#I’m sorry about the image failure I’m trying my best to do it justice

[fieryphrazes]

🖼💕

I want you to know that I really tried to post an autographed photo of Jonathan Taylor Thomas with Dolly Parton that hangs in the Dolly Parton Museum at Dollywood but the upload glitched somehow 😔 so imagine a teen JTT with 90s Dolly. It is inscribed “Dolly, you are a very special person”

[makeste]

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 285

1. “at that moment...”

you guys. I still can’t get over this. just -- guys. this is Kacchan telling the story.

he’s not the first character to narrate, mind you. characters like Twice, Tomura, Ochako, and Kirishima have all narrated in the past. but it’s always been past-tense narration of their own flashbacks, or else present-tense narration explaining their thoughts (e.g. Twice in chapter 115). Kacchan himself has done present-tense POV narration before. but this isn’t that. this is past-tense narration of an event that’s happening now. this is the future Kacchan narrating the present day Kacchan’s story.

has any other character done that, aside from Deku himself?? am I just crazy overreacting here, lol. idk but either way it’s cool.

2. “...there were no thoughts in my head.”

there was a post yesterday talking about Kacchan’s big moment at the end of this chapter being a little disappointing because of it being an automatic “my body moved on its own” save on Kacchan’s part. the argument was basically that it made the moment less meaningful because of it being a subconscious thing rather than a conscious decision on Katsuki’s part.

but I disagree! for me the “my body moved on its own” is actually way more impactful. and rather than describing it as “subconscious”, I think the word that fits better in this case is instinct. first of all, even though he says there were no thoughts in his head, we know that’s not exactly true, as we can see for ourselves the images that were flashing through his mind. I’m just gonna list them out:

“I’ll even surpass All Might and become the best hero out there.”

“why was it me who put an end to All Might?”

“I made a pledge! I will achieve absolute victory, every time! we’re taking this 4-0, no casualties! the strong don’t settle for anything less!”

“I’m not gonna lose... I can’t afford to stay a loser!”

“you... you looked like you needed saving.”

thoughts about what it means to be a hero. what it used to mean to him, and what it means to him now. thoughts about rescuing others. about saving to win. thoughts about his failures. thoughts about him and Deku. and last but certainly not least, vivid memories of a moment when he needed someone to save him, and Deku was there.

he has these thoughts, but he’s not aware of himself having them. it happens too fast for him to be able to process. but all the same, his body isn’t just moving here of its own accord. it’s simply that in this instance, it’s not thought that’s driving him, but emotion. at the risk of sounding INCREDIBLY CORNY, it’s not his head that makes the decision, but his heart.

and that’s why it’s so meaningful to me. in this moment, it’s not conscious thought that’s driving him, but emotion, instinct, will. he sees the attack, sees that it will hit Deku, and he just reacts. something at the core of him screams that he can’t let it happen, and he just moves. and to me that’s even more powerful than him consciously doing the math and making the sacrifice play (though I’m not saying I wouldn’t have enjoyed that as well). specifically because it’s a moment where he doesn’t have a chance to think or analyze or panic or doubt. it’s a moment that shows us who he is when you strip all that away from him. he doesn’t have time to get in his own head; he doesn’t have time to feel any fear; he doesn’t have time to think about himself at all. he takes himself out of the equation. he sees that Deku needs saving. and the rest is pure instinct. it’s the most heroic he has ever been.

3. “even if One for All is a cursed power... at the same time, it’s...”

I was wondering what was up with this part, lol. Caleb’s translation makes it much clearer; to Katsuki, OFA is both a blessing and a curse right now. the “cursed” part is becoming more and more obvious with each new chapter. it’s putting Deku in danger; it’s made him a target; it’s destroying his body; and there are other, darker and more dangerous factors also at play that Katsuki doesn’t even know about but fears nonetheless. I honestly feel like he’s been anxious about all of this ever since he learned Deku and All Might’s secret. it’s been on the back of his mind for months now.

but at the same time, OFA is what brought him and Deku back together. sorry, am I getting cheesy again lol. BUT IT’S TRUE THOUGH. All Might’s quirk gave Deku the chance to compete with Katsuki on equal footing for the first time. it forced Katsuki to acknowledge him. and both he and Deku have grown so much on so many levels over the course of this past year, and all of it stems back to Deku receiving this quirk.

and just... fucking look at these flashbacks, though.

unless I’m reading this completely wrong, the gist of this scene is that Katsuki is grateful for OFA because it’s what lifted Deku up and allowed him to try and achieve his dream. the scenes of Katsuki bullying Deku and burning his notebook are contrasted with the scenes of Deku standing up to him and vowing that he won’t be his punching bag anymore. Deku before OFA, contrasted with Deku after. I get the sense that Katsuki feels a lot of gratitude for fate stepping in and working to undo his mistakes before he himself could finally get his act together and start atoning for them as well.

and then that last page is really interesting, because it’s like the “blessing” and “curse” parts of OFA all together in a single image. Deku is going all out against Tomura, giving everything he has, ready to sacrifice himself if that’s what it takes. there’s so much strength there (even though he looks completely insane lmao), but at the same time it’s literally killing him. mixed feelings, for sure.

4. “Katsuki Bakugou: Rising”

last but not least! so there’s quite a bit of discussion going on about what exactly a “rising” chapter actually consists of, lol. Momo is the only other character who’s had one before (at least if you don’t count the movies, and the movie spin-offs). so it’s hard to say for sure with such a small sample size, but if I had to guess, I’d say the “rising” chapters are about characters coming into their own as heroes. Momo’s chapter was all about her letting go of her insecurities and starting to believe in herself. and this chapter was all about Katsuki letting go of both his fear and his pride, and just getting the job done.

in the span of a single chapter, he lets go of every single thing that’s ever held him back. I felt like we really got a glimpse of the hero he can -- and hopefully will, if future!Kacchan the Narrator is anything to go by -- become. he was amazing. he took charge; he came up with a plan that absolutely would have worked if Tomura wasn’t LITERALLY FUCKING UNKILLABLE LULZ; and when that failed, he didn’t hesitate to make the sacrifice play. Bakugou fucking Katsuki, He of Zero Rescue Points, made the fucking sacrifice play. do you even know how much I love that you guys. I love it so, so much.

but of course, when you make the sacrifice play it tends to have the not-so-surprising side effect of getting you ALL FUCKED UP afterwards. so perhaps a less ideal outcome than he would have hoped. but he still did good. and he stopped Deku from getting murdered, and so now hopefully Deku and Shouto can mount some sort of aggrieved revenge counterattack to do their fallen friend justice. time for my other two sons to get to work! maybe Shouto can make Deku some new arms out of ice.

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

[redemptionofthefallen]

Jeans Love Letter

*well i guess your in luck as i have RPed Jean for years then ;)*  

My dearest Kitten, I'm writing you this because...well...in some shape or form i have had my eyes on you since the beginning of it all. while i don't seem to say much to you -as i just don't have the guts to do it- i figured writing this letter to you would be best. 

i am but a simple man. find a girl, get married, buy a house, have a few kids kind of man. i always wondered who that woman in my life would be, but the moment i saw your eyes. i knew, then and there you were the one for me. 

your eyes, to your figure, to your feet are perfect in every way. although i would have to say your hair is my favorite. long brown auburn hair that flows gracefully where the wind takes it, as it frames your face beautifully. 

Truth be told the real reason I'm writing you this letter is because....im about to go on this long ass mission far from home. 

and i don't know if I'll come back. 

i didn't want to leave without telling you first, but damn if i couldn't look at your beautiful face without my mind going blank on me...

and im sorry for that. 

however with this letter. i will write the declaration of love i wasn't able to say to you in person. 

by the time you read this I'm probably half way across the cotenant by now, but just know that you are always on my mind. my love for you holds no bounds, no limits, and it is nothing but pure. i have every intent of coming back to you. with this letter is the promise that i shall return, to tell you all of this face to face, 

or die trying. 

you are the reason i want to come home. your the reason i want to return alive. so i can see your smiling face again, so i can finally feel that beautiful hair between my fingers as i pull you gently into my arms and kiss those soft plush lips of yours, that i have longed to kiss. 

while i don't know if i will come home. 

i will try. 

and in case i don't....please promise me that at the very least, you will keep this letter? in hopes that someday you will find someone that will feel the same way about you as i did, writing this letter? 

bottom line is. 

i just want you to be happy my Kitten. 

but i guess that’ll be all from me, but please hold on for my return. if you feel the same way that is...

and if you don't, then that's fine. just know that my heart will always belong to you. 

i gotta go now, but remember me...

in your dreams. 

until we meet my sweet Kitten, 

Love Jean Kirstein

*i sooooo fuckin hope i did him justice XD but there you go! Jeans Love letter ^_^ this is for the awesome and sweet @sparklekitteh hope you enjoy ^^ also i wrote it this way cause the ask was WAY too short for jean to formally tell you how he feels lol so im writing it in a post and will send the link to you hope this works XD and also side note.....i can totally see jean going through like....a WHOLE parchment of paper trying to write this XD like multiple drafts and crumpled up “failures” littered around him before he send this one XD sorry wanted to share the image cause it made me laugh XD* 

[aiorevelations]

A Number, Not a Name: Part 18

Enjoy everyone!

4 months earlier:

Regis scanned the fragment of paper spread out across the table before him. Not even a month ago he was a desperate man chasing the shadows of his lifelong mentor. What he’d found in the jungles of South America had been nothing short of a profound revelation. The ancient words inscribed held the key to changing humanity. From the very beginning, he had believed deep within his soul that what Professor M spoke of was true. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew it. Though he’d never have suspected that the place which possessed what he sought was merely some speck on a map. A hamlet of small-town America. In the end, though the where didn’t matter. What mattered was that he attained his goal. Failure was his greatest fear. After what he’d sacrificed to get this far he wasn’t about to fall short an inch away from the finish line. Like Professor M had. When he stumbled upon he’d found a broken sickly old man barely clinging onto life. Filled with regret and sorrow that though he literally held in his hand the culmination of his life’s work, he would never live to see it. Regis had vowed that would not be his fate.

Fate, however, was a funny thing. Previously Dr. Blackgaard had possessed adequate resources yet lacked the knowledge he required. Now just when he had attained the necessary knowledge his funds were depleted. Alas Professor M had died, weighed down in debt, and without any assets to further fund Regis’ research. Dr. Blackgaard was one to keep his research away from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was to inform anyone of his discovery. Who knows what might happen. Word could spread to the general public if that happened it was game over. Blackgaard was well aware however that the little venture he was starting in Chicago wouldn’t provide him with the funds he needed. The choice was before him. Either choose not to share his work and lose any chance of funding or take the chance and inform potential investors of his findings. When put that way there was only one option - the latter. “Blast” he muttered under his breath.

He rolled up the parchment and stood up from his chair, grasping his walking stick as he sat up. Pacing back and forth on the wooden floor he tried thinking of someone who would work as a potential investor. Blackgaard’s mind raced. Too many people had their motives and agendas they were trying to serve. The last thing he wanted to be was someone’s puppet. He’d rather give up his work altogether than be a pawn in someone else’s game. It has to be someone who has enough resources yet can be easily fooled. Someone obsessed with power and ambition that they’d do anything to obtain it - even trust a complete stranger. A person who is so full of themselves they’d never think anyone could bring them down. Sasha meowed, interrupting Blackgaard’s thoughts. He stooped down and picked up his faithful feline companion. Softly, he stroked her neck and behind her ears, prompting a deep purr from Sasha. “Oh, Sasha…Now, who do we know who’d be aware of someone like that.” 

Blackgaard had a long list of reliable contacts. Men and women spread across the globe. People who were aware of plots and schemes of power and the people behind them. Blackgaard’s polished shoes thudded on the packed earth as he circled the jungle cabin, left exactly as it had been when Professor M died. Professor M’s research notes and documents were packed carefully in boxes that were neatly stacked. His personal effects and clothes were strewn throughout the room. 

Regis placed Sasha down on the floor and walked to where Professor M’s trunk was located in the corner of the small hut. He opened the lid and searched through it until he found a notebook. He scanned over the pages looking for a particular name. An old contact of theirs who Professor M had known even before he met his esteemed mentor. They had come to value her greatly. Every secret or scheme going on she always found a way to find out. Finally, Regis' eyes landed on the name he was searching for. Blackgaard knew she was the answer. 

…..

4 months earlier:

Liana stared blankly ahead. She was busy pouring coffee yet her mind was somewhere else. Today would have been Erik’s birthday. She tried to push it to the side and carry on waitressing, but the memories would come flooding back. Picnics in the park. Splashing each other in the lake. The way he’d shower her with flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. 

Liana had known she’d never be able to have peace until her father and all those responsible answered for their actions, but she at least thought with time she’d be able to have a sense of healing. Instead, the more time passed the more angry she became. She should be spending these years with Erik. If he was here she was certain they’d have been married by now probably with children. Living a happy and beautiful life. She’d been robbed of that life and forced to live a cold and lonely one. 

“Liana!”  Hearing her name, she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Uh sorry. Millie. What is it?”

“You’re pouring coffee all over the counter.” Liana glanced down and saw she’d overfilled the coffee cup, causing the liquid to flow all over the countertop. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She set the decanter down and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.” 

She wiped up the spilled coffee. “I’m fine.” Liana picked up the coffee cup and walked to a table by the shop window. 

She set the piping hot coffee on the table. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks so much” the man graciously responded.

“Would you like anything else?”

“No, this is good for me. Thanks.”

“Of course. If you need anything please let me know.” She forced a smile and began to walk to another table where two women were waiting to order. Halfway to the table, she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to the television mounted in the corner of the room. An image of a man’s face caught her eye. His familiar features, grey hair, wrinkled skin, piercing black eyes, matched the image she’d seen in person on multiple occasions. One of the faces seared into her head for the last nearly five years. There was no mistake, the man was none other than Davit Dalmar. Below his image was the headline “Breaking News: Davit Dalmar, CEO and founder of Dalmar Petroleum, announces run for Krudian parliament.”

Liana found herself chilled to the core seeing his face. It took her back, back to that night. The worst night of life. She holding her dying boyfriend in her arms, knowing there was nothing she or anyone else could do. She bit back her lip and took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t break down, especially in a Budapest cafe. 

What was that expression? The past has a way of catching up to you. She’d always planned to go back. To go home. Deep down she knew what she had to do. That pain. That anger. That overwhelming feeling of loss. It was still there. Burning in her soul stronger than ever.  She knew she’d never be able to move forward unless she went backward. Nevertheless, when it came to confronting her past she’d find herself paralyzed. Unable to go back. Memories of Krudia, her father, Eric haunted her. Every street or shop in Bulin came with some painful reminder. The very thought of stepping off the airplane filled with her dread and terror.

But now seeing Dalmar had served to remind her of the men she’d left behind. And of what she’d lost. He was a monster. Him and her father both. She felt another wave of anger surge through her. In what world was it fair that Erik was dead and Norvan and Dalmar were still breathing? How could someone be so heartless as to take him from her without a second thought? How could people, like her father and Dalmar, find pleasure in killing others? She may have thought the removal of some malevolent individuals necessary but never took pleasure in their demise only in the justice being served. One thing couldn’t be denied: her father and Dalmar were insane. They had to be brought down. Any reservations or fears she had, Liana knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She was done running from her past. 

…..

Present-day:

Jason woke, tied to a chair. Ropes dug into his wrists. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, or perhaps blood, though he wasn’t sure which one. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. He appeared to be in some type of warehouse. Above him, warehouse pendant lights flickered the only source of light in the room. 

It all came flooding back to him—what he'd prayed had been only a nightmare—The car chase, men shooting at them, Tasha slumping forward on the steering wheel ….

Tasha. His heart began to race and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Where was she? He prayed she was still alive. He frantically glanced around him but saw no one. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if his earlier actions had caused this. 

He struggled to loosen the ropes that bound him. Straining he turned every which way trying to free himself. It was no use. He let out a scream of frustration and lowered his head. A feeling of helplessness and utter loneliness consumed him, His head throbbed but the physical pain he was experiencing didn’t compare to his overwhelming guilt.

It’s my fault. The words stabbed through his mind. I got us into this. I shouldn't have acted recklessly—Why didn’t I just stick to the plan? Why did I have to be so stubborn? He shook his head. I wanted so desperately to prove myself that I ended up screwing everything up. If I get out of this I’ll probably have to resign. The last thing the NSA wants is someone who can’t complete a routine mission, let alone their first assignment. Who knows, maybe that’s probably for the best anyway. Donovan saw right through me. My flaws and weaknesses…how careless I could be…and I proved him right. Now not only is the mission ruined but Tasha’s life is in danger because of me. If she dies I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Right now he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. His whole body felt numb.

There was nothing he wanted to do, nowhere he wanted to go. Nothing mattered anymore, except doing everything he possibly could to right his mistake. To make sure Tasha was safe and if possible successfully complete their assignment.

Whoever was behind this would probably hurt him. The thought barely registered in his mind. He knew he should feel something. Dread. Fear. Anxiety. But he didn’t. All his thoughts were turned to Tasha. They could do whatever they wanted to him. It didn’t matter. He would willingly sacrifice his life without hesitation if it meant they didn’t touch her. At that moment he knew he was powerless. There was only one thing he could do. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

…..

Tasha’s eyes darted around the room, her eyes landing on the metal door to the side of her. She felt something digging into her skin and realized she was tied up. Tasha lay against the wall struggling to recall previous events, how she’d ended up here. Her mind was blank. The last thing she remembered was leaving with Jason for the gala. She looked down at her clothes. Instead of the dark blue dress, she remembered she was wearing light pink pajamas. She looked around the room. The floor was layered with dirt. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the room. Jason was nowhere in sight. Who knew where he could be. For all Tasha knew he could be lying dead somewhere or being mercilessly tortured. 

The door creaked open causing Tasha to look up. An older muscular man entered the room followed by a tall brown-haired woman. 

It didn’t take a genius to guess what they were probably after. Information. Luckily, Tasha thought, she’d been briefed and trained how to resist such efforts. She sat up in her seat and braced herself for whatever was coming, though she couldn’t help the shivers that traveled down her spine. 

Milena’s eyes met Tasha’s. Tasha tried to read them yet they seemed nearly expressionless. The man’s on the other hand were easy to read. They were deathly cold.

Milena spoke. “I have to say that was quite a showing back there. Very impressive. My hired men are known for their efficiency. You and your associate were their hardest targets ever by far.” She crossed her arms. “So congrats.”

Tasha kept a blank expression on her face. "You might as well just skip to the end. I’m not saying anything.” 

“Who said anything about getting information? I’m not so stupid as to waste my time trying to get intel out of an NSA agent.”

Elias walked over to Tasha “Never saw that coming did you?”

Tasha looked him directly in the eyes. “Can’t say I didn’t. If I was in your shoes I wouldn’t waste my time either.” Fear trembled through her, but at the same time, there was a defiance in her eyes. Even in face of danger, she wasn’t one to submit or hold back on fiery comebacks. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. He glanced at Milena. “I like this one. Too bad we can’t keep her around.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the best company anyway.” Tasha glanced at the metal door beyond Milena and Elias. There was one question she had to ask. Though a possible answer filled her with dread. Life had a funny, even almost cruel way of unfolding. Not even a few hours ago Jason and she had been going at it and now here she was worrying over his safety. Though she was still deeply angry and upset at Jason for what he had done, all that mattered to her right now was that he was alright. “Is…he okay?”

“He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking,” Elias replied.

 A wave of relief washed over Tasha. At least she and Jason were both alive. When it came down to it that alone only mattered. A dark thought crept into her mind. But then again who knew what their captors had in mind for them. Perhaps it would have been better for him not to survive, that might have been a merciful fate.

Elias stepped closer to Tasha. Then, from under his black shirt, he unslung a small black pistol from his belt.

Tasha’s mouth began to run dry and her heart began to race. Elias twirled the gun on his finger, only increasing Tasha’s uneasiness.

She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Milena. “You know, you seem like a straight shooter so I’ll cut to the chase. Why exactly do you need us? If you’re not after information I fail to see the point.” 

Milena gave a small laugh. “Aren’t you a fast talker? Trying to hide your fear?”

“No, my boredom.”

Milena clasped her hands. “Let’s just say I need you both for a plan of mine.”

Tasha eyed her confusingly. “What kind of plan.”

“That would be giving things away now would it?”

“What things? Are you working for Dalmar?”

Pain flashed across Milena’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was only there for a second and was gone as soon as it came. Not before being noticed by Tasha. “Dalmar, that monster. Heck no! Your whole plan of bringing him down is still happening. You and Edward are just playing a different role than you originally planned.”

Tasha found herself shocked by Milena’s revelation. However, she made certain not to show her surprise to those in the room. Basic training - never show your opponent what you’re thinking. 

Milena turned to Elias. “Would you give us a moment?”

 He glanced from Milena to Tasha and back to Milena again. He placed his gun back in its holster. “Sure.” The door clanked shut behind him.

“I know what you may think of me and I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way too…but I just want to say that I admire your tenacity. I respect what you’re doing.”

Tasha leaned forward. “Really. I would never have guessed. If you respected my mission, why interfere with it?”

“Trust me. I had my reasons. The justice I’d get from your NSA wouldn’t be enough.” She spoke, a hint of sadness showing in her eyes for a brief moment. 

From the first time she laid eyes on her Tasha could tell that the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a hardened criminal. That there was something beneath the surface. It was obvious now she’d suffered some tragic painful event in her life. Dalmar’s doing most likely. Tasha thought for a moment about how to respond. She knew the words she’d say would probably not change her mind or course of action, but she had to try.

Tasha spoke softly. “I know what horrific things Dalmar is capable of…Sometimes it seems that men like him just end up walking away but that’s no ex—”

“Excuse for me to take the law into my hands. Yeah, I figured that speech was coming. Guess what, I don’t have time for it.” Milena said strongly before turning around and walked across the room. Well, that went well but pretty much how I expected. Tasha thought as Milena shut the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving Tasha alone once again. 

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

[vgckwb]

ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 65: Feelings About People!/”Chloe”

Vlad was walking through Paris chatting with Beyyo. “So, Nathalie is Mayura” he said.

“What do you suppose that means?” Beyyo asked.

Vlad paused for a moment. “Well, she doesn’t do anything without reason” he explained. “She’s a professional through and through.”

“So, you think someone hired her?” Beyyo asked.

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility” Vlad answered. “But she also believes in Hawk Moth. That’s the strange thing.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m sure we’ll figure it out” Beyyo said.

“Yeah” Vlad replied. "But this begs the question. Do we test her tonight, or Sabrina?"

“Hmmm” Beyyo thought. “On one hand, we’d be that much closer to finding out who Hawk Moth is if we test Nathalie. On the other hand, I don’t think she’d be as willing to be tested, and on high alert. Sabrina might be the safer bet.”

“You have a point,” Vlad said. He then got a text on his phone. “I think this has tipped the scales.” He showed Beyyo the message. It was from Marinette and it read “The Master wants to see you after the dog's test. It’s important"

"Well that settles it” Beyyo said.

“We’re testing Sabrina tonight” Vlad said with a grin.

Later that night, Judgement Wolf made his way to Sabrina’s place. He snuck into her room and saw her asleep. He drew his sword. “Wolf Mist!”

Sabrina was in class, eagerly awaiting Chloe to join her. Chloe slammed the door open. Everyone was nervous. “Uh, hi Chloe…” Sabrina said. Chloe just pouted and sat down. “Ummmmmm, are you alright?”

Chloe glared daggers at Sabrina. “Why are you so concerned with me all the time?! Why don’t you mind your own business once in a while?” She turned back around.

Sabrina felt devastated. “I’m sorry Chloe. If that’s how you feel, I’ll leave you alone for today.”

“Hmm!” Chloe moaned.

Throughout the day, Sabrina maintained her distance, but couldn’t help but keep an eye on Chloe. Chloe was acting mean to everyone. Well, meaner than usual. Sabrina knew Chloe wasn’t the nicest person to be around, but today seemed odd.

Chloe was yelling at people, left and right; really trying to get under their skin about things. She didn’t care who she offended. She yelled at everyone.

“Hey!” Marinette said from behind Sabrina. Sabrina turned around to see her classmates. “What’s with Chloe today?!”

Sabrina was shocked. “I...I don’t know.”

“Cut the lies!” Ivan said. “You’re her only friend! You have to know what’s going on!”

“Yeah!” said Alya. “Why is Chloe being extra mean today?”

“I really don’t know,” Sabrina said. “She wasn’t meaner than usual when we were hanging out yesterday. I really wish I had an answer for you.”

“Pathetic!” Chloe called out. Everyone turned to meet Chloe. “Every single one of you! You all claim to hate me, and yet here you are, acting like you care! And YOU!” she said turning towards Sabrina. “I thought I TOLD you to leave me alone. That doesn’t mean following me behind my back.”

Sabrina was on the verge of tears. “Lay off Chloe” Marinette said. “She’s the only person willing to defend you.” Sabrina looked up.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need defending,” Chloe said. “That implies I’m not already perfect.”

“But you’re not” said Adrien, trying to get through to her. “Chloe, I know you. I know you’re lashing out for some reason or another. Now just tell us what it is.”

For a moment, it seemed like that worked. However, Chloe then responded with “Puh-lease! You think I’d actually fall for that, Adrikins? Pathetic. The lot of you!”

“He was just trying to help,” Nino said.

“There you go again. Acting like I need something” Chloe snarked. “You know what? I do! I need you all to LEAVE ME ALONE! And go on with your miserable lives, knowing you won’t be any better than me!” She sauntered off smugly.

The whole class was seething. That is, except for Sabrina, who was concerned. She ran after Chloe. A big shadow flew over the class.

Chloe was satisfied with herself. However, she was concerned when she heard “Chloe!”

“Ugh! What now?” Chloe said.

Sabrina pinned Chloe to the wall. “I want you to tell me what’s going on!” she demanded.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!” Chloe said.

“NO!” Sabrina responded. “Something is definitely wrong, and I want to know what!” Before this interrogation could go on, Sabrina and Chloe noticed a large group of people surrounding them.

They turned to see the group. They were scarlet versions of the akuma forms of their classmates. Timetagger, Dark Cupid, Princess Fragrance, Relfekta, Gamer, Robustus, Evillustrator, Stoneheart, Horrificator, Volpina, Oblivio, and two neither of them recognized. One was dressed as a traditional superhero with a tiara on her head, and a black fist on her chest. The other looked like James Dean with an image of two fists snapping a chain in two on his shirt. Sabrina grabbed Chloe and ran off as fast as she could. “After her!” said Timetagger. The group followed.

Sabrina managed to hide Chloe before the group could get to them. “They couldn’t have gotten far!” said Robustus.

“We need to flush them out!” Gamer said. “Something we could do with a bigger army! Dark Cupid?” Dark Cupid nodded and took to the skies.

Sabrina was watching all of this in a panic. Chloe started to laugh, which caught Sabrina’s attention. “What’s so funny? Our class is angry with you and want to hurt you! Or worse!”

“I’m sorry” Chloe said through her laughter. “I just find it funny. They claim they all hate me, but they can’t ignore me.”

“Is this funny to you?” Sabrina asked.

“Uh, duh!” Chloe said. “It’s not my fault they can’t control their emotions. Look at them. Running out like chickens without heads. Looking for me. It's priceless!”

The door fell open in the room they were hiding in. Sabrina and Chloe remained quiet. The James Dean-looking villain entered the room. He looked around. “GAH!” he said, throwing a desk.

“It’s OK Chainbreaker” said the superhero with a tiara. “We’ll find her.”

Chainbreaker smiled. “You’re right Princess Justice.” The two left.

Chloe continued to laugh. “He wants freedom so badly that he became ‘Chainbreaker’? Pathetic.

Sabrina knew something was amiss. She asked “Chloe? You gave me something last week. What was it?”

Chloe looked at her confused. “I dunno. Probably some dumb trinket, or a stupid hat, or something.”

“No” Sabrina said, sternly. “You gave me your Ladybug costume. Saying you didn’t need it anymore because you were a real hero now!”

“Ugh, whatever. I give you a lot of things. How am I supposed to know which items you’re talking about?” Chloe asked.

Sabrina grew angry. “This isn’t the behavior of a hero.”

“So?” Chloe said. “Maybe I’m being my own hero now that I can’t be Queen Bee. One that sticks up for only me.”

Sabirna looked up, pointed her finger at her, and said “You’re not Chloe!”

Chloe was shocked. “Ah ha, what do you mean?” she said, nervously.

“You may look like her. You may talk like her. But you’re not her!” Sabrina said. “Who are you?!”

“Hmm. It took you long enough,” “Chloe” said. “And you say your her best friend.”

“I won’t ask again! Who are you?!” Sabrina demanded.

“Chloe” giggled. “I am what you call a sentimonster” she said. “Last night, after you left, Chloe thought about not being Queen Bee again, and cried herself to sleep. Mayura thought it would be a good idea to create something out of her anger and frustration with the world. They thought she was a failure? Well, look who’s failing now? Everyone is being turned into an akuma. And yet they aren’t seen as the hate-filled cretins they are!”

Sabrina got scared. “I gotta go tell everyone!” She ran out of the room and made her way to the courtyard, only to find that Ladybug, Cat Noir, Rena Rouge, and Carapace facing off against  several villains. More than when she last checked. Dark Owl, Zombizu, Princess Charming, Stormy Weather, Reverser, Rogercop, Dark Blade, Silencer, Riposte, The Mime, The Magician of Misfortune, Rhythm Robber, Rocket, and the Mad King have all joined their ranks. “No.”

“You’re too late!” “Chloe” said. “Ladybug and Cat Noir will lose their miraculous one way or another. And then all of Paris will bow to Hawk Moth!”

Sabrina was furious. “YOU! YOU did this!”

“So? What are you going to do about it?” “Chloe” asked.

Sabrina breathed heavily. “I’ll...I’ll defeat you!”

“Chloe” scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.” At that moment, a giant battle ax manifested itself in Sabrina’s hands. She charged at “Chloe” and swung. “Chloe” blocked it with her hand. “Puh-lease! You really think that’ll do anything.” She forced Sabrina back.

“It’s better than nothing!” Sabrina hissed. She continued to attack “Chloe” but “Chloe”’s strength was enormous. She continued to block every attack. Try as she might, Sabrina could not land a clean hit on her.

“Chloe” pushed Sabrina down. At that moment, the heroes also fell to the pressure of the large amount of villains. “Look!” “Chloe” said. “It’ll all be over soon! And it’ll all be because of Chloe.”

Sabrina snapped. “NO!” She stood back up. “It’ll be because of you and Hawk Moth, and Mayura! But I won’t let that happen!” She charged at “Chloe” who now had a worried look on her face. Sabrina landed the attack, and “Chloe” shattered.

The noise was loud enough to cause all of the villains to look on. But all they saw was Sabrina dropping to the ground next to pieces of “Chloe” and breathing heavily. Ladybug saw this momentary distraction as an opportunity and started breaking several of the akumatized objects. Cat Noir, Rena Rouge, and Carapace started destroying them as well. Soon, everyone was freed.

Ladybug stood up, and started collecting the akumas. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she shouted, letting the butterflies free. The Ladybugs fixed all of the damages, except for the Pieces of “Chloe”.

Ladybug walked over to Sabrina, and Sabrina said “Oh Ladybug! It’s awful! Apparently, Mayura and Hawk Moth made this thing to look and act like Chloe, and it caused everything to go wrong. I’m sorry.” She started crying.

Ladybug lifted Sabrina’ head. “It’s OK. We’ll fix this. Thanks for all your help.” She stood up, and with the other heroes she left.

Sabrina looked up and smiled. Suddenly the world vanished around her into a pure white void. “Well, that was interesting” Judgement Wolf said.

“Judgement Wolf!” Sabrina said. “So, this was my test?”

“Yes,” Judgement Wolf said.

Sabrina was concerned. “Did I pass?”

“I don’t know yet” Judgement Wolf said. “I was hoping to take this time to talk with you about that. The way this usually works is that I ask a question with my Wolf Mist. Then I get an honest answer.” Sabrina nodded. “Sabrina, the question I asked you was ‘What would you do if Chloe was evil?’”

“But she was evil!” Sabrina protested.

“But she wasn’t Chloe” Judgement Wolf retorted. “You even said so yourself. Now, why wasn’t Chloe evil?”

Sabrina thought about it for a minute. “I guess I can’t imagine if Chloe actually was evil,” she said after a bit. “Don’t get me wrong, I know Chloe hasn’t been the nicest person in the past, and I know that I was a part of it, but I also know Chloe.

To me, she wasn’t a malicious demon out to wreak havoc, she was a wounded creature defending herself by lashing out at everyone because she didn’t know who could help her. I took all of those blows because I could see that in her. I wanted to help her, I really did, but I guess I got swept up in her. Maybe I’m not as worthy as Barkk thought…”

Judgement Wolf looked upon Sabrina feeling sorry for herself. He sighed and said “In a way, I feel jealous.” Sabrina looked up. “I can’t imagine trusting someone’s intentions so purely. I have to get to know people really well before I can trust them with even the littlest of things. To trust someone like you trust Chloe. I envy that.”

“So, what are you saying?” Sabrina asked.

“What I’m saying is that, in spite of that curve ball my test took, I would agree you passed.” Sabrina was elated. “BUT! It’s only because you were given the miraculous of support. It’s your job to put blind faith in those around you.”

“Thank you Judgement Wolf” Sabrina said. “But I wouldn’t call it blind faith. I know Chloe. I wouldn’t trust most other people the way I trust her.”

Judgement Wolf sighed. “I believe you.” He left and Sabrina went back to sleep.

Judgemetn Wolf left the Raincomprix household and ventured to the rooftops. After a while he called “Beyyo! Fangs Dull!” and detransformed. Beyyo flew out of his ring. Vlad got out a piece of jerky and said “Eat up. We still have to stop at Master Fu’s tonight.”

Beyyo took the jerky and began to chow down. “What’s up?” he asked.

Vlad sighed and sat down. “I’m just thinking about what Sabrina said. I thought I knew that landlord, but then he betrayed every expectation I had.”

“Well, like you said, you’re jealous” Beyyo said. “You wish you could trust people like that.”

“So, would you say she’s worthy?” Vlad asked.

Beyyo finished his jerky. ”I think so,” he said. “Even though it wasn’t Chloe, you still saw how she’d act if Chloe ever got that bad

“How can you be so sure?” Vlad asked.

“You heard her speak about Chloe” Beyyo said. “If Chloe changed that drastically, then she wouldn’t be the Chloe that Sabrina knows anymore.”

Vlad smiled. “I guess you’re right.” He stood up. “Say, when you tell her you approve of her, could you apologize for me?”

“Of course” Beyyo said.

“Thanks. Beyyo! Fangs Sharpen!” Judgement Wolf then continued his trek across Paris.

Vlad opened the door to Master Fu’s to see Master Fu, Marianne, Hao-yu, and Corina circled around the peacock miraculous. Master Fu said “Hello Judgement Wolf. What is your conclusion of Ladybug’s last recruit out of that particular miraculous box?”

Vlad thought about it, looked at Beyyo, looked back at the circle and said “Beyyo and I both think she passed.”

“Very good,” Master Fu said. “Have her visit me at her earliest convenience.”

“Yes Master Fu” Vlad said. He left.

“Almost” said Master Fu. Duusu gasped for air, causing a disturbance, knocking the four people out of their alignment. Everyone got up and saw Duusu. “She is better,” Master Fu said.

[xxmileikaivanaxx]

Talk with Gerson (Maze)

“Who are you?”

Maze stood with surprise and uncertainty; she too was trying to answer this question. No recollection of her past, all she knew was she had this weird poisonous power.

“I’m sorry, I truly don’t know how to answer that. I have no memory of my past or where I came from. I just see these faded images and sounds.. but I don’t how to make them out.” Replied Maze.

Gerson stood, resting his chin with his hand, listening to the horned human.

“And there’s this .. power. I do not know where it came from.” Maze added, looking down at her hands, seeing the mysterious black marks trailing up from her fingers to her elbows. She gave a saddened expression, not knowing what to say to help this situation.

“Let me take a look at you” Gerson said, reaching out his hand to take hers. She carefully places her hand in his, and he begins to inspect.

“How peculiar. Quite different to anything I’ve seen. And mind you, I’ve seen a lot - haha!” Gerson chucked, trying to lighten the mood and cheer Maze up.

“And what about your soul?” He asked, confusing Maze even more.

“My soul?” She replied.

“Yeah. Let’s look at that.” Gerson replied. He looked at Maze’s face, clearly she was unsure what he was talking about.

“Ii- don’t know how to show that..” she stumbled on her words, feeling embarrassed over her lack of knowledge.

“Ohhh, Yeah this is all new for ya. Okay, let’s do it this way”. Gerson snapped his fingers, and summoned his own soul, illuminating a white glow around it.

“This here is my soul, the source of my magic and being. Unlike human souls, monsters are white and are upside down.” Gerson explained. Maze was fascinated. This was all surreal for her. Where a monster was chasing her not too long ago, to now educating her on their ways.

“Our bodies are also made up differently to humans. Humans have stronger physical matters to that of us, while we monsters possess stronger magic than most humans do”. He added.

“So humans don’t usually possess magic?” Maze asked, carefully learning and observing.

“No, they can still have magic. But since the war between monsters and humans, their magic has become more dormant. Most humans don’t activate their magic unless they need to - life and death situations.” He answered. It explained why her magic activated when she felt threatened at least. It also reassured her magic can be possible for humans.

“Now, lets take a look at your soul”. Gerson stated with a smile. He took out Maze’s hand and told her to snap her fingers to try and summon it. A few times of snapping didn’t seem to help. She wasn’t used to this. Who even knew what she was used to.

“You mind if I summon it?” Gerson asked, almost seemly to be impatient with her failures to even summon her soul.

Maze sighed at her own disappointment. She couldn’t do a single thing right. “I’m sorry.. please, be my guest”. She answered.

Gerson summons her soul. A magenta human soul, with black marks tainted through the apex to the middle of it. “How bizarre” said Gerson. “Never seen a soul like this before”.

“Ohh..” maze replied. Great, she was even more unusual, not even an older timer turtle had seen anything like her soul before.

“Don’t get discouraged” he said. “I can break it down some of this to explain it to you”.

Maze nodded and smiled. She’d actually get some answers of what she was. “Please anything you know will be of great help!” She said excitedly.

“Calm down lil one. Alright, from what I can gather, you are originally a “Perseverance” soul”.

Maze just looked up with more confusion. “A perseverance soul??”

“Ohh boy”. Gerson said, knowing he’d have to explain more to this confused human. He turns back to a corner of his cave, and finds a old book on human souls, and turns the page to a diagram showing the seven different soul traits, pointing to each diagram as he began to explain them.

“So, there are known to be 7 main traits and souls to humans. There’s perseverance (purple), integrity (blue), patience (cyan), justice (yellow), bravery (orange), kindness (green) and determination (red). Humans usually have one of these soul traits. Should the human experience a lack of belief in their apparent trait, say perseverance for example, then the souls colour will begin to darken and grey out - think of it as a physical result of a humans lack of confidence in persevering something”.

Maze nodded with understanding and continued to listen. Who knew human souls were so complicated.

“In some cases however, human souls can be manipulated. Whether it’s a result of a forbidden spell, a physical or psychological impact, or an experiment”. Gerson added.

“Spells? Experiments? Huh???” Maze was becoming more confused.

“Yes, spells are a thing. But with your case, I don’t think a spell did that. A spell would effect the entire physical colorisation of the soul. Such as inverting its colour or reversing its trait”. Gerson explained. Spells and reversing traits.. Maze was just becoming overwhelmed.

“With you, I don’t think that’s the case. Your soul is still perseverance, but modified. From the result of what happened with Mad Dumny, You possess Karmic Retribution magic”.

“Karmic Retribution magic”? Maze repeated and questioned.

“Yep. It’s that poisonous magic you have. As I said before, Karmic Retribution magic is uncommon in humans. It’s almost kinda rare in monsters too”. Gerson replies. However despite seeing the confusing on Maze’s face, he needed to explain it further.

Gerson took a piece of scrap paper and drew two small monster figures and a human. “Say there are two monster, and one of them was killed by the human, sometimes this second monster can manipulate their magic to make a Karmic response; creating a poison like effect with their magic, resulting in prolonged damage to the human when they’re attacked”. He began to explain as he scribbled on the paper. “The Karmic response is greater depending on the intentions behind it. For MD, you had no intention to kill him, only self deference, so your magic wasn’t deadly. But should you face something that deals more impact or threat to you, your Karmic magic will be far stronger”.

Maze sighed, looking at her discoloured soul with sadness “I see.. so I’m more of a hazard than anything else”.

He booped her forehead with his finger to take her out of her insecure daze. “Magic can be learned and controlled. You’ll figure it out”. He said reassuringly. It was the first positive thing she heard all day.

“As for the black marks on your soul, I guess they explain your arms and horns”.

“And legs..” she added. It seems what were tights were just the continuation of this black “sickness”.

“What do you think it could be?” Maze asked with worry.

“Hard to say. It’s almost like a corruption. But you’re able to manipulate them as a weapon. If you can form a blade from your arms, I wouldn’t doubt you can do that with other parts of your body too”. Gerson answered, carefully examining her arms and her horns once more.

“There’s no monster with this kind of power, is there?” Maze asked, hoping to find something other answers.

“Not that I’m aware of”. He answered, scratching his head thinking.

“However, there is a doctor in Hotlands who can probably give you some answers. She’s a nice monster, kinda jumpy and likes anime. But she’s harmless”. He added. A doctor monster! Something to move forward with anyways. It was a lead and she was going to take it.

“That’s great! Thank you so much Gerson!” She said happily and tried to hug him.

“Woah woah there lil one. It’s alright. You seem okay. So how about we go there together tomorrow. It’s dangerous for you to go on your own. And I’d rather know what’s going on anyways”. Gerson replied, he too was unsure. And perhaps for the sake and wellbeing of monster kind, it was his best interest to keep an eye on this human.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much Gerson. For everything you’ve done for me”. She smiled and frowned, happy tears in her eyes.

“Don’t do the water works on me, Maze”. He replied and smiled.

Gerson found some old pillows and blankets, and neatly placed them ina corner of the cave, making a small bed for Maze. He also supplied some monster kind of food for her to eat to and to tend to the remains of her wounds. She took the food and ate it without complaints, her HP restored to its max.

“Okay, get some rest for now, we have a big day ahead of us”. He paused as he heard MD snoring in the corner. Making Maze chuckle with amusement.

“Well I will try” she said amused. “Goodnight” he said, and returned to his corner to sleep. Maze gently placed one of the blankets on top of MDs sleeping body. I wonder if monsters get cold, she thought to herself. She returned to her side and tucked herself into her cavern bed. And tried to sleep. Listening to the echoed droplets from the ceiling hit the floor, making a calm melodic tune.

------

Previous 

Next

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

The Milo Murphy’s Law Wiki Guy AU: Balthazar Cavendish Vs The World: Chapter 3: Prologue: I Will Make You Proud

Warning: Child abuse and heavy themes explored. Viewer Discretion is advised.

BOOM!

“Wild storms here in Andover, a rarity for our fair town. Temperatures are actually dropping below zero!”

CRASH!

“Residents are advised to stay indoors and dress warmly, unless you want a cold shoulder!”

FLASH!

The windshield wiped and wiped the pouring rain away, the monotone swishing becoming the dominant genre of music in the vehicle.

Watching the droplets of rain pitter patter down his window, Cavendish tried his best to focus only on the storm and the quickly departing images that the car passed.

Quickly departing…

Like Ollie…

“Don’t think about it.”, he ordered, after feeling a pang of pain in his heart.

He looked over at his father, who had said nothing the entire journey, aside from silent huffs that sent a jolt down Cavendish’s spine every single time they were uttered.

Poor Cavendish didn’t even have the time to comprehend his feelings for Oliver, or the fact that he might be Bi, or the fact that he almost kissed his best friend…

Who he was never going to see again…

Hitting his head slightly on the window, Cavendish cursed his mind for reminding him of what he was about to lose.

Forever.

“Quiet!”, a  sudden, loud and frightening command came from the front seat, and Cavendish fidgeted slightly before silencing, allowing a very small sigh to escape his frozen lips.

Thanks to the sudden change in weather and his boarding school outfit now a little lacking for such extreme temperatures, he shivered and shook, his bones chattering as well as his teeth.

His tears would have been icicles, if he hadn’t already cried them all out.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity but was really only 8 minutes, the car began to approach its destination: The Cavendish Household.

Despite literally living in the future, Andover was one of the few towns that hadn’t really changed in all those years: In fact, it still sort of looked like it lived in the 20th century.

Cavendish had always been jealous of other towns and cities when he read about them in the official B.O.T.T magazine. Cities like New York, London, Danville… They got to have robots everywhere, a flying car in each garage and incredible technologies like teleportation devices and holograms!

Not to mention time travellers!

Oh, how Cavendish admired them: Tireless men and women who protected the time stream from maniacal villains! Who stood for Truth, Justice and Loyalty to mankind!

All thanks to the one Cavendish admired most: Professor Time (otherwise known as Heinz Doofensmhirtz)!

Now, that was someone Cavendish wanted to be like!

But Andover, unfortunately, was not like that.

The streets were populated not with robots, but with traffic cops and street signs.

The car he was utterly and completely alone in couldn’t fly, let alone soar through the clouds, soothing his stormy soul.

And instead of teleportation and hologram devices, all Cavendish had in his sights was the ancient and not very inviting house he lived in, with its white walls and small frame, almost too small to belong to a man this important…

And the back of his furious father, who slammed the door again, bringing Cavendish back to reality.

He wasn’t in the future.

He was very unfortunately in the present.

“Balthazar, is that you, sweetie?”, a voice called out from the kitchen.

As the voice walked in, it took the shape of a short and stout woman, whose heart was filled with kindness and gentleness.

She was wearing a bright orange blouse, a purple skirt and slip on shoes, and her soothing face was complimented with curly honey blonde hair that looked just like Cavendish’s.

“Dinner should be almost…”, she started, holding a spoon, which she ended up dropping onto the ground from surprise.

“Oh…”, she exclaimed, an expression of… Disappointment? Fear? Resignation? Spreading on her face when the grown up Cavendish crossed her.

“You’re back early.”

But Chief Cavendish refused to even glance at her, instead dragging little Cavendish by the ear into his room.

“Dad, OW! Please stop…”, Cavendish cried, but it fell onto deaf ears as Chief Cavendish opened his room’s door, anger still engrossing his soul.

Cavendish’s mother tried to stop the fight. “Let go of him this instant! I won’t let you…”

But Chief Cavendish turned to her with such rage and intensity, with such madness in his eyes, that she knew she couldn’t do a thing…

Lest he go so far as to cripple her.

So, to her massive regret, she stayed silent and ashamed as Chief Cavendish slammed the door behind him, leaving him with his heartbroken son who was tending to his ear.

Silence reigned and for a few moments, Cavendish wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen.

Was he supposed to talk? Did Dad want to talk first? Was he supposed to apologize?

Cavendish gulped. He knew how his father could get when angered. It was best to apologize now before something happened.

Sitting on his small and incredibly uncomfortable looking bad, a small and incredibly uncomfortable Cavendish started to apologize.

“Dad…”, he started, already feeling a dry and sticky sensation in his throat, the tears that were trapped in there poised for a comeback. “…I’m sorry I cut scho…”

“This isn’t about cutting school.”, Cavendish’s Dad said sharply, towering over his boy as ever, a long and hard shadow cast over the cold and hungry boy.

He started to walk back to the door, almost as if he was leaving, but to Cavendish’s misfortune, he stopped and stood with his back to the boy.

“…Dad, if it’s about Oliver…”

“My son, the fruit. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”, the rage was somehow silent and barely concealed, fists clenched and shaking as he tried in vain to contain his anger.

Cavendish then made a huge mistake: He tried to correct his father.

“Well, actually, Dad, I’m Bi-sexual… I think… You see, I like both…”

The seething scream that erupted was one he didn’t see coming. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, BOY!”

Chief Cavendish was flared up almost, his face almost red as he neared the boy, making him flinch.

“Look at you. The smallest hint of a threat, and you flinch like a fucking coward.”

He raised his fist for a moment, making Cavendish cower some more, shaking now not just from the cold.

“I don’t give a shit about your sexual orientation, boy.”

Cavendish’s father gripped him by the shoulders, his fingers pressing down, hurting his son.

“And I don’t give a shit about cutting school, though both things are disgraces you have brought down on me!”

Cavendish tried not to cry, but tears were already running down.

He couldn’t help it, he was a crier, always had been. Once something went wrong, the tear ducts would burst open, showing his face with droplets of pain.

“I’m sorry…”

A slap connected to his skin, ringing in his ears, leaving a bright red mark that stung as Cavendish tried to sooth it.

“You don’t even fucking know what you’re sorry for, boy!”

Cavendish’s Father turned around, breathing heavily, rapidly.

“And stop fucking crying! You’re supposed to be a man!”

Hot air bounded out of his mouth, and his veins throbbed wildly.

“I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: You are supposed to be a man.”

He kept his back to Cavendish, which only made the child even more tense: Was he calming down or not? Was it safe to calm down too or not?

“And you can’t be a man if you tie yourself to other people.”

Cavendish wasn’t sure he understood. “…Um… I’m not sure I get what you…”

“LOVE, BOY! YOU CAN’T BE A MAN IF YOU LOVE!”

Cavendish’s Father was almost swollen with rage, and Cavendish backed up in his bed, reaching the wall.

“Love is an illusion! A trick that turns us soft and weak! It blinds you from what’s important!”

Cavendish wasn’t sure he could take anymore of this, especially when his Father was so wrong.

“A man needs to look out for himself, Balthazar! A man needs to be strong, tough, invincible! Self sustaining! Standing alone against those who wish to harm him!”

Cavendish’s Father was shouting fiercely, almost hoarse now. “A man doesn’t need help or support! He does that himself!

“Who says?”, Cavendish actually fought back, surprising even himself, and he immediately covered his mouth with his hands, but it was too late.

“Don’t you FUCKING talk back to me, you little shit!”, Cavendish’s father bellowed again, another slap to poor Cavendish’s face, who sniveled and sniffed.

“Stop. Crying.”, he ordered again.

“I’m… I’m, I’m, I’m tr… Trying…”, Cavendish forced between sobs.

“Look at you: You’re a failure at school. Your physical grades are nothing short of embarrassing! You keep cutting school, you help your mother in the house when I’m gone, you let yourself get pushed around like some kind of baby!”

Cavendish’s Father was boiling mad now.

“And now you’re kissing your pansy friend!”

“So what? Oliver is my friend!”, Cavendish shouted back, and Cavendish’s Father responded by punching the door.

“Over my dead body he is!”

Finally turning after a few moments of silence, Cavendish’s Father delivered him the ultimatum.

“Boy… You are supposed to be the best of the best! You are supposed to be the strongest in the room, always knowing better, always in charge. It is you who keeps your world from falling into madness. You and you alone are the master of your destiny. You can’t be the man of your life if you stand down!”

“You’re wrong! I’m not standing down! I want to work for B.O.T.T and save people, just like you do at work! I want to kill all the bad guys and be loved by all! I want to be a hero!”

Cavendish’s Father was almost impressed with the commitment Cavendish had to who he was.

He turned with a terrifying scowl.

“…So… You think you know better, don’t you? You think you know better than your old man?”

Cavendish was afraid of nodding, but…

“Answer me!”

He had to.

Cavendish’s Father almost laughed, and it sent a chill down Cavendish’s spine.

“Ok, boy. You know what? I’ll give you a fighting chance. I did say I want you to stand up.”

Suddenly, he raised his fists and with his eyes, invited Cavendish to come closer.

“…Hit me.”

Cavendish gasped, shocked at the progression of events.

“What?”, he asked, startled beyond belief.

The room suddenly grew very small, and all Cavendish could see was his fearsome Father call him up for a fight.

“Come on, you little worm! Hit me! Give me your best shot!”

Cavendish shook his head.

“You want to be a time traveller, no? You want to be your own man, no? To be with that pansy boy, no? You think I’m wrong, no?”

Cavendish had to nod again.

Cavendish’s Father growled. “Then if that’s what you believe in, hit me! Stop me from stopping you! Fight for what you believe in, even if it’s misguided!”

Cavendish desperately wanted to.

He wanted to punish his Father for all those years of pain and suffering.

He stood up, his knees weak, his joints shaking wildly.

But his eyes were nearly rage filled as he thought of all the years of pain.

“That’s it, boy, that’s better! Now step up and fight me! Hurt me, like I deserve!”

As Cavendish walked up, still shaking like mad, he remembered all the punches and slaps, all the put downs and insults.

He remembered being called a disappointment in front of all of Dad’s military friends.

He remembered being shouted at in front of his friends at school for failing the physical examinations.

He remembered being kicked and whacked and spat on and punched hundreds and thousands of times.

He could feel the small scars and wounds that covered his body inflame as he stepped up, ready to teach his Father a lesson.

“Come on, boy! Ready that fist! Hit me where it hurts!”, Cavendish’s Father cried, flames in his eyes as he finally saw what kind of man his son could be.

Cavendish wanted it so badly…

“Release your anger!”

Cavendish wanted it SO badly…

“DO IT!”

“I want it… SO badly…”, Cavendish thought, his clenched fists almost raised, almost ready to connect with the man he hated so much.

“STAND UP FOR WHO YOU ARE!”

But…

But…

Despite all his hate for him, despite wanting to avenge all those years…

Cavendish just wasn’t that kind of person.

All his talk of killing monsters and aliens, and Cavendish couldn’t even hurt his bastard of a Father.

He just couldn’t.

Cavendish slowly lowered his fists…

Tears ran down like a river…

And he apologized.

“…I’m sorry, Dad…”

He wiped his nose.

“…I’m sor…”

But he couldn’t even finish that.

SMACK!

A hard as wood punch connected and Cavendish went flying, blood spurting out of his mouth as one of his teeth flew out into the air, his tiny body smashing into the wall, nearly making him faint.

His eyes were covered with spots, he felt nothing and everything, and his mouth was now filling with blood from the gaping hole in his teeth.

Cavendish’s Father, merely wiping the blood of his own son on his trousers, walked up to him and viewed him with disgust and contempt.

“You can’t even stand up for what’s wrong.”, he said, and he spat on him.

He turned around and began to leave, but not before leaving him with a final warning.

“You better fucking shape up, you little nothing. You better grow up and become a man…”

He turned to him with a serious frown, grave and devoid of all emotion.

“…Or you’ll never be happy.”

He left, but not before muttering “Goddamn disappointment…” as he closed the door and lumbered down the hall.

Cavendish’s Mom, weeping next to the door, wanted to come in and comfort him.

But she knew that her… Husband would never let her.

She sighed morosely, feeling guilty as she returned to the kitchen.

She’d have to help her son tomorrow.

But even that would be too late…

Whimpering and sobbing into the night, Balthazar T. Cavendish, son of Balthazar Cavendish Sr. and Anita Cavendish, felt utterly lost and alone.

His cries were heard by no one but himself, as his pillow got covered in tears, blood still spewing slightly from his mouth, his whole self feeling dead in this wretched existence he called life.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”, he kept whispering between sobs, as he stood up and looked at his poster of Professor Time, even his warm and encouraging smile failing to reignite the hope in poor Cavendish’s heart.

Cavendish at first wanted to fight back. He wanted to go back outside and show his Father what for.

But he knew now that he was nothing but a sniveling coward, a failure who couldn’t even speak for himself.

Did that mean…

“Is Dad right?”, Cavendish thought, asking Professor Time, but also himself. “Am I really just a disappointment?”

The poster didn’t answer, but Cavendish did.

“I must be. I couldn’t even hit him when I wanted to. And I wanted to so badly!”

Rage mixed in with the cries and Cavendish nearly growled.

“I wanted to bash his nose in, see if he likes it!”

Cavendish sighed, the darkened room closing in on him, no sounds heard but the rapid beating of his heart.

“But I couldn’t.”

Cavendish sniffed, feeling more tears come down. “He was right… I really am just a nothing. I’ll never be a hero like you, Professor Time. I’m just a pansy weakling.”

Cavendish was on his knees, almost apologizing to God. “I could never be as strong and tough and smart as Dad! I could never take charge! I could never kill any aliens or monsters or anything!”

He bowed his head down. “I’m no hero; I’m a failure.”

“I’m…”, he stuttered, feeling his heart hurt. “I’m not the son my Dad wants. I’m not a man.”

But with this admission came an idea.

An idea that would forever change Cavendish’s life…

But for the better, it was not.

“…But…”, he started, eyes filling with hope as his mind worked over time.

“What if I was?”

He started talking quickly, the idea grabbing hold of his childlike excitement.

“What if I was the son my Dad wants? What if I was smart and tough and strong? What if I took charge, and thought I knew better, and didn’t cry and stood tall?”

He posed on his bed, feeling a surge of energy like never before. “I’ll show him! I’ll be even tougher than him! Even manlier than him! I don’t need anybody, not even Oliver!”

A hint of sadness was in his tone, but he was too far in now.

“Yes, yes! Dad would be so proud! I’d be alone and independent, facing swarms of enemies on my own, leaping into action without a single thought, always right, always good, never mocked and never loved, because they’d respect me! They have to!”

He almost shouted it out, proud of his discovery.

“I’m a man!”

He turned around, his heart swelling with pride and confidence as he looked at the “Join B.O.T.T.” poster, shining like a beacon of hope against the terrible darkness of the night.

“I don’t need other people! I have myself! I am Balthazar Cavendish, and I am the best in the world!”

He saluted the poster and felt tears come down, but now they were of joy and hope.

“You’ll see, Dad…”, he whispered, almost in a prayer, wiping the blood from his mouth.

“…I’ll make you proud…”

The faint sound of music started, and “Let Me Make You Proud” by Jeremy Jordan began playing as 10 Year Old Cavendish strode around his bed, his cape now flowing instead of drooping.

10 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: Maybe I Make Things A Mess… (Cavendish looked down, ashamed) And Maybe You’re Right To Have Doubts In Me… (Cavendish looked at the door, cold and imposing, shutting him out) Maybe, But Nevertheless… (Cavendish looks at the door pleadingly, almost begging for a chance) If You For Once Could Just Trust Me! (Cavendish tightened his cape and stood tall, trying to feel manly) Just This Once, Let Me Come Through For You… (Cavendish saluted his not there Father, making a vow he will regret for the rest of his life) The Way That You Want Me To… (The scene suddenly changes, showing the next day as Cavendish obediently goes to boarding school, his eyes on the prize and on nothing else…) (Not even Oliver, who bows his head, heartbroken) Let Me Make You Proud! (Cavendish sings aloud as he works his ass off on test after test, on improving his shape, though he never stops being thin as a stick, and on separating himself from all others, as he becomes more and more egotistical and over confident) Let Me Show You The Best In Me! (In a boxing match the school organizes, Cavendish must fight Ronald, the strong boy at school. Cavendish doesn’t want to go all out, but his Father orders him too, and, all too eager to please, Cavendish beats the living snot out of Ronald, earning his Father’s pride, but nothing else) Let Me Give You A Reason To Believe That I Can Stand Tall! (Cavendish sees Oliver’s family move things into their car, preparing to leave the country for a better place) (Oliver comes to say goodbye…) (But under his Father’s watchful eye, Cavendish ignores his old friend) (Broken beyond repair, Oliver silently leaves with his family…) (…Never to return) (Cavendish smiles as Cavendish Sr. finally gives him a smile of approval, basking in his Father’s glow) (The scene suddenly changes, and years have passed) (Balthazar Cavendish, now 20 years old, taller, leaner, thick eyebrows, his short, honey-blond hair with bangs that part in the middle and curve up at the sides, a deep-blue, futuristic-looking top that has a thick, olive green collar that extends down his chest with three dark circles presented vertically down the collar, long sleeves, with short secondary sleeves in the same olive green color, and two stripes at each wrist, with another around his waist like a belt. The main portion of the outfit extends behind him in a fashion reminiscent of coat-tails, and under this, he wears a pair of white pants tucked into a pair of knee-high black boots with grey cuffs) (He is leaving to America to enroll as an intern and as a prospective member of the academy, and is on a pier, about to embark on a ship) 20 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish And When I Return… (Cavendish doesn’t smile or hug or even shake his parent’s hands. Instead, he just salutes with a serious face, grave and emotionless, as Cavendish Sr. nods proudly and decisively, and Anita Cavendish cries softly for her baby boy, who’s changed, perhaps forever) And I’m More Than You’d Dreamt I’d Be… (Cavendish gets on the ship and, when he turns around, has a giddy smile, sure that he’s on his way to being the man his father wants, and the hero he dreams of being) (He pumps his fist, a picture of Oliver that he kept with him even through all those years floating away back to Cavendish Sr., who crushes it determindly) Maybe Then You Will Realize That You Never Actually Knew Me At All! (As an instrumental break plays, Cavendish arrives at Danville, in the year 2151 September 12 (Ready to apply for an internship and Academy training in The Bureau of Time Travel) (Despite his new attitude, he can’t help but marvel and gawk at the sights and sounds of the city, the incredibly clean air, sky high skyscrapers and golden monuments filling the horizon, a feeling of destiny rising in his chest) (He enters the Bureau, walking on a marble floor, passing white walls, underneath a sky blue ceiling) (After passing a group of school children who seemed a tad unruly, making him scoff, he finally managed to find a worker, who instructed him to keep going left until he reached the office of Ms. Barrier) (As he did so, a funny looking Janitor with brown hair and a warm smile tipped his hat) (Cavendish ignored him. He doubted he’d ever see him again) (How wrong he was) (After applying, we skip forwards and see ourselves in an Academy class, the polished egg shell white walls and sparkling white floors painting perhaps too pure an image) (Cavendish and 19 other students, one of which was Brick, looking exactly the same as he would in 25 years, began their training, all holding blasters) 20 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: Sure I’ve Made Lots Of Mistakes… (Cavendish’s blaster keeps misfiring, and he almost shoots Brick’s hair clean off, the tuxedo wearing young man now combing it back to perfection) I Know That I’ve Disappointed You… (Cavendish sighs and hangs his head low, feeling his Father’s disapproval. He should be getting it right from the first try) Still Though Whatever It Takes… (Ms. Barrier steps in and orders him to focus and grasp the blaster properly, to just take the shot and care about the consequences later) I’m Gonna Fix It, Just Watch Me! (Cavendish nods and shoots properly at his target, a sort of coldness in his eyes that would struggle to leave for the next 25 years…) 23 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: Just You Wait… (3 years later, Cavendish is still struggling, falling asleep on a written exam, feeling ashamed when called out) 27 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: I’ll Make It Up To You… (4 years later, Cavendish is still trying to graduate, reading book after book, when he spots a cat up a tree) (He feels bad at first, but he has no time for such frivolities. So he ignores the cat, leaving it to suffer) (His future is way more important that some kitty cat) 32 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: If It’s The Last Thing I Ever Do! (5 years later, Cavendish participates in a training simulation, and while his form needs work, Barrier nods approvingly at his no nonsense attitude, “Shoot first, ask questions later” philosophy and his heightened sense of importance, as he sneers at the newbie agents who do worse than him) 37 Year Old Balthazar Cavendish: I Will Make You Proud… (5 years later again, Cavendish is acing his tests and showing skill on the field. He’s clearly made for smaller, nonsensical jobs, ones that require just following orders, but Barrier and Block agree that one day, he could be a fine asset, taking down those who don’t cooperate and keeping them in power by feeling the need to lick their boots all the time) (In other words, Cavendish is the perfect employee: Works like a dog, prepared to do anything, and blindly keeping them at the top) I Will Make You Have Faith In Me… (Cavendish writes home with pride and joy, reporting of his graduation, earning another proud answer from his Father) (But a simulation goes awry: Cavendish is tasked with killing an obstacle, but he can’t do it. He can barely muster a beatdown, as he feels that there is something… Wrong about that) (His good side is still present, despite his best efforts) (The 10 Year Old Boy with love in his heart isn’t dead yet) I Will Prove That The Way I Used To Be, Is All In The Past… (Barrier wants to kick him out, but Block offers a solution: Give Cavendish a menial task anyone could perform, but something absolutely stupid. If he follows through and takes it seriously just for a little praise, he’d do anything!) (And so…) I Will Save The Day… (After a test mission in 2009, Cavendish is summoned to Block’s office to accept his new “mission”) (As Block cackles gleefully at the new slave he and the Bureau have acquired, a soldier who would do anything for them, and thus, the perfect pawn, Cavendish shakes hands with his partner: Vinnie Dakota) And Come Back Here Triumphantly… (But as Cavendish imagines a victorious return to home once he gets this stupid thing done, things don’t go according to plan: The Pistachios vex him, and he fails time and time again, he grows more and more exasperated as even the simplest tasks become failures, thus making him a miserable shell of a man, and most importantly, Dakota begins to free Cavendish’s true self, allowing him to be kind, caring and good again) (And that is a problem) ‘Cause I Long For That Look Of Surprise When You See Your Son Rising At Last… (It’s 7 years later and Cavendish has actually done it: He’s fallen for a man. He’s kissed a man. He’s grown to care for others) (And the guilt is eating away at him) (What would Father say?) (And now it’s a year later, and Cavendish and Dakota are in a rough patch) (And Dakota asks a question: Do You Love Me?) The Pride In Your Eyes When You See Your Son Rising At Last!............. (And as the last note stretches and stretches, Cavendish’s mind races with thoughts and lines, Dakota and his Father fighting for control of his heart):

“How DARE you, boy?!”

“I’ll always be there for you, Cavendish!”

“You said you’d make me proud!”

“You don’t HAVE to be a man, Cavendish!”

“I say how your story goes, boy!”

“You’re free to make your own path!”

“You’re soft! You’re nothing! Just like I thought!”

“I love you, Balthy!”

But finally, it’s his Father who wins:

“…I am disappointed in you, boy. But it’s not too late… NOW MAKE. ME. PROUD! BE. A. MAN!”

And Cavendish answers Dakota’s question:

“I DON’T KNOW!”

The music stops.

Dakota stands there, pain in his eyes.

Cavendish stands there, resignation in his.

“I… I don’t know…”

Dakota leaves wordlessly, and Cavendish sees everything else leave wordlessly.

The kids he’d grown to care for.

The people he’d grown to care for.

The things he’d grown to care for.

All he has now is a blaster in his pocket and a hole in his heart.

All he can feel is pain.

All he is…

Is alone.

The scene shifts and we see Cavendish sit alone in the apartment, the lights off, darkness washing him over, the words “Make You Proud” playing over and over and over in a loop on the broken radio.

His knees are close together, his shivers introduce the cold breeze that has invaded the room, and his face is a portrait of utter loneliness.

Is this what Father meant?

Is this being a man was like?

Was this…

The right way?

Meanwhile…

OCTOBER 29TH, 2017, ABANDONED WAREHOUSE IN DANVILLE “Norikoeru beki wa Satsugai Kyoufu” from Mirai Nikki (Future Diary) (11 minute version) starts playing, its threatening electronic beeps and boops, its artificial feelings echoing across the faces of the Seven Hearts Club.

These seven figures, clad in black, hoods over their faces, exchange looks, worried of the coming storm.

The first one, tall, thin, unsure, crossed its arms, conflicted.

“Tomorrow it’s five days. Does he not need us to help him?”

A fact everyone knows all too well, but no one dares say that.

A second figure, also tall, but wider, burlier, well built and muscular, speaks next.

“Has he not suffered enough? He’d do the same if we were in this situation.”

The first figure nods, wanting nothing more than to help the man who had helped them all so much.

A third figure, barrel chested and short, cuts the silence with its own argument.

“Help, shmelp! He is what we want, plain and simple: And when you want something, you take it. I propose we go NOW.”

The third figures orders are countered by the fourth figure, a tall and well built individual, but with softer features than the second, who speaks surprisingly passionately, despite his usual… Seriousness.

“I disagree! What he needs is someone to save him from this terrible partner!”

The fifth figure, tall, dark, and mysterious, leaving almost no shadow, adds his part to the conversation.

“…Can we get to the part where I please him orally?”

The sixth figure, shivering in disgust and fear, thin, small and monotone, speaks with a great feeling of shame.

This figure was supposed to be good.

But it wasn’t.

“…He’s suffering. Should we not help?”

And then that’s when the Seventh Shadowy Figure stepped in, his thunderous steps and inhuman voice spreading immediate fear and alarm in the six others.

“Oh… His suffering will be cut short.”

His tone is near metallic, and his breath is cold, as is his whole body.

He shines in the darkness, but only his eyes and smile can be seen.

Red, blazing eyes shone from near the ceiling, that as how tall the thing was…

And a malicious, psychopathic, near murderous grin is etched across his face as he strokes the image of Dakota that hangs on the wall.

“Soon, Cavendish will be… Removed from the equation…”

“We will not kill him.”, the six figures responded immediately, and the seventh merely chuckled.

“Oh, promises, promises…”, The Seventh echoed, sending a chill down everyone’s spines.

The Seventh stopped chuckling and with determination, removed Dakota’s image, bouncing it lightly on his jerky digits and palm.

“Tomorrow… We strike. Tomorrow…”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, talking more to himself than to anyone.

Talking to the man of his past.

“…Vinnie Dakota… Is ours…”

The six others, hesitatingly, raised their fists in salute, and the Seventh lightly chuckled again as he clenched his fist, crushing the image.

“Who can POSSIBLY stop us? Stop me from getting you, Vinnie?”

And the last word was uttered, dripping like honey:

“Who?”

And as the music echoed out, Cavendish was seen again in his room, sighing.

“Well, Father… I did what you said. I cut everything off, and I became a man. Just like you wanted.”

He sniffed.

“I hope you’re proud…”

He choked on tears he had suppressed for so long.

“I just… I don’t understand.”

And finally, a tear fell, almost like a sliver of who Cavendish really is tried to sneak through the fake mask he had put on, as he asked a question that would change his life:

“Why am I not happy?”

[closetofanxiety]

Mania Madness: In Queens With Queens Quest

Wrestlemania was in New York this year (well, New Jersey, but you know what they mean), and since I live about two and a half hours away, I felt like I would be failing in my duties as a wrestling fan if I didn’t attend some of the related events. Make no mistake: I did not want to go to Wrestlemania itself, as the idea of sitting in a football stadium and squinting at a faraway shape that might be Buddy Murphy in the springtime chill is not high on my bucket list. But there were lots of other things to do, and I did very few of them! I did go to see the Stardom show in Queens and to WrestleCon in Manhattan, though, and herewith are my observations, jotted down for posterity and, hopefully, your amusement and/or edification:

FRIDAY

I think this is only the second time Stardom has run a show in the U.S., and it’s definitely the first time they’ve done it amidst the surge of popularity they’ve experienced in the GIF era. Although going to visit Hakujinjoe in Tokyo is a goal towards which I am even now socking away money, there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever actually get to see Stardom in Japan, and so this was the must-see event of the weekend for me.

This anticipation was accompanied by two apprehensions: First, my nature reluctance to drive in New York City, even in the outer boroughs. I live in the woods, and your city ways frighten and confuse me. Second, based on many of the US joshi fans I have encountered online, I worried this crowd would basically be a giant convention for creepers, perverts, rageaholic gatekeepers, scam artists peddling $300 autographed gravure DVDs, and people who seem to have only a dim understanding that the characters portrayed in the ring are not, in fact, identical with the women portraying them. Listen: I am not exactly Cary Grant when it comes to wit and charm, and just being an American who watches Japanese women’s wrestling puts me among a tiny percentage of hardcore nerds, so I hope this doesn’t come off as haughty. But there are good nerds, and then there are the nerds we encounter online way too often.

The first apprehension turned out to be baseless, as I got to Queens with plenty of time to spare and, like most joshi fans, headed over to the Rufus King Homestead on Jamaica Avenue for a tour of the mansion once owned by the fiery antislavery advocate and signatory to the Constitution. OK, so I was the only joshi fan who toured the Rufus King Homestead (in fact, I was the only person, period; Rufus does not get much love), but I still learned a lot. Rufus King used to loan money at exorbitant rates to local farmers who owned slaves, and when they couldn’t pay him back, he’d accept the enslaved people as collateral, only to immediatly free them. Rufus King, Loan Shark For Justice!

It turns out the second apprehension was also baseles, because the crowd turned out to be full of awesome people. Really friendly, outgoing, and super enthusiastic nerds, the best kind of nerd, really. The dominant attitude was not, “Oh you like Stardom? Name five of their faction drafts” but “I can’t believe we all get to see this awesome show together.” It was also, by a country mile, the most diverse indie wrestling crowd I’ve been part of, and about 35-40 percent of the people in attendance were women, which really made the whole experience better. I’m not saying everyone was awesome, but it was definitely a fun group of people to be part of for an afternoon. I am ashamed that I assumed it would be full of unbearable dweebs.

So, that out of the way, here’s the highlights of the show, in the time-honored spaghetti Western sytem of categorization:

THE GOOD

Momo Watanabe vs. Utami Hayashishita: Easily the match of the day, and one of the best matches I’ve seen all year. The Queen’s Quest teammates were batling for Momo’s Wonder of Stardom title, which she won from the departing Io Shirai last year. I don’t just like Momo, I identify with her image as the studious but introverted nerd kid who thinks hard work and playing by the rules is enough to guarantee success, only to be constantly frustrated as flashier peers take shortcuts to the top. The tension between these two has been building since Utami’s debut last year and subsequent mega-push as The Big Rookie and Utami All-the-Belts. Momo, who put in years of quiet, dedicated work as Io’s understudy, is in danger of being usurped as Queen’s Quest leader by the newcomer before her tenure has really even gotten under way. This is a great basis for a wrestling match, and these two, aware they were in front of their biggest audience outside of Japan not just in person but watching on Fite, rose to the occasion. I’m terrible at describing wrestling matches, but this was a nailbiter full of near-falls and what-will-it-take kickouts that felt earned rather than slathered on. It helped that the crowd was rabid, with Utami having a slight edge, WHICH ONLY SERVED TO MAKE ME CHEER LOUDER FOR MOMO. I honestly had no idea who was going to win: normally you’d know the champ would retain in an away match like this, but having their second most important belt change hands would also have been a great way to make a splash in their New York debut. In the end, though, Momo retained with her Peach Sunrise finisher and I LOST IT.

Stars vs. Oedo Tai: The villainous but lovable Oedo Tai were over like crazy with this crowd, and people went bananas when they came out to do their pre-match war dance. They could have basically just done that and most people would have been, but they had a fun elimination match with the Stars faction. A lot of zany action in this and a genuine surprise elimination of Kagetsu midway through. The only missing piece of the puzzle was Sumire Natsu, who didn’t come over with the company, possibly because she’s a freelancer. She made appearances at Tokyo BDSM clubs instead during Mania weekend, which is the most Sumire Natsu thing ever.

Yurie Kozakai doing the ring introductions: Stardom was really smart about the idea that they were giving fans in New York “a real Stardom show,” and having the promotion’s normal ring announcer introduce the wrestlers was a perfect touch.

Hana Kimura: The newest Stardom signing looked like a superstar and basked in the crowd’s adulation during a three-way tag match that also involved Konami and Bea Priestley (making her US debut?) and Britt Baker and Brittany Blake, who should have called themselves the Britt-ish. No? I’m - I’m [putting my finger to my ear, like I’m listening] I’m being told “No, they should not have called themselves that.” Anyway, the match was fun but insubstantial, but Hana’s charisma is off the charts.

THE BAD

IPW:UK ran a show at the venue (the NYC Arena, which is an arena only in the sense that a mid-sized nightclub is an arena) right before Stardom, using House of Glory’s ring (the compromises and arrangements of Mania Weekend!), and the bottom rope broke. The effort to fix the broken rope was mostly unsuccessful, and also delayed the opening of doors at the venue by nearly an hour, meaning 600 hearty nerds were standing in line in 39 degree weather, with sleet pelting us. The paperback I had brought to pass the time in line was USELESS. On the lemons-lemonade side of things, though, this did mean we were all in line when Stardom’s bus rolled up, and all the wrestlers disembarked to head inside. Big cheers from the crowd, which obviously delighted the wrestlers. “It’s gonna be awesome!” Hana yelled at us. It was! Once we got out of the sleet

The broken rope delay also meant they had to cut the already abbreviated (five matches) show short, and it showed. The first three matches were all obviously truncated, with the High Speed title match between Hazuki and Dust suffering the most for it. Don’t get me wrong, it was good, and I was impressed by Dust, who’s new to me, but it felt like they were just starting to get going when it ended. IPW:UK, YOU ARE NOW MY ENEMY. OR MAYBE HOUSE OF GLORY, I DON’T KNOW. SOMEONE. 

THE UGLY

Maybe half the appeal of this thing was the promised meet and greet afterward, but the meet and greet was more chaotic and less organized than Kelley Square at rush hour (sorry, this is a Worcester reference, Worcester people will know this). Nobody seemed to know where to stand, lots of fans didn’t realize they had to buy little tickets before meeting the wrestlers, and as someone whose job sometimes involves putting up signs in medical buildings, the lack of even rudimentary paper signage was APPALLING. This did not stop me from getting nerdy fan pics with Hana Kimura, Kagetsu, Momo Watanabe, Mayu Iwatani, and Konami. Hazuki left her table before I could get to her, and this failure will haunt the remainder of my days upon this earth. Possibly. The wrestlers all had pieces of paper with common American names written on them, so they’d know how to address the autographed pictures, which was sweet. Hana has great conversational English. There was no line when I went up to Konami, which is preposterous. Konami rules, fellow nerds. The whole thing was nice, and the language barrier prevented any of that thing where guys try to unburden their psyches onto female wrestlers in a bid to make some kind of emotional connection. JUST SMILE FOR THE CAMERA AND MOVE ALONG, PAL.

Also, apparently the Fite stream was choppy as hell and cut out completely right at the end of the Momo-Utami match, and only came back after it was over. Glad I went in person!

In part two, we’ll cover the gregarious Jesse Ventura, the surprising lack of merch slingers at WrestleCon, and the puzzling fame of that fan who had a cardboard sign saying “FACE FUCK ME FINN” at a Takeover a few years ago.

[vegetasblondehairdye]

Skin Pt.1

A/N: so this is my first ever bnha/MHA fan fic so I apologize if the characters seem to be ooc. I tried my best to make them as close to the original characters as possible.

Summary: (Dabi is a Todoroki theory) During a raid on the city by The League of Villains, Dabi comes face to face with Endeavor and Shouto Todoroki in hopes to bring the truth of his identity crashing down on their heads. There's nothing more he wants than to expose these so called hero's for what they truly are. Fakes who wear capes and pretend that they fight for justice rather than just themselves. The first person on his list to expose is Endeavor. Will his plan work or will it burn in flames?

__________________

A manic laugh left his lips as flames circled around the avenue. The sides of buildings were set aflame as debris tumbled to the ground, nearly crushing the civilians who tried to ran away in horror.

The #1 hero, Endeavor, has been forced to his knees by this fiend with the patch-worked face. The amusement in the man's icy blue eyes said it all. He had Endeavor right where he wanted him. Even better with the fact that he had his golden child fighting along side him.

"Shouto! Get out of here while you still can!" Endeavor shouted, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. "Get these people to safet-!" A boot then collided swiftly with the side of his jaw, nearly sending him to the other side of the street.

The burned villain smirked as he watched on as an injured Todoroki laid face down on the cement, in shock at how his father was getting his ass handed to him by a member of the league. It wasn't a fair fight considering the villain, that he later learned who went by Dabi, had brought 3 nomu's to destroyed along his side.

Endeavor and Todoroki had held their own for a while, but the numbers game soon caught up to them. "The people?" Dabi laughed dryly, running his hand down his scaly face. "Do you really think I give a damn about the people? I don't give 2 shits about what happens to anybody around us!"

"Why have you been so fixated on us?" Todoroki struggled to push himself off the ground, but his muscles didn't allow him to push himself up anymore than a few inches. He fell back to the ground, still attempting to talk. "You already had us beat." he choked, "Why did you destroy those Nomu's when the League of Villains is clearly trying to take over the city? Why not let us die? What's your agenda?"

"You talk too much for a boy on the brink of death." Dabi stalked over his way, kneeling down and scrunching up a chunk of Todoroki's hair, forcing the boy to look at him. "Look at you. A pro hero in training and you're already lower than the scum on the bottom of my shoe. Do you know why?" he pointed to a bloody Endeavor, "By following in the footsteps of this prick. Listen kid, all this pain and suffering isn't worth it. Hell, look at me! I stopped caring a long time ago and I'm fine!" Dabi shoved the boys head back where it was.

"You don't look fine to me." he gritted.

"Oh? These?" he pointed at his visible burns. "This is what happens when you try to please people who are pieces of shit."

"Get away from him, you animal! Your fight is with me!" Endeavor stood on shaky knees, holding his broken ribs. Those Nomu's really did a number on him. "When I'm finished with you, you'll be sorry that you rid yourself of your only advantage of winning this fight!"

"Oh? You're still alive. Surprisingly, I'm pleased that you hadn't bled out, Enji Todoroki." he held his palms upwards, igniting his signature blue flames. "Stand down, or..." he stood on Todoroki's hand, before mangling the boys wrist with a harsh twist of his boot. He yelped in pain, gripping Dabi's ankle with his free hand to attempt to pry him off. "I break his other wrist and make sure he's out of action for a very long time."

Endeavor stared daggers into Dabi's being, before capturing the site of his injured son. He couldn't risk having his creation be put on the shelf before his hero career even began. How embarrassing would that be? The #1 hero's greatest creation, taken out by some thug who can't fight on his own. "Tch! You're clearly not here for just a fight. So what do you want?"

A twisted grin stretched across Dabi's face, making the staples on his lower jaw pull apart slightly. He finally lifted his foot off of Todoroki's wrist. He winced in pain. His eyes then grew wide, realizing that his injured hand was on his ice side. "No..." his voice shook, "Why did it have to be my ice side..."

"I want you to kneel." he demanded.

"I will never!"

"Such pride." he looked over his shoulder, "I'm sure your golden boy would absolutely love having only one hand, forced to use his damn fire quirk for the rest of his life."

"Leave him out of this, criminal."

"Do what I say and I won't break his entire hand off."

All Endeavor could think about was how hard he tried to make the perfect hybrid child. All of that would go to shit if he didn't obey this parasites demands. How pathetic. He cursed under his breath. This brat better appreciate all that I'm doing in order to secure his future!

Endeavor struggled back onto his knees. Dabi watched, looking pleased with the man's decision. He slowly approached him. The only thing hotter than the flames around, was the white hot fire in Endeavor's eyes. He mentally swore to himself that this villain will suffer a slow and painful punishment. Then make his death look like an accident.

Dabi, then lunged forward. Meeting the hero with a stiff shot to the gut. He hunched over in pain, nearly vomiting from the punch. "How does it feel? Getting knocked off of your pedestal and bowing down to someone like me. Tell me what's going through your mind, Enji." he turned around and spotted Todoroki who had barely made it back to his feet, while cradling his injured hand. "How about you... little Shouto Todoroki? Doesn't seeing your father like this just make your skin crawl?" he lifted Endeavor's chin up with the point of his shoe, "Look at him. He's weak."

Todoroki gazed at the scene, but all he saw was him as a 5 year old. In a pool of his own vomit and blood with his father standing over him with a wretched scowl. He mentally slapped himself for even thinking that his father was finally getting what was coming to him.

"You talk about us.... Like you know us..." Todoroki growled through clenched teeth. "I'll make you pay for all the destruction you've caused." he threatened.

"Like I know you?" Dabi let Endeavor's head drop after he removed his foot from underneath his chin. "For being a high profile student of UA, you sure do have a frail memory." he shoved his hands deep into his pockets like he always did. Now that he had them both wrapped around his finger, he became more comfortable with the direction things were going. "Not to be cliche, but you and I are more alike than you think."

"I'm nothing like you."

Dabi mockingly placed his hand over his eye, "Nice scar."

Todoroki touched his burn patch, "Our appearance doesn't mean a damn thing. I will defeat you, even if I only have to use my left side."

"Stand down. We both know that using your fire to save your Old Man isn't what you really want. Knowing that it's what he wants you to do."

"Stop trying to get into the boys head. It won't work! He's too smart for that!"

Dabi cocked his head, turning his attention to the man on his knees. He gripped him from the throat, "Shut up! You don't get to talk unless I ask you to!" he snapped. "What makes this boy so special? All I see is a brat who thinks he can't be touched." he tackled Todoroki to the ground. "What makes you so special?" he punched him. "Why are you the one seen with the most potential?" Dabi continued his assault. "You're nothing but a spoiled parasite that got everything handed to you!"

"What do you want from us, Dabi?" Todoroki coughed, blood dripping from both corners of his mouth.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy. "I want you all to come face to face with the truth." he pulled him up harshly from the ground. "I'm sick of being an after thought. A ghost in people's minds. Yet the only memory of me they may still hold onto is a frail, weak version of my former self." His hand gripped tighter around Endeavor's throat as he turned his attention back to him. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"I see a failure who will perish in a prison cell."

Dabi clenched his fist, striking him in the face. "Try again! I know you only have one good eye, but try to focus! Look at me! Look past the scars! Look past the hatred in my eyes! Tell me what you see, Enji!"

Endeavor stared deep into Dabi's teal eyes. Doing exactly what he said. Paying the hatred and burns no mind. He focused on the young man's face as best as he could. He imagined the purple burns being erased from his body. But when he looked deeper into his eyes, he didn't see hatred. What he saw was sorrow. Pain.

He continued to alter the villains image in his mind. Even seeing him with red hair for some strange reason. That's when reality hit the hero like a brutal Texas Smash.

"T...Touya?"

_______________

A/N: so this is chapter 1. Chapter 2 will be posted if this chapter gets a lil bit of love 😊

Edit: part 2

[slythergirlimagines]

Because I Love You Part 7

Summary: The reader is kidnapped and tortured by Ben. Sawyer comes to her rescue, causing a certain doctor to be jealous.

Jack Shephard x Reader  

Sawyer Ford x Reader

Requested: yes! Thank you so much for pushing me to write this as a series. You really got me into writing again and I thank you so much for it. I hope this story lived up to your expectations!

Warnings: the same as the other parts. Probably fluffier than most of the others.

Well this is it!! The last part. I’m sad to end this, but I feel like it’s come to its natural conclusion. I hope this conclusion does the story justice. I’m always up for requests of any kind and length. Without further ado here’s the story and a gif for your reading pleasure!!

Because I Love You Part 7

        Setting the record straight with Sawyer had been surprisingly easy. Figuring out how to tell Jack that you loved him, and have him believe you, was tough. You had tried multiple times throughout the week to get him alone, but of course, something interrupted you every time.

          Walking out of the hatch gave you a renewed sense of purpose. You were gonna grab the metaphorical bull by the metaphorical horns. Telling Jack you loved him would be a piece of cake. You would just barge in and declare your feelings, take him in your arms and kiss him senseless.

           When you got to the medical tent, you found a sight completely disturbing. Hurley had his foot, a cut open and mangled foot, in Jack’s face. Blood was dripping everywhere, and you were sure your expression matched Jack’s disgusted face perfectly. Of course, if Hurley’s foot alone wasn’t enough to ruin the mood, the blood spurting out of it definitely pushed the mood right off a cliff. You left with an apologetic expression on your face, and promised yourself you’d catch him later. After he had washed his hands.

          That hadn’t been your only attempt however.

      You hadn’t been able to catch Jack yesterday, so you had decided to sleep on it, and adjust your plan. Maybe barging into the medical tent wasn’t a good plan. Make a grand gesture of some kind would work better. You could tell him in front of a bunch of people. That always worked in the movies. The lead always got embarrassed and kissed the other to shut up, or ended up being so touched that they confessed back. Yes, that was a perfect plan.

        You had thought all day about a good time to catch Jack in front of people. You decided your best bet was at dinner. Jack usually ate with everyone, so it was perfect. You tried your best to look nice as you waited for dinner. When it was around time to go, you strutted out of your tent, feeling empowered. Yesterday may have gone bad, but there was no way you could fail twice.

        Just as everyone was gathering, the heavens broke apart and rain poured down. Everyone scrambled back to their tents, leaving you standing on the beach getting soaked. You stood longer than you should have, just blinking water out of your eyes. Defeated, you had retreated to your tent, determined to come up with a fool proof plan.

       The next day had gone just as well.

         You could feel it in your bones that today was the day. The rain hadn’t let up, but you weren’t concerned. Rain was romantic. It might help you set the mood, and besides, you’d always wanted to get kissed in the rain. You knew eventually that Jack would have to go to the medical tent, so you found some cover by a tree within eyesight of the tent. You waited long enough that your teeth were chattering and your muscles were stiff. When you could sit no longer, and Jack had still not shown up, you gave up.

        All of your failures had persuaded you to tell Claire. She always had the best plans, and so far her advice had worked perfectly.

        The rain had let up finally, and everyone was spending as much time as they could outside. Claire was sitting by the water with Aaron. She smiled and waved as you approached, and made little Aaron’s fist wave at you. The image warmed your heart, but also made you feel a stab of envy. You could only hope to have that with Jack one day.

      “Hey y/n!” Claire greeted you.

     “Hey Claire, little turnip.” You teased Aaron, who cooed at you. Claire passed him to you, and you gladly held him. He was so cute.

      “So, how are things with you and Jack?” She asked, a sly grin on her face. You blushed, but proceeded to fill her in on your failed attempts at telling Jack you loved him. She listened intently, and when you were finished she sat in thought for a minute. You sat in nervous anticipation, waiting for her response.

       “I’ve got a plan.” She smirked, and filled you in on the details.

                   ****************

        Turns out Claire’s marvelous plan was getting you to ask Jack to take a walk with you. She told you a specific path to take, and that at a certain point she’d have a little romantic setup. She said it would be the perfect place to confess your feelings to one another.

      You were nervous this time, more so than the others. You were starting to think that all the failures were a sign from the universe. As you approached Jack’s tent, you thought about running away. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Before you could truly decide, Jack emerged from his tent. With Kate.

      Your heart stopped. Your flight or fight instinct was kicking in, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. Jack, once again, made a decision for you without knowing it. He said bye to Kate, and turned toward you with a serious expression.

        “Hey, y/n. What’s up?” He said. You noticed his voice was a little off, which made you feel better about your breathless response.

       “I um was just going to see if you wanted to take a walk, but I can see that your busy so I’ll just...” You said while backing up. Jack put a and on your shoulder to keep you from moving any further.

        “I’m not busy.” He said, looking at you with a strange expression.

        “Um, ok, alright. Good!” You said, mentally kicking yourself for sounding like such an idiot. You started walking, leaving him to catch up with you. You tried not to be super obvious that you had a particular destination in mind.

         You walked in silence for a long time. Too long. It was really starting to get awkward, when you broke up the silence with small talk.

          “Nice that it finally rained, huh?” You asked. He hummed in response, and then it was silent again. The silence stretched a few more minutes when Jack broke it.

           “I’m glad we have some water now, we don’t have to make any more trips for a while.” You responded with a “yep.” And that was that. You were wondering when you would get to Claire’s set up when Jack started to talk again.

           “Look, y/n..” but his sentence was cut off by the two of you getting caught in a trap.

            At first you were super confused. Your body was pressed tight against Jack’s, and it was immensely distracting. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you realized what Claire’s ‘set up’ was. The more you and Jack thrashed the closer together you were pushed. This would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to come up with coherent sentences.

           Jack was seemingly oblivious to your lack of struggle, as he tried to think through the situation. “It must be one of Rousseau’s traps.” He said, trying to figure out a way to escape. You remained silent as you tried to figure out the best way to tell him this was your fault.

            “God damnit Rousseau.” He cursed. You winced, but decided now was as good a time as any to come clean. After all, you’d be stuck up here until Claire came to let you down. Maybe you could put it to good use if this went well.

        “Um, Jack? This isn’t Rousseau’s.” You said timidly. He stopped fighting the net and looked at you, luckily you had been caught face to face. Well more like your face to his chest, but that was beside the point.

         “This is actually my fault.” You confessed. And then it all came out, word vomit was your specialty. “I asked Claire to help me come up with a way to tell you how I feel about you. Of course when she said she’d make a little set up I envisioned a picnic. I had no idea she was going to put up a net. I mean, how’d she even do that? I don’t even know how she could...” Your rambling was cut off by Jack’s question.

           “How do you feel about me?” His voice was tender, and his eyes were soft. You swallowed audibly. If this went wrong, you’d lose Jack forever. But how could it go wrong when he was looking at you like that?

          “I miss you when you aren’t around. When we fight, I’m constantly miserable, and nothing can distract me. When you are around, I’m so happy I feel like I could fly. When you kiss me I feel like a teenager, like I’m in love for the first time. When you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, I was elated, because I feel the same about you. I’ve never loved or cared about someone as much as I love and care about you. You mean the world to me Jack, and I’m sorry about everything with Sawyer, but I was just confused and scared. I know what I want, who I want. And it’s not Sawyer. It’s never been. It’s always been you Jack, ever since I first saw you on the beach in your suit.” You finished, you had actually tested up halfway through your confession.

          “You really don’t feel anything for Sawyer?” He asked, and you kinda thought he sounded scared.

          “Nothing more than mild annoyance.” You said shaking your head.

           “That’s good. That’s really good.” You heard him sigh in relief.

            “And Kate, you don’t.. there’s nothing with her?” You asked biting your lip.

             “No! Absolutely nothing.” He said, his voice had regained some strength.

            “That’s good. Really good.” It was quite for a minute as you two both processed what the other had said.

            “Jack?” You finally spoke up.

             “Yes?” He asked.

             “Will you kiss me now?” And true to Jack Shephard form, he didn’t need to be asked twice. After some maneuvering and quite a few laughs, your lips finally touched. Somewhere in the trees you heard laughing and something that sounded suspiciously like a high five.

           You pulled away from Jack, but left you foreheads touching. “You know, I think everything will finally be ok now.” You said  

          “Why’s that?” He asked you with a grin.

          “Because I love you.”

      A/n: Sorry if the ending was a little cheesy, but I thought it was fitting. Also apologies on the length. It always seems like they are longer when I type them than they really are. Thank you for sticking with this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. As always, I’m sorry for any mistakes spelling or otherwise, and please send in requests if you got em!

Tags: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

[thefuturistknows]

Hinc illae Lacrimae | Tony & Steve

“—if anything changes, you know where to find me,” Steve said from behind the bars.

Tony ran a hand across the ache in his chest until he reached his opposite shoulder, and pressed his fingers against all the tension that lived there.

...

“I don’t, actually,” Tony said. He dropped his hand back to his side then looked back to Steve with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know how to find you anymore.”

He spared Steve one last lingering look. For a moment, he wished he could at least be united with Steve in the way that both of their convictions meant that they would have to give up on each other, but when he turned away, he still felt the heaviness of the one-sided sacrifice of their relationship. He’d always known he’d be lucky if he meant half as much to Steve as Steve meant to him, and today he knew he’d never been that lucky.

Ghost of a Chance | Tony & Steve

Taking place after Various Methods of Escape and Hydroponics

Steve tended to be rather cruel in Tony’s nightmares. At least by now he knew enough to call it cruelty, and not justice, or being right.

Not just justice or being right.

Tony turned so he was lying on his back, groaned, and started cracking his knuckles one by one. He was shirtless and his sweat had soaked the sheets beneath him.

They were Steve’s sheets.

Waking up in Steve’s bed always tasted like a familiar kind of failure, like all the times Tony had promised himself he would clock out of the liquor before blacking out and then he didn’t. He had told himself and others – namely Rhodey, he was the only one that knew – that he would stop doing this. He would stop spending so much time here. And then five minutes to “think” always ended up turning into half an hour, which always turned into “wearing his jacket,” which turned into “going through his closet because these days his jacket smelled like the wrong cologne,” which was bound to turn into crying at some point, which could easily lead to jacking off on Steve’s bed and sobbing his loneliness and dreams and nightmares into his pillows.

Well, in any case, this time he hadn’t cried even once since the whole Siberia stunt yesterday. Or… nine hours ago, to be more precise. Tony had been sleeping for five of those hours, so maybe it wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. It certainly didn’t feel like one, mostly because all he felt was hollow. Maybe not even miserable, just hollow. Which wasn’t an improvement. A serious depressive episode wasn’t in the least bit welcome under the present circumstances.

Tony closed his eyes and mentally checked for any communication attempts he might have missed. Ross’ radio silence post-Siberia continued to be disturbing. Tony knew he must be in trouble for disrespecting orders to lay low, and he also knew he’d been demoted. His difficulty in accessing Raft files wasn’t the only evidence of it, but it was the one that bothered him the most. JARVIS had been running his decryption program for about six hours now.

Ross aside, people – well, the ones who gave half a shit about him anyway – usually gave Tony like a day after a mission before they started pestering him again, so at least he had some time.

(Unconsciousness didn’t seem to be working in his favor anymore, so really, he’d trade that spare time for the punch in the face it would take to motivate him to do something halfway useful.)

Coffee was probably the next best thing. With his eyes still closed, Tony stretched an arm to rummage through the sheets until he found his underwear. His pants were on the floor, easy to spot once Tony finally sat up on the bed. He couldn’t immediately locate his tank top, and he lost the patience for trying very soon. Being shirtless effectively meant that he’d be better off avoiding public areas in the building, which meant drinking that three or four-day-old coffee out of one of Steve’s mugs (again) so as not to leave the apartment.

He stopped by the bedroom doorframe, then leaned on it. Lingered. He reached for the light switch on the wall and turned it on.

The bed wasn’t just undone on one side, since Tony tended to back up to the center when there was no one there with him. Or even if there was. This time there hadn’t been anyone, of course. Steve’s jacket was still draped over the back of his chair; Tony always brought it back so it could rest next to Steve’s other things, waiting there just as he’d left them. Tony thought about his own tank top back there, hiding somewhere, like it fit and belonged and like Steve was about to walk out of the bathroom fresh out of the shower and make some silly comment about how late it was and didn’t Tony have anything else to do.

He remembered placing his watch next to Steve’s phone in their hotel room in Austria, then looking at that and wondering what their intimate bedroom messes could look and feel like. But those sheets and the mattress and the pillows didn’t smell like Steve anymore. Tony wasn’t even sure he really remembered his smell. Steve hadn’t slept here in so long.

Tony stepped back into the bedroom and opened the closet.

Too fucking small, it certainly would have never worked out.

(Maybe if they had knocked back a wall or something.)

Tony had already known that the closet was too small for the two of them, of course, from having opened that door numerous times before over the past few months. He recognized the clothes hanging there from his own memories and mental images of Steve, and from all the times he’d looked at them as they hung in there, abandoned.

Tony knelt so he could open one of the T-shirt drawers. He picked a generic white one so people wouldn’t think much of it if he were ever caught wearing it. He put it on, and it was too large for him, and against his skin it just felt like some T-shirt that was too large for him.

(Tony had looked at Steve back in Austria and he’d thought, what if I lose him, what if I lose him -- foolishly, as if he’d ever had him – what if all he was left with were those memories that would never be as vibrant and kaleidoscopic as one real moment with him?)

There was a box in the back, Tony could see it from where he was kneeling. He knew what was inside: some of Steve’s art supplies. He hadn’t looked at the sketchbook. It was maybe the one thing he hadn’t looked at. There must be so many hours of Steve in it, of his hands, of how he looked at the world, of how he put it to paper. So much of him.

Not until he dies, Tony had told himself the day he’d first found the box. Not until Steve died. Not until this world ran out of Steve and Tony had to conjure him up by looking at those pages.

But now he kept staring at the box and it kept calling him and that call hurt him not into crying or screaming, it just hurt him into the breathless silence of how he cried and screamed in those nightmares where no one could hear him.

(The Steve Tony had found in Siberia was so much grayer than the memories he had of him.)

(What if I lose him, what if I lose him? He’d thought back then, and God, it had happened. He was gone. That colorful Steve had stayed there under the morning sun where Tony had wanted to kiss him.)

Tony brought the notebook back to bed with him.

* * *

Cartoons.

The team.

Cityscapes.

Motorcycles.

Hands.

Noses.

Dogs.

A hotel room and a Ferris Wheel and almost lovers and Tony Stark.

I love you, Tony Stark.

I’m not very good at this.

I love you and I wish I could say it.

Everything’s so fragile.

if I thought you loved me too

You deserve someone who sticks around.

I do think about it a lot

wake up with you

every morning drinking coffee in an empty kitchen with you

your hands on me. And mine on you

your hands on my throat.

How much I trust you.

you might be the only person on Earth I’d let touch me like that.

I’m sorry.

You’re beautiful.

let’s go to Europe

maybe we can start again

I’ll stick around

just us

I’ve never been to Ireland

my parents would have liked it if I’d gone.

if I’m dead.

I hope I’ll throw this away

I loved you.

I fucking loved you.

I hope I told you so

I loved you.

I miss that.

It’s not really mine to miss, I guess

I hope

It’s late.

I will.

I want to.

I’m scared to hell, but I want to.

I love you, Tony Stark.

Tony ended up ripping off the last page. He took it to the workshop, where JARVIS scanned it and analyzed it and concluded that yes, it was all Steve. It was all Steve besides Tony’s fingerprints and the traces of Tony’s sweat from when he’d laid the side of his head against the open notebook, staring at at the empty space next to him.

* * * 

“I’m locked away, Tony. What more harm can I do?

The smart hologram of Steve wasn’t technically in front of Tony’s real eyes. It was looking in the eyes of Tony’s hologram, but Tony could feel the stare anyway, even as a third party observer of the interaction. The neural link between his present self and the projected memory was perhaps the most impressive aspect of this new psychiatric project of his.

“I’ve told you what I’m willing to do. That’s all I have, Tony. I’m--”

The window and the steel bars materialized between them, along with the rest of Steve’s cell and Tony’s close surroundings. Tony could see Steve sinking, pulling away. He could feel himself losing Steve all over again.

“—if anything changes, you know where to find me.”

Tony deviated from the memory when he stepped toward the window and grabbed a steel bar with both his hands.

“I love you,” he said.

He’d never said this out loud to Steve before. I love you. It came out more like a croak.

“Does that change it? Does it change anything?”

God, he knew he shouldn’t use this technology to procure would-be answers or to indulge in the pain of lost possibilities. This wasn’t Steve, this was a composite. This was Tony’s memories and impressions and nightmares and wishful thinking.

Tony still leaned in to search his eyes.

“You found it,” Steve said.

“Do it because you love me.” This was the closest Tony had been to crying since Siberia. “Register and come back home because you love me and you don’t want to hurt me. I’m hurting.”

This was so fucking manipulative, even by his standards. It was also quite possibly the one angle he hadn’t tried, and this was a simulation, and Tony was getting nothing out of it besides Steve’s bright-eyed stoicism.

“I’m fixing your bike even when it doesn’t need to be fixed and -- I’m wearing your clothes, and I’m sleeping in your bed, and I’m crying on your pillows, and it’s just like when my mom and dad died – Steve –”

“Tony –”

“Everything is falling apart!” Tony stepped back from the bars and covered his eyes with his hands. “It’s falling apart! It’s just like I said, and I don’t know what to do and you were supposed to be helping me, I can’t just fix it -- how can you treat me like I can just waltz in and fix it?”

“I already said I never asked you --”

“I’m asking you! To help me!”

“You’re asking me to register!”

“Potato-fucking-potahto, Rogers!”

Tony uncovered his eyes. He was sweating.

“I can’t do it, Tony, I’m sorry.”

“Liar.”

“I am sorry.”

“Well, then, that’s a change.”

Tony braced himself. Steve still hadn’t stepped away from the window, and maybe this time there was something broken on the curve of his lips.

(God, was this all his subconscious could give him? Sorry?)

“Do you still love me?”

One second. Two. Three.

Too much hesitation.

“Don’t talk to me, Tony.” Steve said, firm, if not coldly. “Don’t talk to me about how I left you and how I didn’t help you.”

Tony shook his head, then looked to the side.

“Don’t do this to me,” he said.

“Don’t talk to me about how I left you when you know what happens and you had me in your arms –”

“Stop.”

“You had me in your arms, and you brought me back here, and you walked away!”

“Shut up!”

“You had me in your arms!”

“I’m not here to talk to the nightmare version of you!”

“Oh, am I? The nightmare version?”

Tony looked at Steve again. Steve was pressing the side of one tight fist to the window.

“Maybe that’s what you made me.”

* * *

The projection froze and frayed on the edges and suddenly Tony was just a third-party observer again.

“Sir,” JARVIS started. “You have a new urgent message from Commander Hill.”

“I don’t care!” Tony screamed. “I’m having a damn conversation!”

A message window appeared right in front of him. Tony snarled, arms folded tightly across his chest, but started reading anyway. If it was important enough for JARVIS to push past his authority like that, then he had to fucking read it.

I don’t know how much you know already, but this is the worst of it.

Tread carefully.

He didn’t, of course. He charged right into it. And suddenly his trembling wasn’t anger anymore, or hurt.

Tony lowered himself to sit on the floor when he heard Steve screaming his name. It was from an audio file recorded in the sensory deprivation tank. He hugged his knees to his chest and hid his head in them, then he had to bite into his knuckles like that could keep all the terror at bay long enough for him to think past it.

He’d held Steve in his arms.

Steve had been in his arms and he’d delivered him to –

* * *

Tony had sent in the Iron Legion before he was even done assessing any specifics of the situation. JARVIS advised against the move: the Legion wasn’t quite stealthy, and even generously assuming that a half-baked impromptu, uh, prison take-over? (whatever it was gonna be) was a good idea – which it wasn’t, as JARVIS also emphasized – he may at least want to use the element of surprise in his favor.

Anyway, he wasn’t as interested in the element of surprise as he was in the element of fire power, which was why he didn’t count the whole stealth thing as a priority when he chose his armor either.

Of course, the prison was on a damn lockdown by the time Tony started getting close, which shouldn’t have annoyed him that much given the fact that he was supposed to know that would happen since he’d chosen to send a small pack of hostile robots to announce his arrival. In any case, it turned out that having JARVIS units on the inside made it easy for him to penetrate the electronic defenses of the Raft, which, of course, had been part of the plan all along. Obviously.

Now, it was kind of funny to be inside the prison looking for entire levels dedicated to torture and experimentation, given the fact that Tony had come to this place a thousand times and he was well aware of its structure and he’d seen the blueprints and he’d still somehow missed a floor, or five.

Well. Tony finely disrupted his way to what he’d always thought to be the bottom level and he looked at the floor and –

“No way,” he laughed. No way this would actually work.  He used his wrist lasers to cut an opening on the ground. “No fucking –”

Sure enough, that piece of the floor fell down. Onto a whole other level.

Okay. Whatever was masking all this structure, it had to be magic or alien. Tony could not have been so pathetically out-scienced.

He tried to fly down there, then he ended up crash landing quite spectacularly because suddenly his whole suit had died around him. His head was suddenly uncannily quiet.

Some kind of intelligent power dampener around here.

(Alien. These people probably had easier access to alien tech.)

(Unless Strange had also been –)

Jesus Christ, no. Focus. Tony manually unlatched the armor, got out of it, grabbed a detachable hand gun and all the explosives he could carry.

As it turned out, the Iron Legion had been at least kind of on its way to being a passably good idea, because it seemed to be doing a good job keeping most of the inconvenient action upstairs. By the time he got close to the place where Steve was supposed to be, according to Maria Hill’s files, Tony was bleeding from like ten? eleven? places, but he still had enough explosives to blow past the last door on his way.

The room was flooded in emergency red light when Tony came in. Maybe the sirens would have bothered him if it hadn’t been for years of handling Extremis in his head, or if he hadn’t already completely lost his cool a little while ago.

Steve was unconscious inside a vertically suspended tank. That was filled with water.

No. Not water. Liquid. PFC. The intel he’d received claimed PFC.

If it were just water, Steve would be dead.

Tony climbed onto the platform where the controls were. They were inactive. They were inactive and he didn’t have time for this shit.

He shot at the heavy latches keeping the tank closed from outside. One time. Two times. Then he was out of bullets. He threw the gun against the barely twisted metal.

He’d have to go out and find a machine gun or something. He –

He tapped the bracelet he was still wearing – Steve’s – and the holoshield materialized by his arm.

(Note to self: the power dampeners were energy signature-specific. They had Tony’s, but he’d never shared this one with anyone. No one.)

(Just him.)

Tony jammed the shield into one of the latches, one, two, three, and a desperate fourth time before he turned his attention to the glass. He knew it was bulletproof and unbreakable but he tried it anyway, God, if he could get so much as a crack to start draining the liquid out –

He couldn’t. He deactivated the shield and looked at the latches again. He placed the side of his wrist against one of them.

Well, here goes nothing, he thought, turned his head away, then reactivated the shield. It suddenly pushed back against Tony’s forearm, but part of it had materialized inside the latch, and fortunately whatever alien/magical bullshit this place had going on hadn’t completely broken physics yet, so the law of impenetrability of matter had the first latch bursting apart next to Tony’s arm.

(All right, fractured left ulna, most likely.)

One latch was enough for Tony to use the shield, now on the other arm, as leverage to force the door of the tank open.

It finally gave out, and started opening on its own. The liquid started pouring out first, then Steve’s body was limp against the glass on front until Tony could push himself into the chamber to reach for Steve and pull him out –

He fell back to the floor with Steve in his arms, and by now he was crying. Tony laid Steve’s back on the ground and he had to sob into Steve’s emaciated chest before he could gather his own breath enough to give Steve mouth-to-mouth and try to force the PFC out of his lungs.

Tony pulled away when Steve started coughing, to give him space, then he sat back and, in horror, covered his mouth with both his hands. Even so, he could barely suppress the sounds he was making.

The sounds Steve was making were a hundred times worse.

[rauliskafan]

A Little Lesson in Healing: Chapter 1

Happy Saturday, sensational readers!!! We hope that everyone had a fantabulous holiday!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I are so excited to bring you the first in a series of new “Little Lessons!!!” As Rafael recovers from his attack with Natalia by his side, we juxtapose his healing process with the many moments when Atticus was there for his hermosa flor. Read on for more, and if you need a refresher or you are a new reader, check out our very first “Hard Lesson” where we dealt with Natalia’s assault and Rafael’s caring response!!! Enjoy!!!

NOTE: Flashback to previous events in the series are italicized…

          The Christmas decorations still lingered in Alessia’s parlor. Standing before the brightly lit tree, Natalia let her finger graze the needles and play with the ribbons securing a shimmering silver ornament in place. Something about the way the shine caught the evergreen sent her mind in the direction of Rafael’s emerald eyes. The image made her smile, thoughts of him finding her on the 24th, of waking up the next morning in his warm embrace. He had been nothing but attentive, making sure that she ate, bestowing light kisses on her brow, and watching with her as the old year slipped into the new. All of it meant to put her at ease…

           …and yet, the doubts remained.

            Natalia still shivered at the memory of Robert Emerson, of his rough hands and rank breath sending her to a place from which she feared she might never escape. Yes, Rafael had returned to her. But what came next? Now that the adrenaline of their reunion must be fading fast? Did he still like what he saw? A damaged woman who barely slept and sobbed several times a day, nothing in particular and every minor detail a trigger all at once? These thoughts plagued her until she had to move or drown in the flood of bad feelings.

           Standing at the stove, waiting for the kettle to whistle, she spied her phone on the counter top. Rafael’s voice was only a click away. If he was able to pick up. More likely than not he was in court, battling for justice. Which was why she pushed him away in the first place. Which was why she didn’t dial his number now.

           As she nibbled on her nail, Natalia’s mind moved down dark paths full of too many twists and turns. He would not leave her… or so he said. But why should he stay when she continuously cringed at his touch? When the idea that she would ever return to normal seemed an impossibility? Putting the thought on hold to fix a cup of tea, she focused on the milk turning the brew a beautiful light brown. Holding the handle of the mug, she stared out the window and could not even bring herself to sip.

           He would see her tonight once his day was done, when there was no understandable excuse to keep him away. But show up a second sooner than he had to? Stay any longer than he needed to fulfill his sense of obligation for the day? Because that’s all she could truly be to him now. A responsibility. An item on a list to be ticked off before he moved on to the next.

           Would the day come when he would walk away and never look back?

           Rafael blinked several times so his stare could adjust to the light. From just beyond the cracked bedroom door, he heard the twins babbling. How was it that he could already distinguish Hazel’s holler and Holly’s happy giggles as if they were playing right in front of him? The sound brought a small smile to his face… but his lips stalled when he remembered the night spent tossing and turning, finding sleep for a few seconds here or there until he wandered away from his wife to go downstairs for a drink, to stare out the window and wonder if he would ever feel whole… to return to bed and endure faintly dark dreams. Mercifully, the night visions did not take hold of his mind for too long. But then he was doomed to repeat the process of pacing the townhouse, trying and failing to recall a night that was ever so long. Did Natalia know? How many times had he longed her to rouse her from her dreams and simply hear her voice. But he begged off, not wanting to be any more of a burden than he already was.

           “Mami! I need my red bow so I match Harold!” Violetta declared.

           “Sweet pea, I’m not sure where that one is,” Natalia quickly answered, her voice followed by her footsteps rushing from one room to another. Stretching away from the sheets, Rafael shuffled to the doorway to see Violetta running after her mother and tugging at her shirt.

           “You not sure?” Violetta almost echoed. “But if we clash, how we go have cookies with Noah?”

           “I don’t think there’s a dress code,” Natalia said, entering the nursery to find Ashtonja tending to the twins.

           “Mami, that no excuse for not looking my best,” Violetta reasoned. Natalia looked ready to argue her case when she met her husband’s eyes and smiled through a sigh.

           “Atticus,” she started. “I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”

           Had she slept as deeply as he hoped? Did she simply want him to stay in bed through the morning’s chaos?

           Or…?

           “No,” he said. “Can I help?”

           “Think we have it under control,” she said, quickly turning back to Ashtonja and the babies.

           “Papi?”

           It took Rafael a second to respond, his gaze fixed on Natalia. She was never anything but loving, always tender and treating him with kid gloves, swearing they would see this thing through together and come out on the other side… stronger than ever. Only a few nights ago, he had believed her and slept soundly in her arms.

           But now…

           “Papi!”

           Shaken from his reverie, Rafael looked down at his daughter bouncing from one foot to another with a crinkled nose and narrowed eyes.

           “Si, muñequita?” he asked.

           “Can you help me find my bow?”

           Before he could answer, Violetta grabbed his hand and dragged him to her bedroom. Harold sat, a scarlet ribbon already adorning her plush pink head.

           “I see it yesterday,” Violetta continued, falling to her knees, flipping open her toy box. “And I need to look nice for Noah.”

           Forgetting his troubles, he started to help, looking under the bedframe and then turning his attention to the ivory bookshelf. Suddenly it became a mission where failure was not an option. He had to find the ribbon, hold it before Violetta’s wide green eyes, delight in her applause in the moment of success.

           “Here it is!”

           His heart sank when Violetta pulled the object in question from her wicker hamper, and she climbed atop the bed, leaping up and down in triumph.

           “See, Papi! Violetta cried. “Don’t I do good?”

           “Excellent, muñequita,” he muttered. Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, he turned on his heel and came face-to-face with his wife.

           “Atticus, are you—?”

           “Mami, look!” Violetta said, still jumping, her sparkling red skirt catching a few beams of sunlight with each bounce.

           “Thank goodness!” Natalia declared, giving her husband a quick wink and lifting her head to kiss his temple before scooping Violetta into her arms.

           “Now she’s all ready for her play date,” Rafael observed.

           “Yes,” Natalia agreed while tying the ribbon in place. “Ashtonja is spending the day with Brenna… and Fin.”

           “Matches made in heaven all around,” Rafael said, trying to smile at the idea of the detective pairing off with the chief inspector. Of Ashtonja taking to the Brit and finding a friend. Why was it so hard to grin?

           “What about the twins?” he asked.

           “A certain pair of grandmothers are planning a special lunch,” Natalia said.

           “Of what?” Rafael inquired. “Formula and finger sandwiches?”

           “Something like that,” Natalia laughed. “Good thinking on our part to have two more babies so they each have one to play with.”

           Before he could reply, Ashtonja called from the nursery.

           “Sorry,” Natalia said, carrying Violetta from the room and leaving Rafael alone. With only Harold for company, Rafael sadly looked to the hippo.

           “Everyone’s all set,” he mused. “Don’t suppose there’s anything that I can do for you?”

           Harold stayed silent, and Rafael followed suit. Padding his way back to the bedroom, he collapsed against the mattress and brought the blankets over his head. His girls were taking off, Violetta needed no help locating the bow…

           …he felt like a ghost in is own home, his own life. He might as well be a phantom haunting the hallways, causing the girls to glance over their shoulders every now and then before getting back to so many other tasks at hand. For a second, Rafael sensed a presence, a shadow very much of the living variety in the doorway, but before he could uncover his head, the figure vanished. The voices grew faint. He heard Violetta telling Harold to keep her bow on straight. The front door slammed shut, and he was abandoned with nothing but his black thoughts to cling to. They were no comfort, and even as sleep came again, it was fitful and cold.

           Like the morning. Like the wreckage that was his life…

           “Atticus?”

           Startled by the feel of a warm hand on his shoulder, Rafael bolted upright to see his wife sitting on the edge of the bed.

           “Hermosa?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

           “Where else would I be?” she asked, gingerly running her fingers down his arm. “Everyone is situated. And I’m all yours. I would have told you as much, but I thought you were asleep. I wanted… I know you had a rough night.”

           “So much for being stealthy,” he muttered, starting to turn away from her when Natalia took him by the hand.

           “But… there’s something else, isn’t there?” she asked. What now? Should he lie? Play it off as if it was nothing and retreat into the cruel shadows of his subconscious? Raising his eyes, he licked his lips and finally spoke the words.

           “I… Natalia, you would tell me if I was holding you back, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

           “What do you mean?” she questioned, her tone more puzzled than the expression adorning her sweet face.

           “If… if this was too much for you,” he continued. “I mean, the way I am now. I can’t even be with you… don’t you want more?”

           For a split second, she appeared hurt, and Rafael wished that he had kept his thoughts to himself, suffered in silence. Expecting her to leave, to declare that she truly did have better ways to pass her time and more pleasing people to see, she suddenly smiled and gracefully winded her arms around his neck.

           “Of course not, Atticus,” she said, her lips light against his. Like a parched man wandering in the desert, the oasis of her kiss calmed the harsh fire stoking his soul. They stayed like that for a moment, longer, and Natalia held her tongue while easing him back to the pillow and wrapping both sets of limbs around his body.

           “I understand,” she continued. “Believe me; I know how much this hurts. But I’m not going anywhere. You’re my home. Nothing will ever change that.”

           Basking in her smile and the gentle breeze of her breath tickling his nose, Rafael blinked back a few tears and returned her embrace.

           “I know,” he managed. “I do know that, I’m sorry.”

           “Don’t,” she soothed. “Nothing to apologize for. Do you want some breakfast? Or—?”

           “Just hold me,” he pleaded. “I’m so tired, and I need… I…”

           “You don’t need to say another word,” she assured him with another kiss, holding him tighter. “Have good dreams, Atticus. See me again when you’re ready to open your eyes.”

           Her tea turned cold. Natalia poured the untouched contents of the mug into the sink. Sighing heavily, she could think of nothing better to do than climb in bed and try to sleep the rest of the day away, dream of better times…

           …when suddenly there was a knock at her front door. Startled and scared for a short second, her hand slowly circled the knob.

           “Natalia?”

           Surprised to hear Rafael’s voice, she flung the door open to see him wearing a charcoal suit, his tie and vest slightly askew and his smile broad as he reached for her face.

           “Hi,” he said. “Is this a bad time?”

           “I… no,” she answered, not wanting to tell him that the entire morning bleeding into the afternoon had been its own kind of awful. “Come in. It’s cold outside.”

           Crossing the threshold, he dropped his briefcase and gently took hold of her arms, his kiss soft against her cheek.

           “Are you alright?” he worriedly asked. “I… maybe I should have called first.”

           “No. No it’s fine. I thought you were in court.”

           “Defense witness didn’t show,” he said. “We’re adjourned for the day.”

           “So a break for you,” Natalia whispered, wanting to slide deeper into the feel of his lips. But she stopped, turning away from him.

           “Hey? Mi hermosa flor?”

           His hands tentatively touched her shoulders, and Natalia stayed under his palms, biting her lip and avoiding his eyes.

           “And you came here,” she said. “Why?”

           “Why?” he echoed. “Don’t you know?”

           She said nothing, preparing herself for the word that he was worried, that he felt it was his responsibility to look in on her. At least he could check her off the list early and…

           “Natalia.”

           Speaking her name like a song, Rafael eased her around to face him. She saw his eyes so tender,, his smile beyond sweet, and she let her lips meet his before his voice drizzled into her ear.

           “I need you. I miss you all day. I look forward to nothing but seeing you.”

           She was silent as he kissed her hair, folded her into his arms.  

           “Don’t you know that?” he asked. As the question sank in, Natalia slowly lifted her head to meet his green gaze. Even as she scanned his stare for some hint of pity pushing its way to the front of the line, she saw no trace and nearly relaxed.

           “I… I do,” she spoke softly. “It’s just… sometimes I think that I must be… you know holding you back from something.”

           “From what?” he asked, grazing the tips of his fingers across her cheek just damp with the trail of a single tear. “From being happy? Natalia, that’s what I am right now. What more could I want than to be with you?”

           She trembled slightly, still unsure if his words were to be believed. But when he smiled again, her shivering ceased.

           “Natalia, I’m home here. With you. No other place in the world makes sense. When we were apart… when I thought that you didn’t—”

           “Oh God,” she murmured. “I am so sorry for that.”

           “Nothing to forgive,” he whispered, nuzzling her nose. “Have you eaten?”

           “You’re always so worried about that,” she said, managing a little laugh.

           “I only want you happy and healthy,” he said. “I can call out for—”

           “No,” she said, the weight leaving her shoulders in the wake of his words. Tomorrow… sooner… the doubts might come back. But for this moment…

           “Hold me, Rafael,” she said after they settled on the couch. “I’m so tired.”

           “Can’t have that,” he said, kicking off his shoes and letting her head come to rest near his heart. “Rest, mi hermosa flor. See me again when you’re ready to open your eyes.”

[broodyjc]

Is This Thing On?

“Your mic is still on.” She tries to speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I’m taking my hand away now, okay?”

Surely, resting wrapped on her lapel is the offending metal piece, apparently not off yet.

“Is this still on?”

“Yes.”

“Did I just destroy my career?”

OR

Lena gets caught on mic saying exactly what she'd do to Supergirl if given the chance

Also on AO3 here 

For @karalovesallthegirls.  I'd like to thank this prompter for the amazing ideas and say that it was really hard choosing between them (I loved both and really wanted to write them, but with only a two-days notice I couldn't). Anyway, I hope I made justice to this one and I'm sorry in advance.

Lena takes one last deep breath in, exhales shakily and puts on her best friendly smile, which, she knows, doesn’t mean much. She feels the way her cheeks hurt from the action, how unnatural it seems, so, when the curtains open for her and there’s a sudden flash of light straight to her eyes, she rests her lips against one another and goes with her usual smirk in place.

Press conferences were a challenge, to say at least. Press conferences were her way of putting a giant target on her chest while begging for someone (most likely her family) to try to kill her, if the last couple of times were any indication.

Yet, there she was. Standing tall and proud, head held high, hair in her usual tight bun, red lipstick and the confidence she learnt to have as someone in a position of such power as she finds herself in.  

She tries to scan the crowd, the blinding white light seeming to follow each and every movement. By now, she would think she was familiarized with the procedure: look straight forward, take strong steps to the podium, give her speech in an unwavering voice, receive the mix of applauses and jeers, leave the stage after a couple of questions. Throw in there the slight (high) possibility of a murder attempt stopped by Supergirl and it would be just another regular day on Lena Luthor’s life.  

Instead of the confidence she should feel after all her time as the acting CEO of L-Corp, all she actually feels is the annoying way her palms were sweating against the fabric of her pencil skirt and the increasing heart beat against her ribcage.  

It would never become an usual setting, since the thought of people caring about what she has to say and not judging her for her family’s mistake was not something she had a grasp on yet.  

A step forward is all it takes for her eyes to get used to the incredibly dark auditorium. A step forward is all it takes for her eyes to start searching familiar, supportive faces. She sees Alex and James by the middle. Winn just a few rows back and left.  

The next step comes with a widening of the smirk, red lips tugging at its corners as she distinguishes more and more people. A representative for Wayne Enterprises, who she is pretty sure is their CFO; a few reporters from CatCo she’s only seen a couple of times before; Sam Arias is standing by the front with Ruby by her side; Professor Wells from Star Labs; even Lois Lane had the grace of showing up.

It’s cold inside the auditorium, she notices as the air hits her ankles and calf, and there’s this small part in her brain that chastises herself for not wearing a pantsuit.  

The absence of Kara Danvers doesn’t go unnoticed, though, there’s a falter in her breathing and a frantic search for assurance. But it only lasts until Lena gets the glimpse of a red cape standing a few yards away from the main crowd. It’s enough to keep her going.

Lena readjusts the small, wireless mic on the lapel of her blazer then tugs her earpiece a little deeper, fidgets with the notes resting on the podium as she feels all sets of eyes landing on her. She clears her throat once, twice, the sounds dying progressively as she does so.  

“Well, first of all I’d like to thank you all for coming here in this lovely evening, I know it must be hard to leave your homes in such hostile weather. Let's hope there’s no attempt in no one’s life to ruin this pleasant atmosphere.”

A chuckle courses through the people, she even allows one from herself.

“The past couple of years haven’t been, exactly, easy for L-Corp. Trying to rebuild a company is easy, but changing its ideals and its image is hard. This comes from someone who knows how much everyone involved in this process is trying their best to clean a stained name, to try and lighten the darkness casted over the Luthor name because of our past mistakes. And this dedication, from all of our workers, is the reason why we are here tonight. This dedication brought us one step closer to the future. So, it’s with great pleasure that I announce L-Corp's newest launch: a Digital-to-Biological Converter."

She feels the need to stop herself as the sound of applauses grow stronger and bolder, she smiles at herself, the warm feeling of pride blossoming through her chest.

"The DBC, which is pretty much a fancy name for a DNA fax machine," She raises her voice to be heard over the muttering, hands coming to rest at the edge of the podium and giving it a hard squeeze to soothe her nervousness "has the potential of preventing massive outbreaks by mass-producing vaccines printed from genetic codes sent from anywhere, since it maximizes the distribution of the prevention and the treatment, and printing off personalized medical treatment for each patient, based on the specifics of their viruses. And our team is still working for the next level. In a not so distant timeline, maybe in a couple of years from now, the DBC can be used to transport organisms to other states, countries and planets, even."

As soon as the last words leave her mouth, there is a chorus of shouted questions and raised hands as, once again, she loses the focus of the people in the room.  

For once, she's not all that worried. The DBC is a project she's been working on with her best engineers since her brother was still in charge of the company. It's a work she's always been proud of and she has made sure there were no mistakes this time, nothing that could be used to drag the image of L-Corp to the dirt once again.  

She smiles, despite the bundle of nerves growing against the pit of her stomach, and raises her hands, silently asking for their attention. She is met with an encouraging nod from Sam and enthusiastic claps from Ruby.  

She finds out, then, it's easier to bury her nerves once her eyes land again on National City's beloved hero. Supergirl has her arms crossed in front of her chest, long hair completely swept over one shoulder, and that look of concentration on her face. Still, there's this warm tug at her lips that give Lena all the encouragement she need.  

"Thank you. The first successful prototype has been synthesizing vaccines steadily for the past semester, the lab tests on animals started on the last quarter with the lowest rate of failure our company has ever seen. We were confident enough to move the testing stage to humans and I am very happy to announce we are yet to see a patient who hasn't been treated from their disease. Hopefully, if we continue working with the dedication we have now, the first DBC  will be released on the second semester of 2018. We have time for some questions, if you have them. Right, yes, Miss Lane with the Daily Planet, I believe?"

"That would be correct, Miss Luthor. Congratulations on the announcement, it sounds like a revolution on the medical industry. That said, don't you think your new technology could be used to create and spread new epidemics around the world? Epidemics that would grow so fast we could not control?"

"You are right, it could. Like any other human or technological improvement, it can be used, if in the wrong hands, to create chaos. And that’s why the DBC won’t be available to the market. L-Corp will be responsible for the allocation of all the machinery as well as providing access only to trained, trusted professionals in hospitals across the US. Along with Wayne Enterprises, we intend on not letting a breakthrough happen. Unfortunately, I can’t promise it won’t, I can only try my personal best to prevent it. We’ve achieved this technology, a very advanced one must I say, with dedication and hard work, which means someone else might do it too. Until then, I can’t hold back such development on science.”

Lena doesn’t spare her another glance, thrown hands up in the air waiting for their time. She waves absently towards the front row.

“Steve Raymond, from CatCo magazine, Miss Luthor, isn’t the concept of synthesizing vaccines already in use in our country? What advantages are you offering for us?”

“Dynamics, cost.” She shrugs a bit, hopes no one could see the act. “The mass production of medication in slow and, overall, the demand tops the quantity available. Sometimes, our current medication doesn’t have the same effect on the same disease on different people. This could be our chance of optimizing our hospitals and bringing only the best for our citizens. Yes?”

“Curtis Sykes, with Metro Times. What is the involvement of your brother in all this?”

Her eyes stop in Supergirl, heart racing in a way it hasn’t done in days. It stings, she finds out, how things always get to that point, how people will always assume Lex was behind it all. She sighs, holds the podium tightly, fingers turning white from the use of her strength.  

“None. Lex is currently serving his time in jail and, as far as I am concerned, he has no news over what’s happening on the outside, on a company he is no longer associated with or welcomed in. That said, I'd like to thank you for your questions and for your presence, I’ll be more than happy to indulge in any doubts that lingers during the event.”

Supergirl only gives her another nod before turning around and leaving. For the first time, she wasn’t needed when Lena was around, it didn’t mean the City didn’t need her still.  

As the lights fade out and away from her, she reaches up for her earpiece, already taking it off and turning around to walk down the platform, curtains closing behind her back. Just because she no longer had a speech to attend it didn’t mean she wasn’t needed still. Unfortunately, old, white men never waited, after all.  

Sometimes, duty never ends.  

Jess appears, tablet in one hand, phone in the other and talking rapidly on the set piece firmly on her ear.

“Mister Wayne wants to know when you’ll be able to meet again.”

“As soon as possible, Jess. Thank you.” Her fingers move to tug at the pins holding her hair tightly. She is smiling though, with no monthly assassination attempt and a bodyguard like Supergirl, it could be considered a good evening. God, she’s so hot.

“Excuse me?”

Lena looks forward once more, Jess is staring at her with a raised eyebrow and mischief in her eyes. She coughs, runs her fingers down the back of her neck.

“Did I say that out loud?” A nod. “It was about Supergirl.”

As if it was enough explanation, Jess only chuckles. Somehow, it made Lena have an urge to try and explain herself.  

Later, she will realize her impulsive decisions will be the death of her, right now, she will blame her need to overshare on the giddiness she's feeling over the acceptance of L-Corp new project.

“I mean, she’s undoubted beautiful and her muscles are just so… I don’t even have the words to describe them, still even though she looks like a top, I bet it's not that hard to get her begging on her knees in that short skirt. I like to think I can be smooth, but how long does it take for Supergirl to understand you are politely asking her to be on top of you? Or like, subtly implying you want to ride her”

“Miss Luthor.”

“…and have your hands tugging at her hair, or just, I don’t know, have her thighs wrapped around your”

“Miss Luthor.”

“…while she shreds the sheets from how hard she's holding onto them, or maybe to have her bending you over your desk at the office”

A hand over her mouth stops her from continuing. She doesn’t miss the widening eyes from her (Sam’s) assistant, or the red cheeks, or the giggles threatening to leave her lips. She hums against fingers, give the best nod she can under her circumstances.

“Your mic is still on.” She tries to speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I’m taking my hand away now, okay?”

Surely, resting wrapped on her lapel is the offending metal piece, apparently not off yet.

“Is this still on?”

“Yes.”

“Did I just destroy my career?”

“Probably not. But it’ll take some time for people to take you seriously after that."

“Would it be too rude if I just left?”

“Probably yes.”

Lena starts walking, heels clicking loudly against her ears. It’s a great feature being able to hear it considering how loud her heart was beating and the amount of blood currently on her head.

“Miss Luthor, where are you going?”

“Nauru, beautiful place and I would only have to face eleven thousand people there. I have more employees at L-Crop and twice more with CatCo, it should be less humiliating."

[your-jellyfish-senpai]

DO THEM ALL

my guy that is So Much but okay xD

the fool: something you’ve always wanted to try

foodwise it’d be escargot, ohmygod there’s so many foods i want to try but i’m drawing a huge blank. whatever. i would eat just about anything at least once except fucking mushrooms. but in general, i’d like to try skydiving, deep sea fishing, bungee jumping… etc. i can’t think of things rn wow.

the magician: something you’re very good at

i’m going to say writing (aka bullshitting) because i get praised for it a decent amount and i just presented at a conference and read my own writing not only on a panel but in a workshop (whoa! it was found poetry but it was still cool), and no one booed me.

the high priestess: one thing you wish you knew

how to organize my life. like seriously, i try to be organize but i get overwhelmed because i’m forgetful? so it’d be cool to like, get everything in order

okay sorry but i’m skipping the empress/emperor cards because thinking is hard and there arent really people i admire? it’s hard to explain

the hierophant: something you believe in

ALIENS

the lovers: a person who makes you very happy

@defessus-puer even tho he’s a bitch. 

the chariot: a prize or award you’ve won

the best award i got was actually named after me and holds 0 actual significance except in my heart, and it’s the “Sydney F. Pen Mightier Than The Sword” Award. my acting teacher in high school gave it to me for writing so much for our show(s) and that just. means a lot. i got a lot of validation from that class tbh.

strength: something you struggle with

laziness tbh. i could say something like confidence or body image or whatever but i think laziness/unproductivity is more of a struggle. i am not easily motivated.

the hermit: favorite way to spend a day alone

watching anime, tho that gets old. writing, drinking tea/hot cocoa/hot apple cider. listening to music, taking a bath (with bath bomb), etc. general relaxation.

the wheel of fortune: something you wish you could change

among the things i thought of (which demonstrates how bad i am at making decisions): my family, my physical being, my passive-aggressiveness, The State of the World ™, etc.

justice: a decision you wish you could do over

two things: 1) not wearing a tux to prom. i would have looked so FUCKING GOOD. JUST SAYING. 2) not going to see Franz Ferdinand when they were playing in June. i’m so upset. that decision would have made kevin stay up late when he had to work, but he brought it up so he was willing. ugh. 

the hanged man: a time when you wished someone would listen to you

any time i try to talk to my fucking parents lmfao

death: someone you really miss

Becca, tbh, since i never get to see her. it’s become hard for me to really miss people? not in a super bad way, like i care about people, but i think i’m more okay with like, being alone and being apart from people than i used to be.

temperance: your ideal day

either something exciting that is Planned, or just relaxing without any major interruptions or responsibilities.

the devil: who you talk to when you’re dealing with big issues

kaden omfg i bitch about everything to him.

the tower: something that changed your life

i’m skipping this i’m somehow too tired for this question.

the star: someone you consider perfect

myself B) in all actuality, literally no one.

the moon: something you fear

rejection, failure, disappointment, entrapment (not literal, tho that would be stressful). lots of intangible things. oh and also fucking centipedes.

the sun: your happiest memory

this is hard but generally 1) i have a lot of good memories from The Theatre, and 2) i don’t know how to weigh good memories.

judgement: your favorite song(s)

Dental Care by Owl City, I Didn’t Just Come Here To Dance by Carly Rae Jepson, and…. that’s about all i got rn.

the world: your dream job

god i wish i knew. i’m gonna include a few: scriptwriter, english teacher/professor (preferably in another country, specifically japan), travel writer, hermit who lives in a cave but with wifi.

hELL YEAH THANKS FRIEND