clearly the best], though

~

Contestant F: [glass falls off stick and smashes on the floor]

Assistant: [puts on a bomb suit and picks up the smashed thing and runs and puts it very carefully into the magic cupboard]

Presenter on the observation deck: Annealer... isn't that like, a species of mammal that eats insects?

[interview clip, contestant F:] Glass breaks a lot

[interview clip, contestant C:] Glass breaks a lot

Judge lady to presenter: Glass does break a lot, yes

~

Contestant A: [sweating all over the place] I started out doing this other job, but then I started blowing glass and never looked back

Contestant B: [squidging some 1,000ºC molten glass about like it's toffee, you want to eat it] I'm just doing this for my kids, you know?

~

Judges: We're all very concerned, Contestant D is really good at glass but also really bad at it. And Contestant A is really bad at glass, but also really good at it. Do they have what it takes?

[several shots of contestants being really sweaty and sticking glass together with other glass]

[interview clip, Contestant C:] I'm here to win

Contestant B: [bashing glass with hammer] I just really love glass

~

Judge, from observation deck: Contestant A is good, but also bad

[some guy out of shot rolls a die to find out who should shout about time remaining]

Judge/presenter/contestant: X UNITS OF TIME LEFT, PEOPLE!

Contestant (any): What, there is less time left than before?????

[interview with contestant who blatantly displays 3+ ADHD symptoms in one sentence]

Contestant E: Okay, let's put this hot glass thing in a place/position

[it breaks]

[interview with Contestant E:] That was the main part of my piece and there are literally x units of time left, I do not have time to make another, I'm just going to have to wing it

Presenter, from the observation deck: That's tough, man

Judge lady: It is, yes

Random inhabitant on the shop floor: TWO MINUTES LEFT, PUT YOUR GLASS IN THE ANNEALERS!!!

[much running around in bomb suits putting things in magic cupboards]

~

[peaceful twinkly music, and a slow shot of each piece in the gallery with a description/explanation. Contestant E's has a broken item in it.]

[judges look at each piece]

Judge: This is pretty good

Other judge: But is it also bad, though

Judge: I guess, but is it also good though

Presenter: I would eat that

Judges: Lol

Judge/presenter: [pun based on show's theme]

[polite chuckling]

Presenter: Let's go hear from the contestants

~

[cut to clean tidy hot shop. contestants walk in in slow motion and face the row of judges]

Judge: Contestant B, tell us about why you made this sucky choice

Contestant B: [something about their kids and/or how much they love glass, determination, etc.]

Judge: Thank you

Contestant B: *nods*

Other judge: Contestant E, I noticed that part of your piece was broken, talk to us about that

Contestant E: I broke my piece but then I decided that it's meaningful actually

Judges: *nodding*

Judge: Contestant D, do you think your piece is enough to take you to the next round?

Contestant D: I'm just doing it for my kids, you know?

Presenter: Okay, we'll go and talk about you behind your backs now

[cut to interview with Contestant B:] I'm not ready to go home, you know?

[cut to interview with Contestant D:] If I make good glass, I stay. If I make bad glass, I go home.

~

Judges and presenter, hushed voices, in a secret huddle: They all were good, but also they all sucked; but were they actually good, do you think?

[cut to the hot shop face-off again]

Presenter: Just a reminder of the prize that has been repeated 17 times so far and that none of the viewers remember or care about

Judge: Our top best favourite is

.

.

.

.

.

.

Judge: Contestant C.

Presenter: And one guy [gn] is going to be leaving the hot shop today. That person is

.

.

.

.

[shots of individual nervous contestants]

.

.

.

.

.

Presenter: Contestant A

Contestant A: [nods, smiles, hugs everyone on the way out]

Presenter: Everyone else rules. All of you remaining white people will be going on to the next round.

[interview with Contestant A, wearing the same outfit as the interview at the beginning when they said they were here to win:] At the end of the day I came here to have a nice time and/or do it for my kids, and I think I can go home proud, I basically won

[end credits]

[vangoggles]

planning on updating my website with new pages and fixing broken community page links when i get back home in a few weeks; anybody have anything to say about what i have so far?

some objects in the main room are interactive, as well as miscellaneous clickable objects around the site

i'm planning on adding more "rooms" and interactive elements such as furniture and other objects, like integrating the wardrobe in the attic into a full scene like the "chill zone", adding a kitchen, maybe a bedroom next. i plan on adding expandable objects like shelves and cupboards, and more point and click elements/icons. the "backyard" is gonna be a sorta world map.

would love to change the TV to a CRT and make it "functional" with an embedded VHS-style music video playlist or something. also wanna add personality quizzes to things like the drink fridge and end table drawers full of mood rings and lip balms and friendship bracelets. what kind are You?

on the other hand i wanna work on the more traditional website parts too, like web shrines and stamp albums and galleries and such.

i know i shouldn't care about engagement but idk i still wanna know if anyone likes it except for me lol

[sarah-nonaginta-novem]

Ego Sum Non Infirma: Chapter 2 Part 1

“Can you please stop leaning your head against me so much? I know it has been three weeks, but unfortunately for you, I am still recovering from my injuries.” I said. Jason and I were both squished next together on the main Arkham Library couch. Jason insisted on sprawling across the cushions as his legs hung off the left couch arm rest. I slid down to the right away from Jason's head and wide shoulders that pressed up against my broken ribs and sprained elbow. So much for the batons just being electro batons. My whole body felt like it was beaten to a pulp by Batman. Finally, Jason shuffled up to a sitting position. Jason crossed his arms and grumbled, “I'm just trying to get your attention. No fun watching you sit around and read for hours on end.” I squinted my eyes and elevated my book closer to my face. “Then stop watching me. Go grab a book off one of the shelves for yourself. There are plenty to go around. Now is a good time to brush up on your reading skills.” I said. “Nah, sorry Jonathan. I will never be the scholarly type like you. Reading makes me fall asleep. By the way, what are you reading?” Jason asked. “Lovecraft's Necronomicon. I was about to finish it last time before I was… rudely interrupted.” I said. Jason was now getting on my nerves to a certain degree. Jason scooted right next me and began to gently message my sprained elbow. Jason must have sensed I was irritated. While I still read my book I asked Jason, “How were you allowed in here in the first place? Jeremiah strictly ordered us to stay separated, with the cafeteria being an exception.” Since Jason and I arrived to Arkham, the only areas I was permitted to go outside my extreme isolation cell were the cafeteria, library, and session rooms. Well, cafeteria and library now that I will not have those insufferable sessions anymore. The extreme isolation cells never bothered me due to the fact they all had their own bathroom showering corners. What I hated the most was whenever I am sent to solitary confinement. Also known as, throughout Arkham, The Hole. Jason grinned. “I've made a couple of connections. Learned some guards here in Arkham are willing to do anything for the right price. Someone has to watch your back next time you get into trouble.” Jason said. I noted the swollen black eye on the right side of Jason's face. “I see you have gotten yourself into trouble while I was gone.” I pointed out. “Now, now, don't go thinking I start each and every fight. All I do is finish them. To tell you the truth, I'm also sick and tired of seeing you only in the cafeteria in front of everyone else. Jeremiah can shove his orders up his ass sideways! Right after you and him had your little falling out he's been trying to prod my mind.” Jason said. “Hummm, I take it you don't enjoy Jeremiah's presence?” I asked. “Damn straight, I'm quickly beginning to hate him and all his lackeys. No offense, but I'm realizing why nothing good ever comes from Arkham. How have you and some other Rogues Gallery put up with this place all these years? It's more of a corrupt, chaotic mess than I thought!” Jason ranted. “No offense taken. It is about time one of you vigilantes see the true face of Arkham. Batman, to this day, holds on to the strong conviction Jeremiah will help save Gotham. Cure all of us. Batman refuses to see that the Arkhams are just as deranged as their patients. Batman refuses to admit Arkham is the breeding ground for Gotham's problems. I will say though, Arkham is a lot more peaceful when The Joker or men like Lyle Bolton are not around.” I said. Jason moved on to caress other parts of my body. “Enough chattering, I would rather not waste our time thinking about Arkham and all these people. You're bringing down the mood.” Jason said. I placed my book off to the side when I felt one of Jason's hands between my thighs. “Which mood would that be Jason?” I asked even though I already knew where this was going. I tilted my head as Jason kissed up and down the side of my exposed neck.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Another Loss (Issue 23)

Moon Knight, Issue 23: Perchance to Scream

You guys, the covers are just going to get better from here on out for a while. I think Bill hit his stride and sweet Khonshu what a stride. 

The hatching. The gradients. The spots. The details in the buildings and windows. The pure white of the cape. The body build and muscles without going full Liefeld on us. I’d frame this and stare at it every chance I could get. LOOK AT IT. 

This is the start of cover designs that FIT Moon Knight. Everyone here on out wishes they could design covers like Bill Sienkiewicz and you will see many people try. It’s the lack of lines in the cape. The cape is just the empty space and still has such definition! 

AND THE LETTERING. 

Anyways… This is part two of the Morpheus saga! 

So we left off with Moon Knight discovering that the mystery figure that has been trying to kill him is Peter (Marlene's brother) who has been somewhat possessed by Morpheus, who has just gotten stronger and broken out of confinement! 

Not gonna lie, Morpheus has always been a weird bad guy. He was very 1980s bad guy feel and probably could have done a lot more or been a bigger part of the original rogues gallery, but I think in the 90s Marvel moved away from a lot of psychedelic and horror type things. They not only didn't know what to do with Moon Knight, but they completely trashed and forgot about his rogue gallery. 

Mackay did reach in and bring back a few of the originals, but he also killed them off. I have mixed feelings about this (Stained Glass Scarlet, Morpheus, and a few others). 

We open the comic with a quote: "I do not believe that I am now dreaming but I cannot prove I am not." - Bertrand Russell. 

Having just killed two hapless janitors, Morpheus celebrates his freedom then sets his sights on Moon Knight. 

We now turn to Moon Knight who has joined up with Marlene and Frenchie as they struggle to keep Peter awake to prevent him from causing any further dream hallucinations. 

They are headed for Grant's summer house in Maine. 

Peter mutters in his delirium about where they are going and Morpheus picks up on it in their psychic dream connection. 

Now, since Moon Knight was the one that discovered Peter, he's personally driving Peter to Grant's mansion... as Moon Knight. 

Peter also doesn't know that Moon Knight is "Steven" so Marlene and them keep up the secret identity thing and call him Moon Knight and act very formal. 

After the last comic where we see Moon Knight break down a bit and declare himself separate from Steven, Marc, and Jake, it's interesting that we see him acting as Moon Knight around the others. 

He even goes so far as to pull Marlene aside: 

"What is it, Steven? Are you--"

"No, it's nothing, Marlene. Just simple precaution. Remember, we don't want your brother to know I'm Grant, so just maintain the formal attitude and keep calling me Moon Knight. That's all." 

"Is it, Steven? You know I wouldn't commit a lapse like that to expose your identity. Are you sure there isn't something else?" 

"No... Well... Maybe I just wanted to see how you're holding up." 

Hmmmm. Doubtful that there was all. 

But he turns the conversation to see how Marlene is doing, what with her brother in such danger. (And I must say that the art here is STUNNING.This whole two part run is just off the wall amazing. 

It wasn’t just Bill flexed his art skills here. Look at the color! Shout out to Christie Scheele, the colorist who did many early Moon Knight issues! 

Back in the main room, Peter has figured out that Morpheus has connected to him telepathically and created a way to bridge the dream world with the waking world. 

They discuss ways they had previously defeated Morpheus and attempt to use it again. Marlene suggests a more mythological approach since Morpheus is named after a mythological being. She brings up Medusa being defeated by a mirror as an example, but is shot down as it being an unlikely help. 

Unable to come up with a strategy, they count themselves lucky that Morpheus is still locked up in the hospital. 

Unfortunately, we all know that he isn't. And we see him slowly sneaking up on the cabin while they talk. 

Marlene mentions she brought a gun with her for protection and Moon Knight tells her to keep it loaded, though he hates the things. 

(A weapon of Marc Spector, not of Moon Knight.) 

As Marlene heads to the kitchen to get some more coffee, Peter falls asleep and Morpheus makes his move. 

Again, shout out to the colorist! Look at that action panel! 

….Echo of your wrench. Moon Knight… This is why you need the others. You’re four guys sharing a brain cell that Steven mostly occupies. 

So... While they....tinker... Morpheus attacks Marlene. He goes to melt her mind and turn her into a zombie like slave when Peter interrupts him. 

He claims to want to touch his master. But when he does, Morpheus finds his powers gone! 

When Peter lets go, Morpheus regains his powers and banishes Peter to wait in the woods. 

Down in the basement where Frenchie and Moon Knight are tinkering, they have worked on the generator to the house in effort to use it against Morpheus. 

In the first encounter with Morpheus Moon Knight was able to defeat him by electrocution. It's a fair bet he thinks he can do this again. 

Dracula does owe him money. 

ANYWAYS. 

Marlene is being controlled by Morpheus now and Marlene produces some matches. She intends to set the whole place ablaze! 

She sets fire to the generator and Moon Knight just barely manages to get everyone out of the way before it blows up. 

Marlene manages to warn them that Morpheus is there. 

They manage to get out of the house but Moon Knight goes back in looking for Peter. 

Back inside, Morpheus is waiting for him. 

Morpheus attacks and Moon Knight uses a bed as a shield...against deadly sleep waves. 

Moon Knight…. What are you doing?

He takes a hit that sends him flying out the window. 

Thankful to be out of the house, he looks over and notices that Peter is waiting for them on the edge of a cliff in a trance. One bad move and he's done for! 

Moon Knight approaches to pull him to safety only to be attacked by Peter and pushed off the cliff and into another nightmare. 

We are treated to some pretty out there hallucinations. 

As Moon Knight falls into a river in real life, he dreams that he's under water with a giant clam that opens up to reveal a black knight on a giant horse. 

Moon Knight defeats the black knight and wakes up only to find he's still under water and drowning! 

He makes it to the surface before blacking out. He's still got to face Morpheus and find Peter. 

"There's strength in numbers, or so I've been told. Got to gather the others together before Morpheus strikes again..." Moon Knight thinks to himself. 

Which is ironic in a way. As we saw in the last issue how much he's afraid of working with Jake, Steven, and Marc. 

Moon Knight finds someone and mistakes them for Morpheus and socks them hard. 

Poor Frenchie. It's always Frenchie. He takes the hit. 

While apologizing, the real Morpheus finds them and attacks. 

Marlene distracts him with her gun while Moon Knight sneaks up behind him. 

He takes a hit and attacks again, sending his nightmare energy blasts after them. 

Splitting up, Moon Knight tells them to hide while he tries to lure Morpheus after him. 

Marlene attempts to hide in the forest but is attacked by one of Morpheus' dream tendrils that spread out looking for victims. 

She falls and spots someone coming towards her. Alarmed, she fires her gun. 

When the figure falls, she finds Peter there in the snow and not Morpheus. 

She runs to him and he tells her it was just his shoulder. In pain and bleeding, he at least has been knocked out of Morpheus' control for the moment. 

Frenchie joins back up with Marlene and she asks which way Moon Knight went. Peter is growing drowsy again and his blood loss is not helping. 

He notes that Moon Knight ran back towards the burning house, but he isn't sure why. 

We see Moon Knight returning from the house with a full length mirror. Hmmmm...

No, he doesn't plan to reflect back Morpheus' power. He plans to use it to create a trap. He uses the reflection to make it look like Peter, Frenchie, and Marlene are hiding in a bunch of trees. 

And it works! Morpheus attacks the mirror and is stunned enough to let Moon Knight jump him from behind. 

Clinging on for dear life, Moon Knight clings to his back where Morpheus can't use his creepy eye power against him while he beats him over the head with his truncheon and also squeezes his wind pipe to knock him out. 

Morpheus is knocked out indeed, but how do they get him back to the hospital before he wakes up? They're out in the middle of no where in the snow in Maine. 

Peter steps in. 

"He's my patient! Robert Markham was my patient before I turned him into a monster! I created morpheus and now I've got to destroy him!" 

Peter recalls that when he touched Morpheus before, it had caused Morpheus to grow weak. 

He lays a hand on Morpheus with intent to end the monster he created. 

"Before anyone can stop him, Dr. Peter Alraune touches Morpheus - and even though it is the same as grasping the bare end of a high-voltage wire... He sustains the touch, through a storm of agony--until the dark power fades from Morpheus' eyes... And all life fades from his own eyes." 

Peter falls to the ground. Morpheus has transformed back to a normal (if not still mutated) man and Peter is dead. 

Again, praise to the art. 

The last two pages of this issue. 

So here is another example of someone close to Moon Knight that loses someone. 

We’ve seen Crawley lose his son, Marlene lose her father and now her brother, and later even poor Gena will lose a son. 

It’s easy to see the guilt build up over the years in Marc’s head about how he feels like he’s the cause. He loses his own brother and then his father dies before they can attempt to heal their broken bond. To Marc, he is poison and it only feeds into his self destructive hatred of himself. 

I really liked these two issues as they do show the vulnerability that is the Moon Knight system. The fear of rejection from the others and the reluctance to accept help from them. A system that doesn’t know how to accept inner help or communicate. This isn’t the first or last time that we see one of them hallucinate or dream about the others wanting to cause them harm or erase them all together. 

It’s so ingrained in them that they need to be normal and that they are ill that they struggle to not see themselves as a problem. 

This is a theme that will build a bit in the early OG issues but won’t really be properly addressed and resolved until Lemire. 

But there are some upcoming issues that I am very excited to get to. We’re going to start to see these boys really get into it. Plus, some absolutely amazing art! 

[pluviacuratio-a]

@fiercelywinged whispered: ❛  jealous ? i’m not jealous. i don’t have any reason to be jealous.  ❜

MEME

{ ♪ } -- She lifted her hand to her mouth, muffling her giggles. Part of her was surprised that he'd been jealous of someone flirting with her, but another... Another portion of her was immensely pleased. It wasn't as if they were dating just yet, but it seemed as if the affection at least was mutual. Placing a hand on Hawks' shoulder, she smiled.

"Okay, okay. I guess you aren't... It might've been nice to know if you were, though..."

The soft tone, the faint flush on her cheeks... Bella knew she was probably being obvious about how she felt. The redhead had a crush and it was honestly glaring in her mind, how clearly she liked him. There wasn't enough confidence right yet to say it in more concise terms... But hopefully the little hint would be enough even if she couldn't put it to words yet.

[dreamyeyedrose]

"Letters, after the bestie"

To my mother,

Have you figured out how little you've seen of me until now? Do you realize how little you see, even still?

To my father,

Mom keeps saying you've changed. Have you really? I still hear the kitchen floor clattering of broken glass and cutting words every time I see you.

To my dearest and only elder sister,

Wasn't life so much easier when you had an assigned enemy? How are things now, though? We haven't had a real conversation in almost a decade, you know. I'm dying to know how you are, and lucky for you it'll kill me all the same.

To the playground peanut gallery,

I'm glad to have been the outgroup, to encourage your ingroup bonding. It's so cute when children have their little friend groups. Do you still giggle and laugh as much as you did then? It's weird how I smile and laugh more often now, compared to back then.

To the CPS officer that should've known better,

You were right, everything is more okay now, after I've gotten up, and dusted myself off. But what you thought was baking soda, I've always known was powdered plutonium. Let's pretend this powerful third eye has always been here, I have a feeling it'll help you sleep better. At least I'm one of the ones that are doing better. Are you?

To my eighth grade Honors English teacher,

The thing about the cool quirky Uncle-Iroh-core humanities teacher in the movies is that they're actually smart, and they actually care. And, just saying, if the pick-me that reads instead of having friends tries to communicate in the way those main characters "accidentally" alert the right adult to certain things. They're able to take the hint, and not instead tell Goliath to burn down any forest David could source wood from. You stupid cunt.

To my old coworkers,

I promise you I'm mentally ill. No, I know you think it's "maybe I just think that because I don't drink coffee." That's the masking. And my cotton candy energy drinks are more my brand anyways. Y'all should know this, since you all used to joke about it at least once a week.

Dear me,

We did, eventually, do one even better than "proving them all wrong." We get to keep proving ourselves right. I wish I could've told you about it sooner. But I promise to keep you updated and take pictures the rest of our life.

To all the people I've loved more than myself:

I have a new favorite in town.

He's always been better than you.

And I guarantee you he loves just me more than all the love you can ever comprehend. And the best part is that I am not the only love his heart knows. Too bad the mirror gets in between our lips.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Devourer of Hearts 3/3

Warnings: weapons

In other times, getting into the museum vault would have been easy, but that was when there were enough cult members working for Harrow. Now it was just you, you and a power that you didn't quite understand and that managed you as if you were a puppet. At least, you thought, there was some guarantee that your life and above all, Arthur's, were safe.

And he would be safer so when the ritual was complete.

"Good night" you bid your companions farewell as you finished, supposedly, taking inventory. Actually, working in the gift store at the Egyptian Gallery was fun, mostly because most of the time you didn't have to be at your post and you got to wander the halls, hauling boxes of goods to the storage, being invisible while you gathered all the information you needed for your little heist.

The main lights went out, and that gave you the signal to leave the storage and slip into the vaults that held the items that were not on display, were being repaired or were too delicate to be shown to the public. You had a master key, you had obtained it from days before with great discretion and tested it on locks and padlocks to which you had access.

Your heart skipped a beat when the lock gave way. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking to yourself that it was for the best, you weren't hurting anyone, you just wanted to help a poor man who had already suffered too much....

Most of the papyri were kept in special plates that kept them in their best possible condition, identifying the right one was the hard part, because the way the museum registered them was not practical for the eyes of a stranger, so, when you were in front of the huge drawers, you put both hands to your chest.

"I am here" you whispered in the ancient tongue. Ammit could not possess you as he did Arthur, but you heard his voice in his head, you noticed something strange at the back of your mind that grew heavy each time he made his presence known.

"The one on your left, two up" indicated the slow, low voice of the goddess. You employed the master key again, a series of plates identified by numerical series appeared before you and, with extreme care, you pulled out one after the other.

"How do you say it begins?" you asked, confused. Those papyri did not, as a rule, have hieroglyphs, instead a most curious writing that reminded you of modern Arabic took up almost the entire sheet, with barely a small margin and no punctuation marks.

"Hurry up, we don't want unexpected visitors." 

"I'm sorry, I can't read this language."

"Hmmm..." your eyes flicked over the pages meaningless to you, nervously, and then when you had about six or seven plates on the desk, Ammit muttered in your head, excited:

"There!"

Just by looking at it, you understood that this was a special object. It was not just words that covered the papyrus, but some cartouches, hieroglyphs enclosed in circles, indicating names of gods and kings, and what was more, at the end was printed a miniature drawing of the fearsome goddess. After carefully setting the papyrus aside, you put the rest away, and as you were leaving, Ammit's voice blurted out:

"What on earth are you doing? Break the plate!"

"How?" you jumped, startled.

"It's stupid to go out with it in that obvious way! You must get it out of the glass!"

"But..." however much you sought to convince yourself of the greater good behind the theft, destruction of property seemed to you to be taking things too far already. Ammit clearly didn't feel the same way.

"Slam it to the ground, now!"

There was no choice. Apprehensive, you dropped it, and the clatter of the delicate protective glass shattering caused you to startle. You bent down carefully to pick up the papyrus, and retracted your hand hurriedly, painfully, when a shard of glass stuck in your palm. There were some worn pieces of paper, broken many, many years ago, but the rest was intact, and you were fascinated by the hard but supple texture of the object.

“It’s so beautiful…”

You folded it very carefully, fearing it was going to tear, and tucked it under your blouse before hurrying off, trying not to let your guilt show as you pretended to the night guard that you had just left the store's storage room. Anyway, you thought with some regret, you weren't planning to show up for work anymore.

As you walked, the weight of anguish disappeared from your chest, no one was following you and therefore you were safe. You smiled inwardly, when you got home you would show the papyrus to Arthur, and then the ritual would be complete, he would be free and you would share the hard burden the goddess had imposed on him with him. And then... you could have a different life, a happier one, one where paradise required only the two of you and the little home you would form.

London was not at rest, and it was not unusual to see cars at that time of night, though a white limousine was indeed peculiar, more so when it began to slow down passing you. The pilot window opened and from inside, the chauffeur addressed you with a:

"Good evening, señorita."

Curiosity led you to turn your head, the man in the limo had a puzzled expression, he was smiling, but his eyes were dark, menacing. Your heart squeezed, uncomfortable, his face looked familiar.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" you asked. His neck stretched slightly out of the car, his eyes going from your face to somewhere next to your hands. "Sir?"

He smiled again, it seemed to you that one of his eyes looked strange, as if the iris was a different color, an impossible one.

"Perdone, señorita, perhaps I mistook you for someone else" he replied "I thought I had seen you before with an acquaintance of mine, his name is Arthur Harrow."

You frowned, uneasy. You met many people in the London commune and you knew that Arthur had more followers all over the world, but this particular man you didn't remember. And yet he had mentioned his name with great certainty, and that worried you.

"Well, I..." your nerves began to betray you, your instinct was asking you to run away, but you took too long to react, and the co-pilot's door was opened by the stranger, who took the opportunity to approach you "What do you want?" you jumped, taking a step back.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you" he extended in front of you both open hands, as a sign of peace "You have nothing to worry about, I would just like to know where I can find Harrow, it seems to me that you know".

You hugged your body, and felt the papyrus against your skin. 

"What's holding you up?" the voice of Ammit caused you to gasp, and the man in the limo had moved so slowly that you didn't notice him until he was almost upon you.

"I don't know who you're talking about" you groaned "Please leave me alone."

The man bent down a little to be at your level. Yes, you could tell now, his left iris was blood red.

"I think you do know, bonita" he whispered. He had stopped smiling, and panic set in.

You broke into a run, but within a few steps a hand caught your arm. You screamed, frightened, but the man pulled you back and gagged you with his free hand, pushing you into the limo. You kicked, raging, trying to defend yourself, but he didn't care and slammed the door shut and headed for the driver's seat; as soon as he got in you tried to pounce on him, unsure of how to act, but he simply held you back and pushed you again so hard that your back slammed against the door.

A gun was pointed between your eyes, and that alone stopped all your attempts to fight back.

"I don't want to hurt you" he repeated as he sat up and started the car "If I shoot you I'll lose Harrow, now..." he placed the gun on the dashboard so that you couldn't reach it "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

Cowering against the seat, you watched the limo glide through the streets at some speed, and the man had turned on the music player.

"My name is Jake" he introduced himself, smiling at you "What's your name?" you didn't answer, you looked at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity, he for his part didn't take your silence badly "Whatever you want, I'll call you bonita, the truth you are" he added looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"If you open your mouth I swear I'll tear your eyes out" growled Ammit's voice in your head. But this time it didn't sound imperious, more tense. Who exactly was this man who was scaring the goddess like that?

"I'll be honest with you, I've spent a week following you" Jake continued "But I can't do it all the time, you know? They'd find out and..." he let out a chuckle "pues todo se iría a la chingada"

"They?" you muttered. 

"Sí, sí" the man consulted his watch and whistled under his breath "I haven't much time, would you be so kind as to tell me where Arthur Harrow is?" 

"Why do you think I know him?"

Jake shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

"Someone told me, that a girl had been looking for him to take him from the place where the others left him. They didn't want to tell me, but I persuaded them" he added as if that would make you feel better.

"You're right, sir, but... I don't know where he is either." 

"You don't? Hey..." they had stopped in front of a traffic light, his hand caught your right arm and, with the other, he pulled up the sleeve of your blouse.

"What are you doing?"

He checked your arm from side to side, and cocked his head to the side.

"I see" a finger stroked the skin of your forearm, the feel of the leather of the gloves he wore gave you shivers "And... why would a pretty young girl like you seek out that old fool?"

"Arthur Harrow helped me. I was homeless, living in shelters, stealing to eat, and he offered me a home and a family. I don't know who you think he is, but I assure you he's a fair and good man."

"Really?" Jake laughed again "And did you know the son of a bitch was planning to kill millions of people?" 

"Don't call him that."

"I call him whatever I want, bonita, because your Saint Arthur was a madman, and your so-called family a cult of murderers"

"Shut up!" you shouted without thinking, anger that didn't belong to you permeating your voice. Jake squinted, not seeming frightened by your sudden rage. 

"What were you doing pretending to work at the gallery?" he asked you nonchalantly. You remained silent, glaring at him "You better tell me, gorgeous, you think I'm afraid to get the truth out of you just because you're a woman?"

For a second or two, you thought you saw someone else in the limo, someone who, from the back seat, was leaning over Jake as if to whisper something to him, someone who had not a human head but a bird skull perhaps. The man's eyes lit up, and he drove into a nearby alley, where he turned the car off.

Jake's hands clutched like claws at your shoulders and pushed you back against the seat, positioning himself over you to prevent any struggle on your part.

"Let me go!" you shrieked, and he held your wrists with one hand while, with the other, he lifted your blouse. The papyrus fell to the floor, and Jake picked it up.

"What's this, bonita?" he asked, waving it in front of you. A cavernous voice you couldn't hear gave him the answer, and he repeated it, "The Abydos papyrus? Is that it? What were you and Harrow trying to do with this thing?"

Since you didn't answer, Jake fixed his eyes on the gun he left in front of the steering wheel, but as he reached out to take it he caught a glimpse of its reflection in the rearview mirror. He thought about them, how horrified they ended up whenever they managed to recover the body after one of their little massacres, and while it amused him to hear them debate about what or who was to blame, just now he wasn't tempted to soil the beautiful finishes of the limo with blood.

"If you want to don't tell me" he agreed at last, holding you by the cheeks with his free hand "But understand one thing, I'm going to follow you, I'm going to find out where Harrow is, and when I find him..."

"Don't be playing games, Lockley!" snapped the cavernous voice in his head, like Ammit's was doing with you "Make her take you to him!"

Jake snorted. He couldn't remember exactly how many of Ammit's followers he'd murdered over the past few weeks, and truth be told he sometimes didn't even notice their faces. How strange it was to have you there, young and brave, vulnerable and scared, when he knew he could just snap your neck and force Harrow out of hiding.

"I don't want to hurt you" he said, not just to you "You don't look like them."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Their damned followers, their fanatical criminals." 

"Are you kidding me?" growled the voice of the moon god, but Jake ignored it. With his teeth he removed the gauntlet from his free hand, and stroked your cheek with one finger, as your chest rose and fell in heaving breaths. You begged Ammit for help, but she had warned you, if you got into trouble she wouldn't be able to save you, the ritual wasn't even started, your plans had been thwarted, Arthur would have to continue to suffer, at least until that strange man found him.

Those thoughts brought tears to your eyes. Jake softened his expression.

"Shhhh, no, don't cry" he picked up a tear with his finger, and in front of you he brought it to his mouth and licked the trembling droplet "Eres tan bonita..."

He touched the tip of your nose with a playful gesture, then rested the tip of his finger on your lips, sliding it slowly down to your chin, tracing your jaw and throat, down to your chest, where your heartbeat had quickened, out of fear or the way he treated you? Enemy, that's what he was, but there was something charming about him, something alluring, and you blushed with embarrassment because you feared you were suddenly lusting after some other man than Arthur.

"Hey" he whispered, leaning down to speak in your ear "Let's do this, shall we? Just tell me where Harrow is and I'll let you go, he'll never know I forced you to tell me."

"Don't negotiate with her, Lockley!" ordered Khonshu again.

"If you tell him I'm going to kill you!" exclaimed Ammit in your head, too weak to hear her properly.

"No... I'm not going to tell you" you replied at last, trembling with fearful anticipation "If I tell you, you're going to kill him, aren't you?" 

Jake nodded.

"And... if I don't tell you... you're going to kill me."

"I don't have to. You're not a follower of his, you don't have the mark."

Your crying redoubled. 

"You're wrong."

"What?" he jumped. 

"Her chest...look at her chest" Khonshu ordered. Jake lifted your blouse a little more, exposing your chest, and then saw the obnoxious scale tattoo on it.

"Carajo" he spat, laughing bitterly. "And why do you have it there, huh? Everyone was wearing it on their arm, what does it mean?"

"I don't think it matters much, because you're going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"

Yes. That's just what I was going to do, he thought despondently. Why was he having such a hard time finishing his job? You were just another pawn, a clever one, but who was now at his mercy, helpless, without you Arthur would be left without help and then, it was only a matter of time before he was finished with him too.

"Fuck, girl..." he growled "Why do you make everything so difficult, why are you still with him?"

"Because I love him."

Your answer was completely unexpected, and Jake balled his fist. He was right after all, you weren't just a brainwashed follower.

"Let's get this over with" Khonshu spat, and again you seemed to see him, very briefly, speaking to Jake from the back of the limo.

"Yeah... it'll be for the best" Jake replied, and reached out again to grab his revolver. You closed your eyes still crying, shaken, thinking that at least the man would be done with you soon.

"Someone like him doesn't deserve your love" he spat. The barrel of the gun approached your temple, without touching you. He pulled the trigger, and you heard the gun click, however, there was no detonation, and Jake threw it back on the dashboard "Nor does he deserve someone like you to die for him."

Jake held your head in his hands and then, you felt a loud crash that plunged you into darkness. The last thing you seemed to perceive were two voices, one Ammit's, sounding furious, and another equally powerful but exhausted, old, one that seemed to be addressing Jake:

"So...your night is just beginning, is it?"

[ilikekidsshows]

One thing that pisses me off not just about the miraculous fandom but modern fandoms is fans inability to consume long overarching stories.

Like so many people are complaining about how long the reveal is taking or why haven't certain characters outgrown this trait yet or why is this character arc botched or abandoned. Like guys we just got the confirmation this show will be 7 seasons long PLUS like 3 tv specials. We're only roughly halfway through the series.

Once the reveal happens half the tension in the show is gone! I'm not saying leave the reveal till season 7 and make us wait 9 years this isn't HIMYM but miraculous is not a fast paced story. It's a long haul story. I just wish more fans would be patient. Miraculous is in the extremely fortunate and rare position that it will have a conclusive end and not be suddenly cancelled. That was and still is a huge problem for shows and cartoons with dedicated fans but networks pull the plug for stupid ass reasons.

So miraculous fans please chill the fuck out on things not resolving right away. We still have 78+ episodes plus the tv specials. If we get the end to certain things now it'll be so boring.

I think the concept of Instant Gratification describes the issue with many modern fandoms today. I hate to sound like I'm anti-technology, but the constant stream of quick and short bursts of entertainment allowed by the information age has made people more impatient. It's not about waiting for the climax to get a deeper sense of satisfaction, it's about getting that instant gratification right this instant. It's why one-shot fanfics are all over the place, when multi-chapter stories used to be just as common and popular, if not even more so, and it’s also why people are less willing to read a fic that’s still a work in progress. It's why people refuse to watch Youtube video essays even as they leave comments on the topic based on the title and thumbnail alone because, while they couldn't be assed to watch a 20-minute video (let alone an hour long one), they sure can spend that time calling the Youtuber names and making arguments the video actually already refutes. It's why a lot of online arguments happen only because one party read nothing but the first and maybe the last paragraph of someone's post and skipped all the explanation for their point of view (if I've ignored an counter argument for one of my posts, it was either because I missed it or because said counter argument did this. I have attention deficit issues so I do genuinely forget responses sometimes, but I'm also not writing a second essay for someone who's proven to me they won't read it).

Of course, it's only by constantly consuming only fast-paced content that you can become this impatient. People have different ideas about stories based on what stories they have encountered in the past.

Another thing that influences the Miraculous fandom in particular is that, while I love to show off exactly how much Miraculous has done to build up the overarching plotlines, Miraculous isn't really a show that's about a single story. It's easy to understand why people think it is one though: there's one main villain, we keep discovering more about the mythology, one of the main plot threads is the romantic relationship between the leads and singular episodes and plot elements tend to get payoff later. What is the purpose of a show if not to progress the story? Because the heroes aren't getting closer to defeating Gabriel or getting together, people think that the story isn't accomplishing anything.

I'll do a comparison to illustrate why these things aren't as clear-cut signs of a continuous storyline as people think. In the Spider-Man comics, you can pick any issue up and the chances are that the villain will be a part of Spider-Man's already established Rogues Gallery, who's back for more after who knows how many defeats, and those past defeats might even get referenced in callbacks to previous issues. It's also very possible that Peter and Mary Jane's relationship is the central focus with them not being together yet, having relationship problems or even having broken up (in really old issues the girl might be Gwen Stacy and short-term options have also always been available for romantic entanglements). Does this mean Spider-Man is a continuous story where the only point is that all the villains get put away for good and Peter and MJ live happily ever after? No, it doesn't. Spider-Man is designed to go on indefinitely, so there's no clear ending point. So, what is the point of Spider-Man then, if there is no Ending?

It used to be the single issue, because comic books used to have every issue be a stand-alone story about the hero and their supportive cast. These days it's more every three-to-six issues, because superhero comics are written to have short story arcs that can then be collected into trade paperbacks. A superhero series is not a single story; it's a series that functions as a story engine, meaning the series can generate several shorter stories where the hero helps fix a problem or solve a mystery.

In the superhero genre a villain will never get killed off or removed from stories permanently as long as the writers think they can still come up with stories to tell about them. The hero's romantic life will never be completely smooth sailing unless the writer is using other things to ramp up the stakes. Everything always allows for there to be another adventure.

I think the huge success of Avatar: the Last Airbender made people think that a series that is a single story is always superior to a series with multiple shorter plots. When I was liveblogging Sailor Moon, a viewer offered to give me a list of all the non-filler episodes because they genuinely thought I'd feel like I was wasting time on the show otherwise. This attitude is simply not based on fact. It's not fair to compare Miraculous Ladybug to Avatar, because they're both setting up to do completely different things. Miraculous Ladybug is trying to become a brand, like Batman or Spider-Man. It is part of the "Zag Heroes" lineup, a series of French-created superhero franchises to compete in the America-centric superhero market. This challenge is good for the genre, because Marvel and DC have started resembling each other more and more as these companies stew in their old ideas and copy everything that worked for the other one. The superhero genre needs new blood.

Also, Avatar: the Last Airbender first became popular by doing episodic plots for almost the entirety of the first season because it's actually not a wise choice to expect the audience to be willing to commit to a story that'll only give payoff later when working with an untested IP. Very often shows with longer story arcs start with the episodic format to hook people first, and sometimes the more linear plot is introduced specifically because the audience for the show is now expected to be both dedicated enough and older and capable of keeping up. Because, here's the thing: you can't expect little kids to remember every episode or even every character you've introduced in your show. I'm not sure if people are ready to hear that but I'm throwing it out there anyway. Kids are not dumb, they can understand more complex storylines, but many kids are still training their memory, so they might not remember the details of complex storylines that go on for too long.

This is why the news that Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season was going to have a recommended viewing order originally had me concerned. Miraculous is being branded for kids. The plot requiring too much skill in memorizing story details will make it less accessible to kids and might put those two additional seasons at risk. However, it seems that the "constantly changing status quo" concept of Truth, Lies and Gang of Secrets was a fluke and the evolution of the show is more subtle, so they might not be cutting the amount of episodes for those final seasons because the show is getting too complicated for kids to follow all the important details.

Regardless, Miraculous Ladybug being an adventure cartoon TV show instead of a comic book or a more cheaper-to-produce TV drama does mean that Miraculous Ladybug isn’t expected to go on for decades like a superhero comic or a soap opera. Because of this, it can have evolution and changes and even a planned ending. The show is expected to end at some point, even by the people making money off of it, mostly because making a cartoon like this indefinitely costs a lot of money, and kids’ adventure shows tend to see a decrease in returns if they go on for too long.

[topsytervy]

The Right Time ~ JJ Maybank

Blurb: JJ finds the right time to tell you how he feels in his own JJ way.

This is Part 2 of Not The Right Time so if you haven't read Part 1, you can read it here.

Word Count: 2,819

Warnings: mentions of drinking, cheating, a non-descriptive fight, teensy bit of blood, small nod towards suicidal thoughts at the end, cliche and cheesy writing, swearing, poorly proofread so probably spelling and grammar mistakes, I think that's it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since your breakup with Brett, JJ had been doing everything in his power to make sure you knew it had nothing to do with you and Brett just couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

It was hard for him to see you like that, all heart broken and sad, but at least he was able to see you. Kie, Pope, Sarah and John B had tried visiting multiple times during your post breakup hermit phase with little to no success.

A knock on the door sounded throughout the house as JJ finished preparing lunch for you two. 

"Hold on!" He hollered, finishing up your sandwich before heading over to the door.

He opened it to reveal the other four members of your group. 

"Hey." JJ greeted his friends.

"Can we see her today?" John B asked. 

"I can ask but her 'social battery's low'. Her words, not mine." JJ sighed. 

"It's just that it's hard for us to not see her, J." 

JJ looked at Sarah. " At least you don't have to see her completely shattered everyday and have to sit and watch her eat three times a day to make sure she actually does eat."

Pope looked past JJ and saw the sandwiches on the table. "Can I sit with her today?"

JJ looked at Pope before nodding and gesturing towards your sandwich. "That one right there."

Pope smiled before grabbing the sandwich and knocking on your door, hearing a faint come in afterwards.

You looked to see Pope entering, a small smile on his face. "Hey. Heard about your low battery and I figured you'd want to see someone who's not JJ but not the whole peanut gallery."

You smiled lightly as you sat up. "Thanks, Pope. I love JJ but he can be a bit...overbearing sometimes."

"And this is one of those times." Pope nodded.

You sighed as Pope gave you your sandwich.

"He's just concerned about you. We all are." 

"l know."

"How about I tell you about some books I've been reading?"

"I'd like that Pope." You smiled as you bit into your food.

It's not that JJ was bad at comforting or anything like that. In fact, ever since you were a kid, you always went to him for comfort when you were upset. It's just that JJ always seemed to want to rush your mourning period. 

JJ didn't like seeing you sad so the less time you spent crying and moping, the better for him.

"Morning, Y/N/N." JJ smiled lightly as he drew back your curtains.

"J, get out." You mumbled into your pillow.

"You gotta get up, sweetheart." JJ practically sang, walking over to your bed and grabbing the comforter.

Your grip immediately tightened. "Don't J." 

"I know it's only been a week but come on Y/N. Let in some sun. If not for you, do it for your children." He nodded towards your plants as he laid down next to you.

"I can't get up." You told him.

"Sure you can. You're a bad bitch who isn't going to let this break her. I'm not going to allow you to bury yourself in work and hole yourself up in your room forever just because some dumbass doesn't realize when he's got the greatest girl to ever walk the earth."

You stared at the blonde next to you. "JJ. I can't get up cause you're in here and I'm only in my underwear.

JJ rolled his eyes. "Y/N, all due respect, that's no excuse cause I've seen you naked many times before. the time you broke your ankle in the shower being the main one cause I had to help you in and out of the shower multiple times."

You blushed at his words before shoving him. "Just get out."

JJ did as you requested but not before tossing you some clothes.

So when a few months had passed and you seemed to be back to pre-breakup Y/N, JJ was happy to hear Kie mention a party.

Everyone looked at you and you shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

JJ, John B and Pope all exchanged smiles as Sarah and Kie pulled you up from your seat, saying something about making you so hot that the sun would quit and you'd have to take over the job of keeping the earth warm.

JJ watched as you left, sighing as he let his head fall against the back of the couch.

John B looked at his best friend. "Don't be a helicopter JJ tonight."

A look of confusion found its way onto JJ's face. "Helicopter JJ? What the fuck does that mean?"

Pope sighed. "It's like a helicopter parent except you. You tend to hover over Y/N/N at parties and get a bit...protective at times."

"I do that with Kie and Sarah too." JJ scoffed.

"Not really." The boys responded.

"You don't follow Kie's movements as much as Y/N's." Pope started.

"You certainly don't freak out as much when you lose Sarah or Kie but you almost had a panic attack when you lost Y/N that one time at the store and literally had someone page her." John B added.

"You hide some of Y/N/N's clothes when we're going out because you don't like the chance of her wearing something that could cause a guy to like her and cause you to lose your chance with her."

"I once saw you shield her eyes at prom when people started grinding on each other."

"Okay! So I'm a bit more protective of Y/N than the other two. Sue me." JJ cut the two off.

"Point is that this is her first party in months. Let her get a bit too drunk and make out with some hotshot Kook against a tree." 

"Hell, let her get some dick tonight." John B shrugged.

Pope and JJ looked at their curly haired friend before JJ shook his head.

"Fine but she's not getting dick from just anybody. I have to approve of him." JJ said as he stood up and left the room,

The two other boys sat in silence before Pope spoke.

"You know what? I count that as progress and when we make progress with JJ…"

"We have a beer." John B finished, getting up to go get each of them a can.

*****

You and the rest of the pogues made it to the party and found yourselves a home by the bonfire. Rafe, Topper and Kelce had stopped by to say that they were happy to see you again and Kelce was happy that his beer pong partner was back because Rafe and Topper just didn't compare to you. 

JJ stared at you, the fire illuminating your features as you laughed at something Kie had said, red cup in his hand that was half-empty. He brought the cup to his lips and finished his beer before turning to you.

"Refill, Y/N/N?"

You nodded before turning to the rest of the group. "JJ and I are making a refill trip. Who else needs one? Speak now or get it yourself." You announced as you stood up.

JJ smiled at your words before also getting up, ready to grab some cups. Pope and Sarah held out their cups while Kie and John B shook their heads.

You took the cups that needed a refill before you and JJ made your way through the crowd of people towards the keg. JJ cracked some jokes with some of the others around the keg and you rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face before you nudged him with your shoulder.

You two started refilling the cups you had before you were interrupted.

"Haven't see you at a party in awhile, Y/N." 

You and JJ turned your heads to see Brett standing there, two cups in his hand.

JJ rolled his eyes before looking at you, seeing you avert your gaze back to the keg.

"Why don't you go back to your whore over there Brett." JJ deadpanned. 

You smacked JJ's wrist. "Don't call her a whore, JJ. It's rude."

"I'm just stating my opinion."

"Oh so she does still talk. I was just confused when she didn't say hi to me when I greeted her." Brett said.

"Can you get the fuck away from us? She clearly doesn't want to have a conversation with you." JJ snapped. 

"I would love to know what you have to say, Y/N, or are you gonna let JJ over here keep talking for you." Brett aimed at you, ignoring the blonde who was getting more agitated by Brett's presence. 

"I have nothing to say to you." You shrugged, going to grab the cup. 

"We should talk." Brett went to grab you but JJ grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch her." 

"What are you gonna do about it, Maybank?"

"I've got two fists that have been itching to meet your face for months now and tonight might be their lucky night if you keep it up."

"JJ, lets just go." You whispered, placing a hand on his forearm.

JJ looked at you before grabbing his and Pope's cup before following you back to the group.

"Hey, JJ!" Brett called causing JJ to look back.

You gasped as a fist made contact with JJ's face. JJs hand immediately flew to his eye, gingerly touching his eyebrow. He pulled his fingers away to see blood and he chuckled before swinging his own fist.

It wasn't long before JJ had Brett on the ground, pissed beyond belief. Brett managed to get a few more punches in but JJ definitely got way more in by the time you managed to pull him off of Brett with Kelce's help.

"JJ! Calm down, man! He's not worth your time!" Kelce hollered, pinning his arms to his side. 

"JJ, look at me. It's done. It's over. You're good now." You told him.

Brett stood up with a scoff. "He could have fucking killed me." 

"I fucking should, you cheating son of a bitch!" JJ spat, Kelce's grip tightening on the blonde boy when JJ attempted to lunge forward.

"J, let's just go home. We've had our fun."  

JJ looked at you before relaxing causing Kelce to release his hold on him slowly. You grabbed JJ's hand and pulled him away from the small crowd that had formed around him and Brett.

You two said goodbye to your friends and walked back to JJ's truck, you climbing into the passenger seat and him into the drivers.

It was a quiet ride home, Twenty One Pilots playing softly through the speakers the entire time. JJ referred to them as his therapy band, often putting them on after a hard day at work or after a fight so it wasn't really a surprise that he had one of their CDs in. 

Once you got home and inside, JJ locked the door before turning towards his bedroom.

"Um, excuse me. Where are you going, JJ?" You asked, grabbing his wrist.

"Bed."

You shook your head. "We gotta clean you up. Bed can wait."

You tugged him into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit as you instructed JJ to sit on the toilet lid. He complied, bouncing his leg up and down as you put a little hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball.

"That's your first fight in a while." You commented, grabbing his chin lightly and forcing him to look at you.

He grunted in response as you started cleaning the few small cuts on his face. "The prick deserved it for what he did to you. You'd have to be fucking nuts to cheat on someone like you."

You felt my heart flutter at his words and I sighed. "I just hate seeing you like this, JJ. All scratched up." 

JJ chuckled as he shook his head lightly. "Oh, Y/N, sweetheart. This is nothing compared to the beat down Brett just got and what my dad used to dish out when I was living with him."

JJ saw your face drop at his words and your eyes begin to water.

"Hey, Y/N. It was just a small joke." He told you gently as he grabbed your hands with his. 

You shook your head and went to pull away from him but he just pulled you back, looking up at you as if he was a parent trying to comfort their child.

It weirdly looked like all those Super Nanny time out scenes where the kid looks down in shame as they apologize and the parent is dipping their head down to make eye contact with the kid. You know what I'm talking about?

"I don't like it when you do the whole 'my dad hit me harder thing', J, whenever you try to play off your pain and injuries." You mumbled, a tear slipping out.

JJ wiped away the single tear, mad at himself for upsetting you. "I'm sorry but maybe the waterworks are a bit much. Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that you shouldn't fight my battles for me. I was going to just walk away from him."

"I'm sorry, are we ignoring the fact that I was walking away? He threw the first punch and I made sure he would think twice before doing that again."

"I just don't like you getting hurt because of me." You sighed. 

"Hey, I'd rather get hurt than have you get hurt."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went around your waist. 

"I always liked your hugs better." You hummed.

JJ felt himself smile. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "You wanna know something, J?"

"Yeah."

"I always felt like you paid more attention to me than Brett. After a year of dating him, he still didn't know my favorite flowers or that I was allergic to bees. Those are the two simplest things to learn about your significant other. You know that I can't even stand the smell of fish sticks anymore or that I can't watch the Freaky Fred episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog or I'll have nightmares." 

"That's because I care about you a lot." JJ whispered, kissing your temple.

You ran a hand through JJs blonde locks and sighed. "I wish I dated you instead."

You froze. You could not believe that you had just told your best friend that. You also could not believe how easily those words left your mouth and how much truth there was to them. You did wish you dated JJ instead and not just because of how attractive he was. He always treated you way better than Brett and was more intune -and concerned- about how you were feeling.

JJ also froze, praying that he heard those words correctly and that it wasn't his mind playing a sick joke. He had been waiting for the right time for months and his gut had been telling him all day that today was the day but he fought the urge, afraid his gut was lying. But this...this must be the sign.

"Do you really mean that?" He asked, fighting a smile in case you meant a guy like him and not actually him.

You paused before nodding. "Yeah, I do."

You felt his arms tighten around you and his face bury itself in the crook of your neck.

"You remember all those months ago when you made a big deal about me liking someone and you asked me why I hadn't made a move yet and I told you it wasn't the right time?" JJ words were muffled by your skin.

"Mhmm."

He pulled away to look at you. "I think now's the right time." 

And then he pressed his lips against yours. You were quick to kiss back and it held the adoration you felt was missing long before you and Brett broke up.

You pulled away, placing a hand on his cheek which caused JJ to close his eyes and lean into your touch.

"Thank you for being in my life." You whispered, taking the forgotten cotton ball in your hand and pressing it to the scratch above his eyebrow.

JJ smiled. "No. Thank you for being in mine. You helped me through the toughest times and gave me a reason to stay."

"I wouldn't have objected to leaving the Outer Banks with you."

"I meant like stay here, like on Earth." He mumbled.

You stared at him before kissing his cheek. "Thank you for staying here with me."

JJ opened his eyes and grinned as some hair fell in front of his eyes. "As much as I love our little moment, can we move the cleaning process along cause I kind of want to climb into bed with you in my arms tonight."

You smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. "Sure thing, Jay-Bird. That sounds amazing."

~~~~~~~~