#and I was like huh at what point do you think I call myself disabled

[aefensteorrra]

Going to Turkey soon and am quite (very) nervous because I have heat intolerance and every day it’s going to be at least 29 degrees with a uv index of 9 (which I have never experienced?? that can’t happen at this latitude). Everything I wear in summer is either linen or cotton so I know I’m okay on that front, I wear spf 50 every day in summer here anyway cause I’m ginger so will be very on top of that, got a hat, just have to buy a tonne of chewable electrolyte tablets… 🫡

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2022: 25-Demon/Angel

Damian sighed as he walked into the community center. He had been assigned community service for punching someone at school. The school had thought it was best for the youngest Wayne to see the consequences of his actions and what his actions could lead to. They volunteered him to work in a reformitory.

Damian looked around the room of people. It reminded him of Arkham, just less yelling and screaming. One person caught his eye; a girl staring out the window. She sat perfectly still on the windowsill.

'Who is she? Why is she alone?'

Damian quickly grabbed the clipboard out of the attendant's hand.

"Hey!" they cried.

He flipped through the pages quickly and found her: Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He shoved the clipboard back and started walking towards her. They grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't go near her." they whispered, "We go told very bad things about her. She's very violent."

'These people are idiots.'

Damian walked up to the sill.

"Hello." he spoke.

Marinette didn't speak or turn at the sound of his voice.

"Not one for words?" Damian questioned.

"Words are filled with lies." she stated.

'Progress.'

"I am told you are violent." he continued.

She sighed and continued looking out the window.

"I do not believe them." he concluded.

Marinette turned and looked at him, shocked. Damian noticed tears build up befre she quickly shut down her emotions.

"So what?" Mari questioned.

"I am sentenced for one month to work here for two hours, three times a week." Damian informed her.

"Lucky you." she declared.

"I would rather spend time with you than with idiots." he stated, "I can tell you are not like the others."

As he turned to leave, he said his name was Damian and left.

It took until the very last day for him to get her to open up once more.

"I was never violent." Marinette whispered, still looking out the window, "Not until the end."

"The end?" Damian asked.

"I snapped." she sniffled, "My parents sent me here because the couldn't 'control' me anymore. That's a lie."

"Why don't you tell me when everything went wrong." He spoke.

She shrugged, "Why not? I get out of here in a week. I'll be eighteen by then and I'm suppose to get my stuff from them. I'm never going home. I grew up in Paris, France and my parents were bakers. Everything started with a new transfer student; she was a liar. I could see through her façade, but no one else could. She lied to people like we breathed oxygen."

"I confronted her. She said she was only 'telling people what they wanted to hear'." Mari sighed, "Nice to know people wanted to think so badly of you, huh. Anyways, she faked disabilities, told lies about going places, made up connections to celebrities. I tried to tell my friends, my classmates, but they wouldn't listen. One of them knew she was a liar and said it was better to let her lie; that everyone would find out eventually. Later, she started to spread rumors about me, saying that I was bullying her, sending her threatening texts, calling her at all hours so she couldn't sleep. It was all over a boy she wanted me to stay away from who was my friend. There even came a point where I got expelled because of her."

"And you proved your innocence." he smirked.

"If only." Marinette answered, "I never got a chance to defend myself. There had been a tip to the teacher that the answer sheet for a test was in my bag. My idiot teacher had already graded the tests with it, but I somehow needed it. When I accused her, we were sent to the office, together. She walked down a whole flight of stairs and then started screaming that I pushed her."

"Did they not check the footage?" Damian growled.

"Nope. The principal listened to people with money and powerful parents more. I was just a baker's daughter. Why would the daughter of an Italian diplomat lie?" Mari waved off, "She wasn't sent to the nurse or a hospital. She then accused me of stealing a necklace that was an heirloom. It was really a Gabriel necklace that had come out five months prior, but the 'evidence' was there. So, I was expelled."

"How were you reinstated?" he questioned.

Marinette laughed, "The bitch claimed to have a lying disease that made her fabricate evidence under stress."

Damian gripped his jeans as tight as he could to stop himself from running off.

"Not sure when it started, but eveyone started telling my parents how 'awful' I was to her." Marinette stated, turning back to the window.

"And they believed them?" he asked.

Marinette nodded, "Soon, it wasn't just her bullying me, threatening me. She got the whole class to do it. They started tripping me, destroying my homework, my designs, spilled coffee on me and played it off on my own clumsiness. One day, she said I chased her until she twisted her ankle."

"What happened?" Damian pushed.

"That was the day I snapped." Mari replied, "I don't remember what happened. I was sitting in the back of the class and the next thing I know, I was being pulled off of her. She had a broken , fractured jaw, and was bleeding a lot. I'm told I just kept callign her a liar over and over, but I don't know. Then, I was sent here. I've been here for....two years, I think?"

'I was right. This isn't a violent girl. This girl is an angel and she plummeted.'

"May I hug you?" Damian asked, suddenly.

Marinette turned quickly. He could see her face had turned bright red and she was shocked by his gesture. Damian leaned in and held her close.

"I do not believe you are bad." he whispered, "I think you are a better person than most."

Marinette shakily brought her hands around him and began to sob.

"What was that girl's name?" Damian probed.

Mari sniffled and pulled away. She wiped her tears, like nothing had ever happened, and turned bac to look out the window.

"Layla Rossi. She went by Lila." she answered, "I don't know if it's still with my things, but I kept a journal about everything. You can read it if you want. I decided to keep it as a reminder to never let it happen again; that I never needed friends, again."

Damian stood up and placed a hand on her head. He smirked as he walked away and explained he had permission to look though her belongings. He found the journal and smiled. Marinette had no idea she had just made a deal with a demon.

Damian sat in front of the batcomputer. It had been easy to find article in Paris about the incident. Marinette's name hadn't been mentioned, but Lila's was everywhere. It had made headlines that Gabriel Agreste's muse had been beaten up and bullied by another girl and had to take time off from modeling. Lila had painted herself as the ultimate victim saying she was being bullied for trying to protect Adrien Agreste from the girl. Other people backed up her statement by saying she had been obsessed with the male model.

Damian looked at Adrien Agreste's picture on file and glared.

'Blonde hair. Green eyes. Clone of his mother. Recently started school at age thirteen. What a joke. He's not even that good looking.'

It wasn't even a challenge to find where everything took place. Neither of their social medias were private. There were pictures of the school on both accounts and they had the same circle of friends. Damian hacked into the school and began to go through the dates in Marinette's journal. It was all there: the bullying, the tripping, being shoved and threatened. She had been right; no one had even looked. He quickly started downloading all the evidence.

"What are you doing, Damian?" Bruce spoke, suddenly.

Damian handed over Marinette's journal. Bruce looked from the pink book to the screens. It was easy to see he wasn't pleased.

"This girl is in the program I was sent to." Damian declared, "I want her here. I want her to work for us. We would have to help her get her GED, but it shouldn't be too difficult."

"You want her in the manor?" Bruce inquired.

"And at Wayne Enterprise." his son answered, flipping to the back of the book, "She's a designer. Her name was mentioned by several celebrities and had backing before all of this. I assume the person let their emotions get the better of them and was jealous. Everything about the bully revolved around her and making her appear better then Marinette. She claimed to know celebrities that the designer knows. The designer was friends prior with the Agreste child and had won a contest. What better way then to take the designer the Agreste turned away than to take her for ourselves?"

"We can have her make suits to the next gala and see how the do as a trial." Bruce declared.

"She gets out next week." Damian replied, "We can get her, then.

"Why wait?" his father asked.

"She'll be eighteen by then." Damian smirked, "Her parents won't be able to do a thing."

Bruce smiled at his son's remark.

Damian arrived with Bruce, next to him. Marinete looked at them confused.

"We are taking you home with us." Damian declared.

Marinette looked between the both of them in shock, "What?"

"We have already made a room for you in our home." Bruce spoke.

"Why?" Mari asked.

"We are going to help you graduate so you can work on your own." Damian answered, "You wanted to be an individual who did not need to rely on anyone, if I remember correctly. Get your things."

Marinette stared in shock at the size of Wayne Manor. Damian helped her place everything in her new room, while Bruce gathered up the rest of the boys for dinner. Mari set her clothes on the bed and turned to Damian.

"Why?" she questioned, "I still don't understand."

"Someone clipped your wings, Angel." Damian answered, "No one should have made you fall to my level."

"What level is that?" Marinette asked.

"Hell." He smirked.

"You, Demon Spawn!" Jason interrupted, "Quit flirting. Alfred says dinner is in five minutes. "

Marinette blushed at the implications. Sure, Damian had brought her into his home, but she doubt that was the reason why. At dinner, Mari found out that Damian was Bruce's only son; everyone else had been adopted. They all had hard lives growing up and Bruce had taken them in without a second thought. The older boys had teased Damian for following in his Father's footsteps in taking in blue eyed people in need. All of them made her feel welcome. They told her they would take her around the city to elp her get use to the area. Alfred was happy to have another person to cook with. That itself had earned some of the boys to look away and find the idea of paint appealing.

"Am I adopted now?" Marinette questioned.

"No." Dick answered, "You're eighteen so you just live here."

Marinette smiled, "Thank you."

Damian walked Marinette back to her room.

"Don't worry, you will get use to the manor, eventually." Damian stated, "We just don't want you getting lost. I have a surprise for you tomorrow morning."

Marinette looked at him confused, but nodded. She wasn't sure what else Damian could give her. He had given her a roof over her head, a place to eat, and a way to get her life back together. She laid down on the softest bad she had felt and passed out.

Damian glared at the screen as he sent the emails and videos to the correct people in mind. He sent everything to the school board anonymously and also to the news outlet in Paris.

"You good?" Jason questioned, "You sort of have an Al Ghul face going on."

"Just.....getting some revenge." he answered.

"You know Bruce-" Tim began.

"Approved." Damian declared.

The three boys looked at each other and then back at their youngest sibling.

"How?" Dick asked.

Damian sighed and brought up the footage of Marinette being beaten and then someone claiming she had started the fight. They weren't happy with what they were seeing. Marinette was docile and now they could see why. It was going to be challenge to get her to speak up.

"How can we help?" Jason demanded.

Lila woke up to the sound of her phone vibrating uncontrollably on her night stand. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She picked up her phone to see what was going on.

'Did Gabriel come out with the new catalog?'

Lila clicked on social media and was shocked to see that she was being called a liar.

'What is going on?'

She clicked on a link and saw footage of her shoving Marinette down on the floor and then kicking her, while she laughed. At the sound of footsteps, she saw herself rip her own shirt and slap her face. When the adult came into view, Lila ran and hugged her, thanking her for coming to her rescue. She lied and wailed how Marinette started to beat her and she had to defend herself against the bully. She was so scared.

'No! Who posted this? This is going to ruin my reputation.'

There was many videos going around of teacher's ignoring Marinette asking for help. They were telling her to be the bigger person. They were telling her to open her heart and be more forgiving. They told her how it was better to ignore the hurtful words the others were saying about her. There were also videos of Lila walking down the stairs and claiming Marinette pushed her. There was her framing Marinette for stealing test answers and placing them in her backpack. There was evidence of her buying the Gabriel necklace and putting it in Marinette's locker, crying how she stole her family heirloom. Almost every lie she had ever told was being exposed by the news station: traveling out of Paris, her connections with celebrities, and her disabilities. The celebrities themselves were callign the news station and outraged how they didn't know such a horrible girl. Jagged Stone, himself, claimed how Marinette Dupain-Cheng was his personal designer.

"Marinette is one of the sweetest people I know." Jagged Stone declared, "She has always been ready to help me. Whether it's for a CD cover or a rockin' outfit for my shows! Hey, whoever sent this out. Reach out to me so I can talk to my designer and hire her again."

The news caster then informed Jagged Stone and Paris that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was sent to a reformitory out of Europe. As we saw, many people took to bullying her and those bullies turned her own parents against her. They thought they were doing the right thing. Why you ask? We might remember her better as the girl who beat up Gabriel Agreste's muse. They brought up their past headlines of Lila Rossi with a broken nose and being taken into an ambulance. His so-called muse told reporters that she feared for her life, in that moment. The model declared how she was only protecting her classmate and co-worker, Adrien Agreste, from a stalker. Many people agreed with her statement, but we can now see those people were assisting her in bullying this young girl. They lied to hide the fact on who was the true victim.

Her social media was flooded with comments:

"What a fake story."

"I wonder how popular she got from playing the victim."

"I hope she enjoys her new fame."

"LOL"

"Liar"

"Bully"

"Faker"

The news caster smiled, "The only thing the anonymous tipster stated was that they were doing this for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. They learned about everything and it wasn't hard to find. Marinette had a whole book full of detailed notes, every time she got bullied and by whom. They claimed it wasn't hard to find the evidence, only that no one ever looked. People are dumb. No one looked up the obvious lies and the pricipal obviously lined his pockets with richer families in mind. Also, Happy belated birthday, Marinette!"

The backlash from the reveal was gigantic. The school board was pissed about what had happened under supervision and had been brushed off. The principals and teachers were terminated immediately. Their licenses were suspended indefinitely; they would never work with children again.

Layla Rossi was quickly fired from Gabriel. All of her social medias were blocked and so was her phone number. Her mother had been completely blindsided by the news. She had stomped into her room and taken away her phone, until the truth was revealed. It was decided by the school board to expell Lila two months before graduation. When the verdict was given to her mother, she decided it was best to also take her to a reformitory until her daughter turned eighteen, the following year.

Everyone that had initially been apart of Bustier's class was crying. They had been shocked and horrified to learn they had chosen the wrong side. Marinette had told them Lila was lying to them; she had only tried to get them to see the truth. Adrien was hugging a pillow as he watched the news from his couch. He watched over and over as Mari was bullied by their friends and Lila. She was pushed and kicked while she was down. She sat there and did nothing, just like he told her to.

'She never told me this was going on!'

'Why would she ever come to you? This is all your fault! You helped turn everyone against her.'

Adrien broke and sobbed into the pillow.

The big question on everyone's mind was : Where is Marinette now? Her parents had reached out to the reformitory, to get her back, but she was no longer there. Once she was eighteen, she was gone.

It was years until people in Paris learned what happened to Marinette. Her name was trending again, everywhere. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had married Damian Wayne. They could all see she was happy. Several people had reached out to talk with her, but they all failed. No one knew how to contact her other than to call Wayne Enterprise. When they reached the receptionist, they always asked who was calling. . When they gave their own name, they were told their name had been blacklisted by the family and not to pass the call to Marinette. They tried using fake names after some time, but Marinette didn't know who they were so their calls were rejected.

"We know her!" they complained.

"And if she cared, she would call you!" the receptionist retorted and hung up.

TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[literalbirdperson]

So I'm going to tell the story of my yesterday, which started with an appointment with an ENT and ended with me in the ER. I'm doing this in bullet points, because I am very tired. (Also incredibly angry, but that might be adding to the tiredness.)

1:00 PM. Check in at the new doctor's. The facility is clean and bright, and all the staff are really friendly! That's always nice.

Meet the ENT I was referred to. I like him immediately. He's got a really relaxed, informal manner, but also very clearly knows his stuff.

Talk about surgical history, since I've had several nose and sinus procedures.

Since one of the reasons I am there for ear pain and recurring sinus issues, he starts the exam. Ears look great, he says! The pain is probably referred pain from my mouth. Do I grind my teeth? Yeah, I used to, but I might be again due to The Maladies.

He checks the back of my throat. "Oh, you have tonsil stones?"

"I... I do?"

Then he pulls out the horrible snake camera, and I resign myself to discomfort while he tours my nose and sinuses. I watch the screen and make very attractive "man was not meant to feel something pressing against a sinus wall" noises while he digs around.

Investigation over, he gives me a tour! Everything is about what I expected, he shows me old surgery sites, and then scrubs the footage forward a bit and goes "but here's where your problem is."

See, the other problem is, I keep spitting out these awful discs of dried mucus. And they stink!

Well. It turns out that I have a chronic infection in my adenoids. And what I keep spitting out is from there. I'll spare you the details.

Gross! But treatment should be pretty simple if it's staph, which it usually is. A couple of rounds of antibiotics usually knocks it out. If not, we'll culture it and go from there.

"So my throat has been infected for over two years?"

"Maybe even a lot longer than that!"

So we have a game plan. His assistant checks me out, hands me some papers and says "here's your record and a paper copy of your prescription, but we faxed it to your pharmacy as well."

2:00PM. The pharmacy app isn't showing them working on the RX.

3:00PM. I call them to see what's going on, get into a verbal fight with the phone tree, am finally allowed to leave a message. I am polite!

3:15PM. Pharmacist calls back. "We don't have an RX for that medication for you." Cool. I'll check with the Dr and have him re-fax. Oh! I have a paper copy of the-- there is no RX in my discharge papers, either. Fine. Calling.

3:30PM. There's nothing to re-fax, either, as the prescription was never even entered into my medical records! They are so sorry about the oversight, this is being flagged as high priority and his assistant will call you to let you know when it's been faxed to the pharmacy.

5:00PM. Why did I think something was going to go right for me medically? Why? Why me? Exhausted chronically ill/disabled breakdown incoming.

5:13PM. Text from pharmacy. They're working on the RX. It will be ready by noon tomorrow. Do you need it sooner? [YES]

5:15PM. Your prescription is ready.

5:30PM. Emotional collapse staved off for another day. Go to get RXs, with plans to stop to get ramen with spouse across the street from the pharmacy and enjoy the week being over.

5:45PM. Pharmacy tech tells me to go to the consult window if I want to talk about the antibiotic. Since it's completely new, I head over.

5:55PM. Pharmacist storms over, very clearly annoyed, and at me, not in general. Makes direct eye contact with me and starts reading me, word for word, the information on the bottle like I am a small child who can't read. I just wanted to know if there were any worrisome side effects.

Tell her to "have a good night!" She scoffs, literally holds up her hand in a "shut the fuck up" gesture and storms off.

Me and my spouse: "Huh. That was weird."

6:00PM. Take first dose of antibiotics with dinner to help keep stomach upset to a minimum.

7:00PM. Hives break out on my forehead. Then my thigh. Then my arms. Then suddenly my skin is bright red, bumpy, and burning literally everywhere.

That's not good. So I start looking up Bactrim side effects, since the pharmacist didn't deign to tell me. Discover I am having an allergic reaction, but only need to go the ER if my lips and face begin to swell, my vision gets blurry, or I have heart palpitations.

8:00PM. Lips are tingly. Look in mirror. I am lobster red and my face is swollen, as are my lips! I take two benedryl and both my inhalers, and we start looking for which ER to go to.

While we're looking, throat starts to swell. Swallowing is becoming impossible. Closest ER it is, even though I fucking hate it there. But it's a mile away and I want to be where the adrenaline and intubation kits are in case this keeps getting worse.

I am going to regret that decision.

Am forced to go through security and submit to a bag check before I can enter the ER itself. While actively struggling to breathe, which is distressing to both me and the guard.

Receptionist asks what I am there for. "I'm having an allergic response to an antibiotic. I can't breathe well."

She hands me a ten-page thick clipboard and tells me to fill it out, and then she'll get me in the queue.

What queue? There are TWO OTHER PEOPLE HERE. (See, everyone hates this hospital.)

So I start struggling to fill out the paperwork, but I am now to the blurred vision, mental confusion state. I keep having to pause to gasp for breath, and my penmanship is fucked because my hands are shaky from either albuterol or fear.

Spouse walks the paperwork back over to the receptionist.

We spend another 15 minutes sitting there while I am gasping for breath and grabbing at my throat every time I try to swallow because it feels like I'm being STRANGLED.

Nurse comes out to bring me back. We get intercepted by an angry man who has been watching me slowly dying but is still pissed because he got there first.

Nurse takes the time to explain to him what triage is while spouse literally holds me up.

I get a bed. Nurse tells me I'm having a classic allergic reaction and I'll probably be right as rain after some steroids. Hooks me up to all the monitors, tells me the doctor will be right in.

Doctor comes in. Listens to my lungs. Tells me my throat is not swollen even though she tried to grab to hold me upright when trying to swallow made me look like a gagging cat. But, my lungs are clear! Tells me they're going to monitor me to make sure I don't get worse, but she doesn't see anything to worry about.

LADY MY SKIN IS AS RED AS A VAMPIRE'S FAVORITE PAINT SWATCH FOR THEIR BEDROOM REMODEL.

She leaves. another nurse with the bedside manner of someone who enjoys kicking puppies walks in and starts taking my blood pressure.

The alarms go off.

"He put the cuff on wrong," he mutters, then wraps it so hard it hurts and runs it again.

The alarms go off.

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Mildly. NOT LIKE THIS.

"I'm going to go get the doctor." He leaves. He does not turn off the shrieking blood pressure machine.

10 minutes later: it's still screaming. Nobody has come by.

20 minutes later: see above.

30 minutes later: see above, except this time I start my stopwatch.

1 minute later: I get up and turn the fucking thing off, then unhook myself from everything.

40 minutes later: I am now itching so badly that I am scratching my arms bloody.

45 minutes after that, Puppykicker comes back in. "You ready to go home?"

Me, unnaturally red with hives so intricate that there are probably braille words on me, no longer struggling for breath, but 100% more bloody than I was when he walked out of the room an hour and 40 minutes ago: "Actually I'd like to speak with the doctor. I'd like to discuss steroids, since I am itchy."

"I'll go get her." Sure, Jan.

5 minutes later: Puppykicker comes in with a glass of water and a tiny cup of MASSIVE prednisone pills. "Here's 50mg prednisone. She says you're ready to be discharged."

The doctor. Is giving me. 50mg prednisone. Without speaking to me to see if I am allergic to it. When I came in with a severe allergic medication reaction. And is going to discharge me rather than wait around to see if I'll be ok.

Nurse watches me choke and struggle to take the pills. Because we're also giving an oral steroid to the bitch who can't swallow. Puppykicker does NOT care.

At that point, risking it and calling an ambulance if my throat closed up again was more worth it than staying there. Went home, stayed up long enough to confirm I am not going to start gasping for breath again. Passed out for two hours, got woken up by all 3 cats fighting over who gets to be in my lap. I have been taking two benedryl every 4h for the itching/hives and while my skin is its normal color again, everything itches so bad.

So my ENT is going to get a fun surprise on Monday when I inform him that the meds I had to fight to actually obtain have now left me with a hospital bill.

I also made an appt with my PCP, because this is the second medication since May that has done this to me. And they are not even remotely related to one another.

I guess what's 3 more days of living with a throat infection I've had for months, at a minimum?

[gillie266]

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 2-- A Hot Cup o' Joe

Before I knew it, I was seated at Norm’s disheveled table, ceramic mug in-hand. The hot liquid inside was quickly heating up the material, making it almost painful to hold. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to have instant coffee on-hand, Norm,” I commented inquisitively. He shrugged, collecting his own mug from the small counter opposite me and leaning up against it. I noticed how he didn’t sit down. “Pays t’ ‘ave somethin’ hot on ya when it gets cold.” He used his free hand to gesture to the miniscule stove against the far wall. “That thing is my only source o’ heat in the winter.” He turned his head to the side in the general direction of the front door. “Got the coffee from some crippled feller who wanted to gimme a ‘housewarmin’ gift.’” He performed air quotes. “Scared ‘im off right quick.”

“Huh. So you’ve been out here for a while, then?” I tilted my head in his direction, choosing to ignore the fact that he presumably pointed a shotgun at a disabled man. And the fact that the disabled man was probably Jerry. Poor guy.

Norm nodded– almost solemnly. “That’s right. Been out ‘ere goin’ on three years.” He lifted his mug to where I assumed his lips were, paused when he remembered the bag on his head, then lowered the mug once more. Ha. Idiot. 

Not like I wanted to drink it myself. Since I got there, I’d hated how the people there absorbed nutrients. Sure, we ate, but I wouldn’t call it ‘eating,’ in the sense of there was a slot in the base of my head that I shoved food into and called it a day. I couldn’t even really taste it. Man, I missed actually tasting things. There was a vague essence of flavor in things, and I could still sense textures, but that was it. 

I hummed in acknowledgement. “I assume that Mayor Mingus has some involvement in you being sequestered in an abandoned shack in the woods.” 

Norm’s grip tightened on his mug. “Ya’d be assumin’ correctly, pardner. That dastardly feline thought it’d be easier t’ exile me than t’ deal with me properly.” 

If I had eyebrows, they would have lifted at that moment. “Mingus exiled you? I didn’t think she did things like that… or that she had the power to do things like that.” I paused to take a steadying breath. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s pretty obvious that she’s one corrupt kitty-cat.”

He scoffed. “Ya can say that again. I swear t’ all the powers that be, once I git my hands on that furry little–”

“Woah!” I interrupted him, holding up a finger. “Don’t finish that sentence. Lemme guess. You’re some kind of ruthless avenger who wants to heal his broken pride and compensate for his lack of action by unnecessarily harming those who have wronged you.” 

He fell into stunned silence. I realized I hit it right on the money and winced. Or I would have, if I had a face. 

Norm cleared his throat. “...I suppose y’ could say that,” he mumbled in a meek voice. 

“Ah, shit, dude, who am I to judge?” I leaned back in my chair and made a wide gesture with my arms. “I can understand why you would want her dead. She’s a corrupt politician who nobody seems to realize is corrupt. Not even that weirdly self-aware guy who lives in a dumpster knows what’s going on with her.” I paused. “Wait… why did Mingus exile you?”

The yeehaw man didn’t answer for a concerningly long time. He only stared at me, as if he were sizing me up. I could feel myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Are ya stupid er what?” He finally resumed speaking, causing me to deflate in a mixture of relief and shame. “It’s cuz I ‘ave a head. A normal one, not some…” He pointed with an open palm toward my rotary head. “Plastic box.”

I felt my muscles tense at that comment. I couldn’t blame him for thinking that I have had this thing for a head since I was an infant. But… it still kind of hurt. 

“...Right,” I avoided his gaze for a moment out of discomfort. “So, you’re out here because Mingus doesn’t like people with flesh-heads. That feels almost sort of racist. Classist?... Dial-ist?” I shook my head, hearing the various components rattling about inside. Then I paused. “How do you have a flesh-head in the first place? I thought people around here got their heads replaced when they were babies?”

His sticky note face raised an eyebrow at my phrasing. “It’s a long story,” he didn’t comment on how I was speaking like I was a foreigner in a new country. 

“Well, do I have some good news for you, Mr. Space Cowboy!” I set my mug down on the table, making a soft clattering noise. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. “We quite literally have all night.” 

Norm stared at me for a long, awkward moment, sticky note displaying a reluctant, narrow-eyed stare. I heard him take a breath before sighing “Fine.”

“Yes! Okie-dokie, space-man, what’s the haps?” I leaned forward even further to the point where I was almost falling out of my chair. 

“Never ask me what th’ ‘haps’ are again.” He pointed a finger in my direction. “And quit leanin’ like that. Yer gonn’ git yerself killed.” I did as he said. I wasn’t going to die before I heard this story. 

Norm took a moment to organize his thoughts before taking a few slow, careful steps in my direction. “The long n’ short of it is that I’m a time traveler.”

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah?”

He paused briefly. “Yer not gonn’ question that?” 

I tilted my head at him. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve gone through, man. Time travel is one of the more believable things I’ve heard in the last couple of years. What’s the context?”

He blinked at me questioningly before continuing. “I used t’ work for NASA back in the days o’ President Crown’s… presidency. Since I had sum experience in th’ Air Force, they stuck me on a special mission.” What kind of backstory was this? How old was this guy? “They sent me int’ a wormhole.”

“Ahh, this is starting to make sense!” I clapped my hands together. “Lemme try to guess what happens next–”

He cut me off with a firm “No,” and I raised my hands in submission. He continued with his story. “Moseyed on int’ the wormhole, came out the other side, n’ everything had changed. Turned out it had been a good sixty years since I left. I landed on Earth, and everyone jus’ casually had phones fer heads. Mingus didn’t like the fact that I was reluctant to git one o’ my own, so she exiled me.” 

I whistled. “Damn…” 

Norm raised a Sharpied eyebrow before sighing. “Yeah. It’s pretty damn tough. I don’t even know if my wife and kids are still around.” There was a melancholy edge to his voice that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. If he were in his late twenties when he left– and that’s being incredibly generous– his wife would be in her late eighties or early nineties. If they were any older (which was likely)… the prospects were not looking good. His kids probably all left Dialtown, as kids often do.

I took a sharp breath through my food hole (gods, it’s so gross) and rested a hand above my dial. “I’m really sorry to hear that, man. If it helps, I understand– we’re in sort of similar boats.” 

He closed the distance between himself and the table I sat at to set down his now-cold mug of coffee. “I don’t think y’do, pardner. I’ll bet money that ya didn’t even know quantum jumpin’ was a real thing until jus’ now.”

I draped my arms over the back of the semi-rotted chair I sat in. “Wanna bet?”

“Bet.” His voice became firmer as he folded his arms across his chest. 

A feeling of relief and triumph rose in my chest. I would finally get to tell somebody about what happened without sounding like a crazy person. I cleared my throat. 

“It all started with a very amateur museum robbery with my best bud…

[fictionkinfessions]

(Warning: this is going to be a lot heavier than most of my other confessions, and it contains mentions of lookism and ableism, disability erasure, verbal/physical bullying and the resulting trauma, and other uncomfortable subjects! Sorry if this is too much.)

Looks like I'm now just using this blog as a place to vent about my personal gripes with the Vocaloid fandom, huh?

Jokes aside, I really want to talk about a huge issue I see with how people portray me. It's not *as* common as the whole memelord thing, but I'd argue that it's a lot more harmful since it doesn't just affect me, but it affects people in real life who have birth defects, scars, skin conditions, or anything else along those lines.

If you take a look at any art of me drawn by Mikuma (my official artist!), one of the first things you'll notice is that my face and eye are... a little fucked up. I've seen a lot of different interpretations in the fandom of what they may be. For me personally, it's actually a birthmark that goes allllll the way down the right side of my body (and there's also a few lil spots on my left side), and that's what gave me my all-red eye as well, but I know that's not canon-canon, and I enjoy seeing the different ideas people have, especially if they're another me! (Fellow Fukases RISE UP)

However, the problem comes when people decide that these things are "too hard to draw" or "look too ugly" or whatever, so they just. Get rid of those things and draw me like Some Guy™. I don't look like that irl, but it still makes me extremely fucking uncomfortable for reasons that I'll clarify in a minute.

Like I said, I was born looking like this. When I was little, a lot of other kids were either scared of me and avoided me like the plague or they just straight-up bullied me, all because I looked the way I did (well, there were other factors too, like my autism or the fact that I'm trans, but the birthmark was most of the issue). I hated myself for such a long time because people acted like and told me that I was ugly, so it made me feel ugly, too. Whenever I tried to talk to someone, I felt like I had to cover my face so they wouldn't get grossed out and run away. I'd get anxious to the point that I wouldn't be able to talk because I didn't want to accidentally draw attention to myself and have people stare at me. It was awful.

Eventually, it all culminated in something that I honestly don't remember too well. I think I was about 8 years old, it was during recess, and there was this group of other kids that I was talking to, for some reason. Things were fine for a while, but then (HUGE TW FOR PHYSICAL ABUSE IN THIS NEXT PART!!!) one of them threw me onto the ground, and they all started kicking me. Most of it's a blur, but I clearly remember them screaming at me to die and calling me a fr//k, over and over again. They just wouldn't stop. I had to be dragged away from them. I'm convinced that they would've killed me if they had the chance.

Obviously, that affected me a lot. You know how I have a cane in my canon design? That's because my spine got all fucked up from that incident, and it still hurts to walk sometimes, so I use that to help when my back acts up (ironically, I have chronic back pain irl too, but it's less severe and mostly due to genetic reasons). I can't hear the word fr//k even in passing, or I start panicking because of it. It's especially bad in-character, but it also makes me uncomfortable irl.

What does this have to do with people drawing me without my birthmark and red eye? Well, basically, what I'm trying to say is that by getting rid of those things, they're erasing the trauma that I've had to deal with because of them.

Not to mention, you think it's bad for me? I've only dealt with this kind of thing in-character. The bullying I've dealt with irl was for completely different reasons and nowhere near as bad. I can only imagine how people who actually have to deal with this kind of harassment feel. Every other Vocaloid released previously and since have basically been flawless picture-perfect anime characters, and when someone like me finally comes along, someone that people with deformities/blemishes can potentially see themselves in, people bash me for being "ugly", "overly detailed", or "too hard to draw". How are those people supposed to feel about that? At the end of the day, I'm just a singing computer and I can't say anything about this, but it goes a lot deeper than that, and I know my pity is the last thing people want, but it makes me sick. It's not just about me; it's a bigger problem within not just the Vocaloid fandom or even fandom spaces in general, but society and its toxic beauty standards as a whole.

Wow, fuck, sorry for the essay. This issue is obviously extremely important to me, so I wanted to go into as much detail as possible. I hope everyone reading this has a nice day/night/whatever time it is where you live!

-Fukase (please tag as otherhearted (although I'm starting to think it's a bit more than that?), #👁❌️🔴)

🪵

[thealexanderfiles]

Okay so DC is a clusterfudge of reboots, canons, timelines, universes, what have you. As such, many fans (myself included) treat DC comics as a “make your own” canon.

For example, originally, Stephanie Brown was Spoiler-Robin-Batgirl, in the new52 (I think), she was just spoiler, now, as DC starts to adopt this “anything is canon just pick and choose your favorites” attitude, she was spoiler-robin-batgirl-maybe spoiler again-batgirl. Or not. Whatever you want her history of her superhero name to be can be. Because DC can’t seem to decide.

There’s an arc where Dick loses his memory and becomes Ric Grayson (it’s Bad in my opinion), and it just straight up doesn’t happen in my personal canon.

In my personal canon, Barbara Gordon is still paralyzed and only operating as Oracle. I don’t like the “fix her spine” plot, it perpetuates the idea that disability is something to “fix,” and I see her as a far stronger character as Oracle, not Batgirl again (as an adult, at that). BUT, I love the Tom Taylor Nightwing run where she does operate as Batgirl. The thing is, there is very little that would change if you subbed in someone else for Babs in the Batgirl parts, and kept her as Oracle. So, the run remains as is in my personal canon, just I see it a little differently.

Starfire retains all her memories when on the Outlaws in my personal canon.

Clark Kent is a good dad to both Kon and Jon always in my personal canon.

Jon was not aged up permanently in my personal canon. He was briefly aged up to be Superman while the og was off world, then when he comes back boom spell or whatever wears off, Jon is young again.

Young Justice is always called Young Justice in my personal canon, rather than eventually turning into the Teen Titans. Why? Because I like that they are different personally.

I’m happy to share more, but essentially DC has given so many different versions of events and possible “main canons” that at this point, you just pick what you like and ignore what you don’t.

Let me know if you have other questions!!

please do elaborate on the personal canon.

two questions.

is there any 'iconic' pieces of, like, fanfiction (like All the Young Dudes or *shivers* My Immortal (Preferably not LIKE my immortal)) or is fanfiction not really such a big thing in the DC fandom?

also

because of the resets, are they just perpetually stuck in the nineties, or do they-

WAIT

DO THE CHARACTERS SUBCONSCIOUSLY REALISE THAT THEY ARE BEING RESET OR DO THEY JUST WAKE UP AND BE LIKE "I'M PRETTY SURE I WAS DEAD. HUH. THAT WAS A WEIRD DREAM"

[girl8890]

R Town | Ch.23

Jungkook x FemOc

word count: 3.3k

POV: M

Warnings: Domestic abuse, Physical abuse, Blood, Pining, Offensive words against intellectual disability.

A/N: Before you read this chapter, I would like to just say I do not think the real Felix is anything like this! I don't think he's like any of the ways I wrote him in chapters before this either. I don't know why he's the person I pictured to be M's husband, but he just is. I don't want anyone to think I believe Felix will be like this to his future partner because I don't! Awesome! Now on with the chapter HAHA...

Index | Ch.24

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

"Pack your things. We're leaving tomorrow."

I drop my cup of coffee all over the floor, making Felix jump and yell, "What he fuck M?"

I'm shocked, to say the least. We literally just moved here and Felix is already wanting to leave? I just got accustomed back to this town. I love having my brother around me again after having so much time apart, and I love having... someone else... nearby. He can't seriously want us to move already!

"What the fuck M! What the fuck Felix? We just started settling into this town, why are we leaving?"

Felix sighs, clearly not in the mood to deal with this right now, but I don't care. Not only did we just move here, but I was finally starting to feel at peace in this town.

"It doesn't matter. We just need to leave, so call your brother and say your goodbyes because we're leaving at first light tomorrow morning."

Felix goes to walk away, but I'm not done with him yet. My brother is here, someone I've missed seeing and loved reconnecting with is here, and he thinks I can just easily let that all go with a single goodbye? I grab onto his arm, making him turn and look at me but with evident annoyance.

"We can't leave! I have friends here, now. What about them?"

Felix smiles cruelly and shakes his, and I don't like what type of smile it is. It's a smile I've seen once before, and it means anything but positive things. He takes grabs onto my arm, but unlike what I did he squeeze my bicep until I'm hissing in pain. He then pulls me close to him so we're nose to nose with each other.

"Friends, huh? Is that who you call the people you fuck on the side?!"

"Felix, I told you-"

"Yeah, you told me bullshit!"

I wince at his tone. There's no way he could have found out about Jungkook and I. I've kept my personal promise of staying away from him as best I could. The longing of course is still there, and I find myself walking past his store to glance inside, but I never speak to him. I don't want to risk his, or Jimin's life by doing anything further.

"No I didn't!"

"Oh yeah?" Felix then starts dragging me up the stairs, and I trip a few times on the way, but Felix just keeps pulling. He keeps dragging me until we get to his office in the mansion. The one room that's off-limits to me, and I never cared enough to go in. When we get in, he throws me onto a couch. I shake in my seat as I watch Felix pick up a remote and point it at a wide-screen tv. He presses the power button, then with a few more buttons pushed, I understand what he's talking about.

I shut my eyes and feel like a total fucking idiot. The last thing I thought about was the possibility that cameras caught me, but as it shows on the screen, there's a camera on the Lee club facing the parking lot Jeon games and Lee club shares. And it just so happens to have a perfect view of me outside his house, leaving there looking like an obviously just fucked mess.

I could make up an excuse, say I was just telling him we can't be friends anymore, but it's clear by the way I'm adjusting my dress as I walk down the metal stairs that I wasn't wearing it a few minutes beforehand.

Felix leans down close to me, and I open up my eyes to see a very mad - no, furious - Felix in front of me. "You really thought I wouldn't find out? I knew you were stupid, but now I just think your retarded! I hope you enjoyed his dick because you'll never be riding it again!"

I wince at Felix's words. I don't know how to make this better, but I try my best to make this situation less bad than it already is by lying straight to his face. "It's not like-"

Smack!

Felix smacks me in the face so hard that I fall off the couch and onto the floor. I feel the sting on my cheek, but I don't try to soothe it because I already know it's the first of many blows to come.

"And now your lying to me!" Kick to the stomach. "You fucking whore!" Kick again, and this time I scream out in pain. "I'll make you regret ever meeting your little nerd!" Punch in the shoulder. "Your life with me will be Hell from now on!"

Felix continues to beat me and yell cruel words. I scream, I cry, and hiss with each blow. I eventually start begging when I feel the first bone crack. I don't know if it's broken, but my wrist is definitely sprained after Felix stepped on it.

"Please Felix-" Kick in the stomach.

I don't even know why I try to beg, but it seems like the right thing to do during times like these. What else can you do when you're bleeding on the floor and getting beaten by your husband? He's bigger than me, so fighting back is not in my favor. I've tried that once, and that just landed me in the hospital the first time.

Being beat like this has only happened twice, but it's happened enough for me to understand my position with Felix, and who he truly is. My position will always be lower than him, and he doesn't care what he has to do to show me this fact.

I eventually stop begging, my body deciding to slowly shut down. Not dying, Felix hasn't gone that far yet, but I feel the bruises forming and feel the blood trickling out of my nose when he starts punching me in the face.

I look over to the camera he paused at showing me leaving Jungkook's, and it's what I focus on while Felix yells more profanities at me. "You fucking slut, you're done for! Any freedom I once gave you is gone."

I know his words are true, but the only time I've ever been given freedom was when I was with Jungkook. Not even just the night we had sex but everything beforehand too. I was able to smile a real smile for once and laugh without it being fake to please people. Jungkook gave me the ability to be my real self, and I left him. I left him because I was scared of the man currently beating me was going to destroy everything and everyone I cared about. I still have that fear, but I wish I was brave enough to be selfish a little longer. Be selfish and just stay in the safe arms he promised to always have open for me.

That's what true love is like, I think.

I knew my feelings for Jungkook even before I shut my eyes right now to think about him. I'm in love with Jungkook, but to save him and my family, I stay with the man currently beating me until I black out. Even though the second I walked out his door that day, I knew I would never see him again. I knew that would be the last time I would ever truly be happy, but I also knew I would never forget what he gave me.

He gave me the ability to trust someone. Something I've found very hard to give these days. He also gave me the ability to feel loved. True, unconditional, and never-ending, beautiful love... and I'll never feel that with anyone else.

Felix continues to punch and kick me repeatedly, and I feel my consciousness slowly slipping away. I'm slowly falling into the black void, but before I float away, I think of the only person I've ever loved. The only person that could get me through this pain.

Jungkook telling me he loves me for the first time is the last thing I think about before everything fades to black.

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

I wake up on the same wooded flooring I fell unconscious on. I go to sit up, but I end up wincing in pain for moving. My wrist is definitely broken at this point, but besides that everything else is just very hurt. When my eyes finally decide to work again, one of them I think is swollen shut, so technically only one eye sees a phone in front of me on the ground.

It's my phone, the one I never use unless Felix calls me. I knew Felix hacked my phone when one call to a dentist had him questioning who I called later that day. Not only did he delete all my social media before that, but hacking my phone was really the start of his possessive control over me. And now I lay here, half-broken, and fully in pain because I never had the balls to ignore his threats and go to the police.

This will forever be my life.

I know why he put my phone here. He said I can call Jimin, which means he was never going to let me have one last goodbye with him in person. I feel tears fall down my face, and when I try to wipe them away I can tell I must have been crying while Felix was beating me before too. The dry streaks and their sticky feeling indicate as much. I hiss as I push myself to finally sit up, and I cradle my wrist to my chest.

I slowly pick up the cell phone and open up my contacts to find the few phone numbers I have saved pop up. I press on Jimin's name, and it loads up his number to start calling. Even just listening to the ringing against my ear has my heart filled with pain for what I'm about to say to him. That his baby sister is once again going to be leaving his life.

"Hello?" His high-pitched voice questions on the phone other side of the phone.

"J-Jimin?"

"M? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," I lie at first. But then I look down at my wrist and decide to no longer lie to the people I care about when it comes to Felix. Felix has done enough to tournament me, and if his promises are true, that my life is going to be even more of a living hell from now on, then I'm no longer going to lie to protect his image. "No, Jimin. I'm really not."

I start to cry into the phone. Full-on whimpering and wailing. "M-M-M! Oh my god, please don't cry! Where are you? Did Felix hurt you again?"

I swallow, trying to calm myself down enough to speak, but it comes out in stutters. "I-I don't know h-hoe much time I have b-but... I'm leaving t-t-tomorrow."

"Leaving? Leaving where, and why?!"

I shake my head, which is kinda stupid since I know he can't see me. "I don't know why, but Felix said we have to go. H-he's only allowing me to call you to say goodbye and I just... I'm in so much pain, Jimin. I'm so sad, and I w-wish this life wasn't mine."

Even as I say the words, I don't know why I do. Maybe it's my pained wrist being clutched to my chest, or maybe the fact the picture of me leaving Jungkook's house is still on the screen. Honestly, I'm going with both.

"What happened?" Jimin's voice changes to one of anger. He doesn't even need the answer though because he follows up with, "M, come live with me. Come live with me, a-and will figure out a way to get you divorced. You shouldn't feel trapped in this type of-"

"I can't, Jimin." I whisper into the phone, interrupting him from saying anything else. I hear Jimin sigh from the other side of the phone, defeated. "Can you j-just do me one favor? A last request from your baby sister."

I try to make my last words cheerful, but I know it fell on flat ears. Jimin is hating this situation and hates it even more that I won't let him help me. But he still says, "Anything."

I swallow, and I decide for the second time in my life to be selfish. To not care if Felix is somehow overhearing me, or if I get beat up again because of it. I need someone else to know that I was happy. That I was happy for once, and that it wasn't just a part of my imagination.

"You can't tell him until I'm already gone, b-but can you tell Jungkook I'm leaving."

"Jungkook? The game store owner, Jungkook? Sure but why?"

Here it goes... "Because I love him." Jimin quietly gasps. "And because I need someone to tell him I'll never forget him. T-that I'm sorry I have to leave, but I'm happy I got to reconnect with him."

There's silence on the other side of the phone for a moment, but eventually, Jimin says, "Okay, M. I'll tell him tomorrow after you leave. When do you leave?"

"I'm not sure. I just know it's sometime in the morning."

"Then I'll see you then."

"Wait! What? No, Jimin, Felix won't let-"

"I don't care what Felix said! I'll see you tomorrow with Tae, bright and fucking early."

Before I could further protest against Jimin's promise, he hangs up the phone. I look at the now blank screen on my phone and sigh. Of course, he wouldn't listen to reason, but Felix better not think this is my fault. He never said anything about Jimin being allowed to send me off, anyway.

I toss the phone on the couch and use that couch to help me stand. It hurts like a bitch, but I was able to stand on two legs. I then plop myself on the said couch and groan at the strain in my back it just caused.

The mansion is very quiet, which is very usual since when I look over at the clock I see it's only eleven at night. I then realize Felix is probably out trying to organize all the business at the club. I don't know if he's going to keep it there, or if he's going to sell it, but either way, we won't be here in this town come tomorrow afternoon.

I breathe through the tears that continue to fall, and I curse at myself for being such a pussy. Not for the crying, since everyone cries and it's kinda ridiculous how people see it as a weakness, but because it almost seems like I'm allowing this to be my life. I'm really not though.

The contract for Felix and I's marriage never clarifies we can't cheat on each other, and I'm not sure if it says anything about domestic abuse. I'm not sure if that's because my parents thought we were going to have a happy marriage, or because they never thought anyone would want to cheat or lay a figure on their precious baby girl. Well, a man's done both mom and dad. All thanks to the bloody arrangement you felt was so needed to make for us.

I can't blame them for the abuse, though. Their not the ones raising their fists at me, and forcing me to fuck them until I start to bleed. I haven't looked at that contract in a long time, but after this whole situation, I should probably take a look at it again.

I shake my head because I know if I look at it and find no ways for this marriage to be null and void, I'll be disappointed. Then again, I also have a feeling I'll have a lot more time on my hands after we leave this town.

I look back at the tv with the picture of me leaving Jungkook's apartment again, and I think of it as him as I start talking to myself like a weirdo. "Did you ever think the girl you've been in love with since childhood would have a life like this Kookie?"

The tv obviously doesn't answer back, but I have to laugh because I hear in my head Jungkook saying, No! And you shouldn't keep yourself in this type of life either!

Oh, Jungkook. I'll never see him again. Of course, I start to cry again, but this time even harder than before. I cry so hard that I manage to fall off the couch and back onto the floor.

I'll never see Jungkook's again. I'll never sneak out of this mansion, and run with excitement in my steps with the idea of seeing him again. The video game we last played together will forever be our last game, and after today I won't even be allowed to talk to him ever again. The kiss he gave me before I left his apartment will forever be our last kiss. The strong embrace he gave me before I walked out the door will be the last time I'm ever wrapped in his arms.

I feel pathetic for all of this. Not because I'm in love with Jungkook, since any girl would be lucky to fall in love with a strong, sweet, and handsome man like him, but because I allowed it to happen. I allowed this love I have for him to grow, knowing this could be the conclusion for it. I knew from the second he said my name and I saw him for the first time after so many years that he would be something more to me than just a platonic friend. If it was the way my heart skipped a beat when I saw him or by the way we naturally went back to hanging out with each other, either way, I just knew Jungkook was going to own my entire heart eventually. And I just let it happen. I let us happen...

Even as I talk about him as some regret, I'll never regret Jungkook. I'll never regret ruining my chance of staying in this town for the rest of my life to have one day of freedom with him. I'll never regret the love I've formed for him and being lucky enough to have his love in return.

I shut my eyes and try to imprint his face into my mind as hard as possible. Because even though I'm leaving here tomorrow to have a new, and much worse, life with Felix, I want to be able to picture his beautiful smile even at the worst of times. Making sure that even when I'm ready to give up, I'll still have him in my memories as a reminder of a time when I was the happiest.

I open my eyes and look back at the tv one last time. Talking to him even though he'll never hear my words, "Goodbye, my love."

-

-

-

Ch.24

[requiemforarainbow]

Trying to write with chronic pain flares is...interesting. Under a cut for talk of unknown illness/pain and personal shit.

Follow my NaNo 2023 journey: https://nanowrimo.org/participants/jordan-a-wruck

So the last week of September, I started to have a small pain in my lower right abdomen. It started at about a 2/10 - just a tiny little "oh, that feels weird. Huh." I originally chalked it up to muscle pain because I'm a side sleeper, and my right side is the normal side I get comfy on.

October 2nd. Pain was still there and increased to about a 6-7/10. Immediately got me in to my doctor's Internal Medicine side to see a doc. She ordered bloodwork and an ultrasound. Promised me results in 24 hours.

October 3rd. Doc hadn't called with results by close of business. Meanwhile, the pain spiked to a 9/10. ER TIME! (I HATE the hospital, so for me to say "let's go to the hospital" it has to HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Last time that happened it turned out to be my gallbladder.)

ER visit took.... 7 hours. 7 FUCKING HOURS. 2 of those hours were in the WAITING ROOM. 5 was spent in a bed in the HALLWAY in between 2 CLEARLY MARKED ISOLATION ROOMS WITH THE DOORS OPEN AND NO MASKS IN SIGHT. (In retrospect, I forgot my mask too with the pain, and 5 days later ended up with a minor viral infection myself.)

ER doc ordered more bloodwork, urinalysis, an ultrasound, and a CT scan. By the time I got back from the CT scan I was starting to get a migraine, and the pain in my abdomen hadn't subsided either. (Also I learned I'm not actually allergic to CT contrast, but that's another story.) At this point I was betting either my appendix was acting up, my pancreas was being more of a bitch than usual (diabetes is fun!), or something with my liver.

So, total time spent in the ER: 7 hours.

Results from the tests: "Nothing actionable."

Total pain medication given: Z E R O mg.

That's right. NO PAIN MEDICATION. They gave me anti-nausea meds and PEPCID FOR FUCKING HEARTBURN.

Because as we all know, heartburn starts over near the FUCKING APPENDIX.

...Yes, I was and am P I S S E D.

They literally treated me like a drug addict looking for a fix. Even after I mentioned I had a migraine. All because my 9/10 pain wasn't making me scream constantly. My normal pain level is about a 6/10, which is a level that would have most people without chronic pain bedridden and screaming. For me, anything LESS than that is literally background noise.

Oh, did I mention I had my PARENTS WITH ME?! My parents - who are also chronic pain sufferers. My parents who have NARCOTIC PAIN MEDICATION.

Naturally I brought them to the ER to help me "get a fix", right?!

What does my doc give me for this chronic pain, you ask? 800 mg ibuprofen. Which - surprise - doesn't usually do jack shit.

I mean, I get it. The narcotic stuff can be addictive. And with the opioid crisis, they're careful who they give it to. In my state, you have to be under the care of a long-term pain management doc.

Who won't see me because - surprise - I'm a "kid."

I'm 36 and use a cane because of the pain. My primary doc helped me get a disabled parking placard. She knows how bad my pain gets. She knows - but she legally can't give me anything stronger than the ibuprofen. (Which sucks. But I like her.)

But you'd think the ER could have at least given me an ibuprofen!!

Anyway. Went back to the Internal Med doc a week later. The Internal Med doc set me up with a GI consult. (Gastric doc. I'm starting to think it might be warranted because it's starting to hurt every time I eat.) The date of my initial consult?

November 30th.

Yep. That would make the appointment TWO BLOODY MONTHS after the initial pain started.

Luckily they have a priority cancellation list. And I guess someone cancelled because my appointment is now this Friday (November 10).

I already know how it's going to go. They're going to prod my abdomen a little, not find shit, and say "Okay, so we're going to have to scope you."

I've had an endoscopy before, both upper and lower. The prep is a NIGHTMARE. (Note: do not drink the ginger flavor prep with Pepsi. You will want to barf for weeks.)

Fingers crossed the endoscopy will find what the fuck is causing my entire abdomen to feel like someone is jabbing me with a cattle prod every time I eat now.

And that I can get to 50,000 words this NaNo.

[skeezsbbygirl]

kiss it better + bang chan

hello lovelies! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

im back with another bang chan scenario <3 hope you guys enjoy this one!! (oh and tmt hit 1k+ notes ahhh thank you so much >.<, also i might be uploading a prince!chan fic soon, stay tuned sunshines)

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

"Chris, baby, please."

It's been two hours, nearing three, since Chris decided to give you the silent treatment. The cause of your current suffering rooted from the events that took place last night.

A college friend of yours happened to be visiting the city, and what better way to celebrate a rare occasion than dressing up and going for a girl's night out with a bunch of your other friends. Chris happily agreed to let you go, he didn't need much convincing since he trusted you with everything and that included you getting home in one piece.

As the late hours of the night passed and shifted over to the wee hours of the morning, Chris grew worried, checking his phone for the nth time as he expected a call or text from you to reassure him that you were fine, or that you were at least still alive somewhere.

Fortunately, he managed to get a hold of your situation through one of your friends, credits to Jisung for grabbing her number that one time you guys set them up for a date.

"Hyung, she said that (y/n) got into a cab ten minutes ago," Jisung explained over the phone. "Her phone also died, so that's probably the reason why you haven't heard from her," he added.

"Alright, got it. Thanks, Ji."

Strike one.

Your drunk self thought that it was a good idea to call for a cab, even declining your girlfriend's offer to drive you home. You insisted that you were fine and that you would only derail their way home since your apartment's route leads to the opposite direction. So, in your semi-intoxicated state, you hopped into a cab and made your way home.

Strike two.

You came home last night, struggling to keep a certain level of sobriety. Heels in one hand and your clutch in the other. You weren't completely hammered, but it was still enough to piss Chris off as he took in your drunken state.

Strike three.

Nevertheless, Chris patiently took care of you. He helped you out of your clothes, took your makeup off for you, and tucked you in bed with him.

You could've gotten away with what happened, until your hungover self decided to betray you.

When Chris sat you down for breakfast, he managed to ease in the happenings of last night, carefully bringing it up as to not agitate you or make you feel like he's blaming you for going out and having fun.

He was just worried, especially having known that you went home all by yourself without even contacting him.

"Baby, you could've borrowed one of your friends' phone and asked me to come pick you up," Chris sighed as he reached out for your hand, placing his on top of yours, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

"I know and I'm sorry, but can you just scold me later?" you said, your tone a little harsher than you intended it to be, probably due to the lingering headache and side effects of your drinks last night. You felt like your skull was being split into two and you just wanted to eat and recover in silence.

"Babe, I'm not scolding you. I was just-"

You cut Chris off. "Alright, I get it, you were worried but I took care of myself. So let's just argue later, yeah?" you snapped.

And you're out.

Upon hearing your reply, Chris' jaw clenched, visibly appearing offended and irritated. He retracted his hand from yours, opting to cross his arms over his chest.

You bit your tongue when the words you spat out finally settled in. It sounded wrong and you definitely shouldn't have said that. You readied yourself for the argument that was about to ensue, but nothing came.

"Okay."

That was all he said before he stood up and left.

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization that slapped you back into reality, the ugly outcome of your sudden outburst.

You were about to get up and follow Chris to apologize, however, the sudden throbbing pain in your head disabled you from getting out of your seat. Instead, you were forced to sit back down and wallow in guilt.

And that's how you ended up getting the silent treatment.

You left your boyfriend alone for a few hours, hoping that his anger would dissipate by the time that your hungover got better. But much to your dismay, he wasn't having it with you.

"Baby, can I come in?" you knocked on the door of Chris' home studio.

Silence.

"Chris, baby, please," you tried again, but you were still met with silence. You let out a sigh as you ambled back towards the living room, deciding to just give him space and talk it out whenever he's ready.

Chris was naturally a forgiving person, a little tougher on his members, but a complete sweetheart when it comes to you. So when he gave you the silent treatment for the very first time that day, you didn't know what to do.

So, you waited.

A couple of hours passed, three and a half, now, to be exact, you heard Chris' door unlock. You immediately perked up at the sound, quickly scurrying on your feet to meet him.

"Chris, I'm sorry," you apologized with your head hung low, eyes on the ground, and fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Nothing. Nothing, but the cold breeze of Chris passing by, giving you no due attention. He sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, paying more attention to the cold food items that were displayed in front of him.

How you wish you were the half-eaten cheesecake now, huh?

Having enough with his torturous act, you were set on using the two tricks you had up your sleeves -- 1) faking an injury, as petty as that sounds, you were desperate, and 2) luring him with something he likes, be it an innocent gesture or a daring one, you would practically do anything at this point.

With your first plan in mind, you crept up behind him and positioned yourself near the edge of the marble kitchen island, placing your hip at the sharp corner so that it would appear as if you bumped against it.

From a third person's point of view, you probably looked stupid, scratch that, you did look stupid, but you were set on breaking Chris' silent streak.

"Ah!" you yelped in pain, hands quickly coming up to clutch your right side. You dropped on the ground, still maintaining your hold on your "injured" torso.

As soon as you cried out in pain, Chris hurried to your side.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked with a worried expression plastered on his face. His cold demeanor immediately melting once he saw you clutching your side. "What happened, babygirl?" he crouched down to meet your level.

"I accidentally hit the edge of the counter," you said. "Come here, baby," Chris placed your arms around his neck as he scooped you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style towards the living room.

"Show me where it hurts, love," Chris ordered as he sat you down with him. He carefully moved you on his lap, making you straddle him.

"Right here," you pointed towards a random patch of skin on your right side. Chris placed his hand over the supposedly injured area, gently soothing it with the warmth that radiated from his palm.

Adding the icing on the cake, you hissed in pain as his hand came in contact with your skin. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I got you," Chris cooed as he planted a kiss on your cheek, in hopes of making you feel better.

He lifted your shirt up a bit, allowing him to inspect for any cuts or damage to your skin. "Do you want me to go get an ice pack?" Chris offered. "No, it's fine," you replied.

"Alright, just tell me if need anything," Chris responded as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your exposed skin, tugging your shirt back down as he pulled away.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, in an attempt to conceal the grin that was forming on your lips. Completely fooled by your actions, Chris continued rubbing your side as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"Does it hurt anywhere else, baby?" Chris asked and you nodded. "Here," you pulled away from him and pointed towards your chest. He shot you a puzzled look, confused as to why your chest would hurt when you claimed that you bumped your side.

"Because I was trying to apologize to my boyfriend a couple of hours ago, but instead, he gave me the silent treatment," you pouted.

Chris bursted out in laughter as he heard your response.

"It's true. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he locked himself inside his studio. Totally unfair and uncalled for," you continued and Chris shook his head in disbelief, his laughter coming to a stop as he calmed down.

"I could say the same thing about what happened last night," Chris challenged, raising one eyebrow at you.

"I'm sorry. I know I was being stupid. I should've called you or at least shot you a message from my friend's phone to let you know that I was coming home late. I just thought that if I called, I was going to end up bothering you, considering that it was such an ungodly hour," you explained, fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

"(Y/n), you could never be a bother to me," Chris said, "And did you honestly think that I could sleep knowing that you were out there?"

"I was so worried about you. Thank Jisung for having one of your friend's number because I was this close to losing it," Chris stated.

"I know. I'm really sorry," you pressed a kiss to his lips. "I promise I won't do it again, forgive me?" you added, pecking his lips once more.

"I can't stay mad at you," Chris let out a defeated sigh. "Of course. I forgive you, babygirl," he gave you a small smile.

You cheered and pulled him in for a hug, momentarily forgetting about your said injury.

"Do you feel better now?" Chris teased as he poked your sides, making you jolt in surprise. "Christopher!" you squealed, bursting in a fit of giggles as you realized that you've been caught red-handed.

Well, at least the intentions of your plan worked.

"You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures," you shrugged and Chris chuckled in amusement. He leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"You're lucky you're cute."

[erensangel444]

just a humble bounty hunter

spike spiegel x reader

DNI if not 16+ thank you!

cowboy bebop fr fr is one of my favorite animes it’s just 😘

this fic is spike x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender-neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: i want this life plz. ALSO, I LOVE THIS TROPE: two unemotionally available people whose hearts are taken by another, but for some reason, they can’t have the person they want, so they seek out each other for comfort(aka sex), and eventually, it turns in to something more, and there’s a little bit of angst, but in the end, their hearts belong to one another now. IM GONNA CRY :,) i don’t know if that made any sense but ya feel me???

okay don’t beat me up....but this has a cliche confessing-our-love-in-the-rain scene. IM A SUCKER FOR THE CLICHES OKAY?!! also faye’s lowkey a cock-blocker in this?? I LOVE HER THO, i want her to stomp on me.

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), stealing, use of drugs(just weed), violence(no death), germs?? bc transfer of something from one person’s mouth to another(just a cherry stem), alcohol consumption, smut; dry humping, unprotected sex w/ creampie, cumplay, oral(male!receiving), mentions of public sex, degradation + praise, 

word count:

summary: attempting to forget the past with a cowboy, unknowingly creating a future.

you could hear the thrum of electricity throughout the bebop. you slid open your door, the lights near the bottom of the wall lighting the walkway. you walked into the kitchen, the room dark beside the moonlight shining in through the open gateway. you grabbed a soda from the fridge, walking towards the open entrance of the bebop.

you could make out spike’s figure in the distance, the slight flare from his cigarette making him easily distinguishable. you opened your soda, spike’s head turning at the sound. he noticed it was you, taking another puff from his cigarette before smiling at you and turning back around.

you had landed on cacri, a possible bounty in the area. the ship sat in the water for tonight, in a bay that was a docking area for ships. it overlooked the city, and if you turned to the other side, the sea stretched for miles fading into a distance of nothingness. 

you walked over to spike, who was standing at the edge of the ship. you sat down, your legs hanging off of the ship. you set your soda down, sitting back on your arms. “rough night?” you joked, the soft waves of the water brushing against the ship. 

you heard spike chuckle from above you, muttering as he held the cigarette in between his lips, “you could say that,”. you looked up at him, spike already looking down at you. he pulled the cigarette from his lips, holding it out to you, to which you shook your head left and right.

“i prefer more medicinal herbs,” you sighed jokingly, spike smiling down at you. “to each their own,” he mumbled with the cigarette in between his lips, looking back out to the water. you laid your back down on the ship, looking up at the stars. “god that’s what i need right now, some weed,” you declared, sitting back up.  “i’ll be back,” you said, standing up and grabbing your soda from the walkway of the ship. “i’ll come with you,” spike offered, rushing to catch up with you. you pouted mockingly, “think i can’t handle myself?”. you walked into the kitchen with spike, setting your soda down on the island. 

“you’ve shown full and well you can handle yourself,” spike praised, smirking at you, “maybe i’m just interested in partaking in some of those medicinal herbs,”.

you and spike crammed into your tight ship, the sound of the ship taking off causing ripples along the water. spike had found a 24-hour dispensary not too far away, and you set the ship down about a block away. you walked in, the bell on the door ringing.

a woman sat behind the cash register, smacking her gum loudly. she looked up at you and spike, giving the pair of you an uninterested stare before looking back down at her nail filer.

you looked at spike, raising one eyebrow with a soft smile, spike laughing softly. you walked through the store, grabbing rolling paper and a bag of weed, a strain called “strawnana”. spike couldn’t help but pick up gummy bear edibles, and so you headed to the cashier placing it all out on the countertop in front of you. 

“id,” the cashier grumbled. you realized that you hadn’t brought your id and turned towards spike, looking for a solution. “we forgot em’” spike said plainly. the cashier’s unimpressed look remained. “the legal age here is 18 though, right?” spike asked, though he already knew the answer. “we look over 18 right,” spike smiled, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“no id, no weed,” the cashier said plainly, pointing to a sign behind her that read ‘we card!’. “you know,” spike started, leaning on the countertop, “i really hate to do this, but,” he grabbed the rolling paper and bud, running towards the door. 

you paused for a moment, before realizing what was going on. you grabbed the gummy bears from atop the counter, running towards spike who was holding the door open. you could hear a “hey! come back here!” from behind you, and you turned to see spike throw up a peace sign to the cashier. 

you ran down the block, running towards your ship. you slowed down, walking for a moment, laughter coming over you. “you’re fucking crazy,” you sighed airily, walking beside spike who let out a soft laugh. 

“we got it though didn’t we?” he said with a smile.

you and spike were back outside of the bebop, sitting on the take-off strip. the joint was in between your lips as you took a drag, inhaling the substance. you blew it out with a puff, coughing once with a light chuckle before handing it over to spike. 

spike took a hit before blowing out the smoke. the joint had become shorter, barely being held between spike’s fingers. spike deaded the joint, setting it in the ashtray. “yeah, this is what i needed,” you sighed, lying down.  it seemed like the stars were brighter than they were before as you looked up at the sky now.

the soft noise of the waves brushing against the ship lulled you further into a calm state. “do you do this often?” spike asked, turning towards you. “only after we get a bounty, shit’s expensive,” you said honestly, spike laughing softly.

spike laid down next to you, looking up at the stars. “s’pretty huh?” you said simply, turning towards spike. spike hummed out an affirmation, still looking at the sky. you smiled at his expression, turning back towards the sky. 

“it’s cold,” spike said, sitting back up, “let’s go inside,” you offered, standing up and walking back towards the entrance of the bebop. spike was trailing behind you, gummy bear package in hand. 

the loud noise of the gears turning as the gate to the take-off strip closed finally came to a cease. you plopped down on the couch, sighing softly before spike sat down next to you. “feel real good,” he drawled before lying his head down on your lap and smiling up at you. 

you just laughed softly,  your hand falling to spike’s hair out of instinct. “do you have someone you miss?” spike spoke softly, the conversation taking an abrupt turn. you sucked your bottom lip in before deciding to speak. spike was being vulnerable, the least you could do was reciprocate his vulnerability.

“yeah,” you said plainly, trying to control the shakiness of your voice, “don’t think i’ll ever be able to get em’ back, though. try to tell myself it’s no use to think about them, but i can’t help it,” your voice trailed off towards the end of the sentence.

spike squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to shake away a vision before he spoke quietly, “i miss her, fucked up bringing her into my life,” your hand paused in his hair for a moment, latching onto his every word, “don’t even know where she is, even if i did, i don’t know if i could face her,”. the room grew silent for a moment, your hand resuming its ministrations in spike’s hair.

“love sucks, huh?” you said simply, spike giving you a weak smile. “s’like,” you paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts, “no matter how hard you tried to forget, it’s still there, still in the back of your mind,”. spike’s eye lit up at your words. he pushed into your hand, and you hadn’t even realized your hand had stopped.

you continued playing with his hair as spike spoke, “i try so hard not be stuck in my past, but it’s always there, like you said, in the back of my mind,”. you looked down at spike nodding. the room grew silent once more, neither of you itching to say anything. 

“jus’ wanna forget,” spike said, his voice breaking slightly. he sat up abruptly, leaning beside you on the couch. he turned to face you, his face closer to you now. “don’t you wanna forget?” he said, his eyes crinkling. you could feel the heat flush to your cheeks, and you nodded, afraid your words would betray you.

next thing you knew spike’s lips were on yours. you hesitated for a moment before reveling in the feel of the kiss. your hands fell to spike’s hair, spike’s hands tracing down your body. his hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto his lap. you let out a slight gasp, pulling away for a moment and looking at spike.

you kissed him once more, mumbling into spike’s lips, “jus’ to forget,”. spike lifted a bit off of the couch, trying to lean into the kiss more, his hands drifting to your backside. spike hummed into your lips, agreeing. 

spike was peeling your shirt over your head as your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. the kiss was quickly becoming more desperate, muffled moans and grunts falling from both of your lips. you couldn’t help but rock on spike’s laps, your arousal dampening your panties.

“sh-shit,” spike pulled away, leaning his head back on the couch. you continued to grind on his lap, your hands tracing over his chest, his shirt fully unbuttoned. “jus’ like that,” he groaned, before pulling you in for another kiss, your whimpers being muffled by his lips

your hands fell to the button of his pants, fumbling with the item before an abrupt clearing of the throat interrupted you. you pulled away from spike’s lips quickly, looking towards the doorway. 

faye was leaning along the wall, smirking at the pair of you. you quickly removed yourself from spike’s lap, grabbing your shirt from the floor. “and to think i only came for a glass of water and got a free show,” 

“s’not for free actually, pay up” spike grumbled, buttoning back up his shirt. you stood up from the couch, desperately wanting to cave in on yourself as you spoke softly, “goodnight, spike,”. 

you looked down at the man, an apologetic expression on your face. “goodnight,” he said, smiling up softly at you.“night, faye,” you said, passing by her. “night y/n!” she yelled down the hall, “cute bra by the way,”. 

“shut up faye!”

you hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, tossing and turning, throwing the covers off of your body before curling up in them once more. you knew faye was going to give you shit about it in the morning, and you could deal with that. 

but what did this mean for you and spike?

you awoke to ein licking at your face, ed chanting at the end of your bed, “bacon! bacon! bacon!” she grinned, ein barking at her excitement. “alright, fine,” you grumbled, “just get ein off of me!”.

edward grabbed the dog from the bed, ein licking her face, “yuck! your breath stinks ein,”. you laughed at edward, patting ein’s head. “come on, ed,” you said, walking down the halls of the bebop. you were silently praying that spike was still asleep.

you walked into the kitchen to find faye sitting at the countertop, drinking coffee. she smirked at you over her cup, “good morning, sunshine!” she said in a sweet tone, “morning faye,” you replied. you turned to look at her, grabbing the bacon from the fridge. 

she set her coffee cup down at the countertop, smiling at you. “faye,” you whined, drawing out the e. “we have a lot to discuss, very important things to discuss,” she whispered, ed sitting on the floor playing with ein.

“let me at least make some coffee first,” you grumbled, putting the first piece of bacon onto the pan. 

ed was happily chewing on her bacon, playing chess in the living room. you and faye sat at the countertop, coffee cups in hand. “first off,” faye started, and you prepared yourself for the slew of judgements to be thrown at you. “what the fuck?”.

“let me explain,” you assured her, faye just clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “no need for explanations, it was like i walked in on a porno,” “hey! it was not that bad,” you chastised, looking back down to your coffee.

“we were high, it didn’t mean anything, trust me,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. your stomach turned at your words, but you ignored it. “it better not of, cause we’ve got a bounty to catch, and i can’t have you lovebugs getting in the way of cold, hard money,” faye said.

you laughed softly, “you’re just gonna gamble it away anyways,”. faye pushed your shoulder, “and who’s gonna be getting wasted at the bar while i invest my money wisely,” she teased. “oh yeah, you’re a prime example of a smart spender. at least my money is wasted on vodka,”. she took a sip from her coffee, “is that really that much better?”.

you both laughed softly, ed cheering from across the room at a smart chess move she had made. you and faye sat at the countertop for a while, conversing. faye had gone to shower, leaving you in the kitchen. you washed your two coffee cups, drying them off afterwards.

“morning, spike!” you heard ed say happily from across the room, your eyes shooting up. “g’morning kid,” he grumbled, walking over to the countertop while rubbing his eyes. “morning,” you said, trying to contain a sense of normalcy within your voice.

“hey,” he said, his voice softening. “i-i’m gonna go shower,” you said, spike nodding. you walked out of the kitchen, rushing towards your bathroom once you were out of spike’s line of sight.

“slow down, speed racer,” jet joked as you brushed past him. “sorry, jet,” you said, smiling sheepishly. you opened the door to your bathroom, closing it quickly after.

you leaned against the metal of the door, taking a deep breath. why couldn’t you just act normal? last night hadn’t meant anything, it was just to forget. you rationalized last night, realizing your actions were out of proportion. spike wouldn’t act differently, so you decided not to either.

a knock on the door broke you from your thoughts. you unlocked it, sliding open the door. “spike?” the man pushed inside of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “can’t just fuckin ignore it,” he said, shaking his head.

“wanted more last night,” he said, staring at you intently. “know you did too,”. “spike, w-we can’t,” you reasoned, spike backing you up against the wall. “why not? it’s harmless sex,” “harmless sex,” you repeated. spike nodded, “just to forget,” you whispered, “just to forget,” spike repeated.

you pulled him in for a kiss, moaning at contact. you had been itching for the feel of his lips on yours since last night. his hands quickly fell to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head. he pulled away for a moment, unbuttoning his own shirt before his lips found yours once more.

your hand fell to his pants, tugging at them, hoping that spike would get the message. he read you loud and clear, pulling his sweats down and attempting to shimmy out of them. his pants pooled at his feet as he tugged at your sleep shorts pulling them down your body.

spike lifted you up, your legs latching around his waist. he stepped out of his sweats, walking you over to the countertop. his hand drifted to your lace-covered center, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. “can feel it through your panties, you’re dripping,” spike teased. “fuck,” you sighed, your head falling back into the mirror.

“can’t say i’m much better,” spike groaned, grabbing your hand and pulling it to his bulge. you gasped slightly, looking at him. he was big. spike just smirked up at you, grinding his bulge against your center. the fabric between the two of you created more friction, whimpers falling freely from your lips as spike groaned lowly into your shoulder.

he placed kisses onto your skin, pulling away for a moment, “want it?” he asked, grinding into you more. “gonna-fuck-gonna be too loud,” you whined, looking at spike. spike pulled away from you completely and you whimpered at the loss of contact. 

he turned on the shower, the water falling from the showerhead, creating noise as it hit the floor of the shower. “problem solved,” he said, smiling at you. he kissed you once more, his fingers pulling your panties to the side, rubbing at your slit. he moaned into your mouth pulling away, “won’t even need to prep you, so fuckin’ ready for me,” spike said, his eyes staring at his finger rubbing through your slit, the digit quickly becoming covered in your slick.

“n-need you inside!” you yelped as spike’s thumb rubbed at your clit. “fuck,” spike sighed, pulling his boxers down your legs. you shimmied out of your panties, lifting your hips from the countertop of the sink. you kicked them onto the floor, grabbing at the back of spike’s head, kissing him. he pulled away breathless, looking at you.

“you’re sure?” he asked. you couldn’t help the way your heart slightly palpitated as you nodded eagerly. “are you?” you asked, your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. he nodded the same as you had. “okay,” you said quietly, spike repeating the word as he pushed into you slowly.

you both let out a slight gasp at the push inside, smiling at one another after. as spike pushed further inside, the whimpers and mewls falling from your lips grew in volume. he bottomed out, pulling you in for a kiss, groaning into your mouth. 

“so fuckin’ tight, clenching on me,” spike groaned. you whined as spike pulled out slightly, thrusting back into you. you both let out airy moans at that. spike was breathing deeply as you adjusted to the feel of his cock inside of you. “m-move!” you mewled, desperate for more, “please, want it!”. spike obliged, his eyes lingering on his cock pushing in and out of you. 

his eyes raked over your body, looking up at your face contorted in pleasure. “so good, spike! s-so good!” you whimpered. his cock brushed against your walls, hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. “oh fuck,” spike moaned airily. 

he nuzzled his face into your neck, his moans and groans muffled by your skin. “c-close!” you yelped. spike pulled away from your lips, his forehead pressing against yours. “come on,” he said, his voice shaky. “lemme feel it, wanna feel you cum on my cock, come on, angel,” he rambled, thrusting in and out of you at a rough pace now.

spike brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves. “s-spike!” you moaned as you came on his cock, your toes curling, a mantra of spike’s name falling from your lips. 

spike took in your expression, your eyebrows furrowed, your tongue lolling out of your mouth slightly. he looked down to the ring of white around his cock, moaning at the sight. he looked back up at you, your eyes open now. 

“cum inside, i’m on the pill,” you said, panting. “wanna feel it inside me,” you whimpered. spike moaned, throwing his head back. your hands traced over his abs, your nails scratching softly at the skin. “y/n, fuck, gonna, gonna-” spike groaned. his head fell into your shoulder, his moans muffled by your shoulder as his warm load filled you.

you sighed as spike’s thrust slowed, spike bottoming out once more. “fuck,” he sighed, the explicit turning into a soft laugh. you joined in, laughing softly. you pulled him in for another kiss, smiling into his lips. 

he pulled out of you, causing you to wince at the stretch. you closed your legs abruptly, not wanting his cum to leak out of you and onto the floor. “no keep em open,” he said, his hand falling to your thigh, “wanna see it pool out of you,”. you raised an eyebrow at him, “i’ll clean it up,” he promised. you obliged, opening your thighs.

“fuck,” spike groaned, watching his cum leak out of you. you laughed softly at his astonishment, spike looking up at you. “what’s so funny?” he asked, smirking. “didn’t take you as being interested in cum play, but now that i think about it though, it makes a lot of sense,” you teased, smiling at him. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he said, raising his eyebrow. “oh, nothing,” you joked, grinning at him now. you pushed yourself off of the countertop, standing next to spike now. “get in the shower, bozo,” he joked. 

“only if you join,” you teased, leaning close to him, “ya kinda smell like shit, spike,” you joked. “smell didn’t bother you earlier, huh?” spike teased, smiling at you. you felt your cheeks flush with heat as you stepped into the shower, spike behind you.

the water cascaded over your bodies, your head pressed against spike’s chest as the smell of your tangerine soap flooded your senses.

the bounty was on a well-known gambler, who had a tendency to rob casinos where he had lost his money. he always had two pretty women on his arms, though it boggled your mind how he did, the man not being particularly attractive, his personality even worse.

that’s why you had an issue with the plan to catch this bounty. you and faye were sent in to be his arm-candy for the night. the plan was to approach him at the bar, he’d take one look at the two of you, and drag you to whatever table he and his entourage sat at that night.

faye had gone in a dark red, spaghetti strap gown, and you in a black strapless gown, the top of your breasts peeking out perfectly from the dress. your hair had been pinned up, a few strands falling to frame your face. 

you walked out from your room in the chosen attire for the night, a scowl on your face. faye whistled as you entered the room with a yell of “do a little spin,”. her commentary brought a smile to your face as you smiled softly with a holler of “you first,”.

you looked over to spike, his eyes raking over your figure. you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach, spike’s eyes raising to your face and offering you a sheepish smile, knowing he’d been caught.

you laughed softly to yourself as jet began explaining the plan for tonight. 

you stood at the bar, sipping on a vodka cranberry as you waited for the bounty to approach the bar. faye and you had on undetectable earpieces as you leaned against the bar, scouting the area. spike sat at a blackjack table not too far from the bar, acting as a protective measure. 

you knew as soon the bounty entered, a large mass of people coming into the bar, everyone turning to them and murmuring. you and faye just had to wait patiently until they approached the bar. you figured that the group would secure a table before coming to the bar. 

you toyed with the ice in your cup, sighing softly. “he’s headed over,” you heard spike’s voice in your ear, shivering at the sound. you put on your best fake smile, sitting down on the bar stool. you pushed your arms together, accentuating your cleavage.

faye sat opposite of you, in a similar pose. “right behind you,” spike said, your body slightly tensing before you forced yourself to relax. “what are two beautiful ladies like you doing all alone?” the man groveled, an ugly grin on his face.

god, men were so predictable. 

you turned around on your stool, forcing a sultry smile onto your expression. “looking for someone to make us feel less alone,” you said in a seductive tone, the man laughing softly.  “you’re in luck then,” the man drawled, grabbing you by your waist and spinning you into him.

you had to physically stop the bile forming in your throat, letting out an airy giggle in response. spike’s voice was sounding through your earpiece, “never heard you laugh like that before,”. you tried your best ignored spike’s commentary, latching your arm around the man, faye on the opposite side of him.

you had been seated at a poker table for a good hour now, clapping your hands together enthusiastically to cheer on the man who was your bounty for the night. you had grown exhausted with your facade, but you just had to wait for the perfect opportunity. 

you leaned up against the man’s side, your hand falling to his thigh. “think i left something in my ship, would you mind walking me out?” you said, peering up at him your eyes wide.

he clicked his tongue to the side of his mouth, smirking, before grabbing your waist, and sliding out of the booth. he walked you out of the casino, his hand falling to your backside, full-on grabbing your ass. you held back from ripping his dirty hands off at you, silently praying for the moment where you could give this fucker what he deserved.

“where’s your ship?” he said as you got further into the parking lot. you just smirked at that, faye walking out from the casino. “about that,” you sighed before landing a roundhouse kick to the man’s face. he fell to the ground groaning, and you kicked him once in his stomach for good measure.

you knelt down next to him, pulling the gun from his pants as you hovered over his face, “just so you know, not every woman wants your grimy hands all over them, i’m not a piece of fuckin property,”. you stood back up fully, towering over the man. spike walked out from behind his ship, handcuffs in hand. 

“you, though,” he drawled, sitting the man up and handcuffing his hands behind his back, “are property of the bebop,”. you just smiled at spike, walking him back to spike’s ship. “hurry before his buddies come out here,” you said, basically shoving the man into spike’s ship

“sure you can handle em?” he asked, full and well knowing you were capable of defending yourself. “have i ever had a problem?” you smirked, spike just laughing softly. the pair of you walked away from spike’s ship and back to the entrance of the casino. just in time, you thought. 

“sorry, boys,” you smirked, walking over to the group. faye had positioned herself along the wall of the building, acting as backup for when the fight began. “seems like your friend left,” you shrugged.

“you bitch!” one of his friends shouted, charging at you. you dodged the punch he had thrown, grabbing his arm before flipping him onto his back on the ground. he laid there, squirming in pain. a second man charged at you, spike easily stopping him by swiping the man’s leg with his foot. the man tumbled over, spike landing a kick to his face for good measure.

“who’s next?”

you, faye and spike had cleared out the group, the men laying near the exit of the casino, moans of pain sounding out in the silence of the night. “see ya back on the bebop,” you waved to faye, then to spike with a smile, opening the door to your ship. 

you had decided that after all your hard work, you deserved a treat. you set your ship down near the closest 24 hour liquor store. you opened the door, a bell ringing. you gave a soft wave to the cashier before ducking down the isle, in search of a bottle of wine. 

you grabbed the cheapest one from the shelf, shuffling through the items in your clutch, pulling out your id and card. you set the wine down in front of the cashier, “this all?” he asked, to which you nodded simply. “5.50,” he totaled the amount, and you handed him your card. 

“have a good night,” you said simply, opening the door of the liquor store, the cold air brushing against your face as you walked back to your ship.

“rough night?” spike joked, walking into the living room of the bebop. you simply smiled at the parallel of his words with yours from the night before as you spoke, “guess you could say that,” you sighed, propping your feet up on the table.

the clock read 2:37 AM. the bounty you had collected tonight was on a man named hobi jones, wanted for numerous armed robberies. he now was in the holding cell of the bebop, the plan being to drop him off to the police station in the morning. 

“looks like you’ve turned to the drink,” spike commented, his hand motioning to the bottle you brought to your lips. “a little cheap wine never hurt anybody,” you smiled, handing the bottle over to him. “merlot? didn’t realize it was that bad of night,” spike joked, taking a sip from the bottle.

“hey!” you laughed, “i chose the cheapest shit, not my fault i’m a broke bounty hunter,” “kinda is your fault,”. you both sat in silence for a moment, passing the bottle amongst yourselves. “you’re plotting,” spike said, eyeing you. you turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “huh?” you said simply, smiling softly.

“well, i mean, you’re sitting on the couch, looking like this” his eyes raked over your figure, “and you seduced me into joining you for a bottle of wine,” “seduced you?” you asked, your smile growing now. “if anything,” you teased, setting the bottle down on the table before positioning yourself atop spike’s lap, “i think you coming in here shirtless, practically naked, is a bit slutty, don’t you agree?”. 

spike laughed softly at your words, his hands falling to your hips as he rutted you against his lap, “what are you gonna do about it?” he said simply. your lips were on his in an instance, soft hums falling from both of your lips. “looked so fuckin’ good in that dress tonight,” spike mumbled into your lips, his hands digging into your ass.

“w-wanna blow you,” you whimpered, pulling away from spike’s lips. “god, please,” he groaned, looking down at you as you kissed down his chest. your hands fell to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down his legs. you palmed him through his boxers, his cock already half-hard. 

you tapped at his left thigh, spike lifting his hips up slightly. you tugged the boxers down his body, the fabric pooling around spike’s feet. his cock sprung up, slapping softly against his stomach. “fuck,” you sighed airily, your thumb rubbing across his slit, spreading his precum against the tip of his cock.

“shit,” spike hissed, leaning into your touch. one hand hovered one spike’s thigh, softly scratching at the skin. you wrapped your mouth around the tip, sucking gently, spike letting out a loud sigh. your free hand wrapped around the base of spike’s cock, moving up and down his length along with your mouth.

you pulled away from his member, a string of saliva connected to your lips. you grinned up at spike, the man putting a hand over his eyes with a mutter of “you’re trying to fuckin’ kill me,”. you laughed softly, your eyes falling back down to his cock. 

you planted your hands on his thigh, mumbling against the tip of his cock,  “fuck my throat,”. spike’s breath hitched as he stared down at you, his jaw slack. “please,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. you opened your eyes at the feeling of spike’s thumb brushing across your cheek. 

“yeah? open wide then, tongue out,” spike smirked down at you. your tongue lolled out of your mouth, spike’s hands latching into your hair as he inched your mouth down his cock. “fuck,” he drew out the word, “so good,”. your nose brushed against the skin of his pelvis as you gagged around his cock, your nails digging into his thigh.

“fuck,” he groaned, pulling you off of his cock, “looked so pretty choking on my cock,”. tears were forming in your eyes, close to pooling over your lower lid. a string of spit was connected to your mouth as you panted, catching your breath. “want my cum down your throat?” spike asked, already knowing the answer.

you nodded eagerly, planting your hands back on his thighs. “just use me,” you whined, your hand falling into your panties and rubbing at your clit. spike’s hands were back on your hair, your mouth wrapping around his saliva covered member. “shit,” spike groaned, thrusting into your mouth slightly. “just want me to use you, huh?” his voice was shaky now, spike getting closer to his release.

you gagged on his cock, the sound of you choking sounding throughout the room. tears were falling down your cheeks now, your nose slightly runny, but you reveled in it. you loved the sound of spike losing his mind above you, his hands gripping your hair tighter.

“gonna flood your throat-shit-gonna take it all right?” spike moaned. you couldn’t answer, your mouth full of his cock. spike didn’t wait for an answer, his hip thrusting up once as he pushed you against the base of his cock, your nose pushed against the skin of his pelvis. spike’s load burst into your throat as you tried to swallow in time with the spurts.

he pulled you off his cock slightly, only the tip of his cock on your tongue as one of his hands fell to jerk his length. some of his cum dribbled down your chin as you breathed heavily. spike’s hands fell onto the couch next to him, spike throwing his head back. he looked back down at you, your hands in between your legs, your slick covering your fingers.

“i came,” you whimpered softly, bringing your finger to your lips and wrapping your mouth around the digit. spike laughed softly from above you, “so fuckin’ dirty,” he drawled, his fingers collecting the cum from your chin before being pushed into your mouth, your fingers sucking on his digit.

you smiled up at spike once he removed his finger from your mouth, sighing softly before standing up. “get to bed,” you said softly, “we’ve got some money to make tomorrow,”. spike smiled up at you, “drinks tomorrow?” he said, causing you to pause in walking to your bedroom.

you turned to look at him over your shoulder, grinning, “only if you’re paying,”

the crew had collected a decent amount of money from the bounty, the sum being spent between the four of you, and ed received spending money out of each of your amounts. 

your newfound--and most likely short-lived--wealth was being spent at the bar, spike sitting on the stool next to you. “another round please,” spike raised his hand slightly, the bartender nodding. your cheek was on your hand, your arm leaning on the countertop as you faced spike. 

“you wanna know why i’m such a good kisser,” spike leaned next to your ear, whispering. you laughed softly, raising one eyebrow, “who said you were a good kisser?” you teased. the bartender poured more vodka into your two shot glasses, spike asking for a small bowl of cherries.

“you know i’ll let that dig slide,” he smirked at you, “only cause you look so good,”. you blushed at spike’s words, regaining your composure, “not to bad yourself, spiegel,” you smiled softly. the bartender placed a small glass bowl of cherries next to spike, spike uttering out a short thanks.

“back to my amazing kissing skills,” he said confidently, causing your smile to grow. “watch this,” he said, staring you intently. he took one of the cherries, the stem held in between his thumb and pointer finger. he popped the fruit into his mouth, only the stem held in between his fingers.

“now for the main event,” he smiled, placing the cherry stem on his tongue. he closed his mouth, still staring at you, his eyes twinkling. you could see his cheeks moving, his tongue tying the cherry tongue into a knot. 

he stuck his tongue out, his words jumbled, “see? told you,”. spike stuck his tongue back in his mouth as you muttered, “oh shut up,” attaching your lips to his. the kiss took spike by surprise before he melted into it, his hand falling to your waist. you pulled away, smiling at spike before sticking out your tongue, the cherry stem on your tongue. “see?” you drawled, mimicking spike.

the night ended with spike hiking up your dress in one of the bathroom stalls, his cock pushing into your warm walls. 

you woke up with a blasting headache, the alcohol from last night coming back in full-swing. you groaned, sitting up in your bed, your head in your hands. begrudgingly, you made your way to the kitchen.

the bebop was unnaturally quiet, ed’s laughter wasn’t sounding throughout the living room, nor was faye’s ridiculing tone. you walked into the kitchen, spike sitting at one of the stools at the island. 

“where is everybody?” you asked, pouring yourself coffee from the pot. “jet is at the bank making an investment or some dumb shit like that, faye’s at the casino, and ed,” he paused for a moment, “i don’t know where ed is,”.

you laughed softly, “she always finds her way back here so i’m not too worried,”. you groaned quietly, rubbing at your forehead. “hangover?” spike questioned, to which you nodded. “mrs. cherry stem can’t hold her alcohol then?” spike teased. you just shook your head with a soft smile, “fuck off,” you joked, standing up and opening the kitchen cabinets in search for advil.

“if anything,” you started, finding the advil and popping open the container, “you’re mr. cherry stem, you started that bullshit,”. you put the advil container back away walking over to the stool you were sitting in. 

“i thought you’d be glad i started it, i mean from the way you were yelling my name in the bathroom last night,” he raised his voice an octave, taking on a more nasally tone, “spike! spike!”. you shoved him in his shoulder, spike mocking hurt as he clutched his shoulder with a pouted lip.

“you know you really shouldn’t take advil, doesn’t help much,” he said plainly, taking a sip from his coffee. “i have a much better hangover cure,” he proclaimed, standing up from his seat. you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him shuffle around the kitchen, pulling out a multitude of items.

when he had finally gathered everything, he pointed his finger at you, raising and eyebrow as he tried to contain a smile. “now watch very closely, i’ll only teach you this once,”. you laughed softly, raising your hand to your forehead in salute.

“raw egg yolk,” spike said, cracking the egg into a bowl, your upper lip curling in disgust. “bear with me,” he chuckled. he grabbed the yolk with a spoon, separating it from the egg whites. he placed it into the glass, smiling at you. 

“pepper,” he said, sprinkling the seasoning from the canister on top of the egg yolk in the glass. “now for my favorite part,” he celebrated, grabbing the bottle of gin, pouring some of the liquid into the glass.

“why do i feel like this is gonna make me more drunk if anything,” you sighed, laying your head on your arms as you watched spike. he smiled, “would that really be that bad?”. you chuckled in response, looking over at spike as he grabbed the hot sauce with a proclamation, “last ingredient!”.

“and there you have it, my speciality, a prairie oyster,” he cheered, pushing the glass over to you. “spike,” you began to complain, drawing out his name. “jus’ try it! it works wonders, promise you,” he reassured you. 

“if i die, i’m haunting you in the afterlife,” “i’d welcome it,”. you grabbed the glass, lifting it to your mouth, swallowing the entirety of its substance. “yuck,” you exclaimed after swallowing, sticking out your tongue. “they grow up so fast,” spike teased, causing you to smile over at him. 

“you want pancakes?” you asked, standing up from your stool as you moved throughout the kitchen, grabbing pancake mix from the pantry, blueberries from the fridge. “you know me so well,” spike said, standing up after you. he leaned on the wall, watching you mix the pancake batter.

“need some music,” he stated, grabbing his phone. dream by the pied pipers began playing through the speaker of his phone, spike’s arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “gonna make me burn myself,” you laughed, pouring the batter into the pan.

“dance with me then,” spike said, spinning you around. you gasped before smiling up at him. “may i have this dance?” he joked, curtsying. “you may,” the grin audible in your voice as you held out your hand.

spike grabbed your hand, pulling you close, his hands falling to your waist, your hands latching behind his neck. he hadn’t stopped looking at you, a soft smile still on his face. you shuffled around the kitchen, step-together-step, spike grinning now. 

“my pancake’s gonna burn,” you laughed softly, leaning up to give spike a chaste kiss before wiggling out of his hold. you walked over to the stove, grabbing the spatula and flipping the pancake over.

spike’s arms were around your waist once more, spike leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulder, only a thin tank top strap covering the skin. “so clingy today, spike,” you teased. “jus’ wanna be close,” he mumbled into your skin. “s’alright,” you said softly, your cheeks flushing with heat.

you felt that familiar feeling clutch onto your heart, but you pushed it away, not wanting to recognize what it meant, not wanting to be reminded of its familiarity. 

faye’s voice broke you from the comfort of spike’s arms, “hello lovebirds,” she said, walking over to the kitchen island. “faye,” you reprimanded slightly, telling her not to go any further. she just laughed, raising an eyebrow at you as spike now stood further away from you. he paused the music on his phone, his eyes still lingering on your face.

“you can take the first one spike,” you said, placing the blueberry pancake on a plate and handing it to spike.  

you were sitting on your bed, your mini yamaha keyboard sitting in front of you. your fingers played different chords as you quietly sung along. a knock on your door broke you from your tranquility as you raised your voice, “come in,”.

the door slid open, spike standing behind it. “hey,” you said, smiling up at him. you hadn’t really talked since this morning, faye interrupting whatever moment was going on between the two of you. maybe it was a good thing that she had interrupted you. 

maybe you were getting to attached, maybe this was becoming more than just forgetting. was it more for spike? “y/n, hey,” spike waved his hand in front of your face breaking you from your thoughts. “sorry,” you muttered, “zoned out for a sec, what’d ya need,” you said, patting the bed for spike to sit down.

he sat, tracing his finger across your keyboard, “didn’t know you played,” he said, looking at you intently. “not very well,” you smiled, “plus it’s a mini keyboard, not much i can do with it,” “play something for me,” spike suggested.

“i’m really not very good spi-” “please?” he asked, and you couldn’t help but oblige. your fingers pressed on the simple chords, your voice adding onto the music.

“sweet creature,” you sung softly, “had another talk about where it’s going wrong,”. you continued singing, your fingers pressing the keys in accordance to the notes you were singing. you couldn’t look up at spike, embarrassment consuming you as your eyes remained glued to your keyboard.

unable to cope with the feeling brewing in your stomach, you lifted your hand away from the keyboard. you mustered up the courage to look up at spike, his cheeks flushed a light pink, “y-your voice,” his voice broke for a moment, and you could visibly see him swallow. his voice grew quieter, “it’s really pretty,”.

you both sat there in silence for a moment. you could see the slightest hint of hurt etched on spike’s face, but it wasn’t your room to question why. you just wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug and muttering a “thank you,” into his skin. 

you don’t know how long you remained that way, but eventually spike’s arms were clutching onto you, your body acting as his anchor. you were his anchor.

though the two of you had gotten distracted for a moment, spike had originally come into your room to ask if you wanted to go grab something to eat. you now sat in a booth at spike’s favorite ramen restaurant. “s’good huh?” spike smiled as he watched you slurp up noodles.

“why have i never been invited here before?” you chastised jokingly, “can’t believe you would hide something like this from me,” you said dramatically, grabbing more noodles with your chopsticks. “i’ll only come here with you from now on,” spike promised. you couldn’t help the way your heartbeat quickened at his words.

“they give free matcha ice cream after the meal too,” spike added. you dropped your chopsticks into your bowl, looking over at spike with a smile. “i think i’m in heaven,” you reasoned, spike laughing softly.

spike had asked for the ice cream to go, and the pair of you now walked around the city center, matcha ice creams in hand. you pointed out a boutique, you and spike walking inside. the store was full of jewelry, candles, and other random items. you scanned through the rings sitting in a jewelry case. 

your eye fell on a green aventurine ring, the jewel grabbing your attention.”the green one?” spike asked, turning towards you. you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a soft smile on your face, “how’d you know?” you asked, looking back down at the ring.

“suits you,” he said, his shoulder brushing against yours, “get it,”. you shook your head, turning to look around the store, “blew most of my bounty money already, shouldn’t spend anymore,” you reasoned. “did i say you’d be paying?” spike said, almost as though it puzzled him that you thought you’d pay for your own ring.

“spike, i can’t let you d-” “quit being stubborn, grab the ring,” he interrupted, walking towards the cash register. you grabbed the ring, quickly following behind him. the cashier rang it up with a mumble of, “7 dollars and 37 cents”. spike handed her a 10 dollar bill before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the store.

he grabbed your hand, slipping the ring on your pointer finger, “s’pretty,” he murmured, looking back up at your face. “yeah,” you said softly, and before your brain could catch up, you were wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him in for a hug.

“thank you,” you mumbled into spike’s chest, the giving a short hum in answer.

though cacri had been a beautiful planet, you were glad to be somewhere with a beautiful beach. hot, white sand that toasted the soles of your feet, almost crystal clear water. you were lounging in a beach chair, an umbrella over your face. you were reading an old play titled blithe spirit, you had picked it up from a bookstore after the ramen date with spike.

you reasoned that you shouldn’t call it a date, feelings already being designated as non-acceptable. you sighed, pushing your sunglasses onto your hair. though spike was the reason for your inner turmoil, you couldn’t help but watch him splash ed with water. 

he had a huge grin on his face, and you could hear his laughter. your eyes raked further down his body, pausing on his abdomen before you turned your attention back to your book. 

“you brought food right,” you heard spike’s voice, lifting your head as you saw him jogging towards you. ‘mhm’ you nodded, leaning over your chair and tapping on the picnic basket.

“ohh yum,” spike cheered, pulling out the container of chocolate covered strawberries. “want one?” he said, holding the fruit out to you. you accepted with a smile, biting down on the chocolate covered delicacy. a small amount of juice dribbled down your chin, spike laughing softly at you.

“always so messy,” he sighed, his thumb collecting the strawberry juice before bringing the digit to his tongue and lifting it up. you could feel the heat in your cheeks, that familiar tingle spreading throughout your body. 

“bathing suit’s pretty on you,” he complimented, his eyes raking over your figure with a smirk. he bit the chocolate covered strawberry whole, placing the remains on the cover of the container. 

“thanks for the snack,” spike grinned, running back down towards the shoreline. jet groaned from beside you, flipping over onto his back. 

“you guys disgust me,” he grumbled.

jet and ed walked back to jet’s ship with calls of, “see you back on the ship,”. faye had spent the day at the casino, and you teased her slightly for it earlier in the morning when she discussed her plans for the day.

you and spike had crammed into his ship for the beach trip, and you found yourself attempting to stuff towels and a picnic basket into the tight area. eventually, you both were seated, spike’s ship lifting off. 

“heard this song the other day,” spike said, looking at you for a second before focusing his attention back in front of him. “search up hey lover by daughter’s of eve,” he said, tilting his head towards his phone that sat in the center console of the ship. 

you grabbed the device, typing in the song title. music flooded the speakers of spike’s ship as you smiled at his head bobbing along to the beat. “hey hey hey lover,” spike sung off pitch, causing you to laugh softly.

he smiled over at you, “s’ earth music,” he said, turning the volume down slightly. “from the 1960s or something, long time ago,” “s’neat,” you smiled over at him. spike’s hand fell back to the volume nozzle, the music growing louder once more. 

spike’s hand grabbed yours causing you to gasp softly. he closed your hand into a fist, using it as a makeshift microphone as he continued to sing off-key. “focus on getting us back to the bebop,” you laughed softly, pulling your hand from his hold.

you sought out comfort from spike, your hand grabbing his. you soon realized the gravity of your actions, planning to pull away, but spike’s hand softly squeezed yours. you let your hands rest latched together on the center console as the moon began its ascent in the night sky. 

spike had come into your room that night, his body snuggling against yours under the cover. your soft breaths became synchronized as his arm wrapped around your midsection, the pair of you drifting off into sleep

that morning when you woke up, spike was no longer next to you.

you couldn’t help but wonder what you had done wrong. did he realize you had fallen in love with him? did you even realize it? you shook away the thoughts, getting into your ship.

spike had ignored you the entirety of the day, rushing out of the kitchen once he had seen you. you had decided that you needed some weed, something to calm you down. you were using it as a coping mechanism. you hadn’t gotten high in a while, most of your time spent with spike. 

you had blanked out the entire flight there, your brain on autopilot. you set your ship down, pushing open the door as you stepped out of your ship. the bell on the dispensary door rang, the cashier giving you a soft wave which you returned with a smile. you grabbed rolling paper, and a small bag of bud, the cashier totaling the amount.

“thanks,” you said softly, pushing open the door. you walked back to your ship, your mind flooded with images of spike, overrun with worries. on a lighter note, the planet you were on for this next bounty was actually one you had been to before. 

there was a beautiful lookout area that you had gone to with faye, and in no rush to return to the bebop, you set your destination for the lookout spot.

you had only been at the lookout for about 30 minutes when you felt the first drop of rain hit your skin. “fuck,” you grumbled. you set the joint down onto the dirt, stepping on it before you rushed into your ship. the rain was hitting the windshield, your ship lifting off as you headed back to the bebop.

the rain seemed to worsen as you got closer to the bebop, the raindrops hitting your windshield sounding like pellets. you set your ship down on the landing strip of the bebop, groaning at the thought of having to rush inside. you prepared yourself for the feeling of the cold rain on your skin, pushing open the door of your ship.

you yelped slightly, rushing down the landing strip and towards the entrance gate, which to your surprise, was already open. a figure was rushing towards you, and you soon made it out to be spike. the ship had been set down in the water for the night, close to the harbor, the lamplights from the sidewalk lighting up spike’s face.

“where were you,” he yelled as he rushed over to you. “you didn’t care earlier,” you grumbled walking towards the entrance of the bebop. spike grabbed your hand, turning you back towards him. “i was worried about you,” he yelled over the sound of the rain, and you couldn’t tell if tears were forming in your eyes or if it was just the rain. 

“yeah?” you yelled, your voice shaky, “all i’ve been doing all fucking day is worrying about you!” you ennunciated the last word with a jab to his chest. the rain was still coming down hard, your eyes squinting. “i can’t-” your voice hiccuped, your throat feeling tighter, “c-can’t do this anymore, spike,”. 

spike eyes remained at you, his bottom lip under his upper one. “it was jus’ to forget right?” you continued at spike’s silence, “so it doesn’t matter,”. you turned back walking towards the entrance once more.

“wasn’t to forget,” spike yelled over the rain, walking towards you as you paused your movements. “i-i was so scared this morning,” his voice quieted for a moment and you had to lean in to hear him. “you were humming something in your sleep, some tune,” he paused, looking down at the floor.

“every thing reminded me of her, every whistle i heard along to the melody of a song, every hum along to a certain tune,” he was looking at you now. “b-but for once, th-this wasn’t her anymore. i didn’t think about her,” spike’s voice broke. 

“it was only you,” he finished. you responded in the only way you saw acceptable, your hands planting on spike’s cheek as you pulled him in for a kiss. “s’ only been you,” spike mumbled into your lips. “only you,” you mumbled back. the kiss grew more passionate before you both pulled away, breathless. “

“i’m sorry,” he said, pulling you into him, your face pressing against the wet fabric of his shirt. “just want you,” you hiccuped, tears falling down your face now. “i’m not leaving,” spike reassured you.

the rain cascaded over your bodies, the memories of a past love washing away along with it. as the sky cleared, the moon marked the creation of new memories. new love blossomed with the dew.

[riathedreamer]

Zero is Null

A discussion of Zero’s love-hate-relationship with RvB and struggling independence; including a hotdog too big for the bun, tragic backstories, a single bow-chicka-bow-wow, and a cookie at the very end.

Welcome to what will be a lot of text. Basically, it will explore why Zero fails as an RvB (with emphasis on RvB) season. I will not be the first one to bring forth some of the points, and I promise to be fair and civil and fun. This isn’t supposed to be a piece of hate – in fact, I’m writing this because I love Red vs. Blue.

Okay, first of all, to increase your fun – take a guess on just how much of Zero is spent on fight scenes. You see, I’ve calculated the exact amount, and I will reveal it later, but for now, take a guess and remember the number. Maybe you are the winner!

Alright, time to share my thoughts. Wait! Since I suffer from anxiety and have this one annoying voice pretending to be all those critical statements my opinion could be met with, let’s give it an actual voice and address the points throughout this review.

“Why would I care about your opinion, Ria?” – I don’t know, you’re the one who clicked Read More.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter!” – Of course, it doesn’t! Geez. Do you think your opinion matters, though? Listen, we’re on Tumblr, the actual equivalent of screaming into the void. And it’s fun, too!

“If you don’t like it, don’t watch!” - *activates Uno Reverse Card* “You can’t talk about something you haven’t watched!”

“You’re just a Hater” – Actually, this is a point I’ll come back to. Like a cliffhanger. Also, at the end of this, there’ll be a cookie. But this will also include me talking about the stuff I like, because, surprise, Zero is not without talent!

“You just don’t like it because the Reds and Blues aren’t in it!” – Actually, that’s a good point, so instead, this review will start with a sole focus on Zero and discuss the problem that lies within that story. Then we can address why the lack of OG cast is understandable and problematic and weird.

But first! Backstory.

When the first 5 second teaser dropped back in spring (you know, when we were young and innocent and the world didn’t feel like an apocalyptic movie yet), I held onto that one image of what I thought (hoped) to be Grif and Simmons in the sunset, hopefully addressing Grif’s hateglue arc, but boy was I wrong because a) that’s not Simmons, that’s Sarge, and b) the image was from a PSA since the Reds are not in Zero.

Actual face-reveal of me below:

Admittedly, when I heard that the Reds and Blues were not going to be the main characters (or even show up), it felt like a gut punch. However, I actually found myself getting excited due to the creators’ hype. I want to praise them for this. It’s been a while since an RvB season was talked so much ABOUT before its release; it had advertisements, it had creators and voice-actors talking about it. Please. More of that in the future. Their passion rubbed off on me, and that deserves recognition. So it pains me that this was clearly a passion-project, and then when I gave it a try, I didn’t want to touch it again for weeks.

Here’s the thing. I cannot whole-heartedly say that Zero is bad. It’s not gonna melt your eyes. It’s not even so-bad-it’s-good. For me, it’s meh. It’s a Saturday-morning-cartoon aimed for a younger audience with a rushed plot and clichéd characters. The problem is that it calls itself RvB, and with that title comes something to live up to – but more importantly, something to continue.

My main issue is that Zero forces its story into existence by ignoring established content rather than adjusting to it. Let’s call this for the hotdog-too-big-for-the-bun syndrome solely for the sake of the bow-chicka-bow-wow that’s coming now. Bow-chicka-bow-wow. Many of the separate issues I will dive into all add to this hotdog-issue, so I will scream “Hotdog!” whenever this is the case so we can all keep track of my argument.

You can continue the story of Red vs. Blue without the Reds and Blues. While that would personally crush my heart, it can be done. There’s a story of Red vs. Blue that can be continued. The world can be expanded, the previous actions of the Reds and Blues can be explored from another angle.

So.

How does Zero do this? It doesn’t.

I just want to make it clear that new elements can definitely be added when it comes to worldbuilding. That’s literally the point of sequels. But Zero’s settings are presented with so little grace and with no connection to previously established worldbuilding. We get Alliance of Defense and GLASS thrown in our face as very big important organizations – yet we’ve never heard of them before. A big central plot point of RvB is the UNSC and Project Freelancers, and those were introduced naturally with the plot. We already have big established intergalactic organizations. What is AOD’s connection with those? We aren’t told. We are just told they exist and expected to accept it, no questions asked. If this was a whole new world and story – fine. But when you need to build on an already established worldbuilding, you need more grace than this. Chorus was a whole new setting, but it was explained, and it was connected to the previous plot. Same with Iris. Same with Desert Gulch. In Zero, it feels lazy. It feels forced. These organizations are just there because the story is built around them (HOTDOG).

This vagueness when it comes to wordbuilding is also reflected in the settings - we have a desert, a training base, a lab, temples, Tucker’s workplace, and we do not know if all those are set place on the same planet. If that is the case, what is this planet’s relationship with Chorus? Is it Earth? And most importantly, what is the deal with the temples? Why are they connected to Tucker’s sword if it isn’t the same planet. Are they made by the same aliens? Are people okay with this? Why haven’t these temples been explored before? Chorus makes sure to establish this, while Zero doesn’t, adding to a growing amount of confusion.

Okay, so no connection with previous worldbuilding. What about characters? I mean, we got Wash and Carolina and Tucker! So we have RvB characters, it gotta be RvB! Technically – yeah. But it feels dirty. These three characters are not here to be characters. They are here to be props to the new cast. They are not given any development. Their presence isn’t even that important, and if this was a whole new show, they could easily have been replaced with an unknown face. Worst of all, they feel miswritten.

Carolina and Wash are working at a new military organization? Leaving the Reds and Blues behind? To help people? First of all, fucking bad idea, Carolina, the last time you left the Reds and Blues alone, they changed the timeline. But most importantly – Carolina and Wash just joined this new super elite military organization? After being mistreated and manipulated by such an organization in the past?

Carolina is there to introduce the characters. That’s it. We are force-fed their personality by having her literally read out loud their personality. There is no gentle introduction to the new cast. We are not allowed to get to know them naturally. Why show when you can tell, huh? That’s Carolina’s role. That’s why she is there. To introduce the cast and explain their story. That’s it. (HOTDOG).

How about Wash? He is there to get beat up and be a damsel in distress so that the new cast has a reason to explore the plot. Oh, and that brain damage that was the consequence of previous seasons – gone now. The guy who literally has trauma from having an AI explode inside his head is fine with having a computer inserted into it instead. Because that’s needed. To explore his brain damage wouldn’t work now when his role is to be a prop to lure the new cast for one episode and then be put onto the bench for the rest of the runtime (HOTDOG).

And Tucker – he is there to die for a second and have his sword taken from him. That’s literally it. And for the few moments he is there, he feels like old super flirty Tucker, which erases the character development he went through in previous seasons. Okay, so Tucker dies, and then not dies, and then he is put on the bench with Wash where they can sit and talk or whatever (‘cause holy shit, the new cast is not allowed to that), because he isn’t important. The sword is. Tucker is just a prop, even more than his sword is (HOTDOG).

Damn. Wash gets beat up. Tucker gets beat up. Dies. Gets his sword taken away. Almost seems like a Red’s wet dream. Sorry not sorry, Blues, you were done dirty.

So there are miswritten old characters. Even worse is the retconning. The plot needs a “normal” Wash, so, bam, magic computer solution. Never mind Wash’s trauma and character traits. Never mind the logic of the new worldbuilding which also includes a character suffering for years to heal an illness. But the brain damage that was such a big consequence that it became the main part of the plot of the last two seasons – gone. I mean, a gunshot to the head can be healed by CPR. That’s canon. But no one gave Wash CPR so it’s a big thing, okay. It was canonically a big thing, and Zero erased that. This is not me saying that a Cerebral Enhancer couldn’t work in the RvB universe. Imagine it being done right. Wash struggling with the choice of getting used to his disability or accepting the possibility of help - at the cost of reliving his trauma. The struggle between what to choose - what should he choose when he wants to help as many as possible, the sacrifices he thinks he has to make, the way it could have been used as a part of his character growth. But in Zero, the enhancer isn’t a part of Wash’s character. It’s there so the story can work without having to deal with the previous plot’s consequence (HOTDOG).

Same with the sword thing. They sorta explain it by having Tucker flatline, but it’s weak. Honestly, I find it sorta offensive. What about Locus’ sword as well? It’s twisting previous lore to make the new plot work (HOTDOG). (Also, are we not gonna talk about the ultimate power being Spencer Porkensenson’s helmet? Have the writers forgotten Spencer Porkensenson? Have we as a community forgotten Spencer Porkensenson?)

If you have Red vs. Blue in your title, you cannot ignore what you inherit from it. You need to respect the worldbuilding, the established characters, and the previous plot. Zero does not do this.

Let’s talk about the Triplets. No, really, let’s do it. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about them before, because season 14 was a mixed bag for me (that I have now learned to appreciate. Thank you, Zero.) because I have heart at the size of the Grinch and can only love a few characters at a time, and that did not include the Triplets. Can’t even remember their names. Well, I can, but I can’t for the love of me remember which state is which, and my tongue is twisted every time I try to say Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho, and I know it’s on purpose. I know it is. And it got me good. That being said, the fandom actually embraced them really, really well! Seriously, I’ve seen more content for the Triplets than for Zero as a whole.

Why talk about the Triplets? (Was Iowa the lesbian? Or was it Ohio? Fuck.) Because like Zero, they introduced new characters with a story of their own. The Reds and Blues didn’t play a role. But here’s what I feel like the Triplets got right. They didn’t change the settings to force their narrative. They used stuff already established (Project Freelancer), added their own story as a continuation of that. They even included old characters in the beginning (Wash and some other Freelancers) but it felt natural and it didn’t feel like it happened at the expense of the old characters. Wash’s writing felt natural, and his presence wasn’t needed to tell these new character’s stories. He wasn’t a prop to them. He was there to establish the setting and to establish the relationship with these new characters, and then he and the other familiar faces (helmets??) left, and we as the viewers were left with these new characters. And the new characters told their own story by themselves. It felt like, hey, here’s something you know – remember Mother of Invention, and remember Wash’ lower rank, but now, try to imagine being even lower rank than him, aren’t you curious about those fates? Now let’s hear their story! It was new, it was something else, but it didn’t wreck what came before it, and it stayed true to the classic vibes of RvB.

As I said before, the hotdog-issue is my biggest problem with Zero. It infuriates me. I will return to this. But there are more issues, even if we try to look past the title-related problems.

If we try to imagine Zero as its own story and universe (as it should be, in my opinion), it still earns the meh review from me.

These isolated issues include awkwardness, the writing, lack of self-awareness, and pacing. First of all, holy shit, this is a tell, don’t show. Nothing is subtle, nothing is allowed to develop. It’s like the show thinks you are six years old with an attention span of a goldfish. You are not just led by the hand – they have literally pulled off your arm by the end of the show. We are force-fed every bit of information, every bit of personality from these new characters.

The voice-acting is a mixed bag for me. Sometimes it’s pretty good, sometimes it’s not. Some of the problems can definitely be blamed on the dialogue that you can only do so much with. It’s not good. I can’t remember any good jokes (the one joke I really appreciate was the cast on armor, and that was freaking visual humor. That was so RvB. Kudos to that. It was fun. More of that, please.), and RvB is known for having memorably good lines. This is a show built on good, clever, funny dialogue. Zero does not deliver. You have to sit through clichéd lines – “You’re not my dad”, “I trusted you”, “Come with me”, “It can’t be!”, “She’s way too powerful”, and “We have to do this together” – performed unironically. I cringed more than I laughed. Worst thing is that Zero could be a good parody. Sometimes, it feels like it is. One-dimensional characters, a villain wanting ‘the ultimate power’, very overpowered characters, bad one-liners, etc. But Zero takes itself seriously, and I was one of the people rooting for Jax to show up at the end and yell “Cut”. That would have been a funny-as-fuck twist. A spin-off parody. If I can’t have “Sarge the Movie”, I would have taken that and loved it. I would have forgiven everything. “We put so much info into finding that power, but we had no idea what it was” is really a line in the finale, and I cannot believe this is real in a show that somehow still tries to present itself as serious. What a plot.

We have to talk about pacing. God, first of all it should be stated that RvB is a mess when it comes to pacing. I honestly get what they were going for. Sometimes, RvB has come across as a bit boring when you get three episodes stretched over three weeks without much going on. I know season 11 did not have the warmest welcome because it was seen as boring until the finale. But when you see season 11 as a whole, as a movie, as a part of a trilogy, it works so well. Zero is more focused on being episodic. They want something to happen all the time so we will stay tuned. The thing that will happen – a fight. Oh god. The fight scenes.

I have done the math. I have run the numbers. I deserve a freaking cookie for this. Are you ready?

If you put all the episodes together, you have a runtime of 106 minutes. HOWEVER, with the introduction of credits in every episode, you gotta account for this. Removing the credits, this gives us 94 minutes of actual runtime. Out of that, 45 minutes are dedicated to fight scenes. That means 48% of the show is fight scenes.

If I wanted that many fight scenes, I’d watch Death Battle. Except the actual RvB Death Battle episode has a runtime of 20 minutes, and out of that, 5 minutes is dedicated to the actual battle. For the people who hate math – that’s 25% of the actual runtime.

RvB Zero has more fight scenes than a show called Death Battle. Take that in.

The pace suffers from this. Where’s the time to explore the characters? Where’s the time for good dialogue? All I can think of is this:

I get that RvB is a show that’s literally making fun of itself by acknowledging all their characters do is stand around and talk. I get that you want characters to do more than that. But for the love of Church, would it kill the new characters to stand around and talk? For just a minute? Stop fighting, I am begging you, stop fighting! Am I a pacifist now? Am I purple? Have I joined Doc’s team? What has Zero done to me?!

The good thing though is that fight scenes are very good. They’re entertaining. However, they seem to deconstruct themselves when we need to get a fight scene in every episode. Usually, the few fight scenes in an RvB season were in some of the most climatic episodes. In Zero, I can hardly keep up with the pace because they won’t stop moving. Fight scenes aren’t plot. They aren’t character development. You need more than just fight scenes. They entertain, but there’s a limit to that.

Noël Wiggins, the co-writer, stated the inspiration was a Saturday-morning cartoon. They nailed that vibe. If that was their goal, hurray, they have accomplished something! Because of the poor plot and constant fight scenes, it feels like you could just switch on the TV and drop in at any moment and let yourself be entertained by the cool and colorful soldiers punching and kicking each other. I will admit that the fight scenes entertained me. But they don’t make it a good season.

If I were the six-year-old with the attention span of a goldfish that the show believes I am, I honestly would enjoy it. The stiff dialogue and the constant tell-don’t-show makes you feel like an audience that’s not supposed to do anything else but admire the flashy fight scenes. I miss the cleverness of RvB. I miss the characters I get to connect with as I see them grow.

I miss the tone of RvB. Because this isn’t RvB to me.

It’s not that RvB hasn’t changed its tone before. Holy shit, I sorta do want to experience the absolute shock the RvB fandom went through when s6 aired and they were given new characters and serious plot. I would have loved to experience that, but I was too busy being ten years old. The Freelancers seasons also introduced a new tone and more fight scenes with very talented fighters compared to the Blood Gulch gang, but a balance was kept by having half of the season still revolving around the Reds and Blues. But Zero – Zero is so much change. And it’s on purpose. At least this has been made very clear from the beginning.

They constantly seem to appeal to new fans, rather than be directed towards older fans of the show. If you want an entirely new audience with a season with a new cast, new worldbuilding, and new tone, I’m confused as to why they don’t just make a new show. The hotdog-problem begs for this solution. This story and environment and characters feel so out of touch with the original RvB, that with a few rewrites and lack of Halo-armor, it could just be a new show. Problem solved.

If not this, then present it as a spin-off. In all ways, it feels like a spin-off (again, see everything marked HOTDOG). But the creators refuse to do this, and I don’t understand why. I could forgive many of these issues, had they officially separated themselves from canon.

Ah, what’s the idiom? You can’t both swallow and blow? (You can hear the Bow-chicka-bow-wow in the distance). Something about eating cake and having it. Forgive me, English isn’t my native language. POINT IS why are you calling yourself RvB while actively fighting against the core essence of RvB? In my humble opinion, you can’t be both. Marketing it as a spin-off would have granted it some defense when changing, well, literally everything, and I just, would someone please properly describe why it isn’t a spin-off? Isn’t this season marked by its association with the plot of RvB rather than a continuation of it? Zero presenting itself as not a spinoff feels like a toddler clinging to the hem of its mother’s dress while forcefully running away from her, ripping the dress in the process.

When they do connect with the original RvB, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. When they let Carolina, Wash, and Tucker appear for a moment, it feels like luring viewers in with the RvB title. Look at me. Look at me! I’m not saying this is the case. I say that it gives me the annoying vibes of being lured, rather than letting the characters be a part of the show for their own development, rather than having RvB in the title to continue its story. I should not be getting these vibes at all. But I am.

If you want to use RvB in the title, something from the core of RvB needs to be embraced. Things can be changed. They should. Something new should be brought in. But there’s a limit to how much you can change and replace and twist until it would have been better with an original show. As a season of RvB, it should tell the story of Red vs. Blue.

From my perspective, Zero fails to do so.

It pains me that the old cast has been replaced, but as stated earlier, a season could have worked without them. However, I do not like the take that one should be excited about all the new characters. That it isn’t a big thing that the OG cast got replaced. That we should just deal with it. Just, try to imagine another show suddenly replacing the main characters with characters we’ve never met before. Imagine RWBY suddenly only focusing on a new team of huntresses with the previous main characters reduced to an Easter Egg presence, or Camp Camp suddenly being about a new team of campers, no warning given. Can you imagine the outcry? So maybe let’s agree that a replacement of the main cast is a big thing and should be addressed and it’s valid to be upset about this change.

Could Zero have worked? It’s hard to answer this. How can I accept something as RvB if the season actively pushes away the core of RvB aside for an isolated story that could have been told in any other media? As a spinoff, I could have ignored it. To enjoy Zero, I have to fully separate it from RvB in my mind, and then it’s alright. S’not good. But it’s not bad. It’s entertaining enough. I really ended up liking Raymond and Tiny, and there were a few good jokes, and the fight scenes were admirable (but too much) and I love the creators’ passion. But it’s not RvB. I also wish that the new characters had been attached to previous worldbuilding, for example soldiers on Chorus or agents from Project Freelancer. That way we could build on familiar lore which would have decreased the confusion and added a much needed connection with the previous seasons of RvB.

God, the anxious voice is back (by the way, it sounds like Tutter from “Bear in the Blue House”).

“You’re racist” – I hope not. Literally, I do not want to be. Tell me if I’ve ever crossed some lines, because I swear, that is not my intention, I will apologize and most of all, change and do better. I included this because I’ve seen this take thrown around in the big ugly mess that is the fandom clashes regarding Zero. And racism is problem within RT community (this includes AH and RvB, sorry, I just use RT as an umbrella term for the latter), and I’m not saying it hasn’t been a problem with this season. Writers should never be harassed, and never-fucking-ever because of their skin color, and voice actors shouldn’t be treated like they are responsible for the choices of the show. But I was legit nervous to post this review, and I hope it’s been factual without feeling like personal attacks on the creators because that has never been my intention. I was delighted to hear about the diversity behind this project, and Torrian’s passion legit blew me away because it’s been a while since I’ve seen that for an RvB project. I’d hoped for it to be good, and when I feel disappointed, it’s for the reasons stated in this analysis. That said, Zero is made by a diverse cast and it’s made with love, and both of those things are so, so great, but it does not mean that Zero cannot be criticized. It can, and it should. It’s a product, just like all the other seasons, and fans are allowed to discuss it – both what they loved, and both what they found troublesome. And to repeat previous points, and be respectful, always, fuck racists, and never-fucking-ever harass the staff behind a season, what the fuck is wrong with you if you do this.

“Don’t you get it, it’s different because it’s trying something new!” – Hey, remember the philosophical question: if you replace all the parts of a ship one-by-one, is it still the same ship when you’re done? If it doesn’t include the Reds and Blues, if it ignores previous plot, if the old characters feel miswritten, if it values animation over dialogue, if it values fight scenes over comedy, if it wants to be Fast and Furious instead of Red vs. Blue – is it still Red vs. Blue? Because it doesn’t feel like it to me.

“It's been 17 seasons, it’s time to let the Reds and Blues go so someone else can shine!” – I simply do not understand us having been with the Reds and Blues for 17 seasons should be an argument to let them go, rather than be an argument as to why their absence hurt like hell.

“The Reds and Blues ran out of things to do!” – Did- did they, though? I mean, if we were discussing pretty much any other show, I’d probably agree that they were running out of content. But for the Reds and Blues… I think the PSAs nailed it this year! I’m not kidding, I had more fun watching the Reds and Blues discuss how to do laundry than watching Zero. You could literally give me an hour of the Reds and Blues trying to bake a cake or clear a gutter or simply settling down with an ordinary life, and I would trust them to make it worth the watch.

“The flaws were due to the fact it’s only 8 episodes long!” – Look, I can only judge a product the way it’s presented to me. I cannot come up with excuses for it. If they had 8 episodes to work with, they need to come up with a plot that works with this runtime. Seriously, this excuse cannot work when 48% of the season is spent on fight scenes. They could have used more runtime, sure, but the show needs to be able to pace itself and be planned accordingly.

“The OG cast couldn’t be a part of this year, hence Zero!” – That might be true. But. Would one year without RvB kill it? Is Zero necessary? Again, I just can’t judge excuses for the show. But trouble with the cast has been an issue before. Season 15 solves Geoff’s sabbatical by actually making Grif’s absence a part of the plot. Zero’s lack of Reds and Blues just feels like this excuse to tell a story that needn’t be a part of RvB.

Am I a hater? I guess? I greatly dislike Zero for the critique stated above. I do, however, not harass the creators and no one should ever do that. However, I have to admit that I feel there’s been this weird rejection of any critique of Zero where everything’s been brushed off as haters gonna hate, including the critique stated above. And I think that’s a problem because critique, as hard as it can be to hear (and I know this. I’m an author of original works. Weird flex, I know), is valid and necessary and shouldn’t just be shrugged away. As always, both sides of the fandom should always be respectful, but my own opinion is that addressing the flaws of Zero should not be controversial.

Does this super long rant/critique/whatever mean you cannot enjoy Zero? Gods no! I almost envy you if you enjoy this season, but holy shit, feel free to love it and tell the creators that you love it! Me pointing out the issues I have with the season shouldn’t be stopping you. I loved (and still love) s15 when it came out, and it was majorly rejected by the fandom. There were many, many critical posts, people were going on about how RvB should have ended with s13, and it evolved into the writer receiving death threats (me, once again: never ever harass the creators, assholes). But I didn’t tell people to stop being negative. I actually agreed with many of the flaws that were pointed out, and I enjoyed the season despite this, because that is possible. We, as RvB fans, should agree that RvB, is... I mean, it’s not the greatest, most flawless of shows, but we love it nonetheless. So go ahead and love Zero. This is not a stop sign. This is my opinion that you chose to read.

Wait, I promised you a cookie, didn’t I? Well, you’re not getting one. Why? Because I’m a Red and this is my chance to piss off a Blue. As Caboose wisely said: “Well, at least I don't go around... knocking on people's non-doors... and promising them cookies... and then NOT. GIVING. THEM. COOKIES!”

Blue Team sucks.

End speech.

[gobstoppr]

a ramble about . having hand and wrist pain that all started hitting me at once .theres no real thesis i just have been thinking about shit . happy disability awareness month .

god for what, over 4months now , ive had chronic hand/wrist pain thats made it fucking frustrating as all hell to do . the things i want to do . i cant play games for hours at a time . i can barely draw for over 30 minutes at a time without a break (oftentimes i have to take breaks long before that point) . i cant scroll on my dash forever since even with the keyboard shortcuts it strains over time (sidenote but CHRIST can i just . but a bookmark on a point on my dash. i want to come back there later and scroll from there . iwant the site to stop lagging ). everything i do i have to consider how bad my bones will hurt from it and if i can do it, if its something i can adjust to make easier on my hands, if its something worth 'wasting' what i call my 'hand stamina' for the afternoon. like oh if i play video game then i wont be able to draw or do shit for like at least 30min .

ive gone to the doctors. ive gone to the tests . its not carpel tunnel they say ! thank you for clearing that option after 3.5 months of pain. now i get to do more trial and error tests to see what i have . ive finally gotten at least like. the orders to let me get physical therapy so hopefully that can help . just side note i fucking HATE decentralized medical care holy SHIT why cant this info just be fucking shared between u guys . i wait 2 weeks between getting to go into the doctor and say 'yea mate it still fucking hurts' so they can give me a different appointment 2 weeks later and so on . its so much fucking treading water . weve been over this bullshit . why do i have to wait 2 weeks to see the dr for 10 minutes and then figure out an appointment . i just fucking . god .

i have to go to college in a month . im not going to be better in a month . im definetly never reaching what was once 'normal' condition for a long time . its . its hard to think about that shit . i feel like ive been trapped ykno.

i remember . for about 3 months. starting in late september 2021. i was having an absolute fucking blast . i had spamton brainrot . i could pump out several small doodles a day, sometimes multiple cleaned up/colored sketches, every couple weeks i might make a fully finished piece . i could spend hours upon hours just. doing what i loved . drawing silly guy who i liked . seeing what the other people in my community were doing . art, creativity is a conversation to me. i see peoples works, i get inspired, i want to create, even if i don't have anything in particular to say at that moment . it doesnt matter i have no ideas for posing or anything . i wanted to create . and i created .

i could be in my element . have this conversation . this feedback loop of inspiration . a constant improvement to my own skills as i just enjoyed art how i enjoy art . i'm mad at myself for not taking more breaks. im mad at myself for not fucking stretching all these years . but i will never regret my time . it was worth every second . and even if im not always interacting with everyone i met thru that time, im forever thankful for getting to meet all of them .

this is sounding a bit mopey huh . ok some quick advice then for this sorta shit in general.

for one . yes i know its fucking hard . but please just stretch a lil sometimes . even just learning one or two u can do pretty consistently can help u get going . this page has alot of good ones.

two . get yourself a good dumbass friend to watch stupid cartoons with you . yes im serious . if it were not for having my sister this summer to watch anime for children i would have gone insane with boredom whenever my hands hurty so i cant do shit . find yourself some bullshit to binge and laugh at . highly recommend the yokai watch dub of seasons 1+2 . good head empty but very entertaining shit . incredible for passing the time

three . find shortcuts for doing smaller straining tasks udont really think about . for example, theres the more prominant things like using keyboard shortcuts to navigate ur dash, but then theres stuff like realizing . oh trying to cut my sandwich with a knife is a kinda weird strain and because the bread is so soft its hard to cut super easily . so now i just . tear my pb+j up with my hands to cut it . jsut rip it . its not fucking worth the nonsense

yeah ok i think im out of things to say for now but yea. fucking hands huh . take care of yourselves gamers . i apologize if this is a bit gloomy

[cakejots]

this is us trying, Chapter 6 - The Pounce

In this AU, they don’t know each other outside of the suit. And in this AU, Ladybug and Chat Noir love each other. But in this AU, Chat doesn’t want their identities revealed.

Written for @ladynoirjuly 2021

notes: this is a coherent story based on all the prompts; each chapter contains at least 3 prompts. this chapter has 4 prompts

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10

Read on AO3

17. Secrets

Marinette was sure she didn’t have any alarm set for the day. And even if she did, it wouldn’t be this early in the morning. Her video call with Adrien the night before lasted well over a few hours, and it was the second day in a row where she wasn’t sleeping her usual routine. Though tired, she really can’t find herself regretting her actions. She was sure Adrien felt the same, he didn’t want the video call to end so soon and always managed to find something new to chat about.

She thought she could ignore the constant buzzing of her phone, but she’s only clowning herself if she believes that. Marinette tried to use her pillow to cover her head to block out the noise, but to no avail. She tried again with her thick blanket but eventually gave up. She was too disturbed to go back to sleep now anyway. With a grunt, she lifted herself off of her comfy bed and grabbed her phone from the shelves above her.

She eyed the screen and saw the time, as well as the caller.

Alya.

“What?”

“Woah, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Care to check how many times you’ve called me?” Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know I hate it when my sleep gets interrupted.”

“I’m really sorry Marinette, but this can’t be put off any longer. Why didn’t you tell me? Are there any more secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Her phone gave off a chime, and it was a link Alya had just shared. “Access that link.”

Marinette grew wary as she saw the first few words of the link. The name of the biggest gossip magazine was etched within it.

“Uhh, Alya, what’s this? You know I hate reading things from gossip magazines.” She’s pissed that she was woken up for this useless bullshit.

“I know I know, just click it please, it concerns you.” Alya pleaded.

Marinette paused. “Me?”

Her mind imagined the worst-case scenario. Was her secret identity compromised? She didn’t manage to read the rest of the link as she quickly clicked on the link.

The first thing she saw when the site loaded was a video embedded at the top of the page, and the thumbnail of the video was of her and Adrien throwing affectionate gazes at each other, with Adrien’s hand buried deep within her hair. Fear shot through her entire being. When was this?

She further inspected the thumbnail and saw that she was in pyjamas. It was the night they revealed themselves, they had just exited the park and were ready to head home.

“Oh.”

Fuck.

“Marinette? Did you manage to read the article?”

She couldn’t take it anymore, she hastily closed the tab. “No, but I see myself and Adrien on the video thumbnail. Shit...” She admitted, not bothering to hide since Alya already saw it.

“Are you okay?”

“What did the article say?” She whispered.

“They were speculating if you’re Adrien’s new fling— ”

“The fuck?”

“—or romantic partner, but they don’t know who you are, so you’re safe.”

“But he’s not! I need to make sure he’s okay.” She was jumping out of her bed when Alya’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Marinette, I think that might be a problem. Herds of reporters are situated outside the Agreste mansion.”

She felt a vein pop in her temple. “Are you there?”

“What? No! The clip is rolling live on TV.”

She switched on her TV and sure enough, the mansion was surrounded by reporters.

“Adrien...” Blood drained from her face as she looked at the sheer number of reporters outside his house. Her vision started to blur. He was no doubt going to blame himself for this again.

“Marinette?”

“A-Alya, I’m sorry, I need some time alone. T-Thank you for telling me,” she stammered.

“Don’t sweat it. And I’m sure you have reasons for keeping your secrets, I won’t pester you now, but I hope to get an update on the both of you once this is over. And please promise me you’ll tell me about it later.”

Comfort flooded her chest, “Of course, Alya. Thank you so much.”

Marinette hung up and was left alone with her own thoughts.

Thinking back, Adrien was acting slightly weird after they got onto the streets. He had asked her to transform out of nowhere. Was that when he had realised they were being followed? Why didn’t he tell her? Marinette browsed her messages and calls, there was nothing she missed from Adrien.

Why was he pushing her away again? Even after the reveal. Why isn’t he opening up to her?

She wiped her tears. This is no time to be questioning his decisions. She needed to save her kitty as soon as possible. He must be feeling devastated dealing with this all alone.

18. Can’t Transform

Adrien was curled up by the side of his bed, his phone all blown up with notifications, calls, and messages from gossip news agencies and the public. It was till the point that he had to reconfigure his “Do Not Disturb” function to stop all the ringing and buzzing that wrecked his phone. He was so overwhelmed that he disabled everything.

His phone was currently by his side, his chat with Marinette on the display. Marinette was online earlier on, and he was happy to see that, but she was gone as soon as she came. Adrien really wanted to ask her for help, but he was sure that she’s pissed with him right now. He didn’t have the right to ask since he brought this upon himself. He just hoped she forgave him for allowing her face to appear on the news.

Marinette (09:01): chaton?

A chime brought his attention back to the phone. Adrien saw her message, but he just stared.

Marinette (09:01): chaton i can see you online

Adrien (09:02): hi

Marinette (09:02): can you call me?

Marinette (09:02): my calls can't seem to get through

Adrien (09:03): i muted everything

Marinette (09:03): oh

Marinette (09:03): then can chat call me?

Adrien (09:03): i can't transform

Adrien (09:04): i don't want to risk them seeing the transformation

Marinette saw that he typed and stopped a few times. She’d be patient with him, he’s allowed to take as long as he needed.

Adrien (09:06): i'll call

Adrien (09:06): but can you give me a while?

Marinette (09:06): of course :)

Perhaps it was her staring at her screen, knowing that Adrien was there. Perhaps she was solely focused on seeing something happen on her screen. Or perhaps she managed to will Adrien into calling her, because he eventually did. And it didn’t feel like it had been 10 minutes.

“Adrien!”

The line had gone quiet. So quiet that she was about to remove her phone from her ear to check if the call had ended when a voice spoke through the speakers.

“Hey, Marinette.”

He sounded apprehensive. Was she coming off too strong?

“How are you feeling?” Her voice gentler this time.

He still took a while, but it was definitely faster than the one before.

“Overwhelmed.”

“Okay, okay. Are you okay with waiting a while more?”

Is Marinette coming to get him?

“I guess.”

“Nice. Do you think you can transform after the herd of reporters is gone?”

“I think so.”

“Very good. Would you be comfortable with sleeping in my house for a few days?”

Adrien wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay with Marinette after all this was over. What if she interrogated him? Was he ready to tell her why he did what he did? The whole truth? What if she leaves? Or rather, kick him out after she learnt the truth. He didn’t want that. Enough people had already left him. He doesn’t want any more of that. They can’t leave if he wasn’t there in the first place.

But Adrien wanted to be with Marinette. Even more so after what his actions had led to. He may be selfish right now, but he wanted the affirmation that she’d still have him, even after he messed up. He didn’t want to be alone after this ordeal. She has proved repeatedly that she wouldn’t abandon him. And right now, she’s inviting him into her life, willingly.

Justifiably, Marinette is in no wrong here, but Adrien found himself finally believing what she had promised. It might be that words of assurance could only go so far for him. But certainly, it was her actions that solidified his belief in her.

“Mhm.” He sniffled.

“Awesome!”

Adrien wanted to explain. He wanted her to know how much this meant to him.

“My lady, I… I—”

“It’s okay, Chaton. Your safety and wellbeing take precedence.”

“W-Wait! Are you going to hang up?”

19. Trust

“Do you trust me?”

“Always,” he answered so effortlessly.

“Then yes, I’m going to hang up. But I guarantee you that you’ll see me soon enough,” Marinette assured. “Would that be okay?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you, Chaton. Wait for me.”

They said their goodbyes, and Marinette waited for a while before she hung up. She got to her feet and went to work straight away.

.

“What is he doing in there? Can’t he see us? Just come out already!” One of the reporters threw his papers on the ground, getting agitated from standing outside the Agreste mansion for at least 2 hours. “This is taking far too long!”

“Hey! Look!”

He noticed someone pointing upwards and he lifted his eyes.

Soon, the herd of reporters directed their collective attention and cameras to the top of the mansion. They were so determined on getting any footage they could on the occupant of the building that all but one of them failed to realise that Ladybug and Chat Noir had appeared on the rooftop, with Chat Noir piggybacking their target.

“What is this?” Ladybug shouted at the crowd beneath her feet. “Is this any way to treat Paris’ Golden Boy? His love life is none of your concern!”

And with that, she jumped away from the persistent sound of cameras clicking coming from the crowd. Chat Noir followed without missing a bit, with Adrien hugging him tightly.

When Ladybug and Chat Noir had disappeared out of their sight, the media quickly got onto their vans and chased them down.

As the commotion was happening, Marinette texted Adrien to ask for the directions to access his room.

Adrien (09:32): the windows to my room are open. you'll see it once you get to the back of the mansion

She made sure the crowd had dissipated entirely before emerging from her hiding spot from the surrounding rooftops; she then made her way towards the mansion.

Sure enough, she found herself swinging into his room within seconds.

Adrien’s room was one of the biggest rooms she has ever seen in her life when she landed. It was at least twice the size of her previous bedroom, so big and spacious with various game areas across the first floor and a large library of books and CDs on the second.

She was still admiring his expansive room when she heard tiny sniffles coming from the side of the bed.

Snapping her head towards the bed, she spotted Adrien hugging his knees, head buried within his arms. “Adrien.”

Adrien lifted his head and saw her watching him.

He stood and wiped his tears, trying to smile. Turned out, wishing she was by his side was one thing. Having her actually be here with him was an entirely different thing.

Lady Rouge? Rena Bug? Marinette did not look happy. She was biting her lower lips before she started walking towards him.

Adrien began moving backwards bit by bit, anxious about her reactions towards him.

“Tikki, Trixx, Separation.”

Was that disappointment in her eyes? He didn’t know. Ladybug was quickly catching up to him and when he saw that she had raised her hand, he shut his eyes.

He was expecting some reproaching from her. He was expecting some pounding on his chest, or even a slap to his face. But all he felt was a hand wrapped around his head, settling itself within his hair and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathed.

Adrien opened his eyes in startlement, before relaxing into her. Ladybug’s other hand was on his back, pressing him into her. And he circled his arms around her waist, returning the gesture.

“My lady, I’m covered in snot and tears right now.”

“Yeah, you’re disgusting.” But she pulled him in even more and tightened her hold on him nonetheless.

20. Save Me

Adrien wished he could’ve stayed in Ladybug’s embrace longer, she was so full of warmth and love, unlike the mansion. But he needed to pack his clothes for his impromptu stay at Marinette’s over the next few days, to avoid the scandal they were currently in.

Ladybug was exploring his huge room, but he couldn’t see her from the bathroom, so he assumed she was checking out his vast collection of books and CDs on the second floor.

He didn’t like how quiet it had gotten.

“My lady?”

Within seconds, Ladybug dropped from right in front of the bathroom door, face worried. “Adrien?”

“Could you… um, could you stay on the first floor?” He squeaked.

She relaxed and chuckled. “Of course, mon Chaton.” She looked around a bit. “I’ll just take a look around the arcade stations.”

He nodded before continuing his packing. It was quiet again, but at least he knew she was exploring on the first floor.

“Adrien?” He lifted his gaze from his bag and saw Ladybug standing beside his bed, pointing at it. “Can I sit on it?”

“Of course! Go ahead! I don’t see why not.” Surprise laced in his voice by her question.

“Just wanted to make sure,” she replied cheekily before she bounced on his bed.

Adrien was about done with his packing, but he didn’t want Ladybug to be bored.

“My lady, what happened to those illusions?”

Ladybug widened her eyes. “I was sure that the media would follow those illusions, so I had them travel to the outskirts of Paris before making them disappear right before their very eyes.” She then scratched the back of her head and smiled sheepishly. “That was the plan. But uh, the illusions should be gone as soon as I reverted to just being Ladybug.”

Adrien had finished packing and was walking out of the bathroom, bag in his hand. “So, they might be back?”

Ladybug immediately stood and walked to his windows. “I don’t see or hear any crowd outside. So I guess they are still trying to figure out where those illusions went.”

Adrien came up to her, Trixx and Plagg in his hands. “Then, for extra precaution, why not use Trixx’s power again to conceal ourselves?”

Ladybug’s eyes shone with understanding. “That’s a great idea! I didn’t think of that!”

When Ladybug called for her unification, her outfit was similar to Rena Rouge’s. Her dark hair was tied up in a thick ponytail with the ends highlighted in white. A tail was also added to her suit. “Come on, let’s go!”

But Adrien hadn't called for his transformation, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Uhh— right!” Adrien blushed and quickly turned around to retrieve his bag from the side of his bed before calling for his transformation.

“Oh, I see,” a smug look on her pretty face. “You just wanted to see me in this.”

Chat Noir was still blushing when he returned to her side. “Can you blame me? You look amazing in this. Can’t I admire how stunning my girlfriend looks?”

It was her turn to flush. “You can, you absolutely can.” She turned away, ready to use her flute when Chat Noir grabbed her hand.

“In fact, you look beautiful all the time.” He gazed into her eyes. “Marinette, for the plan you concocted to save me, thank you.”

“Anything for you, Chaton.” She grinned.

Chat pulled her into a hug and squeezed. His hand was on the back of her head, pressing her into his neck. “Thank you, so so much.”

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 35

Just looking at Makado makes me realize how incredibly tired I am. “Makado,” I say, trying to put a little bit of that weariness into my voice, “please, I just want to get Elena out of here.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Makado tells me. “Take your helmet off.”

“Makado,” I start, but she raises the gun and coaxes a threatening-sounding click out of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and reach up and pop the helmet open. 

“Now take it off slowly and drop it.”

The helmet thuds to the floor with a dull clunk. I keep my hands open, bent at the elbows, roughly shoulder-height. I guess it’s a testament to how often this has happened to me lately that I’m not particularly panicked or flustered, even though she has a gun on me. I look into her eyes; they’re about as kind as a brick wall, a far cry from the Makado I knew - well, that I thought I knew. I don’t think she’ll shoot me but I don’t want to push her. 

“Makado,” I try again, speaking softly, “I know that you’re upset, but -“

“Upset?” she laughs. “That is a big understatement, Roan.”

“As if you have any right to be upset at me,” I snort. Makado’s eyes flash but I press onwards anyway. “You’re the one who was trying to literally fucking frame me for all the illegal shit you were doing -“

“You got Peter killed,” she says. My mind goes blank for a moment before I nearly laugh. I choke it back down; if I started laughing, either out of terror or nerves or just pure exasperation, I know I’d never stop, and I know Makado would probably shoot me.

“Makado,” I say, stammering a little bit, “I didn’t - there was nothing I could have -“

“Then how come you lived and he died, huh?” she says. I think I hear a crack in her icy demeanor and I look at her - really look at her. She glances away after a moment or two, and when her gaze swings back and hits mine whatever I thought I might have seen, whatever small vulnerability, has already faded away. “How come you lived?” she asks. 

The barrel of the gun trembles gently.

“Mak,” I start. I want terribly to be angry at her but something about the way she’s acting is just making me sad instead.

“Don’t call me that!” she yells. She slips her finger inside the gun’s trigger guard and I feel my breath catch. Maybe she really will shoot me; if she’s mad enough, if she thinks that somehow I caused Pete to get…to get leeched, or whatever the hell…

“Peter was the only one who ever called me that,” she murmurs. I know I’ve called her ‘Mak’ before and she never made a fuss about it but I guess this is special circumstances.

“Pete is - was - a fully trained ranger with dozens of expeditions under his belt, he might have - “ Makado licks her lips and tries again - “he might have gone a little downhill after 2007 but he was still sharp. He would have gotten out of there no problem. But he dies and you live?”

“Was that the plan?” I ask. If I can keep her talking maybe I’ll be able to pull something, but deep down I doubt it. “You send me down there hoping I’d die in an accident or something?”

“Of course not,” she says. “But if I had to choose between you and Peter…”

“That’s cold,” I tell her. She starts to say something, but I continue before she can. “But I get it. You loved him, huh?”

“Of course I loved him,” she says, sounding mildly scandalized. “You wouldn’t understand, I’m sure.”

“Why, because I - ? Oh, whatever,” I grunt. “Whatever, Makado. Just shoot me and get it over with.”

“I don’t want to shoot you.”

“Right, of course,” I snarl, putting as much venom into my words as I can. “You want to hand me over to the feds so I can suffer for your sins, right? That’s the endgame here, right?”

She has the good graces to flinch, at least. “I don’t -“ she starts, but I shake my head.

“Whatever,” I tell her. “What happened to Elena?”

Makado looks round, her eyes resting briefly on the wreckage of the autodoctor unit. “I don’t know,” she says. “When I got down here it was like this, and Elena was gone. I was going to -“

“Kidnap her so you’d have some leverage?”

“Bitch, will you stop fucking assuming the goddam worst of me? I was planning on tracking her down and getting her out of here.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her, my voice flat. “How did you even know she was here?”

“Because I heard the two of you sopping all over each other on the radio,” she tells me, her voice hard-edged with disdain. “Soon as I heard she was here in DUSA, I split off from my team and rushed up here. Guess I was too late.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. My cheeks are burning a little from the knowledge that we’d been overhead; I guess I could have assumed, but it still had felt like it had been something private, something special we had shared. Maybe I wouldn’t have broken down quite so hard if I’d known Makado had been listening in. “It must have been the Leechman,” I mutter, glaring at the gaping hunk of metal torn away from DUSA’s hull. My eyes are stinging and I wipe them hurriedly, not thinking, and when I take my hands down Makado is glaring at me very seriously over the sights of the pistol, and I realize that the quick motion nearly made her shoot me. My stomach does a backflip and I stammer out the beginning of an apology before she mutters a curse and takes a length of rope from her suit pocket.

“Hands together,” she orders me, and with a sigh I slap my wrists together and hold them out to her. She comes to me with the rope and hesitates for a moment; I know it’s because she’s only just realizing that she will have to put the gun away to tie me up. 

“I’ll hold that for you,” I offer, and in spite of herself she laughs.

“Turn around,” she says. “Hands behind your back.”

My heart is thumping heavily in my chest as I do. I am trying very hard not to imagine the Leechman bursting into here like a demon straight out of a horror movie and swallowing Elena up into its swollen leechy body. I can feel my hands trembling as Makado takes my wrists and lashes them tightly together. The rough synthetic fiber cuts into my wrists and I grunt. Makado steps away from me and I flex my hands experimentally but it’s no use, she’s tied me tightly enough that I’d never be able to free myself unless I had a knife. She’s already taken mine from the sheath on my belt and tossed it casually to the dusty, oily floor.

Elena’s dead. I can’t stop the thought from echoing around my skull, increasing in severity with each impact. She’s dead, she’s gone, I was too late. If I had just been a little quicker, if I hadn’t stopped to sleep, if I hadn’t…

“Hey, what are you - oh, Jesus Christ,” Makado grumbles. I sniff and look away from her. I try to keep it down but a quiet sob bubbles out of my throat.

“Goddam it,” I mumble. I can’t even wipe my eyes. My shoulders are shaking with the weight of it, with the weight of knowing that -

Makado sighs behind me. “You didn’t kill her,” she says. “If she’s even dead. We don’t know.”

I let out a terribly mirthless laugh. “You didn’t kill him,” Makado continues, begrudgingly. “I know you didn’t, it’s not like you put a gun to his head and shot him. I just…”

“Don’t want him to be gone,” I suggest, and out of the corner of my eye, through a veil of tears, I can see her nod.

I feel as though I might rip in two the next time someone touches me, but in spite of everything I do want to reach out and touch her, brush my thumb along the knobby edge of her wrist, feel her warmth near to me. Maybe it’s pathetic and stupid, maybe I should be spitting and cursing and swearing revenge but I can’t bring myself to. I want to just curl into a little ball and cry. 

Makado is rustling around behind me, and then I hear the click and crackle of a radio. “Peterson, Rodriguez,” she says, enunciating clearly. “Status check, over.”

A moment passes and then the response comes burbling up through the airwaves. “Peterson, checking in. I’ve got Rodriguez here with me but he’s carrying the crystal so he couldn’t call himself. Everything’s good down here. ETA 20 minutes to DUSA. Over.”

“Thanks. You were able to disable the specimen? Over.”

“Hard to say. It backed off but Emmanuel is hurt pretty bad. One of those leeches, it got into her suit and chewed the hell out of her leg. We’ve got her on a stretcher and we’re bringing her back but I don’t know if she’ll make it. Is the autodoc functional? Over.”

“Negative,” Makado says. Her voice is tight and fraying. “Negative, it’s smashed. It looks like the Leechman got here before we did. Over.”

“Shit. Well, Emmanuel is fucked, then. Do we have support from topside? Over.”

I hear Makado mutter a quiet curse below her breath. “Give me a second,” she says. “Out.”

I sniff hard and duck my head down into my shoulder, try and wipe my eyes against the rubber of the ranger suit. Makado is tapping at the pad in the arm of her ranger suit; she’s put the gun away at this point, tucking it into her holster at her hip. I could make a run for it, I reflect. Instead I fold my legs beneath me and sink into a huddle on the floor a little like a gazelle bedding down for the night. Makado glances over at me and then back at her screen. “Who’s Emmanuel?” I ask. My voice creaks partway through it, and when I clear my throat it comes back thick and congested.

“None of your business,” she tells me, a little absently. “You’d better stop crying,” she adds. 

“Fuck you,” I tell her, but I can’t put much heart into it. “Fuck you for trying to walk all over everything and try to do it your way. You walked all over me, you walked all over the team, you walked all over Peter -“

Makado looms over me, ruddy bolts of fury sparkling behind her eyes. “You have no idea, you have no idea -“ she starts, but I roll my eyes at her.

“Do you have any idea how many people are dead because of you?”

That catches her, and I get a vicious little thrill out of seeing how it impacts, how she absorbs it, how her eyes grow even wearier. She starts to say something but I start listing off names.

“The Sergeant. Peter. Slate. Erica and Marcus. Klaus. Crookshank. Euler. Ellis. Emmanuel, whoever that is. And El - Elena,” I say. I have to swallow hard to get that last name out but I manage it. “They’re all your fault, Makado. If you hadn’t gone off the deep end because of this stupid fucking crystal none of this would ever have happened. Does it really matter? Does it really matter this much? Is it worth it? Tell me. Please. Do you even know?”

“They knew the risks,” Makado tries to say, but she isn’t meeting my gaze. “You wouldn’t understand,” she says, a little bit of strength returning to her voice. “You don’t know what it’s like to -“

“To have an obsession take over your life?” I finish, and she blows a breath out.

“I’m the only one trying!” she yells. “I’m the only one fucking trying to stop all of this! That crystal is the only thing that we have that we know can shut down the Pit if it wakes up again. Getting it back should be our top priority -“

“And the last time one of those crystals was used,” I point out, “it infected - I’m sorry, how many people? - with a fucking personality-destroying disease that spreads when you feel emotions and forces you to crawl into the Pit to die.”

“We know better now,” she says, hands on her hips. “We know what we did wrong. If we don’t shatter the crystals -“

“How do you even know? Aren’t you just guessing?”

“You have no right to tell me how to do my job,” she tells me. I can see her knuckles whiten with rage. “I’m doing what needs to be done. If the Pit woke up and became fully ambulatory, it’d be the end of the world as we know it. If you think that isn’t something worth stopping by any means necessary, then you’re either stupid or insane. Maybe both. If I -“

“Okay, Makado. Whatever,” I tell her. I feel as though if I shut my eyes I’d be able to fall asleep in about a minute. My heart hurts. 

Makado glares at me and for a moment, just a moment, I think she might be about to draw her leg back and slam the hard edge of her boot into my gut, but instead she spins on her heel and walks away, fishing the radio out of its holster on her belt and talking quietly into it.

I think for a while about struggling to my feet and just walking out. I don’t think Makado would shoot me, I really don’t. I think she wouldn’t have the heart for it. Maybe she’d just let me go.

Elena’s dead. You haven’t seen the body, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind, but I don’t need to see the body. If the Leechman got her, I’m not sure I want to see the body. I would want my memory of her to remain clean. I want to remember her in the tent smiling down at me, I want to remember her hands on my body, the way her lips felt when she kissed me, the way my heart felt when she kissed me. 

I spend the next twenty minutes or so agonizing myself before the clunk and hiss of heavy machinery, burbles glutinously up from outside the rent in DUSA’s hull. With a little difficulty I manage to sit up and look outwards, and I see three orange figures in ranger suits marching up out of one of the vents leading to this organelle. Two of them are carrying a fourth on a stretcher, and the third…

My mouth drops open. The third is incredibly bulky, far more so than a normal person in a suit, and as they come closer and step into range of DUSA’s flickering floodlights, I realize that they are wearing something like a white enameled arthropod over their arms and legs, a squat mechanical spider perched on their back like a backpack. Its limbs extend along the ranger’s arms and fill out into armored gauntlets encompassing their hands.

And in their hands, hefted with an assurance and strength borne, I imagine, solely from their armor’s assistance, is the crystal, green and spiky and menacing, with an ugly luminosity flaring somewhere deep inside of it. I think again that I can see something moving within its murky depths.

Makado rushes out to meet them, leaving me forgotten, and again I consider getting up and just walking away. I think I’ve missed my chance, though; if it was just Makado, she might let me go. With everyone else here, all of these other rangers, there’s no way I’d be able to get away with it. And who knows if she’d have any compunctions about letting someone else shoot me.

Makado, to her credit, only paused briefly to tell the ranger with the crystal where to set it down before rushing to the ranger on the stretcher. Even from a distance I can tell that she’s hurt badly; her orange suit is splattered with blood and there is an enormous hole in her side. I think I can see teeth marks. One of the rangers shows something to Makado; it looks a little like a very thick, dark length of rope, and I realize with a horrible twist in my gut that it’s a dead leech. It looks to be about three or four feet long; it’s head has been torn off and it trails a thick, foul-smelling ichor behind it in a long oozing trail. 

The huddled conversation over the wounded ranger continues a while longer before the group breaks apart. The ranger with the exoskeleton carries the crystal into DUSA, moving with almost exaggerated care through the hole in the wall. He looks down at me as he passes, craning his neck around the crystal to make sure he isn’t going to bump into me. “You alright?” he asks. He has a thick Texan accent that makes me smile in spite of myself.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Do you think you could untie me?”

He pauses. “You’re tied up?” 

“Yes,” I say, rolling halfway over and waggling my fingers at him. “See?”

“Why are you tied up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You’re Dzilenski, aren’t you?”

“I, uh. No.”

“No? What’s your name, then? I haven’t seen you around before.”

The weight of the crystal doesn’t seem to be troubling him at all. He cocks his head at me.

“Merriweather,” I tell him. “I’m new.”

He waggles a finger at me; the servos of the exoskeleton make little whining noises as he does. “Nice try,” he tells me, but I can tell from the shape of his voice that he’s grinning. I shake my head a little and give him a halfhearted smile.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I suggest, and he laughs as he stomps off towards the stairwell, the crystal glowing malevolently in his arms. 

A few moments later someone is taking me roughly beneath my armpits and hauling me to my feet. I stagger a little but keep my balance. I look over and see Makado glaring at me from a few inches away, but it seems as though her temper has died a little; there isn’t quite as much venom in her gaze as before. Without uttering a word to me she marches me out of DUSA and towards one of the rangers, standing on a small, bulgy lump of flesh with their hands on their hips. I feel a spike of fear in my stomach. “What are you going to do with me?” I ask her.

I can see Makado’s lip curl out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not going to kill you,” she tells me. “Peterson there is just going to take you up to the surface and give you back to the feds, that’s all. Then this whole stupid thing can be over and done with.”

“So that’s it, huh?” I ask, breaking out of her grasp and turning to face her. “You’re just going to throw me to the wolves? You really think that you can get away with this?”

“Roan,” she groans. “Do you think I want to fuck you over? Do you think I want to do this?”

“Well, from the way you’re acting -“

“This thing is bigger than you or me,” she says. “And I’m - I’m sorry,” she tells me. To my immense surprise I actually believe her. “I’m sorry, and I don’t want to ruin your life like I know I’m going to, but I - I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

Before I can say anything Peterson takes me firmly by the arm. Makado swallows hard and nods to him. “Take her up. There should be a contingent of FBI agents somewhere up there, I know it’s a mess but they should still be hanging around, probably yelling at Admin. Let them know she’s Roan Dzilenski, they’ll take it from there.”

“Right,” he says. “Come on, then.”

I stare back at Makado all the way over to the vent leading up to the passage out of here; she refuses to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Peterson mentions, adjusting his grip on me to push a hanging fold of flesh out of the way.

“If you’re so sorry, let me go,” I tell him. He has a quiet, apologetic tone.

“I’m not that sorry,” he explains, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Look on the bright side,” he suggests. “You’ll be out of here soon. I’m sure that will be a relief.”

“Yeah,” I snap, “I’m sure that -“

Something falls onto my shoulder and I let out a shriek. It rolls off and slaps onto the ground with a wet, meaty thump and slithers away.

“Are you okay?” Peterson is asking. “What was that?”

I look up, knowing what I’ll see, but the Leechman actually comes at us from the side, the leeches boiling out of the fleshy wall with a noise like a million hungry mouths gnashing and chewing and slurping simultaneously, leaving the wall pockmarked and collapsing. Peterson blurts out a surprised curse and lets me go, his hands darting to his holster, but the Leechman is faster. It reaches out with a massive, dripping, writhing paw and fixes it around his head, lifting him bodily off the ground. Rodriguez screams and I hear commotion from behind, in the main organ housing DUSA, but his screams quickly become muffled and gurgly and thick. His hands and legs are shuddering and jolting like he were being electrocuted, and then my stupid, shell-shocked nerves finally, finally kick into motion and I stagger backwards. My foot catches on something and I fall; the ground comes slamming upwards to meet me and the breath whooshes out of my lungs just as the Leechman drops Peterson. The helmet of his suit is bent and crushed and although he lands on his feet, his body sways gently back and forth like a wind were catching it. The Leechman stomps past me and I cringe away from it, but it ignores me entirely. Its footsteps resound through the meaty floor and rattle my teeth in my jaws.

I am so scared I think I might throw up. Every fiber in my body is screaming at me to get up and run away, but I can’t force myself to move. “Hey,” I whisper, as the Leechman ducks its broad, wormy head and pushes into the organ. “Hey, uh, Peterson, are you okay?”

Rodriguez turns and looks at me and I scream. His face has been eaten away to nothing and his jaw is hanging from a few stringy tendons on the left-hand side of his skull. He shambles towards me and I scream again, and I hear my screams echoed from back behind me in DUSA’s chamber. It’s only a few moments later that the gunfire begins.

I kick my feet and try and push myself away from Rodriguez’s corpse. As I watch a leech crawls out of his mouth and plunges its snub-nosed head into the wreckage of his eye. The body lurches closer to me and into the light and I get a better look at him; my stomach nearly turns. I scream again and try to kick at him but he just catches my leg and drags me closer. The bone of his skull and the scraps of meat and flesh on his face are stained a dark, inky black with a dripping, noxious ichor. Without any preamble the body straddles me and shoves its fingers into my mouth. I choke and cough and try to kick and bite but it’s simply too strong. My eyes are filling with tears but I can still see the body’s cavernous mouth yawning and yawning and the body of an enormous leech slowly struggling up Rodriguez’s pitted, masticated throat. Though it has no eyes or face I imagine it leering at me, and though I redouble my efforts to get away, my throat convulsing in anticipatory terror, I can do absolutely nothing to stop what is about to happen to me. At the very last my courage fails me and I just squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the leech to barrel down my throat, wait with an anticipatory cringe to feel its needle-sharp teeth dig into my insides.

Instead I feel more than hear a horrific, bone-shuddering crunch from just ahead of me, and when I snap my eyes open it takes me a moment to comprehend what I’m seeing. Jutting from Rodriguez’s chest amid a thorny cluster of broken ribs is a bulky mechanical hand absolutely slick with gore and ichor. With a harsh mechanical whine it makes a fist and withdraws from the grapefruit-sized hole it made in Rodriguez’s chest and then seizes the body and flings it off of me. The body lands against the side wall of the vent with a wet crunch and then flops to the floor and lays still. 

“Joker,” I breathe. The robot’s blocky, flat-panelled head is staring down at me with what I imagine to be a rather odd expression. It’s pitted and stained and rusted and every couple of seconds sparks burst from its torn left arm socket. Its armored torso is battered and dented and it moves with difficulty, but it still leans down over me and with incredible gentleness tucks its blood-drenched hand beneath me and brings me lightly to my feet. A moment later it has untied my hands and I can feel the blood rushing back into them with a clustering ache of pins and needles.

I can scarcely breathe I am so relieved but I still manage to reach up and put my hand on the machine’s metallic chest. “Jesus Christ,” I tell it. “I am so fucking happy to see you.”

But before I get any more out, a tall, blonde-haired blur slams into me and wraps me up in long, strong arms and lifts me off of my feet and nuzzles her face against mine. “Oh god,” Elena says, and before she can say any more my greedy, bruised lips find hers and for a moment, just a moment, amid the gunfire and the screams, I feel completely okay.

* * *

When we finally break apart and Elena sets me down on my wobbly, weak-kneed legs, I reach up and take her face in my hands. I still can’t quite believe that she’s here, that she’s alive, that she’s okay. My heart is beating so quickly that I almost feel nauseous and I don’t trust myself to speak. Elena’s eyes are wide and slatey; they flicker over me, dancing like roulette balls, just as she runs her hands over my arms, my legs, my sides and back. “Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is shaky. I try to speak a few times but I can’t get any words out so instead I just nod. Elena leans in and kisses me again, briefly this time, and then, with her lips brushing my ear she murmurs, “I was so scared, Roan, I was so scared that I had lost you, I thought -“

“It’s okay,” I tell her. There’s another scream from DUSA and we both jump. I grab onto her desperately as she starts to pull away. “Listen, are you alright? The gunshot -“

“I’m okay,” she tells me. “I promise I’m okay. Jesus Christ I thought I lost you. Let’s get out of here.”

Next to her, Joker shifts on his damaged heels and creaks forward further down the vent, towards DUSA. Elena curses. “Hey, wait. Stop. We have to go.”

Joker ignores her. “Elena,” I ask, “what the hell happened? Why is Joker -“

“Whatever the Leechman did to him down in the barrows jarred something loose or damaged him somehow, he’s operating completely autonomously.”

I stare at Elena. “You’re not controlling him?”

“No,” she says. “He - I think he heard our conversation on the radio, that’s how he knew to come to DUSA to get me. It’s a good thing he did or Makado would have gotten me. He burst right in through the wall, it was fucking terrifying.”

“Joker did that? I thought it was the Leechman, I thought you were dead -“

“No, no, it was Joker! Oh, god, baby you must have been so scared -“

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Where did he take you?”

Joker looks back at us, then returns his gaze to the scene inside the organ ahead. The screams have largely died down now, but I can hear Makado shouting something, and a high-pitched electric whine that sets my teeth on edge.

Elena shakes her head. “He must have been monitoring Makado’s transmissions, I think he has to have a radio receiver in there somewhere. He grabbed me and brought me down to a little organelle maybe a mile away and we just sort of hunkered down there for a while.”

“Did he hurt you? If he -“

“No, no, he didn’t, it’s okay, I’m okay. Joker!” she yells. “We have to go!”

Joker ignores her. There is a curious sense of animation about its pose and its motions, quick and precise and birdlike. As I watch, its fingers flex tightly enough to dig deeply into the fleshy wall it rests against. Again its head swivels and glances back at us and I think I can feel its nonexistent gaze resting on me. “Elena, if you’re not controlling it, then who is?”

“I don’t know,” she says, glancing over at me. “I think nobody.”

“But how could it -“

“Roan, listen, forget about that for a moment.” Her lips are tugging upwards in an irrepressible smile and I can’t help but mirror her. I want to hold her and kiss her and - “there was something I needed to tell you, something I needed to tell you face to face,” she says. My stomach swoops upwards in a surge of delight and I reach out, take her hand in mine. 

“Yes?” I ask, trying to sound innocent and oblivious.

“Roan, I -“ she starts, but before she can get more than a few words out, there is a whipcrack of thunder in DUSA’s chamber, and Joker bolts forward like a sprinter off the starting line, and we both scramble into action and chase after him.

DUSA’s wet, fleshy cavern is in utter disarray. Dead leeches are littered everywhere and there are massive stains of ichor and blood splattered all across the cavern, as though someone upended buckets of paint and flung them. A crushed, distended corpse in a black-stained suit has been driven so deeply into the flesh of the floor that it has nearly been snapped in two. Of the Leechman there is no sign, but as we watch, Makado and three other rangers come storming out of the other vent and take up defensive positions around it, hunkering down and training their weapons on DUSA’s hull. Makado is carrying a long grey brick of a rifle, bulky and supremely un-ergodynamic, with what looks like a lens in place of a barrel. I wonder about it for a moment before a sickly green glow floats into view and the Leechman emerges from DUSA, ducking its titanic head, with the crystal beneath one of its arms, held as casually as one might carry a basketball. It pauses there for a moment, peering out at the four small figures opposing it. 

Makado looks scared; her face has paled to a sickly white and I can see the rifle shuddering in her trembling hands.

I can’t see where Joker’s gone; I catch Elena’s eye and frown, but she nods upwards a little, and I see the robot just above us, clinging to the ceiling like a monkey. It seems content to wait for someone to make the first move.

Behind the Leechman an orange-suited figure takes a juddering, unsteady step into the light, and I can see the limp exoskeleton clinging to its limbs like a length of sodden rope. Another figure follows, and then another, and even in the dim half-light, lit by strobes and flashlights and headlamps, I can see their bodies bulging and throbbing with the gallons and gallons of leeches seething beneath their skin.

My stomach betrays me and I bend double and vomit, trying furiously to wipe the image from my mind, but I can still see the man’s distended belly glistening beneath the orange ranger suit, pregnant with its load of parasitic cargo, and the thought sends a wave of furious revulsion scurrying up my limbs, coaxing rank, cold sweat out of my pores.

The Leechman takes a deliberate step forward and Makado pulls the trigger on her rifle. A  coruscating lance of blinding white light jolts from the barrel with the same deafening whip-crack we’d heard before and spears the Leechman through the core of its body, blowing a meter-wide hole open clean through it and filling the air with the smell of burning leeches. The Leechman staggers back a step or two and reaches out to steady itself, dropping the crystal; it clunks to the floor with a strangely musical tinkle and I can see a few of the spikes shatter and fall to pieces.

Makado rises to her feet, a little color returning to her cheeks, and fires again. This bolt catches the Leechman through the head and forces it down to its knees. It puts one massive hand forward to catch itself and Makado burns it off. She advances on the Leechman, firing again and again until the thing is just a pile of writhing, dying leeches, slowly burrowing into the ground and the walls and the ceiling, trying to escape. The bodies of the parasitized rangers shudder and twitch but they hesitate, standing still as though bereft of any governing intelligence.

Finally Makado pulls the trigger and the gun hisses a loud, screeching complaint and vents an enormous gasp of steam from recessed ports in its side; through them I can see the gun’s innards glowing white-hot, and Makado tosses it aside after glaring down at it in disgust. She draws her pistol from her holster and trains it one-handed on one of the rangers, squeezing one eye shut and glaring down the sights.

I open my mouth to suggest to Elena that it might be time to leave, but before I can get a word out the Leechman charges past us, out of the mouth of our vent, forcing a shriek from my mouth, and bowls into Makado headlong, sending her flying. She slams into the wall on the far side of the organ so hard that I can see a Mak-shaped bruise forming in the Pit’s flesh when she flops to the floor, limp and helpless, either stunned or unconscious or dead. 

The rangers open up on the Leechman but if the laser wasn’t enough to kill it, bullets clearly aren’t going to be enough either. The three parasitized rangers surge forwards as well, wading into the fray, but the Leechman is doing the heavy lifting. I cringe back against Elena as I watch it pick up a hapless, screaming ranger and pull him in half, a spray of gore and guts flooding from the man’s cleft torso and legs. I clutch at Elena, trying desperately to get my legs beneath me, and she pulls me up and steadies me.

“We have to go,” she says. I can hear a note of hysteria in her voice. I take a shaky step backwards into the vent and feel a leech writhe and squirm beneath my cleats. Another one leaps at me and thuds into my back. I can feel its jaws working to pierce the thick latex of the ranger suit, and I hop frantically, trying to reach backwards and dislodge it. Elena brushes it off of me and crushes it beneath her boot just as the Leechman vomits a tidal wave of blunt, wriggling bodies into the pried-open chest of another ranger, struggling weakly in the creature’s squirming grip.

More leeches patter against us, driving us unwillingly out of the vent as we crawl and duck and dodge, trying to avoid them. A nerveless, exoskeletoned paw swipes at me clumsily and I scream and throw myself out of the way. From my vantage point on the ground I see Elena shove the infested ranger back and unload the entire magazine of her pistol into his gut, but the body staggers towards us still. I can see Elena’s teeth bared, a mad glint in her eyes, and I know that she is about to charge the thing and I know that it will kill her, but I haven’t enough breath to tell her not to.

Deeper in the chamber, the Leechman plucks the head off of a ranger’s pinioned, struggling body as easily as separating an apple from a tree and fling the chunk away like a bloody comet. It slaps wetly to the ground only a few feet away from me and I roll back from it, nearly mad with terror. I can see the Leechman slowly turning towards us and I am so afraid I think I might die just from fear alone.

“El - El - El - “ I try, again and again, but I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can’t think -

Joker drops from the ceiling directly onto the parasitized ranger, landing with a sickening crunch and a whine of servos. Its head snaps upwards and regards the Leechman with a calculating stare, and the Leechman, impossibly, stops. It seems to cock its head at Joker, and then it takes a step forward, heavy and inevitable and menacing, but before it can go any further Joker launches itself at it with a scream of straining metal and whining pistons. I struggle to my knees and brush the leeches off of Elena, checking her suit for holes or punctures.

Joker is losing. The Leechman has torn its other arm off and tossed it aside, and now it’s yanking at Joker’s leg. Joker is lurching spasmodically back and forth, trying to get free, but the Leechman has too strong a grip on it. The leeches are flowing over the robot’s metal form and in a few more moments it looks as though it’ll be enveloped entirely. I can see Joker’s head turn with what seems like a titanic effort and peer back at us, and then it disappears beneath the surface of the Leechman.

I tug Elena to her feet and take a few faltering steps back towards the vent before there is a colossal wave of sound and light and heat from behind that bowls me over and knocks me face-down in the sopping, bloodstained flesh. Elena falls over me with a scream and for a while all we can do is cling to each other and pray that whatever the hell happened is over quickly.

A moment passes, then another. I roll over and, with more than a little trepidation, sit up. 

It looks as though a bomb has gone off. There is a bloody, charred crater in the floor, and all that remains of Joker are a few metal fragments, embedded like shrapnel in the floor and walls and ceiling. The parasitized rangers have all been cut down, most of them separated into small pieces of flesh, both leech, and human, smeared across DUSA and the organelle like daubs of lumpy paint.

Of the Leechman there is no sign, and when I glance over at it, I realize that the crystal is gone as well.

After another few minutes of utter stillness, Elena and I look at each other. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I glance down at myself.

“Somehow,” I say, “I think I am. Are you?”

She pats at herself cautiously, peers down at her legs, wiggles her foot. “I think so. Did Joker - ?”

I point to the crater. “He must have exploded. Either there was some kind of self-destruct or whatever engine or motor it used was damaged, or…”

“Jesus,” Elena breathes, getting shakily to her feet. She offers me a hand and helps me up and for a little while all we can do is survey the carnage. I feel as though I want to cry and laugh and throw up all at the same time. 

I squeeze Elena’s hand. “What were you going to tell me?” I ask.

“Is now really the time?” she smiles, and I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning back at her.

“At this rate, if you don’t say it now you’re never going to.”

“Roan,” she says, putting a hand on my cheek, “I -“

There is a groan from across the cavern and we both snap around. Over there, on the far side of the wall, Makado is starting to sit up. She looks shaky and shell-shocked and terrified. She sees us and tries to get to her feet, but her leg buckles beneath her and she falls back to the ground. Elena’s eyes narrow and she lets me go, starting towards Makado, her hands curling into fists. I have a knot in my stomach.

“Elena, wait,” I call after her. She spins and stares at me and then shakes her head.

“Don’t look,” she tells me, and for a moment, just a moment, I think of going after her and stopping her from - from doing whatever she’s about to do.

But instead the coward in me wins out and I avert my gaze, squeezing my eyes shut, my insides tensing in anticipation of a gunshot. I hear Makado cry out weakly, and I shudder.

There is a loud, satisfying smack, as of fist on jaw, and then a flopping sound. I look up and see Elena wringing her hand, cursing beneath her breath, before she flips an insensate Makado onto her stomach and, folding the woman’s hands behind her, begins to lash her wrists together with a length of paracord. She looks up and sees me staring, registers the expression on my face and gives me a laugh.

“You thought I was going to kill her?” she asks, and I blow a breath out and try to calm myself before I answer.

“I didn’t know what you were going to do,” I say, truthfully.

“I’m not a killer,” Elena tells me, hefting Makado’s slim frame onto her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Jesus Christ,” she adds, adjusting her load a little. “This little shit is heavy.”

I kick at a piece of wreckage, a folded metal panel, bent from the force of the blast, and then reach down and with difficulty pull Joker’s battered torso out of the crater. Elena sets Makado down none too gently and comes over and squats beside me.

There’s something that looks a little like a car battery, jammed into a slot in the torso. I tug at it, using my foot to hold the hunk of metal steady, and it breaks free with a hiss like a seal being broken. “What is that?” Elena asks. I shake my head.

“BCPU - Property of Anodyne Berlin,” I read. “Mind Impulse Unit - B. Walken.”

“Walken?” Elena asks, incredulous. 

“No,” I say, “this can’t - no, that’s ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“Burt Walken was Erica’s husband,” I tell her. “B. Walken, Burt Walken. She told me he died from the psychic illness from 2007, that Anodyne had never returned his body.”

The top of the box is translucent plastic, but it’s too dark to see inside. Elena reaches down and grabs her flashlight and shines it onto the box, and we both squint at it. When I comprehend what I’m seeing I nearly drop it - for there inside the box, soaking in a briny, gelatinous fluid, festooned with wires and covered in metal electrodes and circuits, are the ridges and folds of a clearly human brain.

* * *

“What were you going to tell me?” I ask Elena again once she gets off the radio. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes begging and cajoling and cursing someone on the surface to try and get them to send someone down to get us and finally, finally gotten a begrudging affirmative. I can slowly feel my spirits rising, and Elena even gives me a secret little smile as she comes to sit next to me, sinking down against the wall of the vent with a groan of relief. I lean my head on her shoulder and she kisses me gently on the forehead. A wash of warmth floods down my arms and legs and I have to restrain myself from seizing her and clutching her to me.

“You sure I shouldn’t just leave it a mystery at this point?” she asks, and I elbow her lightly in the ribs.

“Tell me,” I insist.

Elena leans back and takes my chin gently in her hand, inclining my face upwards to her. I can see her studying me, see her pupils dilate as they flick from my eyes to my cheeks to my nose to my lips. “I love you,” she says, and my heart jumps in my chest as though struck by lightning. I can feel myself grinning madly, and then our lips brush and then fit together as though they were made to do so.

And then, when our breath has finally grown short enough to force us to break apart, we slowly rise, Elena’s hand in mine, scarcely daring to tear our eyes from each other, and begin to gather our things for the long journey up.

Continue with the Epilogue

Back to Table of Contents

[musecharm-writes]

Curiosity Killed the Cat Burglar (Tony Stark X Reader)

ANONYMOUS: You write for marvel? Awesome! Ive always wondered ehat would happen if someone tried to reverse engineer one of Tony's suits just for curiosity instead of evil or money... could you write something where Tony finds reader doing something like that? Thanks!!

Summary: You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long…it almost feels too easy.

You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long… it almost feels too easy.

You’d spent weeks perfecting the software that let you into the Stark Industries mainframe so you could access the blueprints of the ventilation system. You’d taken great lengths to memorise the layout; you could recreate the map flawlessly if called upon to do so. You’d made a backup plan for absolutely anything and everything that could possibly go wrong.

And now that it’s working, it just doesn’t feel right.

As you slip into the elevator, pressing the button that will take you to the floor housing Stark’s workshop with a gloved hand, you have the distinct sensation of being watched. You send an uneasy glance around the elevator and are unable to detect any cameras, but you’re well aware that means nothing; there could be thermal scanners, pressure pads, or even something as simple as hidden cameras in the walls or ceiling. Stark is as sneaky as he is clever, and you’re the last one to underestimate him.

He is your hero, after all.

--

The elevator doesn’t make a sound as it reaches the workshop floor, nor as the doors open with a smooth glide, and it’s equal parts unnerving and impressive. You don’t waste time studying the elevator, though; you leave the elevator car, creeping down the hall until you come to a wall of glass.

All that’s between you and your goal now are a keypad and a shatterproof glass door.

You pull the hacking device you custom built and programmed from your belt and attach it to the keypad. Numbers scroll across the screen until, finally, the security code is displayed in blinking green.

You grin in satisfaction and press the appropriate numbers. The door opens.

You’re in.

You stalk into the darkened shop, padding across the floor without making a sound. You reach up and pull down a pair of homebrew infrared goggles.

Let’s see. If I was a super-genius, where would I keep a high-tech, flying suit of armour?

You see some display cases on the other end of the room -- you’re unsurprised to see that Stark preserves his old suits, considering how attached he seems to be to them -- and are preparing to search for the mechanism that will open the cases, but it’s not necessary; there’s a half-assembled suit laid out on one of the work benches, as though its owner left in the middle of performing repairs on it.

Jackpot! You hadn’t dared hope you would get this lucky; the newest model of the Iron Man suit, just laying there in the open, completely unguarded? This is better than anything you could’ve dreamed of!

You approach the workbench, stepping over and around other half-complete projects that Stark has left scattered around. There are what you assume to be deactivated automated assistants, too, arm-like structures with claw shaped grasping appendages on the ends.

Under different circumstances, you would love to stick around and see what this place looks like when it’s up and running at full capacity. You bet it’s amazing.

You shake those thoughts from your head. Focus on the task at hand, you remind yourself. Your window is incredibly small.

You carefully open the faceplate of the helmet and search for a data upload terminal. Once you’ve found it, you pull your scanner from your belt and attach it to the terminal, activating it. Your heart flutters giddily. You’re so close.

And then, a voice says, “Right, I think I’ve let this go a little too far. JARVIS, lights.”

The lights slowly start to come up. You hastily remove your goggles and turn to find none other than Tony Stark standing at the far end of the room.

He smiles and waves shortly. “Hi. I’d introduce myself, but,” he swirls his finger in a circle, “seeing as we’re here, I’m pretty sure it’s not necessary.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. You have no idea what to do, what to say -- how do you explain yourself?

You came up with a plan for every scenario, except for the one where you got caught.

“Uh,” you begin, “I… I don’t… I mean, I’m not-- It’s not--”

“You, on the other hand, have some serious explaining to do. You could start with who you are, for example, and why you’re in my house, and how in the hell you managed to build a bunch of shit that neutralised my security measures.” He points an accusatory finger at you. “You hacked me. Nobody does that, nobody has ever done that. How did you do that?”

You open and close your mouth, at a total loss for words. “W-Well, um, I… I just did?” It’s a terrible explanation and you know it. You kind of want to dissolve into the floor; this was not how this was supposed to go, not at all.

Stark looks incredulous. “You… just did. Huh. Okay. Well, I just thought I’d let you know I went along with this little charade because, if we’re being honest, I found the concept of someone smart enough to hack Stark Industries enticing. I figured I’d just wait and see where you were going with it. But, since you were just after the suit -- totally boring motivation, by the way, that’s been done like a thousand times by now, what is it, money or power? -- I’m gonna have to see you out now.” He pulls out a wafer-thin, see through card and taps on it. “Jay, let Happy know we have an interloper on sublevel--”

“Wait!” You cry out. “Wait, please don’t kick me out!”

He looks at you, quirking a brow. “And why should I not?”

You fidget awkwardly, feeling a little stupid in your thief getup. “I… I didn’t want the suit to sell it, or weaponise it, or whatever. I just wanted to see if I could… If I could make one better,” you admit, your face reddening.

Stark is silent for a moment, which you aren’t sure is a good thing. Then, he says, “Huh. Okay,” and the way he says ‘okay’ turns it into a four-syllable word. “So, you broke into my house, disabled all my security, and entered my private workshop without permission… because you were curious?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “Not so sure about the cat burglar.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you retort.

“And you’re feeling satisfied with yourself, are you?”

You shrug, starting to relax as you settle into the rhythm of the banter. “I could be. Depends whether or not you’re planning to call the cops on me.”

The hint of smile turns into an outright grin. “And ruin this thing we’ve got goin’ on? Now, why in the world would I do that?”

You laugh. “...Does this mean I get to look at the suit after all?”

Stark makes a show of considering your request. “We can work up to it,” he says. “After you show me what you’re really capable of.”

--

You spend what must be hours down in the workshop -- Tony Stark’s workshop! -- shyly explaining how your devices work, and then you move upstairs to the living room and spread out schematics across the table, trying valiantly not to explode on the spot when the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were, like, ten tells you your craftsmanship and code are just about as good as anything he’s ever seen, which is really saying something.

You’re so focused on trying to seem like you don’t care that much about his approval that when he says, “So, hey, how about next week, we meet up somewhere for a little intellectual conversation over coffee?” you nearly miss it. (‘Nearly’ being the operative word, of course.)

“I… What?”

“Unless you don’t like coffee. We could do lunch,” he continues, and somehow, he almost seems as nervous as you were just a moment ago.

The idea of Tony Stark being nervous to ask you for coffee or lunch -- you, of all people -- is laughable, so much so that it sends all your nerves running for the hills.

“Yeah,” you say. “No, I mean, coffee’s fine. I love coffee.”

He nods. “Good. Good, I’ll see you then. Hopefully this time you won’t break into my house beforehand.”

You fluster immediately at that, stammering, and he waves it off.

“Kidding,” he says. “I let you get in, remember? You’re fun, you’re a good,” he waves his hand as if trying to summon the words from nowhere. “Conversationalist. You grok me.”

You nod.

He slaps his knees and clears his throat. “Welp,” he says, standing up, “it’s been fun, but as everyone in my life loves to remind me, I have a company to run, so as much as I would love to spend the rest of the day talking about fun stuff, I sorta can’t. Walk you to the door?”

“Sure.”

He sees you out, reminding you not to forget about your “little rendezvous next week, I’ll pick you up and take you someplace swanky, my treat.”

You don’t feel nervous about it at all. You just met your idol, and all you had to do was break into his house and try to steal the plans for his top-secret superhero suit.

You can’t wait to find out what he wants to talk about next week.

[gojifan97]

Dads For Deku-Family Bonding

“Alright Izuku, are you ready to come out?” said Gentle, knocking on Izuku’s door. La Brava was standing a little behind Gentle, staring expectedly at the door.

“Y-yeah! I’m ready!”

“Excellent, then show us what the newest member of our show will look like!” said Gentle, dramatically flourishing his arms. After all a showman must always be practicing, he never knew when the camera would turn on.

“Behold…” Izuku said. The door slammed open and Izuku leapt out, “KILLER RABBIT!” He landed on the floor and struck what seemed intended to be an intimidating pose. Seemed to being the operative term.

This wasn’t helped by his costume. It looked like a giant bunny costume. It consisted of a black jumpsuit, with elbow and knee pads, a dark green waistcoat with gray geometric highlights (how did he even get that?), a utility belt partially hidden by the coat, white gardener’s gloves, his red sneakers (throwing off the color scheme), a dark mouthpiece with a fanged grin painted on the front, and a cowl that covered his head topped by massive bunny ears. All in all, he looked ridiculous.

Gentle struggled to hold in his laughter. Beside him, he saw La Brava doing the same. He began to frantically fake-cough to get it out of his system.

“Gentle are you alright?” Izuku asked running up to him. The failed attempt at being intimidating now replaced with his regular sweet and harmless demeanor.

“Yes, yes. Just had something in my throat,” Gentle said. An idea began to form.

“Oh good. You were just coughing so hard, and it sounded so weird…”

“Hey, Izuku,” said La Brava, shuffling awkwardly, “About your name…”

“Huh? Is it bad?” Izuku said, his eyes looking like a sad puppy under his mask. La Brava stumbled slightly, so Gentle took this opportunity to jump in.

“Not at all! However I think you should drop the “Killer” part from your name. It creates a negative image for our viewers!” he said. La Brava sent him a confused look.

“Oh ok, that makes sense,” said Izuku. “Then I shall be Rabbit! And while they may have once underestimated me, seen me as something weak and helpless, the evils of this world will soon learn I am a threat to all those who harm the innocents!”

“Oh, so that’s why you went with that motif. That makes sense,” La Brava said. But when Izuku looked away she still eyed his costume skeptically.

“Now, I believe we have other things to do now. The sun is down, it is time.”

“Wait now? Tonight?! I thought I was just trying on my costume today!”

“Not to worry Izuku, you said you’ve been training in that on your own right?” said Gentle.

“…Yeah…”

“You have me and La Brava to handle the lion’s share of the work and protect you if needed right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you need to start eventually right?”

“Yeah! Ok. I’m ready to have my first outing tonight!”

“That’s the spirit!” said Gentle, who began walking to grab his disguise.

“Come on! La Brava said to Izuku as she went for her own. “You’ll do great!”

The three ran across the rooftops. Whenever they came to the edge of one, Gentle would take the lead and use his quirk to make the edge of the roof a trampoline for them. They stopped on the edge of a roof overlooking a street in a more run-down neighborhood. Gentle looked and listened for any sign of wrongdoing. He heard the sound of crying. He looked and saw a little girl sobbing in front of a tree, her cat near the top loudly meowing, stuck.

“Follow me!” He said, leaping down. After a few light bounces he and La Brava were securely on the ground. Izuku stood on the edge, staring down.

“Come on Izuku! You can do it!” said Gentle.

“We made it! Gentle made the ground soft!” said La Brava.

Izuku snapped to look at them as if he’d forgotten about them.

“Trust me,” Gentle said, “You’ll be fi-“

Izuku raised his hand in a “wait” gesture, then began scrambling down the building, using any handholds available and even dropping himself once or twice, using the parkour skills he’d shown Gentle so happily last week. Gentle felt proud. Until Izuku slipped and fell onto an awning. He rolled down and Gentle softened the ground just before Izuku landed into a roll. That did not terrify Gentle at all. Only slightly concern him.

“S-sorry, I guess I have to work on that a little more…” Izuku said. “I wanted to try getting down myself so if you’re ever not there I’ll be able to do it on my own…”

Gentle smiled, “Excellent forward thinking. And don’t be afraid to try again. As long as I’m here I’ll be ready to help catch you.”

“I am too! Even if I’m not strong. I will even use my quirk to help you if needed.” La Brava said. Love of surrogate little brothers was still love after all.

Izuku began tearing up, “Thank-OH MY GOSH THE CIVILIAN!” He leapt to his feet and began racing to the little girl with the cat in the tree. La Brava got out the camera.

Gentle tried to introduce himself, but he didn’t even make it past “I AM” before Izuku was kneeling next to the girl.

“Hi there, I’m Rabbit. Do you need some help?” said Izuku.

The girl stopped crying, turned to Izuku, and pointed, “My kitty Cupcake is in that tree and can’t get down. Are you a hero? Can you help him down? Be careful, he scratches.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him right down!” said Izuku. He quickly climbed the tree until he made it to the wailing cat. He carefully lifted the cat into his shoulders and climbed down. “There you go!” he said, “The cat wasn’t any trouble after all.”

“Oh good! I guess he was too scared by being up in the tree!” said the girl. Izuku smiled, until her words seemed to sink in. The rest of them picked up on it too, just as the cat began growling.

After Izuku escaped that ferocious little cretin, the girl gave him a hug, calling him her hero, thanked the rest of them. She picked up her pet monster and walked inside. The three of them ran off to their next adventure.

“I didn’t get any footage of you Gentle, but I got plenty of Izuku. It makes for a great debut!”

“Excellent work La Brava!”

“I’ve got a question though,” she glanced at Izuku, who was running ahead and upwind of them, then she continued in a tone too low for him to hear, “Why’d you let him keep that ridiculous name and costume anyway? It doesn’t even match our theme!”

“Well La Brava, that’s because I realized Izuku has a different appeal. His attempts at intimidation are so horrendous to regular people that they will endear them to him. That, his soft demeanor, and how obviously bad he is at looking “cool” will make them all love him causing our videos to, what were your words, ‘go viral for sheer dorky adorable?’”

“I guess. He will have cuteness appeal with a lot of viewers, especially younger ones” she said, “but why not tell him?”

Gentle smirked. “Because he’d never believe me. So, I’ll let his unexpected popularity be a pleasant surprise.”

They soon came across a group of muggers harassing a trio of teenagers.

“Greetings! I am the GENTLE VIGILANTE, here to make my vigilante debut!” said Gentle.

“I am his faithful butler and partner in ending your ungentlemanly behavior, La Brava!”

“And I am here to protect the innocent, underestimate me at your own risk, for I am Rabbit!”

The last one caused the criminals to break into a fit of laughter. It lasted until Rabbit punched one in the face.

After a brief fight the muggers were all subdued. Izuku seemed to be gleeful about defeating two of them quirkless, Gentle was happy to have tried out Izuku’s suggestion of carrying and rubberfying a rapier (quite good for slapping those hooligans), while La Brava struggled working the camera.

“It won’t turn on!” she said, pushing the button for the fifth time.

“That leader guy said that his quirk disables all communication and recording devices that get too close and keeps them that way for twelve hours,” said one of the teens.

“W-what?” she said, looking like she’d just been told Christmas was cancelled.  

“Yeah, sorry. My phone got the same. Hope I don’t lose anything already on there.”

“But that means…” she groaned, “never mind. You guys ok?”

“Yeah! Did they hurt you? Or take anything? You know, before we showed up?” said Izuku.

“Aside from some incredibly crass comments? No.” said one of the teenagers.

“Ungentlemanly filth,” said Gentle, “No matter. You all run along, find help, and call the police. Tell them where to find these ruffians. In the meantime my associates and I will be off.” He, La Brava, and Izuku bounced away.

“That was, a fine experience. Worthy of some fine tea,” said Gentle.

“Yeah, even though we won’t have any footage aside from maybe Izuku helping the girl. Still, it was nice to do all that,” La Brava said.

“I got to be a hero. I got to save people,” Izuku said, taking off his hood and mouthpiece, “I know I’ve said it before but, thank you for taking me in Gentle. You’ve given me so much I never thought I could have.” His eyes glistened with tears.

“You’ve repaid it in full with all you’ve given us Rabbit, from your smarts and strategies, to your moral compass that lead us to becoming the vigilantes we are today. It is an honor to have you with us,” said Gentle.

“He’s right you know. You’ve helped us as much as we’ve helped you,” said La Brava.

They shared a group hug. They eventually broke off and La Brava said “With the camera shot, what are we gonna-“

They heard another scream. Izuku was already running toward it. As they neared the alley they heard it from, La Brava said to Gentle, “About your plan. With Izuku?”

“Yes?”

Izuku got into the alley just ahead of them and shouted, “Stop dirtbags! I am the terror that hops in the night! RABBIT!”

She smirked, “It’s totally gonna work.”