#and kids who don’t know that mommy is an enemy of the state

[waywardavatarenthusiast]

just so we’re on the same page, if azula isn’t redeemed and at peace by the time the aang movie rolls around, she better have her own slice of life.

you mean 12 years post war, aang and katara get to be engaged/married, zuko could have a kid on the way for all we know, and azula will still be zuko’s scheming little sister?

i swear if she’s a villain and doesn’t finish dinner and tuck her children into bed before heading to her lair, i’ll be done with atla.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “But.. Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You teasingly laughed while lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“Would you rather hear me romanticize, or would you rather hear me be realistic?” You asked of him.

Miles took a moment to think. “I think it’d be nice to hear what’chu think is romantic.”

You leaned in a bit towards his side. “You really think so? What if I end up soundin’ childish?”

Placing a gentle hand over your arm, he simply replied. “You’re young, ma. It’s okay to be a child.”

Turning more towards him, you begin to flit your fingers up toward his jaw. “Then…” Your eyes trailed away from his. “In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nuthin, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

[countrymusiclover]

7 - Mikaelson Kids Are Key

Part 8

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Henrik’s pov

Running through the halls of the school with Pedro we had been playing tag for hours seeing as my parents were busy with protecting the school. We ended up running across the Saltzman twins room. I paused, confused seeing Lizzie talking with a blue lady. “Lizzie, who is she?” I asked to enter the room. 

“She probably has magic like us.” Pedro responded by taking my hand in his. 

The blue lady snapped her fingers before I stepped forward touching the blue woman's back to which she didn’t notice. “Lizzie, what’s she doing?” Before our eyes we were transported into an old warehouse and saw pictures of my mom and dad on the wall saying they were wanted by the law. 

“I don’t see Lizzie.” Pedro looked around until we heard some screaming around the corner. 

Together we ran around the corners and I felt like I was about to throw up at the sight before our eyes. There were two people standing in front of us tearing into some strangers' necks until the body dropped to the ground dead. One of the people who we’re feeding turned around to us where I croaked out terrified. “Mommy?” Her hair was a tousled mess, blood stained all the way down her chin and her vampire fangs visible to us.

“Who the hell are you, boys? I don’t have any children.” She spat in my direction slowly walking towards us and I could feel my heart beating against my chest. 

My father glanced over his shoulder grabbing a hold of my mother’s shoulder holding her there for a brief moment. “Easy Raelyn, we shouldn’t hurt these kids…is what I would say if I had any humanity left in me.” He vamped forward shoving me against the wall about to bite into my neck until someone shot something into his back and my mothers where they collapsed onto the ground. 

“Henrik, what do we do? Please don’t hurt us.” Pedro begged the stranger that lowered their crossbow.

The figure removed their hood revealing the familiar face of my uncle Jacob. He cocked the weapon again with something else coming up cheek us for injuries. “Are you boys okay? Does anything hurt?” Blinking my eyes I recognized my younger cousin standing in front of me with her brown hair tied up into a braid. 

“Andrea, it’s me, Henrik. Henrik, your cousin.” I stepped forward to hug her until she drew back slightly away from me. 

She knitted her brows confused. “I’m sorry kiddo but I don’t recognize you.” 

“Andrea, help the kids up. We need to get back to the base before they wake up. Alaric will need our help with the war.” Uncle Jacob tilted his head in the other direction heading outside. We followed after them where I glanced back at my sleeping parents horrified that they didn’t know me and nearly killed me. 

We reached something that looked like the school but it wasn’t anything like we knew. There were maps and weapons everywhere. Everyone was dressed in military type clothes meaning they were prepared to fight something. Andrea held a curtain open showing me and Pedro someone that looked like an older Ric standing over a war map. “We found some other strangers, Saltzman. Maybe your daughter knows who they are.” 

“Thanks Andrea. Sweetheart, do you know these kids?” Alairc glanced in the direction of Lizzie who rushed over to the two of us. 

“Pedro, Henrik. What are you doing here? How did you follow me?” She asked us. 

Pedro answered her question looking around the room with a nervous stance. “We followed the blue lady.” 

“Come here you two…The world knows about vampires?” Lizzie picked up a picture of a piece of paper that showed enemies of the state. And it was drawings of my father and mother. 

Alaric leaned down noticing what we were all looking at. “You've forgotten more than I thought. 

Klaus Mikaelson and Raelyn Lane lost everything that anchored him to his humanity, and so he shut it off two years ago and started a war. Outed supernaturals in the process. And just like that, Triad had an ugly, racist platform to stand on, and nothing's been safe ever since.” 

“What did they lose? Where are my  sisters…Hope, Alina…Missy?” I asked the older man, remembering when my mother said she had no children which I knew wasn’t true. 

Alaric lowered his gaze to the floor sniffing through tears. “After they took this magic called the Hollow it took control and killed them. I don’t know who you are. But Hope, Alina and Melissa have been dead for two years.” 

“If they’re gone then that means you were never born either.” Pedro turned to me with tears in his eyes figuring out what must have happened. “That’s why your parents didn’t recognize you.” 

Clutching my hands into fists at my sides I felt anger building up inside of me before Lizzie asked her father. “Where's Josie? Dad. Where is she?” 

“She's dead, Elizabeth. The vigil's for her.” He weakly told his daughter. 

Lizzie fell against the table of paper’s behind her. “No. No, no. She-she can't... she can't be. That's not what I wanted.” 

“I know. But, right now, you just... need to get some sleep.” Ric tried to calm her down. 

She pushed through the tears in utter shock looking toward us seeing that I was sobbing through heavy tears. “No. No, no. I-I can... I can fix this. I-I can make this whole miserable world go away. Josie's not really gone…neither are your sisters Henrik. I promise, okay?” 

Alaric grabbed her shoulders. “Elizabeth, please, please... “ 

“This was my last wish. I can't take it back.” Lizzie whipped her head around to us sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh. I've ruined everything. Oh, no. It's my fault!” 

Pushing past Pedro I suddenly threw one of the tables across the room smashing it to pieces. Grabbing one of the pieces I spun around on my feet launching it towards Lizzie but her body collapsed into sleep in her father’s arms. The piece of wood gets thrown into the witch. I think Penelope was her name. “Urgh!” I grunted seeing her body drop dead where instantly I collapsed onto the ground when my legs broke. 

“Henrik!” Pedro screamed seeing the rest of my bones starting to break. 

I don’t really remember what happened next but somehow they put us inside a cell with my bones still breaking slowly while I fought against the pain that it was bringing me. Lizzie slowly woke up seeing me curled up in the corner moaning in pain. “Henrik, oh god. You triggered your curse because of me…Genie, please come back!” 

The blue lady appears beside us staring down at me seeing my bones still breaking and I begin crying loudly. “Quite a pickle you’re in, Lizzie. Involving a poor innocent boy into this world. You now see that wishing me what I want is the only way.” 

“No way am I giving you my wish!” She snapped at her running her fingers through my hair. 

“Incentivized?” The blue woman snapped her fingers transporting the three of us outside where I lifted my head up seeing men throwing Alairc to the ground. 

Pedro panicked when I buried my face into the ground yanking my head up flashing my golden wolf eyes at the pair. “Lizzie what do we do…Henrik’s turning into a wolf.” 

“When I fix this he’ll be fine. I promise, Pedro.” She whipped her head around back to the blue lady. “I am never wishing you that urn.  You want it so bad? Why didn't you just take it when it was right in front of you…Because you can't. That's it, isn't it?  You said it yourself. You can only do what someone wishes you to do. That's your curse.  And you are just as broken as I am. But I know how to fix you.” 

“Lizzie ah!” I screamed up at her trying to still fight against the pain seeing my hands turning into claws. 

She gulped never wanting me to turn at only the age of seven so she thought quickly on her feet. “By winning your dumbass game. I wish that you had never met the monster that sent you to Malivore.” 

The magic lady trails off. “Huh. If I never went to Malivore…” 

“You'd have completed your years of service. That's my wish. Take it or leave it.” Lizzie glared at the woman with my back breaking and a low growl coming from my throat. 

She raised her fingers. “Your wish is my command.” 

Lizzie cheered dropped taking my hand in hers. “Boom! Suck on that! You won’t have to turn, Henrik.” 

“But there's a catch. We will never have met, either, which means... he won’t remember triggering his curse and you…” The blue lady cut her off. 

Lizzie mumbles. “I won't remember the Merge.” 

She explained to the three of us. “Not consciously. You'll be just like all those poor souls I helped over the centuries who used their final wishes to reset their realities.” 

Pedro asked nervously with my neck snapping in the opposite direction. “What did you do to them?” 

“They found their worlds just as they left them. Only their minds weren't.  Because somehow our journeys stayed with them and slowly drove them insane. It's like you said. There's always a loophole with magic.  And when you find out your father's secret, as you inevitably will, history will likely repeat itself, and you'll kill Josie all over again.” The genie tilted her head to the side with a curious look. “The only thing I am not sure whether or not Henrik will trigger his curse at the same time yet. But it still may be your fault.” 

Lizzie gasped realizing what she had said but it was too late. “I take it back. I-I wish to…” 

“I thank you for my freedom, Lizzie.” The genie snapped her fingers where I passed out for a brief second before I shot awake seeing Lizzie standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom. 

Getting to my feet I wasn’t sure why but I bolted through the hallways of the school searching for my mom or my dad like I was afraid that something had happened to them. Yet I couldn’t explain why. Screeching to a halt I found both of them standing out in the center room with the fireplace. “Mommy. Daddy!” 

“Henrik - offf. Hey, is everything okay?” Mom hugged me when I tackled her into a bear hug sobbing happily into her shirt. 

Dad bent down on a knee seeing me crying. “Son, why are you crying?" 

"I don't know, I just…Where are my sisters?" I croaked through heavy tears. 

"I love you, sisters!" Multiple sets of footsteps came around the corner where I spun on my feet seeing my three big sisters all standing there. Wrapping my arms around all three of them I didn't quite understand why but something told me that without the Mikaelson kids there would a war. 

[andybondurant]

New Post has been published on Andy Bondurant

New Post has been published on https://andybondurant.com/2022/10/24/how-instagram-stole-my-true-identity/

How Instagram stole my true identity

If you a follower of Jesus, you find identity in being made in the image of God and being adopted as a child of God. This is what sets you apart as a Christian. However, there is an enemy of the soul intent on stealing that identity from Christ followers. Has your identity as a Jesus follower been mistaken or even worse, has your identity been stolen?

This is the third in a series of posts addressing this issue of spiritual identity theft. The first post was an introduction to this problem. The second post defined the first half of your identity as a follower of Jesus – you are made in God’s image. This post dives into the other half of you identity — you are adopted as God’s child. The next and last post will give you three ways to regain your true identity.

In the last post, I showed you how God created humanity as a reminder and a reflection to the rest of creation of the goodness, the power and the authority of God. Sin, though, twisted that image. Our identity is more than being made in God’s image, because sin made our image incomplete. So the second half your identity is found in being adopted by God as his child. 

You are an Adopted Child of God

Jesus followers are adopted by God, and this is THE key to your identity. The Apostle Paul makes this clear in his letter to the Galatian church:

“But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, “Abba, Father.” Now you are no longer a slave but God’s own child. And since you are his child, God has made you his heir.”  -Galatians‬ ‭4:4-7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Paul uses two different pictures to describe our relationship to God – slave and child.

Sin captured you and me. Sin enslaved us. Jesus came, at just the right time, to set you free from that slavery. More importantly, God didn’t just set you free, but he also adopted you as his child.

Were You Adopted as a 2nd Class Citizen?

American history shows us that simply setting a slave free does not guarantee that freed person success. While set free from their masters, those slaves weren’t given a true chance for success. Imagine if America in the 1860’s and beyond had the same attitude toward the freed slaves that God had toward us. What if they weren’t seen as just free, but the former slaves were viewed as true and full citizens of the state?

Growing up, I knew a family who adopted two children along with their own biological children. From the outside, it seemed to be a beautiful story of redemption for those adopted kids and the adopting family. As an adult, I learned the adopted children didn’t see it this way. These adopted children felt they weren’t given the same preference and love as the biological children. They felt like second class citizens at best.

I can’t speak to their situation first hand, but I do know what it feels like to be a step-child. My parents divorced when I was young, and my dad remarried a woman with a son from another relationship. I didn’t spend time with him often — only a couple of summers before my dad and this lady divorced. For the most part, this step-brother and I were on equal footing, however there were times I KNEW I was not my step mother’s child. I was a second class citizen.

You are not the adopted child who is a second class citizen. You are not God’s step child.

Let me show you two ways I know this to be true based on this passage from Galatians:

1. God as Daddy.

Paul says when you turn to Jesus you are set free, and you are given the Spirit. The Spirit of God causes your own spirit to cry out “Abba Father” to God. That word ‘Abba’ means ‘Daddy’ in Hebrew. I don’t yell out for my ‘daddy’ or ‘mommy’ to someone who sees me as less than the other children in the family. The lady who was my step-mom was always ‘Gloria’ to me. She was never ‘mom’, ‘mother’, and definitely not ‘mommy’.

When God adopted you, he did so as a full child, and even more than that, God made you an heir to all that is his. 

2. You are an heir.

The book of Galatians was written to a church in the city of Galatia. It was made up of both Jews and Gentiles (non-Jewish converts). I’ll get into the greater significance of this below, but for now let me say both of these cultures celebrated a young person’s coming of age. However, how that process worked was very different in each culture. 

Most of us know the Jewish tradition of the bar mitzvah. A young man, after rigorous study and work, is celebrated as a man at the age of 13. He moves from one world to another at this specific and known time in his life. He is now able to be an heir to all his parents have. In the Roman culture this was different. A boy became a man when his father, the master of the house, deemed ‘the time right’. There was not set age or achievements, the father just had to declare the time to be right.

Paul pulls from this imagery to show us what happened with God adopted us. He says, “when right time came…God made you his heir.” You aren’t just a child adopted by God, but you are his heir. All that belongs to God is now yours. Let me put this another way, all that Jesus is and has is also yours.

Has you identity been stolen from you?

The world (popular culture surrounding us) and more specifically, the enemy of your soul, Satan, is trying to steal your identity from you. If you forget your true identity – made in the image of God and adopted as a child of God – then you lose what is most true about you. You will slowly fall away from who you are and whom you belong to.

One way the world steals your identity is telling you this lie: “We are all God’s children.” As we just saw in Galatians this isn’t true. We are all God’s creation (made in the image of God), but you aren’t God’s child until you put your trust in Jesus. So if you begin to believe the lie of the world, then you are forced to find another identity that sets you apart from those around yourself, and you look to the same places everyone else looks – gender, race, economics, politics, etc. 

Put on your Christ identity

Paul had this to say about finding your identity in the right place in his letter to the Galatians:

“For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. And all who have been united with Christ in baptism have put on Christ, like putting on new clothes.”  -‭‭Galatians‬ ‭3:26-27‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Your faith in Jesus is what makes you God’s child, so then your identity is Jesus. Paul uses the example of clothing to make this point. We don’t wear the identity the world puts on us, but we put on Jesus.

Take off your non-Christ identity

Paul makes is very clear what he means by this in his very next sentence:

“There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  -Galatians‬ ‭3:28‬ ‭NLT

The book of Galatians was written in large part because a fierce disagreement in the church about how the members in the church should identify. The Jewish believers thought everyone who followed Jesus should also identify as a Jew. In other words, they wanted the non-Jews to follow the same Jewish customs, rules and traditions they did. The Gentile followers of Jesus didn’t want this burden added to their lives. They wanted to simply follow Jesus.

Paul tells the church that Jesus came to break down barriers and walls of identity. For those who follow Jesus (live in Jesus) their is now no racial, economic or gender identities. Our identity is Jesus first and foremost. Everything else is secondary at best.

Consider this example from The Blue Letter Commentary:

Sadly, some Christians still draw lines today. Some draw lines between denominations, some draw lines between races, some draw lines between nations, some draw lines between political parties, and some draw lines between economic classes. For example, if you feel you have more common ground with an unbeliever who shares your race or your political party than with a genuine Christian from another race or political party, you have drawn a line that Jesus died on the cross to erase.

David Guzik

So let me ask the question again, has your true identity in Jesus been stolen?

How Instagram stole my identity

In the fall of 2010, a new social media app hit the Apple store. You may have heard of it — Instagram. At the time, I worked in the photography industry, and I was investing my time and energy in learning how to market using social media. I downloaded Instagram in early 2011 as an early adopter. Because of adopting the technology early, I gained hundreds of followers when most people had a few dozen.

Fast forward a few years to me starting this blog. I decided to use my Instagram account to promote my writing to my followers. It worked, but something strange happened in my heart. I began to find my value and worth in the responses to my posts and stories. If I received likes and comments on a post, then it wasn’t just that post was good, but it was I was good. Vice versa too. If the there weren’t many likes or comments, then it was more than just a bad post. It was me who wasn’t liked or valued.

The enemy of my soul used Instagram to steal my true identity (made in the image of God and adopted as a child of God).

About two years ago, I scaled back on my posting. Take a look, and you’ll find my last post was nearly a year ago. I post stories every few weeks. I’ve turned off my notifications. My identity is not found in my social media accounts.

Has enemy of your soul stolen your identity?

Immediately following the passage about being adopted as heirs of God, Paul lays this challenge to the Galatians:

“Before you Gentiles knew God, you were slaves to so-called gods that do not even exist. So now that you know God (or should I say, now that God knows you), why do you want to go back again and become slaves once more to the weak and useless spiritual principles of this world?”  -‭‭Galatians‬ ‭4:8-9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Let me rephrase that for you. Before you knew God, you were a slave (not a child or heir) to an identity outside of God. Why do you want to go back to slavery to a non-Christ identity?

Let me be clear, if you find yourself identifying FIRST by your…

Social media accounts

Favorite sports team

Political stance, political party or political candidate

Sexuality

Gender

Race

Children

Nationality

Church

…then your identity has been stolen from you.

Reclaim your true identity

But there is hope. You don’t have to stay in this place. You can reclaim your God given identity. It begins with humility. You need to be filled with the Holy Spirit. You need to be immersed in Scripture.

That’s where we’ll begin in the next post. For now do some soul searching. 

Has the enemy of your soul stolen your identity as being made in God’s image and adopted as God’s heir?

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 4 - Making Believe [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: A lot can happen in a coffee shop. 

Series Masterlist

Considering all the missions your superiors had sent you, this wasn’t the first one to make you end up with a gunshot wound, but it was the first one that you were assigned to seduce the target and ended up with a gunshot wound as a first impression.

Now that you had met Bucky, the next step would be easier. You just hoped he wouldn’t suspect something was up like General kept warning you about, so you had to make sure to memorize every single detail of your cover story.

Instead of being a trained assassin, you were now working in a milkshake shop.

Instead of having lived there your whole life, you were now clueless about the city since you had recently moved there.

Instead of liking horror movies, you now loved rom-coms.

New identity, new apartment, new car, new everything. It was as if the real you had never existed, but none of that was your biggest issue right now.

It was your new uniform for the milkshake shop.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered to yourself, looking in the mirror before fixing your skirt. Even after a week, you still weren’t used to wearing it, the uniform was some sort of a retro diner waitress costume with red and white stripes, cinched waist and a white apron over the short skirt. “I’m going to kill whoever picked this after I’m done with the mission.”

“Y/N?” Chloe called out from the living room, “Come on, we need to go over everything for today.”

You ran a hand over your face and walked to the living room to find your two best friends sprawling on the couch. Keith let out a laugh as soon as he saw you in that outfit, but managed to hide it by pressing his fist on his lips while Chloe kicked at his boot.

“I didn’t say anything!” He held up his hands, “Will you break my phone again if I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you pointed at him, “I will, so don’t even.”

“We need to go over the plan,” Chloe said, “Today is the day you accidentally run into Barnes, he’ll be at that coffee shop.”

“How do you know where he will be?”

Chloe scoffed, “Hello? I’m a genius hacker?”

Keith sat up straighter, turning the pages of your file.

“Okay so,” he said, “You guys will probably make some small talk, let’s have some practice. Pretend I’m Bucky, how will you talk about yourself?”

“We don’t need to practice it, it’s not my first rodeo,” you reminded him “I got this.”

“Y/N, no offense but he isn’t some clueless civilian okay? The guy was going after targets before you or your parents were born for that matter. The tiniest mistake could tip him off.”

“He has a point.”

“Fine,” you sighed, fixing your nametag, “Let’s practice then.”

Keith took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “Look at that, we ran into each other again.”

You frowned at his deep voice, “Bucky doesn’t sound like one of those robots in the Terminator, Keith.”

“I’m in the zone, just go with it,” he said as offered you his hand, and you shook it.

“Yeah, hi again.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Oh that’s normal, I just moved here. A month ago.”

“You just moved here?” he repeated “Really? Did you get used to the city yet?”

“A little.”

“I bet your family misses you.”

“Not really, I grew up with my grandmother. She passed away last year.”

“Any siblings?”

“No.”

Keith raised his brows, “Can you be less specific?”

“Keith—“

“You’re not acting like a civilian right now, you’re acting like a spy who has been forced to socialize and he will see right through that,” he told you. “You have to give him more details, civilians talk about themselves a lot.”

“It’s true,” Chloe said, “Once I was in this speed dating thing and just- don’t ask. They don’t stop talking about themselves.”

Keith pursed his lips only for a moment, stealing a look at Chloe before turning to you,

“Let’s try again. Any siblings?”

You rolled your eyes, “Unfortunately not. I’m an only child but when I was a kid, I kept begging my parents for a sister. My mom asked me what would happen if I got a brother, apparently I went like “but mommy, you can give him back then!””

“There we go, embarrassing childhood memories,” Keith grinned, “Good idea.”

You checked your wristwatch, “I gotta run,” you said, “You guys can see yourselves out.”

“I was actually hoping I could stay a little more,” Chloe said, “To make this place look a bit more appropriate. I suppose you’ll bring him here at some point?”

You pulled your brows together, looking around. “Yeah, so? There’s a bedroom.”

“Ever the romantic, this one,” Keith said and Chloe shook her head,

“Y/N, he needs to see something personal otherwise he might get suspicious.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “You mean like sex toys?”

“Oh Jesus…”

“Contrary to popular belief, when people say they want to see something personal, they don’t refer to sex toys.” Keith stated helpfully, “That being said, we’re all screwed if you end up falling for a civilian, you have no idea how to act like one.”

“I meant personal as in stuff to make your place look more homely,” Chloe explained, “Things from your cover’s past that show him we didn’t fabricate this whole identity.”

“Even if we did,” Keith mumbled under his breath and she nodded.

“Even if we did. He needs to see something personal when he comes here, like…” she motioned at the walls, “Like your childhood pictures or your art projects from when you were seventeen.”

“I was learning how to use a pencil as a knife when I was seventeen, Chloe.”

“Exactly. Just let me handle it, I’ve been watching so many makeover shows lately.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Knock yourself out,” you said, “I have milkshakes to fill, see you guys later.”

“Go get him tiger!”

“You got this!” Chloe called out as you walked to the door, “Just be confident and your milkshake will bring all the ex-assassins to the yard!”

You let out a small laugh, then closed the door behind you before throwing your shoulders back and going down the stairs.

                                                         ***

Approaching the target as your training taught you had to have certain steps. You couldn’t just implant yourself in their life, you had to wait until they thought it was their choice to include you in their lives. Sometimes it took more time than you had patience for, but in the end it was worth it.

Seeing that Bucky Barnes was no civilian, every single step had to be checked twice.

Well the uniform would help the mission, at least a little.

A distracted target was a good target.

You lowered the binoculars before pushing them into your purse and fixing the apron wrapped around your waist. Bucky was sitting with Sam at the coffee shop and they seemed to be in a deep discussion, not even aware of what was going on around them. You took a deep breath and approached the door before you pushed it, then slowly made your way to the barista.

“Hi, can I get a cappuccino please? Small.” You smiled at her and went to the counter on the right to wait for your order. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sam looking at you with a frown before saying something to Bucky, nodding in your direction. You kept your eyes on the counter, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet before you scratched around the tape of the bandage over the bullet wound absentmindedly.

Come on…. you thought Come on, approach me already, just come here….

“Here you go, miss.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup off the counter before you started pouring sugar into it just to stall, and finally heard someone clear their throat behind you.

Bingo.

You looked over your shoulder and turned around, your jaw dropping.

“Come on,” you let out a giggle, “Is this real?”

Bucky smiled slightly and pursed his lips together as if he wasn’t familiar with the gesture, “Uh…hi.”

“Hi!” you said, your voice way too high pitched for a moment, “Wow. We meet again, my hero.”

His smile widened and he rubbed the back of his neck, “How’s your arm?”

“Healing,” you ran a finger over the tape of the bandage, “I didn’t die, that’s something. But the doctor said that was the worst bullet wound he had ever seen in his life.”

Bucky frowned, “Wait, really?”

“No, I’m just trying to look badass,” you admitted, making him chuckle, “They didn’t even think it needed stitches.”

“Ah,” he said and motioned at your uniform, “So you’re a…?”

You scrunched up your nose in what you hoped to be a cute manner and shot him an abashed look, “I know. I thought the exact same thing when I first saw myself in it.”

“I doubt that,” he mumbled more to himself and you tilted your head, batting your lashes.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “So the uniform?”

“I work at this milkshake shop just around the corner,” you said, “Apparently retro shops are popular nowadays. It’s supposed to look like this pin up style— can you tell me what’s wrong with the dress so that I can tell the owner what a ridiculous idea it is?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking you up and down, “I don’t- it’s-“ he stammered “You know, it was such a long time ago. I think it looks perfectly fine.”

“Does it?”

“Absolutely.”

You grinned at him, “Well in any case, you should drop by sometime. Milkshakes are better than the uniform, I promise.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah! I would’ve invited you sooner but by the time I was done at the hospital you had already left, and they also told me you paid for the whole thing and the taxi, so…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved a hand, “It’s nothing.”

You bit down on your lip, “If you don’t mind me asking,” you said softly, “Why did you leave in a hurry? I mean obviously you didn’t have to stay, I’m sure you’re very busy and—“

“No no, it’s nothing like that,” Bucky cut you off, “I just didn’t want you to think you owed me anything, that’s all.”

“Huh,” you clicked your tongue, “I see. I was wondering what the catch was, didn’t have to wait that long. That’s good to know.”

He raised his brows, amused for some reason, “What’s the catch?”

“You’re too much of a gentleman.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not really,” you taunted him “Just unfamiliar.”  

His gaze lingered on you as you took a sip of your coffee, keeping your eyes on him.

“I hope you got home safe though,” he said after a beat and you thought for a moment.

“I did, and now I know to stay away from dark alleys in New York,” you said, “Lesson learned I’d say.”

“You’re not from around here?”

“I- no, I actually moved here just a month ago,” you said, “I grew up in a small town, we didn’t really have robbers or anything. And I managed to get mugged within the first thirty days in a big city. A true New York experience, I feel like I belong here already.”

“Your folks must be losing their minds if you attract trouble that fast in the city.”

“No one is losing their minds, it’s just me,” you said and when you saw his quizzical glances, you felt the need to explain. “I grew up with my grandma and I lost her a year ago, so…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ah it’s okay,” you said, “She wouldn’t want me to live in sadness, she told me that herself. You can’t focus on what ifs, you know? We just decide what to do with the time left for us and that’s it. Past would drive all of us crazy otherwise.”

He looked almost surprised at your take on loss and when you saw the soft light in his eyes, you knew you had just hit jackpot.

“You’re a glass half full kind of person, huh?”

Nope, I’m more of a “use the glass as a weapon” kind of person.

“Yeah,” you said, “There are enough pessimists in the world, and they don’t need me within their ranks. No one really did anything nice by thinking the worst anyways.”

“Oh you were definitely not raised here.”

Your jaw dropped, “You know what Mr. Barnes, I’d take that as an offense but lucky for you, you saved me the other day, so I’ll let that slide.”

“Mm hm,” He looked like he was struggling with himself not to laugh, “Lucky me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then checked your wristwatch.

“I should probably go, my boss cares a lot about punctuality,” you said, “But is it okay if I gave you my number?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he couldn’t believe you.

“Wait- really?”

“I mean I was going to wait until you asked me, but apparently you’re too much of a gentleman,” you joked as he hastily grabbed his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You typed in your number, then saved it.

Y/N (The Milkshake Girl)

Bucky tilted his head, his brows furrowed, “What, you didn’t think I’d recognize your name?”

“Well it’s better to be safe than sorry,” you joked, “Besides you should really come by sometime. We have the best chocolate milkshakes. It’s on the house.”

He smiled, “I will.”

You took a step, then held your breath and turned around as if you had just remembered something.

As if it wasn’t all practiced.

“But not after 4 on Mondays and Wednesdays,” you said, “I volunteer at the soup kitchen then.”

That light in his eyes was almost gentle, as if he was worried he could hurt you just by looking at you, but couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

“I’ll see you not after 4 on Mondays and Wednesdays then,” he said and you giggled, then turned around and walked to the door. Sam was watching you with a small, proud grin on his lips so you waved at him and left the coffee shop, still holding the warm cup tightly in your hand.

As soon as you were sure you were out of their sight, you dropped the smile, exhaled a relaxed breathe and grabbed your phone to touch the contact on the screen.

“I’m sorry, our delivery service is down right now,” the voice said and you scratched around the tape on your arm before telling her the code;

“That’s okay, I can wait until the rain stops.”

There was a click on the other line and soon enough you heard the assistant’s voice.

“Hello?”

“This is Shrike, put me through the General.”

“Of course, a second please,” she said and you tossed the cup into the garbage can, then General’s voice reached you.

“Shrike?”

“Sir, I just called to inform you that I’ve contacted the target for the second time,” you said, “Everything is going according to plan, my report will be on your desk by tonight.”

“He didn’t suspect anything?”

“No sir.”

“Okay,” he said, “Don’t move too fast, alright? We don’t want to spook him.”

“Of course.”

“And Shrike?” he said, “Good job.”

A smile lit up your face, “Thank you sir,” you said and hung up, closing your eyes and leaning back to the wall.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “You got this, he’s just another target. Let the games begin.”

Chapter 5

[weasleypogues]

fight club (p.h.)

request: hii can i request smth angsty with pope ? maybe it could end well for both the reader and him but overall it’s just filled with angst and slow burn and tension ? ty xx

ofc lovieee!!! loving this pope recognition finally!! :)

this will be a two part becuause this was longer than i expected!!! part 2 here!!!

masterlist.

you literally felt like you could not sit still. anger was pulsating through your veins as you paced back and forth on the porch of the chateau. you also felt the piercing eyes of pope follow you back and forth as you struggled to form a cohesive sentence.

“it’s just- ugh! she can’t get away with this! she thinks because she’s a kook that i’ll be begging for her forigveness and shit like i’m a starving peasant just to save my reputation! i’m a fucking pogue, i don’t have a reputation to uphold!” you spat as your hands clenched together so hard you swear you were going to accidentally draw blood from your palms.

vanessa was a kook that you never had problems with when you were kids because you two had a friendship that was secretive and playful because of opposing groups. it wasn’t until middle school was when she ditched you, similar to kie and sarah’s relationship. thankfully for them, they sorted it out. however, vanessa was bitter and bitchy every chance she could get. 

“yes (y/n)! keep it fiesty! i wanna see you win a good cat fight.” jj egged you on.

“you’re gonna make yourself go crazy if you don’t just sit down.” pope spoke in a sterner tone than you would have expected. but as the rage filled you from vanessa, pope’s tone was not helping. you felt a tinge of hurt in your chest as he expressed his clear stress and annoyance with you. but you weren’t going to let it go that easily; not in this state.

“i’m fine just the way i am, thanks.” you responded just as passive-aggressively as he did. you literally had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes so you wouldn’t egg this on, because the last thing you needed was for pope of all people to be on your bad side. 

you heard him scoff from behind you and his footsteps faded away. you spun around so quickly, maybe even too quickly to play it cool, to just see a flash of him as he turned the corner. your eyes flashed to john b, kie, and jj who had expressions that were just as shocked as your own.

“what’s his problem?” you asked, expecting an answer real quick before you had to go investigate it yourself. your teeth grinded against each other and you felt your face and ears go hot. 

“he probably just doesn’t think this is worth it (y/n/n).” kiara stated, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and giving you a look that said don’t let it get to you. kiara shared a quick glance with john b and jj, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you.

“w-what was that? that little look you three shared?” you asked pointing your finger at them interchangeably and confused but angrily eager to find out. you raised your eyebrows, expecting another speedy answer as you finally turned towards jj who held his hands up in defense and bit his tongue. 

“cut pope some slack. you’ve been looking for trouble lately (y/n), it’s been keeping him on edge each time.” john b responded and slapped his hands on this thighs before getting up off the couch. you felt your cheeks get a little hot and your jaw drop slightly.

pope was trying to be protective of you. this was not a secret that you and pope were always flirty with each other but neither of you ever acted on it. both keeping the same sad mindset, if they wanted to, they would. everytime you talked about this with kiara and sarah at a girls’ night, they playfully judged you for thinking like that and tried to encourage you to just go for it. 

you took a deep inhale and relaxed your shoulders and face, feeling the tension ease up on your body. “she’s asking for it...look i don’t want to make pope upset or anything but vanessa can’t keep pulling this shit. she’s asking for her teeth to get knocked in.” you huffed out as you grabbed your backpack and phone to hop on your bike and head home. 

--

your grabbed your phone and backpack as you headed back outside to your bike. you didn’t even bother to text the rest of the group about catching a ride to tonights kegger because you were just a little fired up from earlier. they were your friends and if this were any other case, they would be backing you up. why is this time any different?

you’re recalling yourself getting ready. stud earrings because she can grab hold of hoops. your hair in two braids because there was less surface area for her to snatch onto. sneakers to make a run for it in case shit gets bad. 

what the rest of them don’t understand is that not only was vanessa mean, spoiled, and made your existence on the obx difficult, was that you had a bumpy past with her. more than just losing a friend. she made up a rumor based on fake ideas that she overheard her parents talking about. when she would run into you on the street with her other kook friends at the ripe age of 13, she would be a bystander as they spat insults your way. that always caused a strain in your friendship. 

until one day, she started the picking on first. she judged you on your family’s financial situation and said quote-by-quote “i heard her mom cheats on her dad with all of her little pogue friend’s dads. who knows, they could actually be related and we wouldn’t know. she’s a whore and i’m sure she’ll end up just like her.” tears still brim your eyes at that memory. you wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the pogues, whether it was out of embarassment or fear. it was best for them and their own minds that it was never brought up again. since then, it seems like constant torture from her. 

you pulled up on the beach and hopped off your bike as your tires were definitely not made for the sand. you laid it on a tree and made a b-line to the keg that john b was basically guarding. “thought we’d hear from you.” you heard kiara state as she sat on the sand and glanced up at you, squinting her eyes to keep the remaining sun from basically burning them.

“yeah well, just got a lot on my mind.” you responded. you didn’t want to be so abrupt with them but your blood was basically boiling with the idea of vanessa. john b stared between you and kiara and handed you a full red solo cup which you gladly took, taking a gulp.

“soooo...” jj started, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “cat fight tonight?” you felt a chuckle rise out of you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get front row.” you joked, sending a smirk jj’s way and taking another gulp. you felt a presence behind you and turned to be faced with pope. his facial expression had clearly changed from what you saw from him last time. he looked almost guilty and concerned rather than aggravated. 

“come to snap at me again?” you said, turning towards the horizon on the water. looking into his eyes right now was difficult. maybe because it was the idea that you knew some part of you wanted to snap at him for him snapping at you earlier but you couldn’t make another enemy. not tonight. 

“about that...can i actually talk to you for a minute?” pope muttered, instincitvely cracking his knuckles, clearly scared to tread on water. you felt your shoulders relax and your facial muscles follow suit. placing your drink and backpack on the ground you followed a few paces behind him, closer to the sand where the tide was rolling in. although he didn’t stop, he wanted this to be a walk and talk situation. 

you strolled beside him, both of your hands slightly brushing against each other every now and then. while neither of you took initiative to grab the others’ hand, neither of you pulled your hands out of that pathway either. that connection and touch felt nice. it was reassuring that his snappiness, along with your own, was out of love and protection of each other. 

“you won’t be happy with what i’m about to say...” pope started, basically holding his breath.

“so why say it, pope? i know it sounds bad to say outloud but, why not just let me fight her? she has made my existence so unbearably difficult on this island and has slandered my name and countless others of those i love too much and for too long. i’m sick of being a pushover and letting her get away with it because of mommy and daddy’s money. im done!” you blurted out, letting more info out than you expected. “why does it bother you so much? if this was topper and john b going at it, or rafe and jj? which keep in mind, both have actually happened, i’m sure you would be more hesitant to stop them.”

your strolling came to a sudden halt as pope took a step directly in front of you, face to face. he looked longingly into your eyes, somewhat darting back and forth between your own eyes to search for an answer to his questions or even an answer to yours. 

“(y/n)! i can’t see you get hurt. i know how badly you want to do this and how much it means to you but in the end, what is it going to get you? an even worse reputation among kooks, bloody nose, and a black eye? is it worth it?” pope rambled drasticaly. 

“it is worth it! and i’m so thankful that you care about me and my well being and everything in between but this is something that i have to do. once and for all. i’m not putting myself and everyone i love through this torture anymore. and if that means beating the shit out of her and getting a bloody lip and battered up on the way, than so be it!” you responded, using your hands quite animatedly throughout the performance. the waves seemed like the loudest thing on earth as you awaited an answer from pope. he looked defeated and anxious, knowing that there was no getting through to you for this. 

“i-” pope started before cutting himself off, looking deafeated yet again. he ran his hands over his face in frustration and as he let his eyes shine over the tips of his fingers, they locked with yours. you felt stuck in place and in a trance for a split second before you felt a pair of hands on your waist and soon enough, you were lip locked with pope. 

instantly you pulled away, your heart feeling full and your legs feeling limp. your hands made their way to his jawline, slightly caressing his cheeks and neck as you pulled him back into the kiss, elongating it. 

he pulled away, shocked yet proud with himself. you could not help the small smile that made it’s way onto your face as your cheeks felt hot immediately. “i can’t believe i’m saying this but...fuck it. beat the shit out of vanessa.” 

the small smile grew as a laugh escaped your lips. you were quick to grab his hand as you both made your way back towards the kegger that was becoming a little more dense as the minutes passed. sarah, kiara, jj, and john b’s eyes were quick to fall on your interlocked hands with pope. both of you kept quiet, playing it nonchalantly. but you couldn’t help but notice pope’s look to john b and jj, all with smirks lined up on their faces.

part two out later!! :) 

[vivid-wisp]

Friday Night Funkin but I compelled a list of every lore/canon thing confirmed about FNF, specifically story elements said by the devs themselves

DISCLAIMER: YOU CAN TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT IF YOU WANT. Despite the devs confirming things, remember they can obviously change their mind. This list includes minor/semi-important bits, so lore you probably don’t know. “Major” lore most people know won’t be on this. Long post. This includes most if not all canon details the devs have stated on their social medias like Twitter, Twitch, Reddit, etc. These are not personal ideas or headcanons. REBLOGS GREATLY APPREICATED.

Boyfriend

- Hair is naturally cyan, not dyed. He is 19 years old. Boyfriend is a college dropout. He likes just speaking in "beeps and boops" sounds, it's not a language. He has ADHD. He's afraid of lightning.

- Both his parents work in accounting, they also own a dog BF has but can't take care of himself. Not known what dog breed it is.

- He and Hatsune Miku are siblings, and because of this BF is most likely asian specifically Japanese. Miku will be aged up to be the older sibling if she ever gets into the actual game.

- He loves pepperoni pizza from Dominos. Loves donuts the most out all FNF characters.

- Him and Pico are exes. This makes BF apart of the LGBTQ+ community.

- BF is very dumb just like GF. This also means he’s very confident, essentially fearless.

- Boyfriend sucks at FromSoftware games. However he's a really good scout player in Team Fortress 2. He's also likely to say "pog."

- Boyfriend is very good at finger board tricks, it’s one of the reasons he won Girlfriend’s heart.

Girlfriend

- She is 19 years old and afraid of lightning. She’s a demon and is a lot more chilled back than BF, she’s very fearless. She’s taller than BF by a good bit.

- Her favorite soda is Cherry Dr. Pepper and Cheerwine. Her favorite pizza topping is olive.

- GF likes to play video games, her favorite being Tetris.

- GF is extremely dumb just like BF and puts a lot of faith into BF to handle things. She does have emotions, she’s just very chill, aloof, or too dumb to realize. Or all of the above.

- The rest of GF's family aren't famous rapper/singers, just Dad and Mom.

- BF is the “top” but GF lets him be. (Phantom Arcade said this directly)

Daddy Dearest

- Because DD is retired, he gets his income from DMCAing people on Youtube for using his songs and music.

-  At some point DD pretends to “accept” BF, which really makes it harder for BF and does more crazy tricks on him. It’s a case of “keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.”

- GF’s dad may have known BF’s dad before.

Skid and Pump

- They get afraid sometimes but not at the right things, like monsters they aren’t afraid but are of natural things like heights. Somewhat similar to BF and GF.

- Skid and Pump were tricked by the Monster to get GF as a “treat” which is why they rap battle BF. When they fail the Monster comes out in the scrapped song for Week 2.

Pico

- He is 20 years old. Pico's School is canon to the Friday Night Funkin' universe. He's depicted having a tooth gap as a kid.

- Pico is a mercenary who was hired by Daddy Dearest to kill BF, he was only given a location and not a picture or name. Turns out BF is actually someone Pico used to know, implied by Phantom as not seeing BF for a long time, possibly years.

- Pico has schizophrenia, likely caused by trauma from Pico’s School, it’s likely the reason he always carries his gun with him as he’s very paranoid of people. He may have more than just schizophrenia.

- Him and BF are exes. He's been described by Tankman/Captain as "sexually ambiguous friend."

- Likes to drink McDonald's Sprite. And just like BF, he's likely to say "pog."

Mommy Mearest/Mommy Must Murder

- Unlike the Dad who is a ex-rockstar, MM is still working her job as a popstar.

- Likes to drink White Claw.

- The Henchmen that appear in the back are actually 5 days old, because they were grown/bottles in jars. They are clones.

Monster/Lemon Monster

- Hijacked Week 5 at the mall after the battle duet with the Dad and Mom, everyone at the mall scattering after Monster’s appearance.

- Tricked the Spooky Kids to get the GF as a “treat” so that it can eat GF and BF.

- The head of Monster is not actually a lemon, it’s just how it’s head is shaped.

- Is able to twist perception, presumably why after the hijack by Monster everything looked gorey and twisted. 

Senpai/Spirit

- Senpai is just an AI in the game while Spirit is a completely separate entity from Senpai, who is self aware and is related to the real world.

- Senpai is used to being loved and admired, so when he’s not loved and doesn’t get his way he becomes a jerk. Senpai is a pathetic sore loser, that’s why he got angry after he lost to BF.

- GF used to play the Hating Simulator game all the time when she was younger like 8 years old and liked Senpai, but after being sucked into the game with BF and seeing how Senpai acted she doesn’t like Senpai and dislikes him.

- Spirit was trapped inside the character Senpai, Senpai is not being controlled by the Spirit. Senpai still acts as himself.

- The Spirit was trapped inside the game by the Dad, meaning there’s history of the GF’s dad having past relationships with other people.

- Senpai was originally a teacher and designed as one, but was later changed.

Ritz

- Ritz and BF are canonically brothers, in the sense of a "Stuart Little" situation. So adopted in a way.

- Ritz skateboards to travel sometimes.

Tankman/Captain

- The war area that Tankman and his men are on is a military base that BF and GF trespassed on, unlike the apocalyptic setting in the original Tankmen series.

- The Captain doesn’t actually know Pico, BF, or GF which make the assumptions he says “don’t you have a school to shoot up” and “no prom for you this year” false. He just says them because he’s an jerk.

Miscellaneous

- Every "week" takes place on a Friday.

- Week 2 happens after Week 4. And Week 6 happens after Week 5 or Week 2. This may be changed in the future.

- The characters' birthdays are on November 1st since that's when the game came out, not specified if it's just 1 or multiple characters' birthdays.

- Everyone's favorite fast food is Arby's. (Ninjamuffin however says he's only saying this since he wants to be promoted by them on Twitter)

- Yes Boyfriend and Girlfriend are their canon names, not Keith.

- Week 5 happens because BF takes GF on a date to visit Santa for Christmas, but the parents show up to ruin everything. Mall Santa is dead if you “game over” in Week 5.

- Week 7 happens because GF’s parents sent BF and GF on a “vacation” which was to crash a plane to kill BF, knowing GF would be fine. They land/crash near military zone which GF’s parents didn’t know or intended. Pico shows up because he was sent to “fetch the corpse” of BF, he didn’t kill BF obviously and is now in deep shit from GF’s parents after messing up his job twice.

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (54)

Part 53 Here!

~o0o~

"Who are you?" Bruce's voice booms through the study. He stares at his newly crafted parents with confusion, and shock. His mind must be going in circles. "Well, look who decided to join us," Martha speaks to her boy. "Hello, champ." Thomas follows.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred pops in with a tray of tea and biscuits. Bruce looks at his friend in shock. "Alfred, how did you..."

"Look at the state of you. What have I told you about rolling around in the muck?" Bruce stares at everyone, Jeremiah and I hide away watching for the time being.

"Alfred, what's going on? Who are these people?"

"Whatever do you mean, Bruce?"

"We're your parents." Silence from the billionaire boy Bruce Wayne.

"Right. Well, let's get you spruced up. After all, we have guests."

Jeremiah pulls us both out with smiles. His hand around my waist and his other raising a glass. "Welcome home, Bruce."

"Jeremiah. You're alive." Bruce's eyes travel to mine.

"Well, you didn't think Selina could kill me so easily, did you? Or that I'd ever leave my wife and my unborn sprees? I just had to put you off my scent until I could finalize my... project." Jeremiah pinches Martha's cheek. Bruce lunges for him before Alfred stops him. "Manners, Master Bruce. Let's not be rude to our guests."

I look to Bruce with a slight smile. If I play along I might be able to stay safer if I play the victim. I smile kissing Jer's cheek. "Especially when we come bearing gifts." I present the bomb to them all on the table. "Oh, Mrs. Valaska. A cake. How exceedingly kind of you. Is it Italian meringue?" I look back at Jeremiah with a smile, about to burst into laughter. He shrugs his shoulder. "Sure." Bruce strides towards me with fury, until Jeremiah pulls out the trigger.

"Now, now, Bruce, you come any closer and I blow up Wayne Manor, with all of us inside of it. I have a dozen more of these, uh, Italian meringues sprinkled throughout the house." Bruce glares at me with ill intent. "What did you do to Alfred? And who are these people?" I roll my eyes leaving Jerimiah's side and plopping on the couch. "Ah, glad you asked. Come."

Jer strolls over to look at Wayne's personalized smiles with Bruce. "Mommy and Daddy dearest were just an innocent couple I kidnapped based on... bone structure and, um... build. Just a touch of plastic surgery, and voila... Waynes. Alfred, I nabbed in the Green Zone." Bruce waves his hand in front of their faces, connecting the dots.

"They're hypnotized."

"Well, I'm afraid there was no room for improv in our script. Today is a... very important day, Bruce. Just look at the way they're dressed." I walk around Martha, admiring her pearls. "I like these, J." He hum. "I'll get you some just like it, love, but these ones are important for tonight." I giggle and kiss his cheek.

"It's the night my parents were killed," Bruce says with sadness.

"And I'm giving you the chance to experience it all over again."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? Bruce... this...this was the most important day of your life. And I didn't get to be a part of it. We didn't get to comfort you on your big day. We need to rectify that." I stretch my arms out, planting them on my swollen belly. "Alfred, is dinner done? I'm hungry."

Jeremiah nods looking at Alfred. "Chop-chop. We're on a very tight schedule. My wife needs to eat." Alfred bows his head. "Of course, Mr. Jeremiah."

Jeremiah pulls out a chair for me in the dining area. Very comfortable and quaint! Jeremiah passes me a plate full of fruits and toast. "Alfred told me such great tidbits about your childhood. Any jam, darling?" Jer paused to ask me. I shake my head, kissing his cheek. "No love."

He nods, "Anyways, yes, How you used to eat here, in the kitchen, when it was just you and the family. My, how... homey and intimate. That's exactly how I'm raising my children."

Alfred walks over with Jer's food. "Grilled cheese and Branston pickle sandwich, Mr. Jeremiah. Master Bruce's favorite. My influence, though Thomas did add a dash of aioli for extra flair." Jer looks at Bruce with judgemental eyes. "Oh. Come on, Bruce. That's a weird favorite food for a 12-year-old."

"I'm playing your game," Bruce says smacking the plate off the table. "Now let Alfred and these people go. They're innocent."

"I'm sorry, Bruce, it's just... it's very important to me that I get every detail exactly right. Speaking of which... the final touch. What was it like... losing your parents that night? I lost my family, too, Bruce. The wound still hasn't healed. I... think about it often." Jeremiah falls into his thoughts, trailing off.

"None of this is real. You're trying to manipulate me. It will never be real." Jer smirks seeing the despair and sadness on Bruce's face. "But you are thinking about that night. That's all I need. I just want to be connected to you. I offered for you to be my best friend! You could've been the godfather to my children. But I've realized if we... can't be friends... then we can be connected in other ways."

"How?" Bruce asks frightened.

"You'll see. In time." Jeremiah looks at his watch humming. "I'm sorry to cut tonight short... but... your parents and I have a very important date ...with destiny." He laughs as we stand up and disappear with the Waynes. "You might want to find your faithful butler and leave. Quickly." as we rush out of the home Bruce struggles to find his butler.

Jeremiah runs through the tunnels, dragging me behind. "Exhilarating. Isn't it love?" I grab the wall as we near the end. "I... I need to slow down." His face smooths and he presses his hand to my back. "Aw, my love, I'm sorry. Giving you a hard time today?" His hand comes to my stomach and the twins kick excessively. "When you're around." I laugh leaning onto the soft fabric of his blazer. Jer looks down at me with sad eyes. "This is dangerous. You shouldn't be here." I furrow my brows. "You brought me along!" "And it was foolish of me. Gents, for the rest of the night, keep my wife safe. At safe blast range."

~

"Jeremiah!" Bruce calls in the theater. "Show yourself!"

The screen starts running a film. "Ol?! Hola, Bruce." Jeremiah swings in the frame on the big screen. "Well, here we are, the theater where your mommy and daddy took you to see The Mark of Zorro. Ha-ha! I had heard you were obsessed with this man as a child. I wonder what was it

that intrigued you so? Was it the fact that he struck fear into the hearts of his enemy?" Jeremiah in his costume fights off his enemies on the screen.

"En garde! Take that, you villain."

Jer looks into the screen. "Perhaps the movie was a bit too effective. Isn't this the part where you became frightened? When you asked your parents to leave? I wonder what would have happened if you hadn't done that. If you had conquered your fear. Maybe your parents would still be alive."

"Well, on to the last and final stop down memory lane."

~

Bruce runs out of the theater in a sprint. He stops in his tracks when he sees Jerimiah and I. "Stop! Stop! That's far enough, Bruce."

"Jeremiah. You don't have to do this."

"But I... I do. You see, I-I came to this realization. I realized that no matter what I did to bond us, some random gunman in an alley would be the man who you were tied to the most. The man you saw when you closed your eyes. I want to be the star of the show! Jeremiah says dramatically. "So if I can't have you as a brother bonded by love, then we'll just have to be bonded by hatred." Bruce huffs at him in anger. "And you think killing two people that look like my parents will do that? It won't."

Jer tightens his grip on me. "Well, then it's a good thing I already put a bullet in both of their fraudulent skulls." I look up at him with furrowed brows. "You said-" "Oh, you're both confused. How sweet." I look back to the couple with their backs facing us. "Jer, who is that?"

"You're wondering if I already shot them, then who's this lovely couple?" I jerk away from Jerimiah in an attempt to see the two. "No."

"Thomas, Martha...why don't you turn around?" Tears well in my eyes. "Jer, why?" He looks down at me with venom. "It's always been a roadblock, darling. Even for Jerome. With Jim in the way. No family of ours will survive. So why not have some fun with it, huh?" He winks at me. "No! You- you can't. These kids need him." "They need me," Jerimiah says with a smirk. "And so do you, doll."

"See, Bruce throughout our little adventure, fate brought to me James Gordon and Leslie Thompkins, and I thought to myself, why not... why not kill the man who you think of as your second father figure? And your dear, dear, dear friend Lee Thompkins. And when I do, finally, you and I will be bound together. Because you see...reunification with the mainland hangs on by a thread. Those fireworks go off and toxic chemicals rain down onto the city, and the government...cuts us adrift for good." I let a tear fall. "Jeremiah, please. Don't" He hold me tighter, never letting go of his hold.

Jer pulls me to the car, shoveling me in. "Dad!" I scream over his shoulder.

"I had Jervis Tetch hypnotize them so that they'll wake up the moment these beautiful pearls hit the ground. I want you to see them realize what I've done to them as life drains from their bodies. Never forget, this is all for you, Bruce." Jerimiah hops into the car with me, closing the door as we speed off. I stay silent. Sitting alone. "Aw, darling. Come on now. You know I had to. A wife can never live a life with two sides. You'll understand one day." He kisses my cheek while looking out the windows at his destruction.

"You know... I always liked him." I look up across from me to see Jerome. "He got on my nerves, but he always kept it interesting, didn't he, doll?" I push a smile out on my lips, nodding. Jerome leans over and kisses my forehead. "Cheer up love. Look down, look at our kids. Give them a laugh for me. Keep that one in check." He winks before setting back and vanishing.

I shake my head pushing all the nerves back in my mind. "Jerimiah, love? Where are we going?" He smiles grabbing my hand. "To the finale." Rounding a corner I see the big illuminated letters of ACE Chemicals. The inside reeking of strong odors.

"Jeremiah! Face me!" Bruce's echoed scream bounced through the factory. "Here, Bruce," Jer calls loudly. I stay behind pipes, hidden away safely as Bruce runs after my mad husband.

"Jeremiah! This ends. Tonight."

Both gentlemen on the metal walkway above the vats of acid. Bruce hits Jerimaih making him stumble against the railing. "No, Bruce. Now it begins." Bruce kicks Jerimaih down the catwalk, towering him. "You feel it.

The connection between us. You do. Don't you? Bruce, you feel it." Bruce punches Jeremiah as he continues. "Tell me you feel it."

"You mean nothing to me."

Jerimiah's head butts Bruce before getting to his feet again. "Why don't you understand?" Jer grabs Bruce pushing him against the railing, causing it to bend. "You need me. I'm the answer to your life's question! Without me, you're just a joke...without a punch-" Jerimiah throws his hand at Bruce, but Bruce moves at the right time causing Jer to miss. His arm follows through in the wind, his body hitting the railing hard causing it to break and Jerimiah to fall into the vat. "NO!" I scream running over. Bruce tugs me back as I try to reach down into the vat. "(y/n), no!" I cry holding to the broken railing. "No... no..." I lower my head into my hands. They're both gone. I'm all alone now.

An ambulance rolls up fishing out Jerimiaha's body from the vat. "Miss." I continue to watch as Jerimiah's body is laid on a table and carried away. "Miss." I look up to see a nurse with worry-filled eyes. "I need you to come with me. You've been surrounded by hazardous chemicals. We need to make your child is okay." I nod numbly. Passing Bruce, keeping my head down. "(Y/n)," Bruce calls. "Let me follow." I nod without a word.

~

"Well, Mrs. Valeska. You're set. Two healthy twins." I nod standing. "Where is-" "Room 204. He's unconscious." "I don't care." I stand walking to the locked room, two guards on each side. "I'm his wife," I say before entering. In the bed, Jerimiah lays still, wrapped up in bandages from head to toe. I feel my tears well up with tears. "He did it to himself, doll. Nothing you could've done." Jerome kisses my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me. The ghostly feeling so comforting. I lay hand hands on his feeling the cold skin. "I wish you were here." "I know, but someone else is." The door opens and none other than my father walks in. "Dad." "Oh, my god." He covers his mouth, tears welling up, as he wraps me in his arms. "You're okay." I cry into his shoulder.

Selina and Bruce arrive in the room. "I can't believe he's still alive," Selina says with hatred, but I can't blame her. "They've been doing scans, and he has no brain activity," I say never taking my eyes away from Jer. "So, he's no longer a threat to you. To anyone." I turn around walking away from the room. "(Y/n)," Dad calls out. "Come home with me, honey. You need to be-" "Okay. I'll meet you there." I continue to walk out the doors into the dark night of Gotham, a quiet night. 

[belit0]

sparky7-2

Ok so I just had a god level headcanon, remember when Indra said he wanted heirs but reader is like Ehhh? Imagine them pulling an uno on him with a jutsu that makes it so that Indra gets pregnant instead 😂😂😂

Mpreg Indra would be so cute :3

Just another part of their power war XD

LMAO, I HAD A LOT OF FUN DOING THIS REQUEST. I kinda smell a series coming out of this🧙🏻‍♀️🖤✨

Also @sparky7-2 , you had asked if Indra would be tender with his children, so here is a small and false demonstration before his twins are born🤧.]

“…[Y/N]…”

“Yep?”

“I want kids.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, you said we were coming to this village to get pregnant… it’s been two months and you keep making me cum outside.”

“ What did you say, dear? Get pregnant? The two of us? That sounds like teamwork to me, I’m going to be the one who has to carry a huge belly for who knows how much.”

“…”

"That’s what I thought, now be a good husband and-”

“I want kids.”

With arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed, and to top it all off with the Sharingan activated, he refused to let you speak.

“Fuck you.”

The words came out of your mouth with a smile planted on your lips as an idea popped into your mind at the persistence of your man.

“I. want. Kids.”

“You know what? Do you want children so badly? There you go, Indra. Have a good ride!”

Making some quick hand seals, you resist laughing when the most bizarre image ever seen appeared in front of your eyes. The fearsome Indra Ōtsutsuki, with a gigantic belly that looked like it was about to explode.

An anger that he only dedicated to his worst enemies appeared in his face when he realized his new state, which only increased the appeal of the whole situation. He couldn’t fight you even if he wanted to, because although it was all the work of one of your Genjutsus, in his perspective, it was even more real. If he was careful and responsible about anything, it was when it came to you, and now that his body was convinced that he was carrying a life, he would never attempt to counter that.

“Well dear, it really suits you! You look radiant, and as much as I’d like to stay and annoy you some more, one of us has to run this place… Enjoy a little bit of your own medicine. I love you, Indra.”

When he spoke, his hands were resting on his belly, analyzing the new state of his body. His eyes didn’t let go of that big lump, he didn’t even look at you when you walked up to the front door and opened it. You expected some kind of attack or something, but he seemed immersed, enjoying the situation. Noticing his attitude, he said a couple of words, playing the role of an angry Indra in front of one of your evil tricks, but knowing him you could see that there wasn’t a bit of intention behind his words.

“I… fucking hate you so much… [Y/N] GET BACK HERE AND TAKE THIS OUT OF ME NOW”

With a little laugh, you went outside and closed the door, giving him privacy. Maybe with this little game, you would finally gain more time before having to carry that huge bundle yourself…

“Maybe later…”

So he was left alone in the big house while you went off to tend to business as the village leader. Looking at his tummy and passing his hands affectionately over it, he spoke in a low, sweet voice.

“What are we going to do now that mommy is gone heh? Are you hungry? We can work that out, daddy will take care of it”.

Without taking his hands off his body for a second, he went to the kitchen, where a large breakfast was prepared, as his appetite was suddenly gigantic. He sat down on a chair and put all the food in front of him on the table, eating with animosity and joy, something unbecoming of him in the mornings. Indra is a person who can only swallow tea at that time of day.

“What do you think? Do you like it? Mommy says I have a good hand in the kitchen … Should I give you a name? Is it too soon? I haven’t discussed it with [Y/N]… I don’t know your gender either… but I’m sure you’ll be a boy. Big strong daddy’s boy, right? You really need a name, it is inappropriate for me to address my son in this undignified manner, hang in there … Indra JR. for now.

Forgetting about breakfast and worrying about naming his unrealistic unborn child, Indra went to the front door of the house and opened it, only poking his head out. Careful that no one saw his body, he called out to the first person he saw walking near his property.

"Y-Ye-e-s In-ndr-a-Sama?”

“Go to the main building and call [Y/N]-Sama. Tell her that I am the one who needs her and that it is an emergency. Be assertive, villager, and don’t show this disgusting fear in front of her unless you want to die.”

Without saying anything, and almost crying, the man ran out to find you.

Suddenly Indra’s whole body began to feel tired, heavy as if it were not his. Understanding the exhaustion of the pregnancy, he decided to go to bed. Closing the door, he used the walls as his main support to reach his destination, and once there he let himself fall heavily.

He discovered that he could not untie his boots, as his oversized belly did not allow him to bend over and reach them. Giving up the task, he sought a comfortable position. This took him about fifteen minutes. From both sides, the boy (for he was convinced it was a boy) put uncomfortable pressure on many things which Indra did not know were inside his body. On his back, the child crushes his spine. Finally, he chooses to place his pillow and yours on his back and set against the back of the bed.

While waiting for your arrival, he began to caress his belly, while humming a song.

“We are going to love you very much Indra JR. When you arrive, mommy and daddy are going to protect you from all the bad guys and-”

“In everyone’s eyes, we are the bad guys and we are not going to call it Indra JR.”

Interrupting the monologue, you entered the room with an ear-to-ear smile. The image you came across was strangely adorable, and you could imagine what it would be like if things were reversed if that baby were real and that pregnancy was yours.

“That’s why I called you [Y/N], I didn’t want to decide without you because it seemed unwise, this is teamwork, but I have some thoughts - you were about to sit on the bed next to him - could you please take off my boots? I can’t reach my feet.”

Fluttering your eyes and with a mocking grin, you complied with his request, while he redirected his full attention to his fake unborn, stroking his belly and quietly singing that song again.

“I never heard you sing, dear… Where did you get that song?”

“My grandmother used to sing it to me when I was a child and I couldn’t fall asleep. My bro- … Ashura… never had any trouble falling asleep so… I think only I know it. I want my children to know it too.”

“…Indra…”

“Hm?”

“I want kids.”

“I was really hoping you’d say that. Undo this Genjutsu and let’s get started.”

[darkenedreaper]

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part: 5/5

A/n: I’d like to state that I made up a few lines of poetry and I’m proud of myself.

For the time you had been taken it seemed like your body had been put under severe treatment. At this point you could’ve been gone for months. You recognised the big symbol that was painted onto the wall. Hydra. They had been testing on you, testing on the Avenger. Every day you’d go through a new pain until they found the right one. From what you could catch they were planning on using you as their next super soldier. They had obviously saw the News and what had happened and who did it to you, so they took their chance and succeeded. You were laying back onto the white bed, your arc reactor now had a new red vibranium lining on the outside of it and your new suit which stood beside you, was black, with the logo on the back. You felt stronger, stronger than you would after training, stronger than you would after once pinning Steve on his back. Steve. Steve Rogers, your enemy according to Hydra. And ‘let’s not forget’ they said ‘what that Russian Widow did you to you’. They now began another experiment on you, testing a new serum.

Back at the compound and above the ground. It had been 10 months, 3 weeks, 2 days 6 hours that you had been missing for. To say they were all ashamed would be an understatement.

Steve wanted to get away from his shield, he couldn’t look at it let alone touch it. On his wardrobe floor where he had placed it 10 months ago, it had pieces of the glass from your arc reactor surrounding it. From the impact, some of the glass had melted to his shield. He didn’t want to be reminded of it, but his tears for you couldn’t help but.

Tony nearly drunk his whole cabinet if it wasn’t for Bruce dragging him back to the lab. And then went Tony was alone, the man would cry.

Bruce didn’t want to focus on the thought of you being tortured, which you were or experimented on, which you were. But he did focus on doing everything to find your arc on the map somewhere.

Thor went back to Asgard and he didn’t want back to Asgard and he spat in everyone’s face that he didn’t want to talk to them unless the found you. His mother back at home was increasing getting worried of your absence.

Clint was home aswell to his wife and kids. Laura distanced herself from him whilst he was back there as she thought of you as family. The kids just drew drawings and tried to make their Daddy and Mommy feel better.

Wanda and Vision tried to buck up the team, but they were falling apart themselves and if they didn’t have each other, they’d be lost.

Bucky spent time on his own, he would stay in your room and sit in your chair, hoping you’d walk in the door and do his hair. He felt his arm was tainted but there was nothing he could do about that, so he tried his best to find you with Steve.

Natasha. She wallowed. She was dying inside. She wondered if the heartbreak she was going through was what you felt all those months, creeping around hiding from the team. If it was what you felt when she watched the shield drive into your heart. She didn’t dare go in your room. She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at herself.

She worked night and day trying to track you down, on every mission, in every country, yet all were failures.

They barely spoke to each other now. You affected them massively and they wanted their Y/N back. Whether you hated them or tried to kill them, they’d be so joyful that you were back.

Right now you felt best coursing through your veins and the machine that was attached around your head was slowly vanishing away your memories. You could feel all your knowledge slipping away from you. Your weaknesses being taken over from the amount of power your body had. You yelled out in pain as they would boost it up, clear it was working. A huge flash of light took over the large base and you were listening for your first command. You saw your Commander walk up to your face and he saw the change in your eyes. He snapped his fingers towards the leather straps that had metal chains wrapped over them. And you broke free from them. You hadn’t gotten taller perhaps a few inches, but your muscles were evident as your suit was placed onto you.

You were supplied with 4 guns and 3 knives. Your arc reactor had layers of protective and bulletproof glass coated over it. Now you were unbreakable. You didn’t have a name. You didn’t remember. You don’t remember your friends or if you had any, or any family. All you were focused on was your mission, the Avengers. And your main targets were ‘Captain America’ and ‘Black Widow’.

When you had been brainwashed they had managed to rid of everything except the torture the Avengers put you through. The heartbreak and physical damage. You were given your own jet and a black helmet with a red H on the front and you went off to the compound in search of one of your targets. And it wouldn’t take you long to get there.

Night had fallen at the Avengers compound and they were all in the sitting room. Silently watching a movie that no one was paying attention to. Jarvis seemed upset as he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore, unless that was because she hadn’t been looked after for months. Friday nearly disabled herself because she was so mad at her boss. If she were a human she’d be looking for you non stop as you often had conversations with the AI.

They had all dragged each other for ‘bonding time’. They were so down and ashamed that no one heard heavy footsteps. Until Bucky picked up on the reflection and he sat up a smile on his face as it could be you.

And around the corner you came, every Avenger jumping up from their seats. No one noticed the Hydra suit because they were so focused on your breathing body. Until Natashas gaze landed on your eyes. She saw it wasn’t you, well it was. But right now you were a Hydra agent trying to kill the Avengers.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted with a big grin on his face. You pulled dour your gun and shot above his head and you would’ve gotten him if it wasn’t for Bucky pulling him away as they all scattered off in all directions. Right now you were behind a man known as Hulk. You were shooting everywhere at everyone who crossed your path or came into view. You were putting multiple holes in walls at once and you put your gun back and instead ran towards the coward and grabbed him t shirt nearly picking him up off the ground. You got out a knife from your thigh pocket and nearly jabbed it into him if it wasn’t for that voice that came from behind you and him.

“Y/N.”

You recognised the voice as Black Widow and she was a main target so you flung the other man into a wall, crashing him into the next room. You ran after her and you were nearly faster than her if it wasn’t for her jumping up into a vent. So you took a gun and starting shooting holes in the vents, hearing scurries of fear through the vents. Your super soldier hearing picked up on a whisper that came from East.

It was Tony and Wanda. They thought they were hidden as Tony was crawling towards the table with his iron fist on.

With one quick shot you blew it up. Wanda tried getting into your head but she couldn’t even get past the thick line of Hydra.

“Come on Y/N I made that! It’s Tin-Man you know me!”

He kept calling out a name you didn’t know and as he hit the wall you took a look at his arc reactor and looked at yours. You saw his hand pout from his to yours.

“The same. You see. It’s Tony.”

You put your hand around his throat and lifted him up, his head hitting the ceiling, and you started punching at his bright light. Groans, pleads and yells at you to stop game from his mouth but you soon threw him to the side aswell, discarding of him while he collapsed onto the floor. Watching you walk away, walking on the glass that had fallen from his reactor.

You went in search for the girl who was trying to break into your head and instead you ran into the man with the metal arm known as the Winter Solider. He was trying to call out your name trying to talk to you but you shut him up by grabbing him arm and jamming a piece of glass into his weak spot where the arm connected to the body. Footsteps were approaching and it was the girl again. You took a knife and held it in the air to jam into ‘Buckys’ throat but your knife was thrown across the room with some sort of red magic around it. You threw the limp body of the other super soldier towards the girl and she was too slow to react as he came crashing down into her.

The compound was a mess, glass everywhere, holes everywhere, a little spark came from a wire where your bullet had hit it.

Vision had also been seen to. He just approached you and you didn’t even acknowledge him so you just drove the bottom of your gun into his temple sending him down, and kicking him out of your way.

You would finish the targets of after you’d found your other two. You went towards the hangar where their jets were stored to see no one around.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way down to you. His shield in his hands, not strapped onto him arm.

You knew who was behind you and pointed your gun to the troubled and saddened man who stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N. I know your in there.”

You walked up to him and smashed the gun into his face, making him fall onto his side, shield still in his hands. He got up.

“You’re not a Hydra agent. Your Y/N. Our family.”

With a grunt you hit his stomach with your fist, sending him flying backwards. He got up.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

And now you sent your boot into his chest and made him fall on his back. This time he struggled to get up.

You had punched and kicked him so far bad that you near the edge of the runway, splashed of the water hundreds of feet beneath you. He got up.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

He tossed his shield away from him, trying to bring you back. His face was bleeding, his back was in agony and his suit was torn because of how far and harsh he skidded backwards.

“Your my friend.”

It was an odd feeling, one you hadn’t felt for months. Did you know him? Steve? No. He was your target right? And you went with your head. As soon as he saw movement from your feet dashing towards him, he didn’t move. If you were to kill him he wouldn’t envy you, he would’ve said he deserves it. His head didn’t hit the ground and he was now on the edge of the cliff with you above him, one fist balled into his suit and the other clenched.

“Your my mission.”

The first time he heard you speak in months and it was this.

After the first punch his eye had already began to close over. The second punch, his facial skin was torn. The third punch, both nostrils began to bleed. “Your.” The fourth punch his lip cut. “My.” The fifth punch, his lip bled out. “Mission!” The sixth punch sent his head lolling around.

You had to stop to consider if what you were doing was right. You knew this man. You knew them all.

“Then finish it.” His voice broke.

“Cause I’ll go with whatever your ordered.”

He even nodded confirming that it was okay for you to kill him.

He was talking about him being your target to kill. You were ready. You were so ready to throw him off the edge of it wasn’t for that voice.

Calling out a name. You turned your head and got up. The red head was standing. Arms crossed. She had fear and tears in her eyes. As soon as you stood quickly her arms unfolded like lightening.

She took a step back as you slowly approached her, getting a knife from your pocket.

“Y/N, this isn’t you. You need to listen to me. Y/N please.”

Your anger had slowly started to build again inside you.

“Stop saying that goddamn name it’s fucking pissing me off.”

Her mouth was bobbing open and closed. She wanted to sob at seeing how you were. She wanted to see those E/C eyes staring back at her instead of the blank ones that had one thing in mind.

“Do you not know me?” She was starting to walk back into the weapons room but she had no intention of doing any harm to you. And if you wanted to beat her and kill her then so be it. She’d let you. Your fist that was empty was slowly beginning to ball up but you couldn’t hit her and why? You didn’t know.

“моя любовь, пожалуйста, послушай меня.”

The Russian sentence of ‘my love please listen to me’.

It caused you to snap and you swung at her face, causing her to groan and stumble backwards.

“Do not tell me to listen to you. I’m not your fucking love.”

She wanted to cup her face as she felt the bruise appearing but that would be selfish after everything you’ve been through.

“Ты понимаешь русский мой дорогой”

‘Do you understand Russian my dear?’

You were never taught Russian at your Hydra base so why could you understand it. You took heavy breathes and you had a confused look on your face because your lip trembled and anger was painted onto your face again. You threw your fist at her again causing her head to snap backwards and blood tricked down her lip.

She was exhausted. The sleepless nights without you, the guilt drowning her. You ran towards her and she put her arms up to defend herself but you were quick to pull them down and you landed kicks to her side and plenty of hard punches to her ribs. By the time she had cornered herself she was sure a rib or two were broken. Her forehead was gashed and bleeding. Her sides hurt like hell and her neck was strained and had knots in the muscles because of how many times her head had flung back from the strength of your fists. You were still standing strong and unharmed and that was when you retrieved your knife again.

“Моя любовь, когда ты вернешься дома, только тогда я буду дышать, моя дорогая, когда ты узнаешь мое имя, только тогда я буду улыбаться. Когда ты вернешься ко мне, только тогда мое сердце поправится.” ‘My love, when you get home, only then will I breathe. My darling, when you know my name, only then will I smile. When you return to me, only then will my heart recover.’

You were lost in thought and you could hear voices just like hers whispering that into your ear late at night or when you had gotten back from a tough mission. You heard other voices. Buck? T? Banner? Wands? Vis? Stevie?

“Natasha?”

She had tears freely falling and she noticed your tight grip on your knife still. She nodded and she slowly approached you limping but smiling to herself as you didn’t tense or move backwards.

“But you hurt me.”

She nodded again as she was in front of you now, subtly slipping the knife from your hand. She took of your helmet and placed it on the floor alongside the knife. She could see it in your eyes. The good and bad memories coming back to you. But she could see hesitance.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please stop this. This isn’t you Y/N, it never has been and never will be.”

You took in her words and started to accept her, not yet forgiving her and the team for what they had done to you. She knew you were still going to be a super soldier and she knows her and the teams’ actions were always going to haunt you. She placed her hand on your arc reactor and it felt like home. All she could do was hope. Hope that you still had forgiveness in your heart. Time would need to be taken for you to heal. For the hydra walls to break down. But she would be there for you. She’d do whatever it would take for you to forgive her, for her to get you back.

They all would.

(My gif use as you want)

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @fayhar @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

v: i hate you but allie doesn’t (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 1903

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

A/N: HOLY SHIT 730+ FOLLOWERS?!? My tumblr’s gonna surpass my personal insta and i’m honestly not mad abt it ily alll

       “I can help you with that,” Bucky insisted as y/n pulled several plates from the cabinets under the counter. y/n gave him a questioning look, as though asking him why she was helping him, and he continued, “if you explain to me why you have a teenager and two kids in your apartment.”

       “Touché, but it’s actually two teenagers, so ha! You were wrong about another thing,” y/n chuckled before her features softened as her gaze wandered to the closed acacia door down her hallway, “My nephew, Ethan is sulking in his room. Honestly, I can’t blame the kid,” y/n explained. With every word that spilled from her lips, Bucky found himself growing more and more curious over y/n’s current situation.

       “How’d you end up with them all in your apartment?” Bucky questioned before adding a quick, “I’m not going to say no offense because that would be a lie, but you look really tired.”

       “Gee, thanks. You sure know how to charm a lady,” y/n rolled her eyes, shoving the plates in Bucky’s hands.

      “I was quite the ladies’ man back in my time,” Bucky winked, placing the plates on top of the place mats y/n had already set on the glass table.

       “I almost forgot you were an old man,” y/n snickered, setting the silverware on the table with one hand and placing Allie in her highchair with the other arm.

       “Didn’t your parents teach you to respect elders and learn to answer questions?” Bucky raised a brow, referencing his previous question.

       “What question?” y/n spoke in confusion as she buckled Allie into the seat. The toddler giggled whilst slamming her palms against the plastic table. y/n made a note not to leave the bowl of baby food there.

       “The one where I asked how you ended up having to take care of two kids and two teenagers,” Bucky chuckled awkwardly, watching y/n struggle to open a jar of baby food. Who knew it would take one jar of baby food to defeat one of SHIELD’s greatest agents?

       Before y/n could reply, Bucky didn’t notice the kid from earlier, Jackson as he would soon learn, was seated at the table and responded for her, “Mommy’s on a trip with daddy and Livvy and Ethan are sad about it,” came his petite voice.

       Bucky, knowing damn well “on a trip” was most likely a code for something he’d encountered quite a lot, gave y/n a look. She only responded with a sad smile as she poured the contents of the jar into a bowl.

       “Jackson, tell Olivia and Ethan breakfast’s ready, please,” y/n requested, earning an eager nod from the boy before he jumped out his seat and rushed to his sister’s side.

       Bucky approached y/n, looking for more answers regarding the kids. He knew this might have been the only opportunity he had to ask y/n without the kids—with the exception of Allie who could barely understand a thing—about what happened to the kids’ parents and what role she played in the kids’ lives.

       “Please don’t tell me you killed their parents and took them in as your own. I think I saw a movie like that once. It was pretty fucked up,” Bucky chuckled but immediately stopped when he saw the way her face dropped at the mention of the kids’ parents.

       “Their mom, she was my sister. I found out a few days ago she died in a car crash and the next thing I knew, the kids were being dumped on me,” y/n spoke, eager to finally explain her situation to somebody even if that somebody was Bucky, someone she clashed with more often than not.

       “What about their dad? Surely, he should’ve been the one to deal with the kids,” Bucky questioned, his brows furrowing.

       “I don’t know where that ass is right now or what he’s doing. That deadbeat killed my sister,” y/n growled, gripping tightly onto the marble counters. Bucky had no idea what to tell her. He’d never been in a situation where he had to comfort his teammate who not only lost their sister, but had to take custody of the kids too!

       Due to Bucky’s inability to speak, and y/n having nothing else to say, they stood there in an awkward silence as y/n stacked pancakes onto the plates one-by-one and topping them with a big scoop of gelato.

       Their mother used to make the best pancakes and top them off with gelato. She and Cassy got the exact recipe which really came in handy when Jackson asked for “Pancakes, please? The way mommy makes them” when y/n asked him what he wanted for breakfast.

       After a few moments of silence, Ethan, Olivia, and Jackson joined them at the table, all silently pulling themselves a seat. Jackson didn’t know why, but whenever his big brother was in the room with his Auntie y/n, there was a somber mood cast upon the room as though there was a rule telling them not to utter a word.

       Ethan sat at the farthest end of the table, Olivia took the seat parallel to y/n’s, while her little brother took the seat next to her. Bucky, not really knowing what to do, stood there awkwardly by the countertop before y/n motioned for him to take the seat next to him where she’d also set a plate of pancakes.

       He took the seat next to her as the table fell into a state of silence while he ate away at his pancakes as y/n turned to Allie and fed her. He would never admit it to y/n, but her pancakes were beyond amazing. Never in a million years did he think to top ice cream with gelato or ice cream until that day.

       “Auntie y/n, is he your husband?” Jackson was the first to break the silence as he stared curiously at Bucky.

      “What makes you think that, buddy?” y/n chuckled awkwardly as Bucky kept his gaze to the plate of pancakes in front of him.

       “Well, daddy always sits at the table beside mommy and he’s her—” Jackson tried to explain only to get cut off by his sister sobbing, “Livvy, you okay?”

       “These pancakes taste just like mom’s! It’s the same fluffiness, same taste, and same brand of gelato for god’s sake!” she sobbed, shooting up from the table and staring down bitterly at the plate of pancakes in front of her.

       “Damn it, Liv, she’s trying to replace mom, can’t you see?” Ethan snarled before turning to face y/n, “You will never be as good as mom ever was. Yes, these pancakes taste like hers, but you won’t replace her just because she’s dead and dad’s in prison!” he cried out before bolting down the hall and back to the room he was previously shutting herself in. Olivia’s features softened a little as she saw the look of hurt on y/n’s face,

       “It’s okay, aunt y/n. I know you’re not trying to replace mom. He’ll come around,” Olivia tried to reassure y/n that through the sobs as she wrapped her arms around her. y/n just nodded slowly in response to the hug.

       “God, I wish grandma and grandpa got custody of us instead!” Ethan’s voice boomed from the room as both Allie and Jackson began crying.

       “Mommy’s dead and daddy’s going to jail?” Jackson cried, a broken expression on his face. y/n rushed to his side, wanting to lie to him and tell him Cassy was coming back, but she couldn’t. She was going to have to explain it all to Jackson some time; she just didn’t expect that time to be at 9:49 in the morning.

        “I’m sorry, buddy,” y/n’s voice broke as she wrapped her arms around the crying boy. Bucky knew he couldn’t just sit there and watch the scene unfold. He knew he had to do something; anything! He hesitantly got up from his seat and moved to the highchair where the baby—Allie—was seated as he unbuckled the seatbelt keeping her on the chair as he hesitantly lifted her up with his flesh arm.

       “Shh, it’s going to be okay. Your auntie y/n’s going to be here and your older siblings are going to be okay,” he whispered as he began cradling Allie against his chest. He didn’t know whether or not he was holding the baby right or if he should’ve been rocking her, but it worked. She calmed down as her cries turned to quiet babbles.

       Bucky nearly panicked at how quickly she became quiet in fear that he’d knocked the toddler out. He held her out again to see if she was—well, alive. She smiled up at him, her big doe e/c eyes piercing into his baby blues. Bucky Barnes was never one to care for kids—not since he became the Winter Soldier—but this was different. A baby, who he was holding in his arm, smiled up at him as she reached for his metal arm? His heart melted at the sight.

       “Otie?” she questioned him, her brows furrowing. He took a seat on the chair, not sure if he could trust himself with a baby while he stood up, before chuckling.

       “I’m not your otie y/n, kid. She’s a little busy at the moment, but I’m her much better teammate, Bucky,” he smiled down at her.

       “CKY!” she exclaimed excitedly, trying to jump up. He readjusted the way he carried her, seating her onto his lap while his hands—both metal and flesh—supported her weight to keep her from tipping over.

       “Close enough, kid,” Bucky chuckled, “So, what’s your name?” Bucky didn’t think his morning would lead to this; witnessing y/n trying to console a kid while he talked to a one-year-old.

       “Ayee!” she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

       “Ayee?” Bucky questioned, raising a brow at her, making Allie laugh.

       “A-yee,” Allie repeated slowly.

        “Al-lie?” Bucky questioned, his brow still raised as Allie reached for his face, smacking her hands against his eyebrows.

       “AYEE!” Allie exclaimed happily, clapping her hands to celebrate getting Bucky to correctly say her name.

     “Allie, huh? Is that your name, kid?” Bucky questioned as Allie slammed her hands against his face excitedly.

       “CKY!” she giggled as he continued making faces for the girl. Never in a million years did he think a baby would feel at ease with his present. He was learning new things that day, he shrugged.

       “You can’t be Bucky, I’m Bucky” he chuckled as Allie found herself pulling against his beard.

       “Cky!” Allie insisted.

       “No, you’re Allie. I’m Bucky,” Bucky chuckled, poking at her squishy cheek.

       “I Ayee, you Cky?” she repeated, a smile on her face.

       “Exactly,” Bucky smiled.

       “So, you’re Cky now, huh?” he turned to see y/n standing there, her nephew—whose sobbing was coming to an end—in her arms as she grinned at the sight of Bucky with her niece in his lap.

       “Only because you stink at your job here too,” Bucky scoffed.

       “Rude,” y/n mumbled to herself as she set Jackson down on his seat with a ‘you’re going to be okay, buddy’ as she picked Allie up from Bucky’s lap and set her back onto the highchair so she could continue feeding the toddler. As a matter of fact, Olivia’s sobbing even calmed down a bit as she downed the stack of pancakes her aunt prepared for her.

a/n: this chapter was brought to u by my gelato (my mom kinda got made because it was expensive but yknow a girls gotta treat herself) and me wanting ice cream 

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt​​ / @kmuir1​​ / @shower-me-with-roses​​ / @justab-eautifulmess​​ / @thomasthetankson​​ / @x-abi-sharp-x​​ / @intovert-gone-wild​​ / @brittanymcsharry​​ / @leaving-the-past-behind​ / @xoxabs88xox​​​ / @mylifeiscrazy0423​​​ / @howliebucky​​​ / @i-cry-so-much​​ / @witchything​​ / @naimalove143​​ / @simplybarnes​​ / @kseniiafirebrace​​ / @buckybarnesishot310​​ /

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem​​​​ / @sxphiiwrld​​​​ / @strangersstranger​​​​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​​ / @cutie1365​​​ / @valeriiaaass​​ / @adorkably​​ / @whatinthyworld​​ /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae​​​

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo​​​ / @tinymalscoffee​​ / @howliebucky​​ /

[isolctions]

so a random little blurb i’ve been thinking about before i fuck off this laptop to go to bed.

something that has been weighing heavily on katya’s conscience since first entering motherhood (and also, like, the entire reason she rejected motherhood in the first place) is this conflict she has about the kind of legacy she’s setting up for & eventually leaving to her daughter pharaoh. because at first, katya became involved with drug dealing as a method of survival — even finding herself as the right hand to a sizable drug + weapons network that circulated a handful of states in the east coast had been survival, because she was literally working under her ab*ser for like. a long time.

then following the shift in power dynamic, where now she’s the main one running said network when she is still totally not fucking prepared or even entirely enthusiastic about / wanting this new position??? it sort of became easier for katya to rationalize this like: ‘okay. we don’t have to worry about our next meal or bills or mommy working two jobs on next to no sleep. our brother can go to college. we can take vacations. we can feed everyone on the team. i can do what i desperately needed as a kid & help other poor black and brown kids like me.’ and everything was good for the last six years!

but now that she actually has a child. it’s like: ‘holy shit. i could fucking die one day. my daughter could be without a mom. my mom could be without a daughter. my siblings don’t know a life without me.’ as opposed to: ‘when i die, who’s going to be the one i give all this to? who do i actually trust that’s competent enough to run this shit without fucking it all up except damon?’ — and even when considering the idea that she will live into her older years with retirement, that doesn’t leave her settled. because she still worries about the day pharaoh realizes what her mother does in her ‘business meetings’ all day. what funds her future. what keeps the lights on for the whole vaughn family. the day any enemies she has ever decides to make an attempt on her own mother or her daughter or her siblings’ lives as a means of getting to her. what happens when she grows up and she develops bakari’s mentality and decides she wants to be just like her mother.

idk. just fucks her up at night once she’s done reading the very hungry caterpillar to a one year old, u know.

[vhsrights]

hi im here with an ask! kind of...so i forget what youve done but maybe like michael and henry playing with emily?

i love this prompt! here :)

The Tyrannical Ruler

WC: 1616

“Okay Mikey, what’s the plan? Do you have a visual on the target?” Emily leaned against the wall, looking to her partner for answers.

“Um, hold on. Gimme a sec.” Micheal ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the floppy, blonde locks back.

--------

“Okay Mikey, what’s the plan? Do you have a visual on the target?” Emily leaned against the wall, looking to her partner for answers.

“Um, hold on. Gimme a sec.” Micheal ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the floppy, blonde locks back.

“Got it! Agent Emmy, I think I have a plan. Henry The Ruler should have his fort in the room. We use our weapons to fight down the enemies in the beginning. Then, we crawl through the pillow tunnel. I found a weakness in his kingdom when I was looking earlier. The bunny guards leave the door open once every 5 minutes. I think we can break in through there.”

The boy spoke with enthusiasm, the wildness of his imagination twinkling in his eyes. His hands were clasped together, imitating the fake gun that his persona always carried. Today, Micheal was Agent Mikey J who fought crime endlessly alongside his badass partner, known for his quick draw and spot-on aim. He obviously took after his mother. She was Agent Emmy P, known for how she could take down the biggest of guys without the slightest of scratches. They made an unruly pair, getting themselves into quite the pickle sometimes, but always found a way out.

Today they were going after the tyrannical Henry The Ruler. The sovereign had made his way to power through dirty, back alley deals, endless hands of bribed cash, and sweet words to lull the public. He had been sitting on the throne for roughly a year and had already tossed the state into chaos. Who was better to stop him, than the two best agents in the force?

Emily nodded to the young boy in front of her, dropping to her knees. They needed stealth mode for the operation at hand. Micheal bent his knees and took meticulous steps until he reached the corner, peering his head around to take in a glance. The immediate clearing in front of them was empty, too empty. Observing further, his notice turned to the blankets that adorned their couches, sealing off the edge of what was likely Henry’s fort. A few strategically placed stuffed bunnies caught his eye on the outskirts of the pillow tunnel. Avoiding their gaze, he quickly turned back to give his report.

“I couldn’t see past the blankets but everything is how I thought it would be. There are some extra guards outside the pillow tunnel, but I think that we can take ‘em.” Micheal talked in a tone that he’d heard the BAU speak in when they did “work talk”.

Fully stepping into character, Emily pulled her sunglasses over her face and gave the final non-verbal commands. She motioned to him that they keep their eyes forward, move as quietly as possible, and split in the middle of the clearing to meet up outside the pillow tunnel. Micheal threw a thumbs up at her before taking his first steps into the living room.

They moved efficiently, easily knocking down the first line of enemies. Emily glanced over periodically, making sure Micheal was doing okay. She was so focused on him, that she missed the thin piece of string that was tucked in the couch arm and layed out, reaching mantle. She took a marginal step forward and the string tripped her balance. Before she could realize it, she’d hit the ground. Calling out to Micheal, Emily tried to figure out what had happened. She quickly uncovered the string but was then faced with a bigger problem. The thud of footsteps grew louder behind her and ‘Agent Mikey J’ was nowhere to be found.

“Freeze!” The shrill voice rang out from her peripheral vision, cracking at the end of the word.

Henry The Ruler. Agent Emmy P had been caught.

“Mikey J!” Emily tried calling out one more time, hoping that her partner heard her.

No later than two seconds later, the agile boy crawled out from behind the couch. He came face to face with the last thing he wanted to see. Emily was splayed on the ground, Henry standing above her. His smirk was devious and his eyes followed Micheal’s every movement. The Nerf gun in his hand was pointed directly at the brunette’s head.

“One more step, or one more word, and she gets it.” The boy tried to make his menacing words fill the room.

“Emmy P!” Micheal fell to his knees, his finger gun falling apart.

“I said, one more word, and SHE gets it!” Henry locked eyes with the younger boy, widening his stance to show his power.

Micheal shot a worried look at Emily, not knowing what to do. His thoughts were interrupted when Henry cocked the Nerf gun.

“You know, I’ve waited a long time for this. I knew that the agency would send people after me eventually. I just thought they’d be better. “ Henry began the supervillain monologue that he had planned in his head. “I honestly didn’t believe that the hotshot, Agent Emmy P, was so easy to capture. I guess I just overestimated you guys. Or was it you underestimating me? Either way, there’s no way out for you two now. Her life is almost up as it is, and you’re next.”

The end of Henry’s speech reminded Micheal of one important move that Emily had recently taught him when they were planning this mission. Operation Warehouse. He noticed that Emily had managed to turn her body, having full sight of what Micheal was going to do. As nonchalantly as he could, the 5-year-old raised his pointer and index fingers up to his face, tracing a line from his forehead to his eyebrows. Then, he looked straight into Emily’s eyes and winked. Henry missed the subtle signals, too wrapped up in his seemingly victorious state.

Emily saw the boy’s signals and was impressed. So he’s going that route, okay. I better try to free my hands. She shifted ever so slightly, pulling her hands out beside her body. She was still between the couch and the mantle area, but it was manageable. Henry looked over to Micheal and noticed something off. The boy’s demeanor had changed. The hope had left his eyes and his hand went up to his stomach. Micheal grunted in pain, squinting his eyes to make it as believable as possible.

“I think one of the bunnies got me.” Micheal delivered the line before slowly falling to the ground. Not willing to give up the charade, he continued. “Tell my wife and kids that I love them. I never thought that I would die on the battlefield like this. Emmy, I don’t feel so good.”

Henry grew concerned for the boy. The way that he had doubled over was scary. What if something had happened to his brother? Dropping his Nerf gun away from Emily, Henry tensely made his way over. He tried to get a better look at the boy, but he didn’t see anything. Henry crouched down, examining his brother.

“Mikey?” Henry’s words dripped with concern.

At that moment, Micheal’s eyes shot open and he threw his arms up, surrounding Henry.

“Get him, Emmy!” The boy held his brother tight, not letting Henry out of his vice grip.

“Let me go!” Henry yelped, understanding now that he had been trapped.

Emily quickly made her way over to the two boys, clasping her fingers into a finger gun. She winked at Micheal and then made the shot sound effect, letting Henry know that it was over. The boy fell dramatically out of Micheal’s grip to the side. Micheal and Emily leaned over him, his brother smiling at their successful plan.

“We got you, Henry! I did Operation Warehouse! Didn’t I do good, Emmy?” The 5-year-old looked over to his Mama for approval.

“Of course buddy, you did everything perfectly. So, Mr. Henry The Ruler, how does it feel to be defeated in your kingdom?” Emily smiled over to her other son, noting the playful disappointment on his face.

“It sucks.” Henry folded his arms, his face struggling to hold back laughter.

Just then, the front door unlocked and JJ walked in with the groceries. Two big bags were in each hand, but that didn’t stop Micheal from bolting over to her. His energy was boundless and he was practically bouncing off the ground, excited to tell his mom about their victory.

“Mommy! Mommy! Emmy and I beat Henry! I was Mikey J and she was Emmy P! We were killing the enemies, but then Emmy tripped! Henry almost got her, but I didn’t let her! I did ‘Operation Warehouse’ and saved her! I saved Emmy and got Henry, Mommy!

JJ set the bags down and turned back to her ecstatic son.

“Oh really? Wow, I’m so proud of you! What’s Operation Warehouse?” The woman’s eyebrow’s furrowed, not recognizing the term.

“I pretended that one of the bunnies got me and played dead! Henry came over to me and Emmy got him!” JJ’s eyes widened at the ‘playing dead’ part. That was probably Emily’s plan.

“Well, that’s an interesting plan. Emily, why don’t you help me unload the groceries while the boys clean up?” JJ turned her gaze over to her wife, smirking.

“Okay, sure. Boys, come on.” Emily got up and let her sons scurry past her as they went to tidy the room.

When JJ and Emily reached the kitchen, JJ spoke.

“Operation Warehouse, really Emily? Like Mother, like son I guess.” Emily chuckled.

“Hey, Micheal wanted to have a contingency plan, so I told him what worked!” She made her way to the bags, beginning to pull out the ingredients for their dinner.

“You’re crazy.”

“You love me for it.”

[precisemuseum]

Puyo Puyo PC-98 Manual Translation

Once upon a time, in the age when the power of magic was bestowed upon the world, a powerful sorcerer created a great spell named "Owanimo." One of the strongest spells of all, it could banish monsters to a space between dimensions, but he sealed it away, recording it only in his "Book of Magic." 

Not because it was forbidden knowledge or incredibly hard to use, but because to him, it seemed useless. And thus, the spell entered a dormant state, awaiting a day when a new sorcerer would come forth...

Years came and went until finally, the seal came undone with the appearance of a great sorceress: Arle Nadja. One day, this auburn-haired girl with golden eyes came across the Book of Magic.

"Owanimo...?" Arle studied the chapter on forbidden spells for what seemed like hours. "When four monsters of the same color are in your sights, chant this spell loudly. The Goddess of Time shall listen, and whisk the monsters away to a space between dimensions." 

Arle continued to read, learning the Owanimo spell, but then closed it with a heavy sigh once she finished.

Why set it aside like that? Well, Arle had never seen "four monsters of the same color" as the spellbook described. 

"I spent so much time reading, and it's not even a spell I can use for anything..." 

But just as fate brought the Book of Magic into Arle's hands by chance, so it brought from the world of darkness the very monsters she had read about.

And thus, a great battle awaits. With her great magic abilities, and the newfound power of "Owanimo," Arle Nadja sets out to protect the world.

CHARACTERS A・C・P

Arle Nadja The protagonist of the game and the (aspiring) sorceress who released the spell "Owanimo". Nobody knows how she ended up this way, but despite looking like she wouldn't hurt a fly, she's actually a merciless girl that slaughters innocent Puyo. She currently attends a magic school, but she's already too scary for anything to stand in her way. That's my opinion, anyway.

Carbuncle During the game, when you find your eyes moving towards the center of the screen... Awww~! He's sleeping!!! This is Carbuncle. When he's lying still, he almost looks like a loaf of bread, but as he sings and dances he shows off a wide range of movement and facial expressions. A truly profound deuteragonist.

Puyo Puyo Despite their fate as short-lived, jelly-like monsters who are stacked and popped, they have managed to secure a leading role this time around, and even get to dance on the title screen. They're sure to enjoy this special opportunity to perform on a grand stage in five different colors. Looking at them with an empty stomach will reveal their appetizing nature and make you hungry. Hehe.

Arle, the protagonist, is brimming with curiosity.

PRACTICE STAGE ENEMY MONSTERS

Skeleton T While he appears as the epitome of a tea-loving Japanese man, he is a fine monster as well. He will be the first opponent you face during your trials. But you'll find that in a rather endearing way, he's a miserable fool who doesn't even know how to rotate his Puyo. Boohoo. Sipping bitter green tea during battle will instantly make you one of his tea-drinking buddies.

Nasu Grave An eggplant. Specifically, a Kamo eggplant. On top of that, he makes for a rather strange presence. Just what the heck is this thing? Despite appearances, his defensive power is high, so novices might find themselves struggling a bit. You'll have no choice but to keep at it and apply a steady technique. But in the end, your opponent is still just an eggplant. A regular talking eggplant. …Heh.

Mummy Even though it's called Mummy, it isn't a mommy. It's a mummy. What? You already knew that? Oh, deary me, I'll wrap it up then. (←One-man comedy routine.) Mummy is an opponent that makes you want to bully it because the crying face it makes when it's about to lose is just too cute. Sorry, Mummy.

The Goddess of Time whisking the monsters away.

BATTLE STAGES 1-6

Draco Centauros As you might expect from someone who shouts "Rawr", this half-dragon being takes pride in those sharp horns. Appearing as the first obstacle of your quest, this opponent has top tier judgment and piece precision but takes forever to think things through. Because of that, she's a pitiful lass who is only ranked as a third-rate monster girl... You heard me right! Draco is a girl. I'm sure someone around you thought she was a boy...

Suketoudara A pollock who has an aura of coming from some far-off sea. However, he seems to have the character of an Edokko​. He's an athletic-type who tends to err on the side of caution. However, he's also arrogant. When he wins, he makes a face that screams "You're no match for me!", which is truly aggravating. Many say they especially don't want to lose to him.

(TL Note: Literally meaning “Child of Edo”, Edokko is refers to a person born and raised in Edo (renamed Tokyo in 1868). It implies personality traits such as being assertive, straightforward, cheerful, perhaps a bit mercantile.)

Sukiyapodes Let's just get this out of the way; he has a giant foot. It measures about 16 mon. Even though he has a complex about it, he directs that frustration into bettering himself. Well, we're not sure if that last part's true, but he always has a cheerful expression on his face as he slowly and steadily builds precise chains. He's a bit of an unpleasant guy.

(TL Note: mon is a unit of length for measuring the size of one's foot. 1 mon is equivalent to 2.4 cm. His foot is 38.4 cm, or 15.12 in.)

Harpy Now then, it is time for Miss Harpy's song. She loves singing more than she loves having three meals a day. She could sing for ages if no one stopped her. If there was something like a "Puyo Puyo World Karaoke Tournament", she'd win for sure. But unfortunately, this is only Puyo Puyo. 

Sasori Man “How d'ya do, partner? I’m a famous Naniwa salesman known 'round these parts as Sasori Man. Put 'er there! Huh? Yer askin' for my secret to success? I ain't spillin' the beans no matter how much ya beg. That's somethin' to look forward to when we do battle. Till then, happy trails.”

Panotty A flute-playing boy. But honestly, he's nothing more than a noisy, mischievous brat. He disrupts his opponent's chains by dropping large amounts of Nuisance Puyo on them. Everyone has fallen victim to his antics at least once. What a truly ruthless Puyo technique. For when his last flute sounds, the dead shall be raised. Just kidding.

BATTLE STAGES 7-12

Zombie A zombie. All of his lines are stuff like "Ugheeee." This zombie is quite the formidable trickster. Sometimes he will be swiftly defeated, and other times he will take you by surprise and suddenly pull off a huge chain. If you don't take him seriously, you'll find yourself in a tough spot. Battle with caution.

Witch In the forest stands a grand mansion. Living there was a very ordinary family whose lineage can be traced back hundreds of years. The family's only daughter was born and was raised in a very ordinary fashion. But there was one thing that was not so ordinary...That young lady was a haughty witch. Ohohoho! Ohohohoho... *fadeout*

Zou Daimaou Pawoo! The mammoth mogul has arrived! A young aristocrat who comes from an ancient and distinguished line of royal Indian elephants. An irritating fellow who likes bad puns, gives his words an elephantine quality, and casually rhymes. He also enjoys Puyo Puyo. Plus, he's strong. An aphant-garde aristocrat whose ground-shaking chains are as sharp as his tusks.

Schezo A silver-haired man with deep blue eyes. Schezo, the embodiment of picturesque beauty. However, he's been deemed a pervert thanks to Arle, and strives to restore his honor by challenging her. 

B-E-A-U-T-Y! Perfection won't pass you by!  P-R-I-N-C-E! Of the Puyo Puyo World, it's meant to be! Go now! Go forth! Show us what you're really worth! 

...Well, this has turned into something rather silly..

Minotauros Risking life and limb for his duties, a bull who lives by the code of chivalry, leaving a flurry of cherry blossoms in his wake. That is Minotauros. Ever since Rulue rescued him long ago, he has served as her devoted attendant like a faithful dog. Seeing him like this brings some to tears. For Rulue, he'd go through hell and high water. He's giving it his all today, and his one-eyed look is as cool as ever.

Rulue A woman truly worthy of the title of "Fighting Queen". The queen of the Puyo Puyo world. There's nothing that she can't obtain... Oh wait, there is something — Satan's love. Possessing a very jealous nature, Rulue is always lying in wait, ready to obliterate anyone who gets close to Satan. It's rumored that her true strength is even greater than Satan's.

BATTLE STAGE 13

Satan He is the king that rules over heaven and earth. He soars the skies with wings that slice through wind. His two horns point towards the heavens. His sharp eyes are like glistening gems. Cloaked in the veil of night, his devilish hand beckons you in. He is darkness’s cherished protege. It seems playing Puyo Puyo is a guilty pleasure of his. His true strength is unknown. It's said he's won the Puyo Puyo World Championship a countless number of times. In any case, he's obviously a bigshot. Can you truly defeat Satan, who boasts of elite skills in speed and chaining?

(You can download the PDF here)

[r-nicole07092004]

THE SATANIC CULT TERRORISTS BABY RING OPERATORS, BABY KILLERS, CHILD MOLESTERS FROM P.S 180, HAD THE FUNKING NERVE TO SHOUT THEY ARE MCGRIFFS, ETC... DAUGHTERS AND SONS, CREATED VIA RAPE OF HIS REPRODUCTION, THE NASTY CHILD MOLESTING FUX AND THE USGOV AND THEIR TERRORISTS RELATIVES STOLE MY MONEY, HARMED MY MOM AND ME, KEPT ALL OF MY BABIES, I AM CERTAIN DIRTY MULATTO BARBARA FAT FACE, FROM P.S. 180 I AM CERTAIN MOMMY OR DADDY WAS WHITZ TRAILER PARK TRASH, SHOULD BE REGISTERED AS SEX-OFFENDERS, RAPE BABIES FOR REPRODUCTION, THE PAEDOPHILES WERE IN MA OPERATING THE BABY RING

I KNOW IMMATERIAL MERE MORTAL BLACKIE JOHNSON STATING HE NOT DEAD IS THE USGOV CATCH 22 I DON'T GIVE A FUNK IF HE IS ALIVE OR DEAD, A CATCH PHRASE. WHERE ARE THE LYING FUNKING DOCUMENTS AND THEIR EDITED AUDIO VIDEO!!?

I LIKE JAHZIER JOHNSON,(17)VERY SAD! MURDERED, I AM NOT INVOLVED IN THE GENOCIDE OF YOUNG BLACK LADS!! ANYONE GUILTY OF OPERATING THE BABY RING, RAPING MY BABIES FOR REPRODUCTION, ENSLAVING MY BABIES, HARMED MY MOTHER, STOLE MY FINANCIAL WEALTH, HARMED MY SIRNIKS, CREATED SIRNIKS YOUNGER FACES, I WILL CONTINUE CELEBRATING AND PRAYING FOR THY ENEMY DEATHS!!

THE USGOV ARE PERVERT PAEDOPHILES, THE NASTY FUX AND THEOR TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATORS RAPED ME BEGINNING IN 1969 AND ALWAYS KEPT MY BABIES, STOP IMPLICATING MY PARENTS, MY BROTHER, MY OLDER CHILDREN, MY SIRNIKS AND ME, READ THE DIFFERENCE, YOU NASTY CHILD MOLESYING MOTHER FUNKERS ARE THE SATANIC CULT TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATORS, THE TEST TUBE BABIES BEING NASTY AND SNEAKY, THE SURROGATES, IF MCGRIFF, ETC...IS DOWN WITH THE BABY RING OPERATORS AND THEIR TEST TUBE BABIES...ETC...

I DON'T GIVE A FUNK, NOTHING TO DO WITH I, IMAGINE A PERSON ABLE TO CONTROL A THOUGHT PROCESS AND FEELINGS!! EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULE, MY BEA8TIFUL BABIES MY VERY VERY LARGE AMOUNT OF FINANCIAL WEALTH, I WOULD SUDDENLY ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT OF ONE, THAT PUT OTHERS BEFORE ME, MCGRIFF, ETC...DIDN'T MARRY THE FEMALES, THE CHILDREN WERE CREATED VIA RAPE OF REPRODUCTION, WERE ALWAYS FINACIALLY SET AND EDUCATED, I AM INNOCENT, IN DANGER, MY BABIES ENSLAVED BEGINNING IN 1969,

MY RICH TO FINANCIAL WEALTH STOLEN&THE SAME FUNKINGVPAEDOPHILE, SATANIC CULT TERRORIST, THE BABY RING OPERATORS AND THE CURRENT AND FORMER PRESIDENTS ARE ATTEMPTING TO STEAL MY MONEY ONCE AGSIN&PLACE TRUMPED UP CHARGES ON ME, INSTEAD OF FILING NEW CHARGES AGSINST THE SATANIC CULT TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATORS AND NEW LAWSUITS,

I BEEN REWUESTED WORLD LEADERS BECOME INVOLVED, I WAS JUMPED BY THE USGOV, THRIR SUPPORT AND THE TERRORISTS BABY RING OPERATORS!!

TREV9R RODRIGUEZ THE PAEFOPHILE CHILD MOLESTER IS ENSLAVING MY BABIES WITH THE PAEDOPHILE IN FLORIDA, PRINCIPLE HOUSTON, CATHY LAMMERS, WHO THE FUNK THAT DIRTY RAPIDTS CHILD MOLESTER THINK HE IS, I NEED TREVOR RODRIGUEZ , GEORGIA HALL, AND THE FACES OF THEIRS DEAD, RAPISTS FUNKING CHILD MOLESTERS, WITH AN AGGRESSION TOWARDS YOUNG LADS, IN CONFERENCE STATING FOR ME TO SHUT UP, WHO THE FUNK THOSE RAPISTS CHILD MOLESTING NON DESCRIPT FUX THINK THEY ARE, HE IS MURDERING MY BABIES, I NEED WORLD CIA INVOLVED, THE U.S AND THE SAME BABY RING OPERATORS MURDERED REAL CIA!! I NEED MY SIRNIKS TO GET GUNS AND SHOOT TREVOR RODRIGUEZ, GEORGIA HALL, LESLEY PORTER DEAD, THEIR RELATIVES ARE IN JAMAICA WEST INDIES, AFRICA NEAR THE MCGRIFFS OVERSEAS!! THEY MUST BE TRAFFICKING DOPE, THE NASTY FUNKING SATANIC CULT STAGED NUMEROUS SCENES STATINGVMY HUSBAND AND BROTHER ARE TRAFFIVKING DRUGS, I DON'T KNOW THE FUNKING CHILDREN CREATED V9A RAPE OF MCGRIFF REPRODUCTION, NOR TREVOR RODRIGUE@ DUMB FUNKING SONS, THE BISHES CLUSTER FUNK AROUND US, KITED AND KIDNAPPED ME ON NUMEROUS OCASSIONS, I REALLY NEED HAND GRENADES AND ROCKET LAUNCHERS!!'

WITHOUT SPEAKING UPON RAPING A MCGRIFF, WHICH MCGRIFF WAS CHILD MOLESTING PAEDOPHILE PSYCHO CHRONIC PATHOLOGICAL LIARS TREVOR RODRIGUEZ AND SONS, GEORGIA HALL, LESLEY PORTER WAS AROUND!!? WHY DID THAT DRIVE AN AGGRESSION FOR THE CAREER RAPISTS CHILD MOLESTER BABY RING OPERATORS, TO COME NEAR ME. IF A MCGRIFF INVITED THE I DON'T GIVES A FUNK ABOUT,

WHY THE USGOV ALLOWED THE TERRORISTS BABY RING OPERATORS TO ENSLAVE MY SONS,DAUGHTERS, INCLUDING MY SIRNIKS, BREAK MY BABIES LIMBS, RAPE MY BABIES FOR FOR REPRODUCTION,WITH FOSTER PARENT FREAK CATHY LAMMERS, TOM BANKS OF VERIZON, PRINCIOLE DOUGLAS-HOUSTON, AND PAEDOPHILES FROM LEFRAK CITY QUEENS, IN STPETERSBURG FLORIDA,

THE SAME BEEN OPERATING THE BABY RING ALL ACROSS THE STATE OF FLORIDA!! THE FREAKS WAS RESIDING ON MY HUSBAND AND MY PROPERTY IN MIAMI FLORIDA, BHUPHINDER BAHAL(VERIZON BETTER GET THE FUNK OFF MY PROPERTY, SHOOT THOSE CHILD MOLESTING FUX, RUN THIS CHIT BIG, WHY THE FUNK ARE MY BABIES, MY SIRNIKS AND ME SUFFERING, BEHIND LYING RAPISTS CHILD MOLESTERS, WORLD LEADERS!!?

MCGRIFF, ETC... TEST TUBE CHILDREN LIVES WERE NEVER IN DANGER AND THEIR RELATIVES ARE STILL OPERATING THE BABY RING!!! LYING AND STAGING SCENES, MCGRIFF, ETC...USGOV, I DON'T LIKE THOSE FUNKING RAPISTS CHILD MOLESTING BISHES AND WANT ALL OF THEM DEAD, STOP ACTING AS THOUGH I WOILD BE AROUND THEM, THE JOKE MUST BE ON ME. NO WAY IN THE FUNKING WORLD ,

THE SAME RAPISTS CHILD MOLESTERS SHOW UP WITH NEW BABIES AND THE ACCEPTANCE FOR 6+ DECADES, IS, MCGRIFFS, ETC...ACCEPTS ALL OF FLEETWOOD, FERGUSON(NOT MINES)MITCHELL, JOHNSON,THOMAS, CURTIS, JEWELL, JENKINS, HOWARD, THE MALES AND FEMALES PRETENDING TO NE TO VE MY MOTHER AND BROTHER, GEORGIA&MICHELL HALL AND FAMILY, LESLEY, ROBIN AND TRACEY PORTER, ARLENE PORTER GADDY, DELEON, WALKER, DIXON, ETC.....WHAT THE FUNK THAT HAS TO DO WITH MY MOM, DAD, BROTHER, MY MONEY AND ME!!?

DO NOT TAKE UP BEING COMFORTABLE IN MY LANE, AS YOU WERE WITH WHOM EVER THEY ARE TO EACH AND EVERY ONE !!

WHAT GEORGIA AND TREVOR SR AND HIS SONS, OBAMA, BUSH, CLINTON, CREATE FUNKING LIES OF PROBLEM, STATE SOMETHING IS A PROBLEM, SO LIAR GEORGIA STAGED A SCENE, I RESIDED WITH DIRTY SURFER, WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE INVESTIGATORS, THE TERRORISTS HAS INSIDE TIPS, MY FINANCIAL WEALTH STOLEN, MY BABIES IMPRISONED, DIRTY SURFER HANDSOME, ADORABLE YOUNG COUSIN WAS SHOT IN THE HEAD, NON CHALANT!! I NEVER FORGAVE, CARELESS, I KNOW LONGER KNEW SURF, MRS B MY WITNESS, I COULDN'T HELP, HE HAS A NEW CROWD, STRANGERS, A SATANIC CULT AND BLOODLINE, HE ATTEMPTED TO SET ME UP MANY TIMES. HE HONE WENT CRAZY, RAPING KY BABIES AND ME, EVERY IDIOT SCREAM IT IS HIS SONS, I AM MOT IN THE VULT AND NEVDR MET SURF GOTT DAMM SONS, SO 9F THE FUNKING CULT ISN'T HARMING US. HOW THE FUNK FO THE PAEDOPHILES KNOW US, WHERE WE LIVE AND CARRY 8 MILLION FUNKING LIES THE USGOV, HENCHMEN, THE TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATORS, AND THEIR INNER CIRCLE,ARE TRYING TO USE AGAINST US IN A COURT OF LAW TO GIVE US TIME,

PRINCE THE MUSICIAN IS DEAD, MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD, WHITNEY HOUSTON IS DEAD, WHO THE FUNK IS RAPISTS GEORGIA HALL, TREVOR RODRIGUEZ SONS, SURF AND DONS, TADJA OWENS SONS AND BORROWED SONS, AN AGGRESDION TOWARDS UOUNGBLADS, NEVEF ANY FOTGIVENESS, I WILL TORCH EVERY ONE OF THOSE TERRORIST AND THEIR VHILDRRN, I DO NOT APPRECIATE LYING FUNKING CLUSTER FUNKING TERRORISTS

THE NASTY CHILD MOLESTING FUX ARE SACRIFICING MY SIRNIKS AND YOUNGER FACES, CREATED VIA THE SAME SATANIC CULT TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATION, TORCH THEIR KIDS AND GRAND CHILDREN! LETISHA THOMPSON AND KIDS, TARA STROSE AND CHILDREN!!"

THE UNECESSARY FUNKING CHILD MOLESTING GEORGIA HALL IS TASJA OWENS, KATRINA GREEN NULLS, AND THEIR OTHER STUPID "WE DO SMART" SATANIC FEMALES, I PONDER IF GEORGIA TRIED TO USE THE SAME BRAIN MATTER AND SR THUMP HER, HOW LONG SURROUNDING MY BABIES AND ME, RAPING MY BABIES, OPERATING THE BABY TING, STEALING MY PROPERTIES,

SHOOT THE FUNKING TERRORIST OFF AND AWAY, I DON'T HAVE AN INTEREST IN NOT ONE, THE TERRORISTS ARE THE FUNKING PROBLEM, STESFILY RAPING AMD MURDERING BABIES, STEALING MY MONEY AND PROPERTY, NO PROBLEM FOR LAW ENFORCEMENT AND THE CURRENT AND FORMER PRESIDENTS, DEATH BY FIRE TO DIRTY FIRTY FUNKING SCOUNDREL, NOT A MIND OVER MINE, HEART NO BIGGER, EXCEPT MY SIRNIKS& YOUNG DARKY MCGRIFF,I LOVE AND MISS MY BABY, ALL OTHER MCGRIFF, ETC...MUST BE CLOSE WHY NOT PICK UP A GUN AND SHOOT THE FUX!!?

WE HAVE NO WOMD, WE NEED A SAW, GAS CAN, GUN, KNIFE, START BURNING THE TERRORISTS BUSINESSES, MONEY FOR RAPING, DEFINITELY MY STOLEN MONEY!!

MY HUSBAND, NOR BROTHER ARE CRYING OVER THE TEST TUBE BABIES OF THE CAREER RAPISTS, I DON'T WANT MY SIRNIKS FACES OF THE CAREER RAPISTS, ONLY MY FACES, MY SIRNIKS FACES, I WILL HAVE THE INSURANCE MONEY COLLECTED!!

IT IS A FUNKING SICK FUNKING SATANIC CULT, STOP ACTING AS THOUGH THE TERRORISTS GRACED US WITH THEIR PRESENCE, MIXING THEIR REPRODUCTION WITH MY CHILDREN AND ME!! CRIMINAL AND TERRORISM CHARGES SHOULDN'T BE FILED!!

STOP RAPING BABIES PSYCHO USGOV AND TERRORISTS BABY RING OPERATORS

FUNK THE SATANIC CULT TERRORIST BABY RING OPERATORS CONFERENCE, KITE KIDNAPS, STAGED SCENES, AND THE CURRENT AND FORMER PRESIDENTS, HENCHMEN, ETC...