#anyway if you must know i was seized by a) that one imagine from villain f/o blog. the one about assisting your beloved mad scientist etc.

[leibholz-moved]

— normal science 🫖

tag list: @funshineharlequinz @gideongrovel @glamballesta @go2jail1 @hatsunebeejpeg @strawberrygirlishere @sequids (lmk if you wish to be added or removed)

[yanderenightmare]

bitchy bratty catty pretty-girl who gives fuck-all, the school tries to straighten her ways by introducing her to a temporary captured shiggy, who is soooo fucking pissed off at this smug pretty bitch, going to track her down and make her pay!!!! >-< plez Mizz Nightmare

yandere kidnapper ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, profanity, bullying, anxiety, drugging, kidnapping, abduction

CUTTHROAT

“Wow! Right for the kill?! You’re real cutthroat.”

She wasn’t really surprised to hear that they’d caught him, and unlike many others she wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d be holding him on campus. She had full confidence in both the faculty, the promising Hero-course students, and UA’s security system, knowing damn well it could serve well as a prison not just for the students who went there, such as herself, but for the leader of the League of Villains as well.

To say she felt safe as she walked with Aizawa to meet him would be an understatement. She knew why the teacher had been tasked with taking her there, the intention being to scare her, give her a picture of what scum she would become if she continued down the path of fuck-all she was currently on. But, even though she wanted to rebel against taking any orders, she was feeling something far more superior than the will to fight back, something that trumped safety and laid waste to fear, she was feeling thrill. 

This would be a means to an end, a cure for boredom as well as a way to show once and for all that she was a hopeless cause, maybe then these obsessive heroes would leave her the fuck alone already.

“Wow, you’re really ugly! I mean, they warned me you were, but I could never’ve imagined it’d be this bad!”

She was jeering laughs at the lanky figure who towered over her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and his eyes spiraling in disbelief in process of understanding why what was found beneath his fingertips wasn’t turning to ash.

“Aren’t bad guys supposed to be sexy?” Her idiotic rambling only succeeded in confusing him more as she shrugged his seemingly useless normal hand away, walking to sit down on the floor, knowing it would be a while until Aizawa let her out again. “You know, to seduce and lure people into their ranks?” She looked over the meal tray he’d flipped out of her hand before seizing her throat, nothing sharp, no cutlery, no broken glass, just one measly apple. “I’m guessing you’re not in charge of recruiting. I mean… who would ever want to follow your ugly mug?”

She watched in anticipation of what remark he’d hurl her way. She’d heard he was bratty, she’d heard he was the one who could set her straight, divert her from this collision-course she’d set herself out on. Yet, his response was more than disappointing, not at all the tornado of a tantrum she had been preparing for. “You talk too much.” He didn’t even sound at all any provoked by her words, dismissing her as he slowly made to pick up the apple from the ground, checking to see if it was his quirk that was gone or if there was something else afoot, finding his answer in the ashes of the fruit.

“Come on.” She drawled, crossing her legs beneath her, keen eyes looking at him as he too sat back down to lean against the wall, looking only a fair bit of annoyed with her presence, as though she were a stain on his shirt, an inconvenience of some sorts. “You were gonna kill me!” She laughed, his red scrutinizing orbs looking to her with a sneer. “Without a thought, in cold blood, no remorse, even after I gave you food like the mutt you are, the least I can do is spit in your face!” 

He didn’t answer. Eyes still set on her where she sat planted without a single care, annoyed with how comfortable she looked, as though she were in her element, as though she was winning some sort of game, a game that wasn’t even about him as her eyes flittered to the black-glass of the window every now and again.

She clicked her tongue, beginning a new ramble. “Tell me, Shiggy.” She smiled, eyes wicked and gleaming and untamed. “That quirk of yours…”

She might have phrased it all like a question, but Shigaraki could hear it plain and simple, how her one goal was to mock him, poke at him until he burst, and not even for the sake of watching him burst, but for the sake of proving to whomever was on the other side of that glass that they couldn’t tame her. He didn’t need to know her entire story to see that much, how he was being used as a pawn to convert some meaningless pretty-girl.

“Can you control it? Or does everything you touch turn to ash no matter your desire?” It wouldn’t have been out of place if she’d licked her lips with how dripping with venom her words were. “It’s like the Midas touch, isn’t it?”

Her poetic phrasing of his deadly quirk had his eyes narrowing, but he hadn’t much time to think her wording over before she began a new escapade.

“Have you ever fucked anyone, Shiggy?” She didn’t even look at him as she asked, alerting him of what he already knew, how she had no interest in his answer, only his reaction, and the reaction his reaction would beckon from the people in the other room. 

She was trying to rile him up, prove how vicious she could be, prove how she hadn’t a single fuck to give. 

“I bet you’ve never truly touched anyone. How could you? I mean, first…” She laid down on her back with a careless roll, looking to the ceiling, ignoring him if it weren’t for the fact she was talking to him, or about him, or at him. “Who would ever want to fuck you? All those wrinkles and all those scars. You look like the onset of death.” She giggled, and he watched her tits bounce as though they were laughing at him too. “I cannot imagine anyone willingly wanting whatever you have to offer. And even if you force it on them, you’d be bound to fuck up with how much they’d struggle.” You’d think she carried a vendetta toward him, with how personal her attacks were, yet it was all given away with how little she was paying attention to him, as though she’d judged already whatever it was she found interesting and was now done with him. All she remained focused on was creating a show, to see how far she could take it before anyone came in to stop her, how much she could poke until something snapped, how much she could bend until something broke. “Just one slip of the hand and you’re left with your dick only halfway wet in a pile of dust.”

He didn’t know if she knew how correct her imagery was, he guessed she didn’t, he wanted to believe she’d show a bit more restraint then, a bit more unease, more respect. She acted as though she wasn’t trapped in a box with a notorious villain, seemingly unaware of her own stature as well as his. She was nothing but a school-girl and yet she felt comfortable enough in her safety to be lying on her back, flinging insult at the person she was locked in with.

“I don’t see how it could bother you for too long though.” Again, she had him intrigued. “I mean… pretty stupid bitches who’re only worth one fuck anyway can’t really be counted as a loss, can it?”

It was clear she didn’t view herself as one of said pretty stupid bitches, even though a pretty stupid bitch is exactly what she looked like in Shigaraki’s eyes. Perhaps that was her point exactly.

“Have you ever dusted someone who did count as a loss?” She rolled over, head propped up on her elbows, laying in her palms, her feet kicking the air behind her. “You ever fuck up so bad? Committed an irredeemable act? Something so unforgivable even you can’t forgive yourself?” Her eyes were set on him again now. “Do you think about it every day?” Her tone shifted then, to something sadistically sweet. “Does it hurt just as much now as it did then?” Her face split into a grin, eyes ablaze as she observed, searched for a breach in his composure. “What happened to mommy and daddy, Shiggy.” She singsonged, toying with him. “Were they your first victims? Did you cry? Do you still cry? Or did they deserve it?”

Her look was earnest, salacious until she rolled her eyes in boredom at his lack of response.

Sighing, she calmed back down, briefly. “I get it… You don’t want to play with me ‘cause you don’t think I’m a worthy player.” She scoffed as she looked to the side with a melodramatic drag. “You should check yourself. We keep you in a cage, give you food, have you on a leash and collar. You’re nothing but our pet!”

She giggled again, biting her tongue, gnawing on it between the rows of her teeth with her mouth open in a wide smile.

“You know… My quirk is called immunity, but it should really be called repellent.” She looked at her hands then, now kneeling in front of him. Her gaze split like lightning, snapping to look at him again, a catlike smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You and I aren’t that different, are we?” It looked for a second as though she were about to stand up, but the movement fell short as she instead gave way to crawl closer to him, one elegant arm followed by the other, all with the grace of a huntress, a panther easing in for the kill. “In fact… I think I’d go as far and say we’re the exact same…” His eyes didn’t deceive him, this time she did lick her lips, only now her words weren’t dripping with venom, but with some other sickly-sweet nectar. “’Cause…where I never let anyone come close, you let ‘em come close… only for them to die!”

“That’s enough.” He must have closed his eyes the second he felt her breath fan over his face, because he’d missed the time the erasure hero had walked in. “This was a waste of time.” The dark-haired man groaned, disappointed.

“Aw, really?”

She wasn’t in front of him anymore, to his surprising disappointment, though her sweet smell still lingered about him pleasantly.

“And I was just getting to the fun part…” She walked to the threshold of the cell-door, not once indicating she’d turn around and take one final look at him. “Well, anyway… tootles, pet.”

Even as she insulted him, she did it twice over by not returning his gaze.

-

She was still sleeping, she noted as her mind, though still groggy and drowsed out, became lucid enough to start thinking. She was sleeping, yet the sleep felt unsafe, as though her alarm was bound to go off any second, firmly shaking her awake and telling her time was running out for her to get to school. And if she’d slept through the alarm, a teacher was soon to come fetch her. Yet, for now she remained halfway asleep, waiting for an alarm or a knock on the door unknowing of how it would never arrive.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drug that had perhaps made some of her senses dull under the impression, for… surely she should feel that her mouth was stuffed full and made to suck on a rag, surely she should feel that her wrists were tied together behind her back, and how her thighs and legs were secured together in a frog tie, the rough rope, scratchy in texture, and how it scraped against her soft doughy skin. Perhaps he didn’t tie them tight enough. It was hard to get a good grip without accidentally dusting the ropes, but he knew the struggle was worth it, seeing her now, in all her defenseless vulnerable rightful glory.

“Not so tough now…” He taunted at her small sleeping frame. Even with her clothes still on, he knew her naked body was only a mere touch away from him. How he could spread her open without her being able to kick, only wiggle for him, like a worm on a hook. No… that imagery is too ugly to be describing her, when she’s so far from ugly. She’s more like a butterfly trapped on a pin, wings fluttering hopelessly, reduced to nothing but beauty, nothing but a little doll for him to play with, tamper and poke fun at just like how she’d done back when he was captured at UA.

He decided pro putting the blindfold on her, perhaps the product of her bullying him in the cell, her jabs at his appearance subconsciously having gotten to him despite himself wanting to dust them off like he did with everything else. Her comments were sharp, and seemed to have the same type of immunity her body had, where his ego, much like himself, hadn’t the thickest of skin. Besides, she was… so painfully out of his league.

It hardly mattered though, now that he would regain all the control.

She laid on her stomach, face mushed against the mattress. He’d removed the pillows and comforter so she’d be placed like a centerpiece on his little operating table. She looked so harmless now, so sweet, especially tied up the way she was, and with those whimpering moans that were simmering to the surface, breaching her sleep, escorted by her wiggling, her delicious tempting little wiggling, begging for Shigaraki to come introduce himself, now with the turned tables.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let it slide?” Her wiggles came to an abrupt holt, breath caught in her throat, making her choke out a curt gasp through the thickness of her makeshift gag. “Did you think you were safe? Like you were simply spitting on a grave. No ghosts coming to haunt you.” She panicked once she felt the bed dip, four fingers sharp in their venture, sweeping up her back, settling around her neck, drawing out painful sudden studded goosebumps, spreading across her skin like wildfire in a field. “Silly little slut.” She squealed at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, unable to move away, her head halfway buried in the soft mattress, teeth sinking into the cloth in her mouth when his tongue, wet with drool, large and flat, dragged up her already teary cheek. “Boo.”

Her ears were burning, so much blood gushing and rushing and pooling in her head like a storm, she barely registered him drawing back with that maniacal giggle, where with as trademark as it were, there was no doubt where she was or who she was with. Yet, she hadn’t the time to think about it, she hadn’t the time to regret or answer questions she hadn’t even the time to ask, because as her mind was cooking up chaotic whirlwinds of fear, crippling fear despite being crippled enough already, brutal fear that her gut feeling like acid festering and mind reeling in on itself in such vehemence she felt she might just faint, give out like a light in a blizzard, she was given no time before he was talking again, pushing her even further out on the edge she found herself, stepping on her fingers one by one, with no mercy as she dangled above jagged rock that were sure to spear her like an arrow through a dove.

“You were wrong, you know.” She felt his hands trace a careful set of four fingers down the fabric of her shirt, rubbing into her spine, further pushing the breath from out of her lungs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spoke casually, though peppered in between the notes of nonchalance was found the spiked flavors of spiteful mockery, like the mean girl on campus, like how she usually talks, like how she had spoken to him. “But, what I haven’t done is played with someone’s body the way I’m gonna play with yours.” He listened to her whimper, sobs surely to soon wrack through her body, uncontrollably and thoroughly, making her gasp and choke on nothing but air and fear. “I mean, it’s only fair.” She heard the shrug in his voice, that sarcastic sigh and lightheartedness. “You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” This time he growled and she swore she would piss herself with how scared she was.

He was going to kill her, she knew it, she could feel it crawling up and down her body as though mites were hidden in her clothes. She already sensed him peeling off her skin, flaying her with her screaming. And in those seconds, those hopeless seconds, she wished for death, for it to be quick, painless, like simply snuffing out a light. She nearly prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to pray to that God or Devil she never believed in, never needed as badly as she needed them now. She wished for her heart to give out, for the right vein to pop, for a lung to collapse, anything, just for her to be dead before he had the mind to torture her to death.

“Does that sound fun, pet.” And there she broke, waterworks in full effect, no longer simple silent tears but something that had built under pressure like boiling pot of water, bubbling, soon to be blubbering incoherent sobs out into her gag, all to his vengeful amusement.

He watched her for a moment, one longer than he’d probably intended, despite not having view of her eyes, watching the blindfold wet as her eyes leaked at the complete overwhelming loss of hope, lips sucking on the gag those tears that managed to escape and run down to salt her lips.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” He accused, giving her barefoot a squeeze, making her wiggle with what mobility the bonds allowed her, looking handicapped, as though he’d disintegrated both her arms and legs when he’d simply tied them up where they would be stored safely and out of the way until he deemed it okay for her to use them again, where until then… she’d remain his little immobile toy. “Pretty little girl, all tied up.” He giggled, both amused and pleased, leaning down to tug those locks of hair that had curtained her face behind her ear, making the thin wisps at the back of her neck bristle in alarm. “All alone with the big bad ugly villain.” He bit it out with a smirk, and she swore she felt venom drop where he spit the words on her face. “Pretty girl… dressed in such pretty things.” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her silk pajama shirt, his other hand stroking a thumb over himself and his caged member, the beast behind the boxer, the one she was still so completely unaware of. “To hide her rotten core.”

He snickered some more at the notice of how ticklish she was, or perhaps it wasn’t as much a reflex but rather a violent display of her fear, how she kicked, or tried to kick her legs, once his hand with its lanky slender fingers danced a pattern on the sole of her foot.

“They won’t be of much help to you now…”

It’s was a cute display, seeing her struggle in an attempt to swat away his spidering hand, endearing, had him drooling he realized, but didn’t bother to wipe his chin, instead giving into the urge he had to touch what was so temptingly sprawled out before him.

“I bet you think of these as your armor, don’t you?”

All five of his fingers touched down on her shirt, and soon there was no shirt left to separate his dry course fingers from her warm skin. He nearly let out a gasp as he watched how she stayed in place, having not become a pyramid of ash. Her beautiful body still right there, warm glowing skin still touchable, more touchable than anything else.

“Keeping you safe from prying eyes and hands… Not my hands though.”

He could excuse how he hesitated on the fact of him wanting to enjoy himself, wretchedly and thoroughly, gorging in every moment he was gonna make her scream, but… he knew that wasn’t the reason… he was… and he hated to admit it, but… nervous. He had this gorgeous creature trapped and under his thumb and he was nervous? No matter how terrified she was and immobilized it was like she still had the power, just like she had in that prison cell.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he’d thought about her everyday he was trapped in there. She had said she would see him later yet she never once, not once, came a second time. Why would she lie? Just to fuck with him some more? One last and lasting punch in the face? He had dreamed of it. How many times had he fantasized about doing every possible nasty thing in the book to her, teach her a lesson, make her beg, make her kneel, make her bow before him? But now, having her right there, this frail little girl who wouldn’t have the strength to fight him even without the tight rope holding her down, this little girl who despite being just that had him enthralled for months, still just as hellbent, enslaved, spellbound to make her pay… but that wasn’t it either… making her pay was only half of it, maybe even less… what he wanted, what he truly wanted, was to prove to her that he could have her wrapped around his finger despite being what ugly freak she’d made him out to be, that despite being ugly, he could have a pretty-girl like her melting.

He gave fully into his wishes then, her shorts gone with a touch, leaving her in a precious pair of cotton boxers. A sigh of reverence left him, a shudder running through him. He was expecting red lace or something exotic, something vain and narcissistic meant to enhance or simply show off just how pretty she was. He figured that was what she’d dress in, something sexy, because she had the full body that one believes go hand in hand with hot lingerie, yet… she’d chosen comfort. And why wouldn’t she? When she could make it look like the hottest item his eyes ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Fuck…” He drawled, now with a wanton whine, his hand giving himself a squeeze as his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably inside the confines of his boxers. “Just look at you…”

He only barely dared touch her, not just out of fear of her disappearing like anything else would, but because he didn’t at all feel as though he had the right to put his hands on something so beautiful.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.” He stated, still in awe. “Not when they cover up this perfect body.”

She screamed into her gag as he grabbed around her waist, pulling her pliable little body up into a kneeling position, then pulling and arranging some further to have her in the same position, just over his slap this time, with his bulging cock rubbing through the fabric of his briefs up into her still clothed sex, though with both cloths a thin material she felt the abrasive ticklish friction begin to stir something in her lower abdomen despite her fear and no regard to her disgust. And now, provided with the full view of her delectable little frame, her precious tits sprung free and strutting towards him with how her arms were bent in their confinement behind her back, and perky by both the cold wind of his breath and the goosebump-giving anxiety, leveled with his face, looking eager to receive his mouth, perfect nipples for him to suck on, gnaw between the rows of his teeth.

“These perfect tits…” He licked his lips, hands kneading one mound greedily as the other held her steady. “And this…” He placed all five fingers on the fabric of her panties, turning them to ash, all five staying to touch the delicate skin of her sex, feeling her quake, such a good replacement to feeling someone disintegrate. He groaned out a curse, body sagging, slouching at the sight of her exposed bare little private, he hunched over in awe as he ran his fingers through to disappear in the slit of her precious pussy. “This perfect little pussy.”

She wiggled on his digits with a squealing whimpering sob, so alive and warm and soft he could cry with how safe he was beginning to feel, without the fear of touching just a bit too much getting in the way. Although he was feeling the slight sensation of inferiority in the light of her perfection, or maybe even because of it, he decided he’d give a little scare, perhaps as a means of tipping or evening the scales.

“You know, pretty girl…” His other hand, the one not currently preoccupied with cupping her pussy, brutally brazen for the first time, spread its fingers to stroke the dome of her ass, before curling like claws to grab a fist-full of the ample flesh, making her jump and lose balance, resulting in falling flush against his chest all with a muffled cry. Her face mushed against his collar, her wet reddened nose painting tears onto his throat, such a strange type of comfort against his scars. “I’ve never slapped anyone?” He could feel her heartbeat and how it hammered like a race-horse on the track. “Or, no, I’ve slapped plenty, but a slap from me means death, usually.” His hand ascended, wrapping around her throat, all five fingers with hungry-pressured fingertips, guiding her back off his chest to sit properly, though leaning to bite her earlobe, all to feel her rub down on his aching cock some more. “But I slap you and it means pretty marks and pretty screams, doesn’t it?”

He laughed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or at least not as badly as he had given reason to think.

“Such a fucking pretty girl, aren’t you?” He trailed a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts, gripping her waist as she recoiled back. “With pretty tits.” Breath labored, or hefty with greed and desire. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy.” He squeezed her sides, as though getting ready to make a ragdoll of her again, pulling her into the desired position. “Let me taste you.”

Her heart hammered like a hammer hitting an anvil, as she was placed on her back, hands crushed beneath her, uncomfortably wrenching in their bonds. Her mind, stuck in its prospect, hadn’t pieced it together, despite having been stripped naked, she still hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t dared give it a thought, but his comment made the realization coat thickly, drape her and the pressure seemed too much for her mind to take, plummeting into a free-fall. He wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to rape her first.

Thighs easily pried open for him to settle in between, scooting back on the bed so he could lie down, lower half humping the mattress desperately, imagining having her wrapped around him, but all in good time. She shook more than writhed, seizurely beneath him, with her blushed pussy a beautiful slit so ripe for the taking, quivering at the warming breath he whispered upon the tender flesh. With his hands wrapped around each their ankle he pushed her thighs and legs up and out of the way as to not have her knee him in the head while he feasted.

He listened to her struggling to breathe, her stomach rising and falling sporadically with her sobs, untuned and painful and begging for any kindness he had to spare, he was going to give her exactly that. Kindness.

His chapped lips felt so good it was cruel, abrasive and inescapably delicious, welcomed yet unwelcome by the bucking of her hips as she squealed into her gag, falling prey to more and more hopelessness. His tongue came second, warm and wet and long and strong, sliding in between her folds only to swipe up and flick off at her clit, forcing a shudder to run all the way through her core into the tips of her toes, mind reeling.

“So cute.” He noted the sensitivity with a mocking jeer, the sound simmering on her skin. “I bet a pretty girl like you’ve never been fucked by a guy like me before.” Then his teeth were the ones to make an impact, grazing over her budding clit with how it reached out in search for stimulation, having its wish granted in such a sense forcing her toes to curl. “Come on my ugly face, pretty-girl.” She really couldn’t resist with how his words were tickling on that sensitive spot, and how intent on finding and following that spot that had her coming on done and abusing it, playing with it with his tongue and chapped lips, switching between such smooth soft yet forceful pressure and bristled rough chaffed contact, making her spasm, wanting so desperately to tug her arms loose to push his incessant face off, because she wouldn’t be able to resist it, she was going to come and make an humiliating mess on his tongue just like he wanted, the knot was going to snap and she would be screaming from the force of it.

He smirked with the taste of her essence on his tongue, giving her a couple more torturous kitty-licks that had her brutally recoiling by the oversensitivity he was abusing. It served well as an ego-boost as he was suddenly feeling the urge to take her blindfold off, make her gaze upon who had her wrapped around his finger. What more, he wanted to remove her gag, hear what she had to say to defend herself, what pathetic please she would come with to try and prevent him from going any further.

His mouth sloshed its way up her stomach, hands touching and grabbing and groping with greedy fingers onto anything and everything they got ahold of, feeling up her smooth skin and soft flesh, before having made their way to grab at the blindfold. Her eyes were petrified, blinking rapidly, especially every time his clothed cock bumped into her bare pussy, leaving strings of spit and fine silken cum to hang from between where she parted with the cotton of his pants.

She was thoroughly out of it, delirious, fear-ridden and numbed with pleasure, cotton yet swivel-eyed as he fought to be her focus. He pulled the gag out of her mouth too, wiping his chin before turning the fabric to ash, eyes looking her over all the while.

His tongue rolled over his lips. “Such a pretty face.” He gathered her face between his fingers, blunt fingertips pushing into squishy bloated cheeks. “Even prettier with those tears you fucking crybaby.” It will never get old, the feeling of nothing happening still under all his five fingers. “Even better with my handprint, don’t you think?” It was funny how she didn’t seem to pick up anything of what he was saying. “Or covered in my cum.” Her brows had scrunched so hopelessly close together, whimpers upon sniffles and whiny mewling and hiccupping panting, so pathetic and precious. “So fucking pretty.” He groaned, giving his lips a second wetting with his tongue. “Kiss me, pretty-girl.” He scrunched her lips together some more, leaving her incapable of refusing.

She tasted herself on his tongue, choking on the sweetness as he forced it like a slug down her throat. Her own tongue submissive in nature, staying beneath and out of the way of his. It was a series varying from needy whimpering moans and growls that followed from his throat, poured into her receiving mouth, giving nothing but weak whines in return. His one free hand, the other one still holding a firm grip onto her chin and cheeks, continued in its hungry exploration, grabbing with an almost childlike curious freedom, leaving painful marks in their wake, having her yelp against his willful lips, which smirk grew upon every inch of reaction she fed him, until pulling away in a haze, panting, with a new little wish he was going to have her be the star of.

“Let me fuck that pretty face.”

She hadn’t the time, nor the mind, to form any protest, reduced to mere whimpering as he pulled her back into a kneeling position, conjoined thighs and legs folded beneath and supporting her ass, still with her arms tied snuggly and unbudgingly behind her back, made to watch him fiddle with the band to his sweats, pulling them below his hips and falling to his thighs, displaying his surprisingly clean boxers and not so surprising hardness. Cock throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His hand pulling his boxers down and, cock springing loose, slapping against his abdomen, standing long and hard, tip blushed red and angry, a bead of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit.

“Open up, lick it up.”

She’d been lost in taking in the sheer size of him, girth thick and threatening, looking bigger than what she could wrap her hand around, her stomach twisting in tension and unease. Too caught up in imagine it ripping her apart than realizing how he was going to fit it into her mouth first.

Her eyes widened upon the thought, lips slightly apart in horror, bottom-lip quivering. “Come on, pretty-girl.” One hand tugged on his shaft, the other gripped her face, protruding nails to sink into her jaw, prying her mouth father apart to accommodate his size.

She whined at the taste of him, arms struggling behind her back, knees shuffling wider apart to support herself as he pushed on further, fingernails still digging into her soft cheeks, making her lips pucker into a soft welcoming oval. He liked the way her brows furrowed into that beautiful look of plead that had his balls aching where they hung, soon to be pressed up against her soft skin, smothering her chin. He also enjoyed how her whimpers had turned to delicious little vibrations of his cock, drumming alongside his length, such pretty friction.

“Come on, take all of me.” He licked his lips as he urged, other hand coming to caress the back of her skull, gathering her pretty locks between his fingers, abandoning all regard to how she should be turning to nothing but dust molecules instead of being a nice warm soft wet pleasure hole for him. His usually small scrutinizing scarlet eyes turning moon-wide with lustful frenzy. Voice ragged as he clawed at her scalp to obey him, no thought to her whining in protest. “You can do better.” His tip met with the back of her throat and her whine turned more desperate, nearly a scream, but he couldn’t care, not with the memory of her talking to him like he was some pussy-bitch, he was going to show her who the bitch and who the boss was. “Such a pretty little thing with such a nasty filthy ugly fucking mouth.” He spit through grit teeth, begging to fuck the back of her throat, having her gagging on him, hopeless in search for breath. “A mouth like that is only good for one thing.” He gave a few more painfully deep ruts, having her eyes roll back at the loss of breath, before ripping loose again. “Same goes for that pussy.”

“No, no.” She scrambled on the bed, trying to get away, trying to rip free, so hopeless he should have felt bad, but couldn’t bring himself to the feeling as he sat there and laughed, eyes wild, dick prospering, hand pumping his length to the sight of her.

He followed her pathetic struggling little shame, climbing on top of her. The panic swallowed her again, forcing a overwhelmed rush of sobs to come spluttering and blubbering and screaming from her little shape caught beneath him. “Such a little slut.” His fingers were at once groping her pussy, diving between her folds to rub her slit and clit. “Still so wet, are you excited?” She turned her head away as she struggled, eyes squeezed shut. “Aw, pretending it’s not me.” He snickered. “Good luck.”

Offended, he decided against making it pleasant for her, thinking she deserved as little sympathy from him as she had showed him, but his brutal actions slowed at the feel of the pressure around his finger when he’d pushed it inside her.

“So tight.” He stated, shocked as he tried swirling the digit inside, to feel the walls giving little wiggle-room to do so. She winced as he hooked, a heavy breathy shrill type of wince, as though he was pulling a knife from her gut.

He left the finger there, much to her discomfort.

“That comment…” He started, working her tightness as much as he could, still with only one finger. “When we first met.” His other hand gathered her face again, forcing her to look at him as he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to see those eyes as he got confirmation on his suspicion. “You said you push people away… that you were a… repellant.” Her breathing hitched as she sniveled like a little girl who scraped her knee. “Did that count for this as well?”

He hadn’t yet let the smile stretch on his face, but the chiding smirk started to grow as the answer was clearly displayed all over her face and by the telltale feeling his finger shoved inside her way too tight hole told him.

“Aww, is the pretty little girl a virgin?” He gave her no inch of regret, even with the fact clear as day. Having worked her tightness well enough to cram another bony-knuckled finger inside her, making her cry out. “Don’t worry, that pretty pussy is in good hands.”

She owed him, this way they would be even. Besides, he wasn’t making it completely miserable for her either. Her face might be telling one story of torment, but her drooling pussy was telling him something utterly different. Perhaps it was due to her amateur ability to hold on, but she was soon creaming all over his fingers, body spasming in tired bliss, eyes fluttering for a moment or two, trying to grasp what the fuck was happening. It was adorable.

“I think my little slut is ready.”

She murmured a sigh, energy spent on crying and struggling and coming twice already, all she could do was moan when his cockhead broke through her tight little weeping hole. He had to moan as well at the snug hug her pussy squeezed and seized him with, biting roughly into his bottom lip, tooth snaggling in the dip of his scar. Brows raised in bliss, scrunched in an eruption, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her tight convulsing cunt, preciously clutching around him, fluttering upon the fulfilling snug fit that had her toes cramping in their curled state, eyes zoning out, unable to focus, mouth blubbering and chewing on incoherent sentences, only capable on slurring out muddled moans and wet gasps as he fucked slowly into, lolling his hips forward carefully, holding onto the mouthwatering feeling of her warmth around him.

He pushed his thumb into her clit, which had her back arching and moan ripped from her throat before she settled down into the mattress again, welcoming the stimulation where she was crippled to preventit. “Your pretty pussy loves being taken by my disgusting cock, doesn’t it?” She could only hum and croon in reply, as he hit the very back, pushing into her cervix with a rather soft nudge, having her result to sucking on her bottom-lip, purring whines like a little kitten taking pleasure from their master. “I hear it in your pretty moans.”

He was no longer biting out the word pretty as though it were a curse or venom on his tongue. It sounded more like praise than anything, something akin to awe, pride even, smug for having it all under his thumb, burying his cock inside the word, for being the one to have reduced such a pretty thing to such a pretty mess, all for him, all by him, making her all his.

She made a shuddering gasp, moaning into his mouth as he leaned down. “Oh, is the pretty girl gonna cum all over my disgusting cock.” He cooed, all five fingers placed on her cheek when cupping it to have those gorgeous opium-blown eyes look at him when she came undone, for him to find such dangerous satisfaction in seeing her conquered beneath him, finding it to be the last push to send him off his own edge as well. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in that pretty pussy.”

He made to have that final bone-crushing kiss, faces mushed together in a sloppy mess of wet slippery tongues and drool, moaning and groaning, inhaling each-other.

Reduced to mere gasping and panting. Cock, having for the first time felt the fulfilling pleasure of blowing inside the warm comfort of a precious goddess, feeling her gush and come all over him in the near split-second, feeling her clench and tighten around him like a vice, robbing and ringing and milking him for every drop he was worth. He gave some more pumps, pushing deep within her, felt a shudder run down the underside of his cock, overstimulated and satisfied for the first time.

Still coming down from his high, he made to take in her shape and state.

He hadn’t really fantasized she’d be so pliant after being fucked, but looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine her any other way, anything more right then her glossy sweat-slicked body spasming in aftershocks of her orgasms, laid so preciously snug against his chest, thighs visibly shaking with still small feeble stuttering moans slipping from her lips in blubbers. He wasn’t too far from the same state himself, having had only barely the mind before exhaustion rendered his limbs too heavy for moving, to untie the knots and rearrange them into something more comfortable. He decided tying her wrists together in front of her to be better, legs free but too tired and dumbed-out to struggle.

He looked at her drowsy state with a smile, betting he could make such a grateful little pet out of her, and if not, then scramble her mind through so many cruel methods, and make do with a brainless toy instead. But, looking down at that blissed-out hopeless look on her face and that dainty defenseless body he’d manipulated and forced to its knees, he couldn’t really see how any cruel methods would be needed.

It seemed to him that all she needed was cock, a couple of orgasms forced from her pent-up body, a little relief. The little brat was just a bit grouchy and grumpy because she hadn’t had her pussy played with. He could relate, he also gets frustrated when not getting his dick wet for a while. She was just begging for someone to come handle her and that’s all there was to it. Just look at her now, so sweet and spent, lying in his arms.

Come to think of it, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be needing to apply any harsh treatments in taming her, she just needed to be tied up and made to feel just how good being taken care of feels until she accepted it willingly. And if and when she decides on being bratty, he’ll have plenty of methods of shutting that trap right up, or in making her scream.

TIP-JAR

[extorchic]

TOP 5 SK8 Episodes

So I got tagged by @akira-cr to make this list, it took some time but I think I've sorted out my mind, thank you for considering me 😊. Now here comes the list, sorry if it's supposd to be objective, but I'm gonna let my heart out over here (It's gonna be a long post and I'm not gonna cut it ):

NUMBER 5 - Episode 6 - Steamy Mystery Skating?! (A.K.A. The beach episode 🏊‍♂️)

Well this is supposed to be "breather" episode, and it's basically the one that sold the series to me. I like how fun and chill this episode is, although it does (further) foreshadow Reki's insecurity issues. The music is of course SUBLIME! "Seize the Moment" is probably my favorite insert song of all time! (it's been present in Reki's beefs as well, but here it really reflects the fun nature of his character and the show overall). And of coruse, FANSERVICE, not so much in how the boys were in swimsuits (though I gotta admit Reki does look good in them), but on the RENGA interactions!

That hug gave me life! How Langa was worried 24/7 about Reki being injured, at the end when they skated together to escape from the Bantu! I gotta admit that I have some mixed feelings about the implications of Reki being attracted to the faceless girl (I mean, Bi rep is very important too), but I guess my shipping side was just as jelaous as Langa was supposed to be (according to the fans LOL).

NUMBER 4 - Episode 11 - King vs. Nobody (A.K.A. Reki rising! ✨🌺🌞⚙️)

Reki is, without a doubt, my favorite character. He doesn't need to win, he doesn't need to be super flashy while skating, he just needs to be himself. He's been through a lot, many people (including me) have felt tremendously related to him, and seeing him in this episode is just satisfying. With his issues behind, with a promise to skate with Langa after he wins and no longer fearful, Reki rematches against Adam; and the way he does is fantastic! Taking advantage of his creativity, observative skills and mechanical knowledge on skateboarding, he faces up against the main boss and manages to not only endure his violent ways (which were gruelling to see, TBH), but also SOUNDLY HUMILIATE HIM in front of the whole S Community!

Yes, Adam, the "God of S", in the ground covered in mud by a boy almost everyone dissmissed! It was really sunshine through rainfall! I must also add how much I liked to see his renewed relationship with Langa, how much they treasure their company after patching up. I want to elaborate on this in its own post but I personally see that their interactions from this point on are more, I don't know, tender, caring, still playful but not in an entirely comedic way. The way they see each other is also deeper, anyway, it's just what I see.

NUMBER 3 - A DRAW: Episode 8 - The Fated Tournament! and Episode 9 - We Were Special Back Then (A.K.A. The month in which I was in an emotional crisis because of anime sk8t3r b0is 🍎🐍😭🛹❄🍵🌸 )

This is the point in which I got into the show, and the fandom (Yeah, haven't been around for too long). At this point the show wasn't the same, and I realized it when I caught up. Though there were some cool skating scenes in these episodes, the events that caught my attention were outside the road (Yeah, this was no longer just a skateboard anime, it's a whole lot more). Though I had been mainly focusing on Reki and Langa, I really liked having more backstory related to Joe, Cherry, Adam and Tadashi. Seeing how Adam went through a terrible childhood, convoluted teeange years to culminate in an adult with too much power for his own good and a twisted sense of "love", along with some extremely serious psychological issues was very interesting.

I acknowldge him as a complex villain, but that DOES NOT justify what he did to Cherry. This only proves that just because we know his backstory, we don't have to sympathize with him (Adam's just such a terrible person). On the RENGA side, we see Reki avoiding Langa after their rift, and how this affected both. We have Langa's sadness increase scene after scene, as well as his passion for skating dwindling as progressively. Reki on the other hand, just falls deeper and deeper in his depression, but also being unable to stop thinking about Langa, and he ends up going to S to see the latter's match against Joe. It's hard to see whether there's envy, jelaousness, frustration, admiration, pining or fear of being left behind in his mind. It must have been hard for a 17 y/o.

Reki also defends Langa from people speaking behind his back and shouting his name during the race boosts Langa's performance tremendously. This culminates on Reki realizing that the thing he actually wanted was to skate alongside Langa, not on the side, not as support, but together, he just couldn't. There's also the scene which may or may not confirm that Langa's feelings for Reki are more than just friendship! (Felt represented, for reals).

NUMBER 2 - Episode 7 - We Don't Balance Out (A.K.A. This was supposed to be a fun show!😭⛈️💔️)

I wrote a lot about the episodes in the previous spot, but this is the one that flipped the tables, the game-changer, and the one that hit closer home. It is a sad episode, no races there, it's just here for us to see how the circumstances affect the characters. It was hard to see how Reki, who at this point had been nothing but supportive and proud of Langa, starts to see him flying farther from him. Is it jealousness? Dissatisfaction? Is it fear of loneliness? Adbandoment issues? Is it feeling inferior? Frustration? Not being able to improve? Admiration? Care?

And on top of that a broken promise. I just can't imagine how hard is it for a 17 y/o to deal with all of those conflicting issues in his head, as well as the toxic competitive environment on the "S Community". This just came to show that he wasn't just the excitable, goofy sidekick character, he goes deeper than that, and makes him relatable. We also see a deconstruction of the cool, aloof prodigious character in Langa, as he just can't comprehend what's going on with Reki, and he's hurt by it, but still needs to figure out his own ambitions and desries. This leads to the emotional conclusion of the episode (which in turn left me in the aforementioned 4-week-long emotional crisis, thank you)

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Episode 12 - Our Infinity! - The race was cool, the Renga hug gave me life and everyone had a happy ending

Episode 5 - Passionate Dancing Night! - Despite the beef between Langa and Adam being cool, we start to see Reki worrying about Langa and opening up to him, further deepening their bond.

Episode 2 - Awesome for the First Time! - There's just something special about sharing something you're passionate about with someone else. Watching Reki teaching Langa the basics of skateboarding was heartwarming

NUMBER 1 - Episode 10 - DAP Not Needing Words

After 4 weeks waiting, the anticipation for this episode was gargantuan. Reki's depression was hitting its lowest point, bordering in self-harm, and hurting others as well. Langa continues to look for Reki after seeing him briefly at the hospital while visiting Shadow and we get to see this loving scene where he watches videos of Reki learining how to skate. After confronting Tadashi and realizing that he loves skating because it's fun, he returns home to find out that Langa had been waiting for him but left shortly before he arrived.

This leads to a heartful reunion, where words can't express their feelings, so they resort to do their thing, to skate, and that's where the feelings flow. This is when Langa tells Reki how he admires him tremendously and Reki understands that Langa'll be there by his side, and leaves his fears behind. With a mutual desire to skate together infinetely and a new dap, they rekindle their bond. People watched this show for different reasons, and though I like the skateboarding aspect because it looks cool, my interest leans more on the relationship aspect, and Reki and Langa's is so deep and intimate, and I liked seeing it grow from zero through different hardships (in other words, in all of the years I've been in a fandom, I had never shipped any other pair like these two, I needed to say that).

So I guess it's time to tag some people:

@pico-sour, @sleebycryptid, @elizabethslee, @itsamole, @kaorucherry, @blueflame97, @trieizieme, @tardiskitten, @lady-pendragon-9

So, if you've read until this point, thank you very much (I know it's not supposed to, but this post is yet again a very long "I love Renga" one, but it's what my heart wanted me to write 😅). I'd love to see people other than the ones I tagged showing their lists 😃

[writingwiththeghosts]

“I need you two to get along, just for the evening”, Heros sister Sarah pleaded. Hero narrowed her eyes, staring at Villain sitting on the opposite of the table. He looked way to relaxed for Heros liking.

“Look”, he said, grinning lazily. “I already promised not to intimidate or hurt anyone. If that includes Hero, fine.”

“As if you could intimidate me”, Hero scoffed. Villain raised his eyebrow and turned his attention to Hero, seizing her with his eyes. He did not straighten up though.

“If you are not intimidated by me, why does it bother you that I’m here?”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Hero looked accusingly at Sarah. “Why are you friends with that?”

Although this was supposed to be an incredibly happy day for Sarah, she seemed rather exhausted by the conversation. “This is my birthday dinner and it is really important to me. What has happened between you two that makes you want to get at each other’s throat every two seconds?”

Villain stood up, deflecting the question. “Since I know how to behave myself, I am going to leave now. Have fun figuring this out!“ And just like that, he was gone.

Sarah and Hero continued their staring contest. Hero was silently contemplating what to tell Sarah. For an outsider, hers and Villains fight must have seemed rather ridiculous and out of the blue. However, if they were really such close friends, telling Sarah that Villain was a gang member might not be the best way not to let this dinner escalate. It was the first time Sarahs parents met her girlfriend.

Sarah sighed. „Is this about the… you know… gang thing?“, she asked quietly. If Hero hadn’t already known she would not have understood the words.

„YOU KNOW?“

„Well“, Sarah said sheepishly. „It’s how we met. You remember the voluntary social work I did about 7 years ago with children in need.“

Hero did indeed remember. She said nothing.

Her silence seemed to make Sarah nervous. „I worked a case with one kid that he took special interest in.“

„Probably to groom it for his gang“, Hero grumbled. She couldn’t believe this. Villain and Sarah sounded so close!

Sarah gave her a look. „It was his little cousin. He was seventeen at the time as well, so he couldn’t take care of him legally and-“

Hero groaned and covered her ears. „I do not want to hear his sad backstory. He’s in a gang.“

„It’s not illegal to be in a gang! You’re a detective. You should know that“, Sarah protested.

„It’s illegal to kill people!“

„He doesn’t do that… much… I think… Do you know?“

„Well, I haven’t been able to catch him.“

„So you don’t know.“

„Oh I know.“

„You have killed people.“

„Which is something entirely different! He has… tattoos!“

„I have a tattoo!“

„Which is something I judge you for as well. It’s ugly.“

Sarah seemed to have grown tired of their debate and said softly: „Look, I can imagine the differences your jobs“ - Hero scoffed at that - ”bring with them. But you’re my family and he is one of my closest friends. We don’t hang out all the time, but he has always been there for me. So please, just today, can you make an effort for me?“

Hero was convinced that Villain must have brainwashed her. That was insane. But for her sister she would put on a friendly facade, so she smiled and nodded.

Sarah seemed glad, as she hugged her deeply. When she pulled away her eyes were gleaming excitedly again and she said: „I can’t believe I have a girlfriend and I am letting her meet our parents. And by that I mean, I can’t believe I am in a stable relationship before you. Overachiever.“

Hero showed her the tongue as they left the room, but she was already searching for Villain as Sarah went towards the main table.

„Your sister certainly likes a show.“

Hero turned around swiftly. Apparently Villain had been eager as well to talk to her. „What do you want?“

„The only reason Sarah would let you out of that room is if you lied and said you would leave me in peace for the night, or am I wrong?“ Hero squinted. Of course he was right, but that was the last thing she wanted to admit, so she just said: „Whatever. I’m not doing it anyway. I don’t trust you.“

He didn’t look bothered at all, instead he had the audacity to laugh. Hero noticed Sarah giving them a worried look from across the room.

„What’s so funny?“

„Nothing, it’s just…“ He looked around at the various people close to Sarah spread across the room talking and drinking. It seemed like a truly sophisticated place, everyone sipping out of identical champagne glasses. Then again, Sarah loved glamorous settings, which made her friendship to a criminal even more unbelievable to Hero. „I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection sooner.“

Hero cocked her eyebrows.

„Sarah’s always talking about you. Her good little sister, always trying to solve every mystery, ever so determined…“ Hero didn’t know where he was going with that, so she just took a champagne herself, trying to keep herself occupied and seem relaxed at the same time. „She truly loves you. Would have been a shame if my bullets had actually hit you.“

Hero tried not to freeze and keep her movements smooth at the confession. „Shame that mine didn’t hit you“, she replied. „Sarah would be better off without you. She deserves a lot better than you for a friend.“ Or me for family, she thought, comparing the two of them and not being able to give herself enough high marks.

They both watched Sarah give her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed again, this time quieter and almost friendly. „You really should be careful. And maybe a little more watchful.“

„Excuse me?“, Hero felt that anger rise inside her throat again. „Are you threatening me?“

Villains eyes flickered across the room, as if to see if they were really alone, before he said: „Your sister is a dear friend of mine and she truly loves you. But you ought to think how she managed to go from a social worker to being surrounded by all these exceptional people and this much money. The road to success often is a hard one.“

Hero watched the tattoos on his neck move as he spoke, the words ringing in her ear.

„What are you saying?“

He sighed in a condescending way, as if Hero was an over curious child he had to explain the same thing over and over again. „You should stop investigating my case. I stand by everything I’ve ever done. Not sure your sister is able to say the same.“

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

Hero broke the eye contact first to look over the crowd, just as he had done before. „For all the time we spent chasing each other, you really don’t know me very well. I would protect my sister with all I have got. But I will make sure you go down.“

When she looked back at him, Villain smiled at her with a wistful look. „Oh, I expected as much. But what will you say when you realize that maybe, just maybe, I am not the Villain of this story?“

Then he turned around, leaving her, having the last word after all. „Take care“, he called after her, and Hero wasn’t sure whether it was a threat or a kindness.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #17: The Little Match Girl

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: HCACU (Hans Christian Andersen Cinematic Universe) / “Snow Queen” x “The Little Match Girl” crossover Lemon: no CW: Non-graphic mentions of child abuse. Non-descriptive mentions of parent death. Mean idiot kids. MCD (Mayor Character Death) (SPOILERS: she’s a happy spirit by the end). Freezing. Near-death hallucinations. Period typical stupidity (mid 19th century)

.

It was a horribly cold and dark evening, and the snow fell like a thick swarm of white bees which swirled and swooshed about seeking their next victim. The grey walls of the town’s buildings were just as grey as the clouds that curled above it. Among the piles and gross patches of muddy wet snow, a little girl, no older than eight, chased after her scarf, which had been blown off when a carriage with horses rattled by. The scarf had belonged to her mother, and it was the only reminder of her, for she’d been dead before her smallest daughter was old enough to know her. The scarf was also the warmest article the girl had since she’d lost her hat and her shoes running down the road outside of town. She’d been far from home with her pockets full of matches to sell at every door that would open for her, but everyone in the tiny distant farms had rejected her, and so had the factory workers from the city. The sun was setting, so she had no choice but to go back home, where her grandfather would surely punish her for coming back with not one penny.

The girl’s name was Anna. Her feet and hands were dead from the cold and wetness, growing from red to blue to black, and her whole body convulsed like that of the dead dove in her cat’s mouth last week. A weak tiny chest unprotected by the scarf heaved up and down out of control, with an even tinier and weaker heart inside. Her thin clothes had grown soaked from the carriage wheels and the splashing hooves of horses when they passed by, and the cold crept up from her socks to her neck, where snowflakes leaked inside the collar of her dress. The poor little thing could do nothing but shiver as her stiff muscles pushed her forward down the street towards her home, where her grandfather would surely give her an ugly beating and call her names and bad words she didn’t understand. 

Among the worse things he told her, were the tales of the wicked Snow Queen, who could never stay on the ground for long, but came down to earth in her reindeer-pulled sleigh when it snowed to snatch away children and young women, and as she’d heard, the Snow Queen had taken her mother and father away, and would surely take her too if she took too long to sell her matches. To Anna, that didn’t sound so terrible if it meant she’d see her parents again, because they must surely have been the only people to have ever loved her. Every winter, in the safety of her house, Anna liked to heat a copper penny by the stove and press it against the glass, so she could peep out the clear circle and see people going along with their lives, the birds and dogs fighting for food and the beautiful snow swirling outside with the wind. She particularly liked to spy for the Snow Queen, who must arrive at any moment.

As the wind picked up, she sighted a spot to take refuge: a narrow alleyway, between two tall brick houses. There she curled up with her little knees against her chest and hugged herself. The scarf was long gone as she’d lost it from sight miles back. She would never see it again, and then her grandfather would grow even angrier. She hadn’t even brought a single penny to make up for it. 

If only she could draw a match from her pocket and strike it against the wall! Then it would make a beautiful warm light, but she didn’t dare anger her grandfather any further, and she still needed to sell them the following day. So instead, she shivered and shivered as the snow fell faster and faster and the wind blew louder and louder. Her cold-dead fingers twitched with the impulse to strike a match, but she held back, because then her grandfather’s wrath would be unimaginable, and he would kick her out of the house to be captured by the Snow Queen. 

As the sun set and all light vanished, little Anna felt her head grow lighter and the cold on her limbs recede. Keeping her eyes open was harder, but she didn’t mind, because the brick wall behind her wasn’t as wet or cold as she’d initially thought, and she could lay against it and go to sleep.

When she thought she should see only darkness, a soft light glowed from among the snow, and a silhouette stood before it. It was that of a large sleigh, and a person climbing down from it. Anna’s little heart fluttered with joy. She was saved! She’d be brought back home safely! But then she noticed the person’s strange appearance: she looked like a young girl, barely a few years older than her, and everything from her hair to her skin to her bear-coat was as white as snow. She approached Anna and cried:

“Oh, my, what are you doing here alone? You must be freezing to death! Please, crawl into my coat so I can keep you warm.”

Anna hesitated, for she noticed the bear-coat was made of snow, as well as the young girl’s dress, but she could barely feel the cold anyway, and the girl had asked so nicely, so she did as asked and inched closer as the girl knelt before her, end even though Anna’s body thought it couldn’t take any more cold, being enveloped by the coat felt as if she were sinking in a snowdrift.

“C-c-cold, cold, cold…” She whimpered like a babe, and the girl tightened her coat’s grip around her.

“Don’t worry. Come here.” She kissed her hair, and Anna thought she may pass out from the sheer chill that iced her bones and her whole head, but only for a moment, and then it slowly vanished and left in its stead a soft, comfortably cool feeling, like dipping your bare feet in the creek during a sunny summer day. At the same time, a few hairs on her red head grew white. Her limbs quickly recovered their ability to feel, and her clothes were no longer soaked. “Did it work? Are you no longer cold?” Asked the young girl.

“No, why, thank you so much!” Anna cried. “I feel as though I just woke up from a warm bed.”

“You shall not get any more kisses, now, or else I shall kiss you to death,” said the girl. “Now, what is someone as small as you doing out in the snow on a night like this? I don’t want to imagine what may have happened if I hadn’t come across you.”

Anna didn’t want to imagine either. Oh, had she come so close to death? And she didn’t even notice!

“I’m a match girl, you see,” she explained, showing her a handful of matches from her pocket. “My grandfather has me sell matches every day, but if I’m to come home empty-handed by nightfall, he will beat me with a belt.”

“Your grandfather beats you and sends you out dressed so poorly?” Asked the girl with horror.

“He gave me my ma’s scarf, but I happened to lose it, which is why I was so scared to come home. I haven’t earned a single penny today, and if he knew I lost the only thing of my parents’ we had left, he’d be terribly angry.”

“Could it be this scarf? It blew in my direction by accident today,” the girl said, and she looked for something in her sleigh and made Anna gasp when she raised a beautifully clean and dry red scarf, embroidered with gorgeous foreign patterns. 

“It is! You’ve found it!” Anna rejoiced as she grasped the scarf and hugged it to her chest before wrapping it around her neck. “Are you my fairy godmother? You’re so nice and good with me!”

The girl smiled shily.

“You must have heard of me before. They know me as the Snow Queen.”

Anna’s heart chilled with fear, but then she realized how warm she felt, and how nice the Snow Queen was to her, and thought she must have been wrong about her before, and no longer felt afraid.

“Oh! I know you!” She exclaimed. “You look so much younger than I thought. My grandfather said you’d be an old hag, and he also said you took my parents away. Is that true? Can you take me to them? My name is Anna, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Anna, but I’m afraid I don’t know your mother,” said the Snow Queen. “I have never taken anyone away, but maybe my mother, who was Snow Queen before me, has.”

It had never occurred to her that the Snow Queen may have a child or a mother. It had never occurred to her that she may be good, either, but in these few minutes, she’d been nicer to her than her grandfather had ever been. 

“I’m sorry about your mother,“ said Anna.

“And I’m sorry about yours as well,” she replied. In that moment, a strong harsh wind howled and made Anna fasten her scarf around her neck out of habit, but she didn’t shiver at all. 

“It’s getting colder,” said the Snow Queen. “But I’m afraid to let you go if your grandfather is as you say.”

Sharp terror seized Anna’s little heart.

“Please, don’t bring me to him!” She implored. “I’ve not sold but one little match.”

the Snow Queen looked at her with pity.

“Do you suggest I bring you along with me?”

“Yes!” Cried Anna. “Oh, take me with you! You’ve been so kind and you’ve kept me so warm! Surely I will never feel cold again with you.” 

The Snow Queen was told to be a cold, aloof villain with a frozen heart, but there were unbelievable pain and despair behind her eyes, as she laid them upon Anna. 

“I cannot bring you with me, for I’m afraid you shall freeze to death in my palace, which is in the snow,” she told her. “But if you allow me to take you home, I promise I will visit every day of winter. Whenever you need me, just call for me and I will look after you and keep you warm.”

Anna’s little heart lurched when she thought about coming back home empty-handed, but she was still beyond happy to have a new friend. She climbed onto the Snow Queen’s sled, which was made of ice, but that didn’t bother Anna in the slightest, less even when nestled securely in the heavy bear-coat. All of the reindeer looked at her curiously, and Anna waved at them before the Snow Queen whipped the reins and had the sleigh take off. The wind soon whistled past them as the reindeer galloped faster and faster, but not a single snowflake scratched Anna’s red numb cheeks, and not for a moment did her throat grow sore and cold. The Snow Queen, whom she would now see as her dearest friend for the few years left of her life, kept her close to her during the whole ride, as the houses and farms and fences blurred by and then slowed down again, until Anna’s familiar neighborhood came into view. She hugged her new friend goodbye and clung to her for dear life until it was time to part. 

“It is winter, so I’ll be here for you to call me,” said the Snow Queen. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Anna smiled warmly.

“Thank you.”

Then she rushed into her home, still empty-handed, and she was terrified to alert her grandfather of her presence, but suddenly, the pipes burst, swollen with ice, and he stomped past her with only a quick “Not now” as an acknowledgment when he marched into the kitchen to see what was wrong and fix it. Anna held her breath the whole night, but her grandfather seemed too preoccupied with the state of the house and the price of repairment to remember her discipline.

That very night, Anna used one of her matches to light the stove and no ten minutes later, her little eye appeared on the window, and she could see the raging storm and the sleigh with reindeer and her new friend sitting on it only twenty meters away. She waved at Anna with a hand, and though the Snow Queen couldn’t see her, Anna waved back, too. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

Ever since that way, Anna’s life turned upside-down completely. Every day she would happily stroll out into the streets and stay outside late selling matches to every neighbor that would buy, which sometimes were many, as the days were growing colder and windows often cracked under the punishment of ice and frost, or stoves broke down, or pipes froze completely. Some days were less lucky, for people would sneer at her increasingly white hair and chase her away with a broom as if she were a witch’s cat-familiar, but that roughly bothered her, because her grandfather was always too busy shoveling snow or chopping off the stalactites that grew under the roof to care. 

Where adults were mean, kids were meaner. The edge of the forest was their place of leisure, a place parents often avoided out of fear, so that’s where they all went to play. Anna didn’t usually play with the boys and girls of her town, because they didn’t like her, but where before they’d simply ignored her, they would now go after her. protesting that it was unfair she sold so many matches, or that she so rarely felt cold. They pointed at her white hairs, which Anna loved with all of her heart, and laughed bitterly before chasing her around with hard, rough snowballs. But Anna wasn’t scared anymore, and she hadn’t been in quite some time, because when she raced across the woods and cried “My best friend is the Snow Queen! Be afraid!” and the Snow Queen puffed out her cheeks and blew a strong glacial wind from behind Anna and over the mean kids, they all screamed in horror and scrambled away crying like babies. Anna laughed, and because of this, the Snow Queen laughed too, albeit nervously, because she didn’t like frightening people, but once everyone was gone, the forest belonged to them.

And in the forest was where Anna and the Snow Queen spent the most time together. They liked to play in the snow and climb trees and ride the reindeer around, galloping through the woods faster and faster until the Snow Queen let Anna win, as she always did. Winters with the Snow Queen were the most beautiful moments of freedom in Anna’s short little life, where her grandfather couldn’t catch her and the people weren’t mean to her and she didn’t feel cold nor alone, not when the Snow Queen kissed her forehead to keep her warm and made more beautiful white hairs grow. 

But winter always came to an end, always a little bit too soon, or that’s how it felt like, at least, because the Snow Queen would visit less and less, and with her, the pristine snow melted into mud, insects crawled out from every crack between two bricks, and grandfather had fewer problems with their house. And people were buying fewer matches.

“I’m sorry, but I must leave,” told her the Snow Queen the first time. “It is springtime already, and I must return to my palace.”

“Oh, can you bring me with you?” Anna begged more than once.

“I wish I could more than anything in my life,” said the Queen back. “But I’m afraid you shall freeze to death.”

Every spring came a time in which Anna watched the Snow Queen climb onto her sleigh and ride away one last time.

These were hard times, without her dear friend. Grandfather could always find her some other work to do, and the weather was kinder, but she felt alone and unprotected without her company, and whenever she mentioned how much she missed her, her grandfather would scoff at her and say:

“Quit it with the fairy tales. You have a delivery to make.”

And he’d slam a heavy box down on Anna’s waiting arms and send her off.

The first summer wasn’t as hard. The second one was a little bit harder. Each year the Snow Queen came back and brought so much love and happiness with her, only to tear it away once more, and Anna’s little heart could barely take the punishment. Kids and adults alike at church didn’t want to sit near her, and people rarely bought her flowers, bread loaves or whatever she was selling that season. Grandfather was growing more and more irritable each year, so Anna avoided him. She also avoided the kids in town, and the adults, and even the dogs and birds fighting over food, for they had grown to fear her. She could see them pointing fingers and whispering and talking about the Devil and wicked spirits in the mountains. “What awaits out there in the snow?” They asked out loud. “Surely it is death. You’re going to catch your death, child.”

But then the forest turned red, and then black, and then white when the frost came. Anna could feel herself growing colder and colder each day as anticipation built in, and when the first snow fell, she rushed out of home and into the forest to greet her friend. 

Whenever grandfather was out of the house for the night and left Anna alone, she sneaked into the woods and towards the little refuge she’d built with the Snow Queen, a half-fallen oak tree, with an icy curtain she could gently move aside to enter, where she kept an old wooden sled, a matchbox and a few toys. Luckily, this had been the case last time the Snow Queen came down to visit. Anna raised her hands to her mouth, looked at the sky, and sang. It was a special call the Queen had taught her, which in its turn had been taught to her by her mother. Only four clear, loud notes which echoed through the mountains and the town and reached the ears of every frightened child and adult, regardless of whether they believed in the Snow Queen or not, and told them there was something deeply wrong and wicked with their little match girl. But Anna had no reason to care for what they may think, because soon she’d hear the sound of hooves and turn around to find her dear friend standing there, who grew more beautiful with every year, and Anna would give a little jump and race to her arms and laugh as the Queen circled her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her hair and covering her body with her coat.

“I missed you,” she said, as she did each time, and she heard the Snow Queen sigh in bliss.

“I missed you, too.”

Anna lit up one of her matches to make a fire so that she could cook the little meat she’d brought along, and just like every time, she thought she saw the light parting like a curtain to reveal a vision of a beautiful crystalline palace on the top of the mountains.

“How is life in your palace?” She asked.

“It is peaceful, but it’s lonely. Still, I feel as free as a bird when I’m up there,” she told her. “But not nearly as happy as when I am down here.” She happily pinched Anna’s cheek and they both laughed. Anna felt a strange and warm feeling inside of her, something that compelled her to snuggle close to her friend, rest her head upon her shoulder, and close her eyes. The lack of cold was distinctly different from warmth, and she greatly enjoyed it when sitting before a fire in the Queen’s arms. Oh! She was certain the Queen must share this beautiful feeling, because she saw her face redden and her hands fidget when Anna kissed her cheek, once again reminding her of her humanity. She’d heard of women like these. People made them sound so horrible, but Anna knew her Queen and she knew herself, and she didn’t truly believe the things the townspeople preached anymore. They had been so wrong about the Snow Queen! She wasn’t the evil spirit they mistook her for, not at all. She was Anna’s dear friend, and a beautiful young woman as well. Oh, how happy did these moments make her!

“Would you tell me about your summer?” the Snow Queen requested, and Anna snuggled closer and happily told her about the ducklings in the pond, the flowers in her garden, and the beautiful lush green forest she tended to when it wasn’t covered in snow.

Life was difficult, but it had moments of true beauty, and Anna would treasure them with her whole heart. 

Winter, although safe and beautiful, was not always perfect. It was during her last winter that Anna wandered into an inn with pockets full of matches to sell that she saw none other than her Grandfather standing there, giving a loud, staggering speech to every man gathered around him. They had pitchforks and unlit torches in their hands.

“There is an evil creature haunting this town and we all know it!” He cried. “We’re too afraid to even name it! But I refuse to submit to the creature that took my family from me!”

The men cheered in fervor and support. 

Her grandfather hadn’t seen her. His eyes must have glossed over her, and Anna took the chance to bolt.

With her heart in her throat and her pockets full of matches, she trudged through the heavy snow into the forest. She needed to tell the Snow Queen, and to do so she needed to safely call her. She didn’t suffer the cold nearly as much but she felt her hands begin to grow numb just when anyone else’s would grow lifeless and dark. 

The wind picked up as she heard voices near, of men following deep into the woods with their hot red torches in one hand and their pitchforks in the other. Whenever she thought she’d come far enough, she’d hear them again, and at one point she made the mistake to think she was safe, raised her hands to her mouth, and called for the Queen. Her voice echoed in the walls of the mountains.

“I hear her!” Somebody cried. “This way!”

Anna’s little body jumped in terror, and she scurried away as quickly as possible, praying that the Queen did hear her and would get to her in time. The snow swirled cruelly around her and between each tree, muffling the red light from deep into the forest, and the soft white glow of the moon. She had to stumble in darkness, and she couldn’t see where there may be a tree, a rock, or a slippery sheet of ice.

She shivered thinking about the beating she’d receive if she didn’t sell her matches, but she was so scared, she still struck one against the bark of a tree, and a weak flame spluttered to life. She saw the thick snow, looking golden in the firelight, and the trees before her. They were growing sparse as the forest gave way into the vast expanse of whiteness that was the frozen prairie. She felt her numb hands grow warm.

The fire fluttered and died in the wind, and the shouting of men from behind resumed. Without thinking, Anna ran into the prairie. 

The wind blew hard frost against her, which cut the skin of her hands and cheeks, and Anna shivered in the impossible cold. Oh, where was the Snow Queen? Why was she taking so long?

She slipped on ice and hit her head against a tree, and as her confused brain processed the red light coming closer, she dragged herself behind the offending plant to hide, but setting her bum and back against the cold surface shook her to the bone. Against her best judgment, she lit another match, and pffffrtz! It came to light beautifully. Anna’s trembling lungs took all the air they could as she watched the soft light, and she thought she saw something in it, a crystalline structure, with delicate towers and a beautiful glass bridge. She smiled to herself, for a moment feeling less afraid. Oh! She could see that strong, secluded castle so clearly! But quickly the light went out, and she was once again shivering and scared.

Then, a heavy paw squeezed her arm, and she screamed.

“Quiet!” Her grandfather grunted. “You’ve called her yourself, and now you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

“Please, grandfather, don’t hurt her!” Cried Anna, jerking her arm. “She meant you no harm!”

“You are losing your mind,” he said “The Queen was the reason why your parents and sister were lost to the snow. She took them away, and left you behind to depend on me.”

Anna stopped struggling. She had never heard of any sister.

“I had a sister?” She asked.

“Yes, and she disappeared the same night your mother did,” he told her. “I planned on telling you when you were old enough, because he was only a child and you didn’t need one more unknown loved one to cry over, but I later realized you were just foolish enough to talk to the Snow Queen yourself!”

“You don’t know her! She is the most, loving, gentle and warmest person there is, and not the monster you think her!” Anna finally released her arm from her grandfather’s clutches. She ran as he cried after her before his old legs could follow.

The freezing air filled Anna’s lungs and burned her lungs from the inside, so she fastened her scarf around her nose and trod forward. Her only goal was to get as far from the red light as possible, but without lighting a match, she couldn’t see where she stepped and her boot landed on a smooth, cracking surface that soon gave way into glacial water that dragged her away. The creek was shallow and she kept her head above the surface, but her whole body convulsed as the cold clawed into her, and the water dragged her down the river. She only pulled herself out when her dead-numb hand managed to hold onto a tree’s root. Even when she was fully out of the water, her little heart still struggled to carry warm blood to all of her limbs.

She tried to open her mouth and call for the Queen again, but she only coughed. She’d lost her scarf and one of her shoes on the way, and in her pocket, lied only one miserable wet match.

She desperately tried to scrub it dry and, with her shivering blue fingers, she struck it to life. She let herself sigh at the beautiful view. The warmth quickly spread over her fingers, along her arms and across her whole body. She didn’t even feel cold anymore. She didn’t shiver. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the light, and slowly, she began to see figures dancing. They looked like a couple with two small children, and a large roaring fireplace, with a table full of bread, cheese, milk and a roasted lamb to devour on Christmas Eve. Anna could reach her hand and take a piece of bread into her mouth. She could even taste it, and she smiled. The family’s house was big and spacious, with long corridors and stairways and a ballroom, and crystalline towers and a beautiful bridge between the mountains that led up to the palace in the sky. It was a beautiful home.

Across the fire, she saw a pair of concerned eyes. The fire went out. The Snow Queen fell to her knees, hugged Anna to her chest, and rocked her slowly.

“My love, you’re freezing!” she cried, and stroked Anna’s nearly-white hair. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I got scared and started this storm! I should have been here much sooner!”

Anna cupped her cheek.

“It’s alright. I still love you,” she told her, and then the Queen pulled away and looked at her with so much love, pain, and despair. She held Anna’s hand on her cheek. The Snow Queen must be freezing her but Anna didn’t feel it at all.

Then, the Queen brushed her hair away, leaned in, and planted a soft kiss on Anna’s lips. For a moment, a sharp cold stung her heart, and then it was gone, and she no longer felt the heavy drag of her wet dress as the Queen wrapped her up in her beloved scarf, which was dry and clean. Anna didn’t feel cold, nor afraid, nor in pain. She felt only warm and content. Oh! Anna had never been this happy or loved in her life!

The Snow Queen broke the kiss, picked up her soul into her arms, and safely carried her towards the sleigh, where the reindeer greeted them. She placed Anna on the seat and wrapped her into her bear coat. Then, she said:

“Are you feeling alright?”

Anna grinned at her love.

“Yes, I am. Thank you. I’m so happy you found me.”

She held the Queen’s hand tightly. She was kind, safe and familiar, and Anna felt so happy to be wrapped in her coat and sitting on her sleigh again. 

“Let’s go home,” said the Queen as she squeezed Anna’s hand and then stroked her auburn hair. Anna recalled the palace, and the happy family and the two children, and her grandfather’s words. Every memory made her smile. Home sounded like a nice plan. 

The Snow Queen whipped her reins, making her reindeer cry and break into a gallop. The snow swirled past them, faster and faster, and soon they left the red light far behind them, and the clouds parted and they raced high into the sky and towards some distant mountain with a beautiful palace on it, and Anna’s soul soared, watching the world below disappear, still holding the Snow Queen’s hand. 

The men below would eventually decide to keep quiet about that odd young girl who sang alone in the forest and talked to evil spirits. Anna’s grandfather, especially, was silent about it, and didn’t tell anyone about what happened to his son or daughter-in-law in the snow, much less to his granddaughters, both of which he failed to save. They never found the bodies at all, and he never knew what had taken the eldest away, only to come back for the youngest years later. The only certain thing was that, whenever someone dug their hands into their pockets during a snowy day, they’d find an old match lost somewhere in there, and they’d look at it with a strange combination of shame, terror, and gratitude. They were very quiet, yes, they never shared a word, but when they were alone, they did wonder, who was out there? What awaited out there in the snow?

[spell-cleaver]

DAY 14: WHUMPTOBER: Is Something Burning? @whumptober2020​

Again, this is set in The Pirate Son ‘verse! This is how Luke escaped being hanged.

His father wasn’t going to help him. The queue for the gallows snaked forward and forward, until Luke stood in front of the platform and there were hands under his shoulders, hauling him up. He shivered as the cold wind blew through his hair, but lifted his chin, stoic, as the hangman shoved him none-too-gently onto the trap door. The cuffs which suppressed Luke’s magic were stiff against his wrist, making him feel even heavier. Every footstep thumped like a battle drum. A death knell.

The hangman leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to see you get what you deserve, pirate.”

Luke said nothing. He kept staring out at the crowd—he had a better view from up here. The Emperor’s box was directly front of him, draped in red silks, with his father standing at the Emperor’s right side. Palpatine was watching him closely, goading him—he was mouthing something at Luke, but Luke refused to look—and Vader, under his eternal mask, looked impassive. There was nothing to see there, so Luke did not view him for very long.

Instead, he just set his jaw, and stared at the fluttering edge of that red silk. Embroidered in gold and black, it was fraying, damp from the rain and mud that permeated the rest of the square.

He kept his eyes fixed where that scrap of fabric had been in his vision even when the hangman eclipsed it, dragging the coarse rope of the noose around his neck. His breath was hot against his ear.

“My brother was a great sailor. A loyal man. When he was assigned a ship on Tarkin’s pride ship, the Death Star, it was the family’s honour.” Luke did close his eyes before this man could spit in them. “Until some nobody pirate sank it and sent him to the bottom of the sea.”

“You wish I was a nobody pirate,” Luke whispered back. “You wish that all of us were nobodies, or and you think that your precious sailors are any better than we are. They’re not. We’re not. And if breaking unjust Imperial laws that perpetuate oppression, sadism and death makes me a villain, or a scoundrel… I am happy to be one.”

The wounds up his back, his face, from the keelhauling still stung. They stung like crazy. And when that hangman backhanded him so hard he saw stars, they hurt even more.

“I hope your death is agonising. It seems to be. And I know you will suffer thereafter.”

Luke spat at his feet. “All the suffering this life directs at people like me, I’d hope that I wouldn’t.”

He cringed back when he heard movement, bracing himself for another hit, but the hangman just grunted. There—there was a moment where he pulled on the rope, and Luke cried out as it constricted his throat momentarily, tightly, for three long seconds—

Then the guy loosened it again and walked over to the lever, probably smiling to himself.

It occurred to Luke that it probably wasn’t wise to antagonise the man who held his life in his hands, but he was going to snuff it out anyway. Might as well enjoy antagonising him while he could.

His gaze found that scrap of fabric again, blowing in the wind. His vision was still blurry from the hit—or were those tears? He didn’t want to die, after all, much less at his father’s order—so when at first he saw the smoke, he thought he was imagining it. The first shadow he would see, among many.

Then he blinked, while the hangman began to read his charges.

“Luke Skywalker, pirate, self-styled ‘privateer’ who served aboard wanted ships the Falcon and the Rogue, is sentenced, for dozens of counts of murder, piracy, theft, sabotage—”

Was… was that…?

“—damage of Imperial naval and civilian property, collusion with Rebels, treason—”

Smoke?

His mouth dropped open when he saw it; the gesture was uncomfortable, against the rope digging into his neck.

There was a fire burning.

There was a fire burning under the Emperor’s box.

Someone had set fire to the silks.

“—resisting arrest, and most notably, the destruction of Governor Tarkin’s naval vessel the Death Star and the wanton slaughter of all personnel on board—”

Palpatine had no idea. Palpatine was staring at Luke, as Luke saw when he finally deigned to look at him, with a sadistic glee on his face, a faint smile. Luke smiled back, allowing his bitterness to shine through—and none of his hope.

His gaze flicked to his father, at Palpatine’s right. Did he notice the smoke, the flames eating the box away as the hangman drivelled? Surely he must. Surely—

But Vader did not flinch.

He kept staring at Luke.

“—for these crimes, and many others not listed, in the name of His Majesty the Emperor Palpatine and the glorious Empire he protects, Skywalker is to hang by the neck until dead—”

A shadow flickered. Luke raised his gaze further, to see a silhouette atop a nearby house around the square, the sun on their shoulder, raising a bow.

Aimed right at him.

Kill me, he mouthed. Kill me quickly.

“—and,” the hangman finished, “may God have mercy on his rotten soul.”

He lowered the scroll of paper, his heavy black clothes moving around him in a way that was uncomfortably similar to Luke’s father’s as he stepped up to the lever. Luke didn’t let himself look away as he put his hand on it, ready to pull.

“Does the condemned have any last words to express?” Palpatine called out suddenly, the rest of the square awed into silence by his voice. “Anything he would like to say. I am not a man without mercy, if he repents.”

The hangman paused, clearly resentful that Luke might not be killed after all, but he paused to look at Luke.

Luke looked levelly at Palpatine, and pointedly did not look at the fire underneath him.

“I hope you burn,” he said.

Palpatine’s lips twisted. “Do it.”

And then several things happened at once.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw movement, and instinctually flinched, expecting the yank on his neck any time soon, expecting—

He was not expecting—

The archer on the rooftop fired. The arrowhead was broad, and sharp—and scythed right through the rope. Luke gasped as he felt it thump against his back.

That—

How—

He didn’t stop to think. He didn’t stop to breathe—he just reached up, with his hands that were bound together in front of him, and seized the noose, yanking on it until it loosened, tearing it off his neck and stumbling toward the edge of the platform.

“Hey—!" the hangman shouted—but not at him. There was another thunk, and a spray of blood, and the hangman went down.

His knife was on his belt.

Luke’s eyes alighted on it, and he scrambled for it, hurrying, ignoring the way a hailstorm of arrows was descending from the rooftops, picking off assailants climbing onto the gallows one by one, crawling toward the hangman’s corpse awkwardly to where the blade reflected  the steel grey sky…

He smelt burning before he heard the crackling.

When he looked up, he expected to be the recipient of a furious glare on Palpatine’s part. Nor did he expect his father to be please, either. But when he glanced up, Palpatine—of course—had bigger issues to worry about.

The stand was on fire.

He was surrounded by flames.

The red guards were shouting, grabbing for His Insincere Majesty, trying to get him out soon—and Luke laughed when he turned his head and closed his hand around the hilt of the knife. He sawed at his bonds, quickly, not wasting any time, even as the smoke rose and the crackling got louder—the surroundings got hotter.

Leia was here! It had to be her; there was no one else he knew who was so deadly in aim, so brilliant, good enough to plan this out. And Wedge—Wedge, whose alarming pyromaniac tendencies they’d had to aggressively curb on a ship at sea, it must have been him who suggested the fire, and Han who had the sheer balls to pull it off—

These were his friends, they were coming for him—

The ropes gave. He gave a sigh of relief, then—then had a thought. Jabbed the tip of the knife into the lock on the shackles that bound his magic, twisted it, wriggled it…

It fell loose.

He crowed as his magic flooded back into him. Whipped his head up and glanced around—and when one of the city guard came for him, sword out and face contorted in hatred, Luke shot him back with a strong spell to the gut.

Then he got to his feet.

Every part of him hurt. His back and face roared with his keelhauling injuries. His neck smarted, sore, where the guy had tightened the noose. His old, old wounds, from his capture, were still scrapes over his torso. His existence, as it had always been, was pain.

But his magic thrummed through him and all was well.

The fire was spreading. The crowd ran, screaming, and torn scraps of crimson silk danced in the wind, flickering about them, burning to embers and dust among the carnage. The Emperor’s beautiful box burnt, and before Luke’s very eyes, the fire jumped from wooden stand to wooden stand, until it gnawed at the very gallows he was standing on. He made to jump, to leave, to escape, to find his friends and get out of here and return to the sea where he belonged—

But he glanced at the Emperor’s box for one moment too long.

It was a monument to destruction, all orange and black. All he could see were silhouettes—but he knew those silhouettes.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

Luke stared.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

His father opened his mouth to roar words Luke could not make out, and then sparks bluer than the fire itself erupted between the lords, obscuring Luke’s view, and—

Luke had delayed too long.

The fire was on the gallows, the deadweight noose shrivelling to a husk, the soles of his boots heating up. Smoke clogged his lungs.

“Jump, Luke!” a voice shouted, floating on the ashy air.

Luke took a running leap, and jumped.

The crowd was a thick knot of people, pushing and pulling in every which way, their terror evident in their screams. But one knot was put together, they knew what they were doing, hidden behind the helmets of Vader’s 501st soldiers—Luke’s friends were geniuses, that was the perfect way to smuggle themselves in—and when he jumped, they raised their hands to catch him. They grunted when he landed, letting him down harshly—his back twinged—but gently enough that no injury was done. One of them placed a hand on his shoulder.

A very tight hand.

“We have him,” an unfamiliar—no, not unfamiliar, no—voice said. “Tell Lord Vader we have him.”

“Lord Vader has left the Emperor’s box; he’ll meet us at the Lady,” another voice came, and then Luke was being hauled up, multiple hands clasped onto his arms, and—

“What!?” he asked, trying to shake them off. “What—what are you—”

“You’re coming with us, Skywalker.”

“What!? No!” Luke stopped. Kicked, struggled—screamed.

When they just shifted their grips on him so he couldn’t fight as easily, he cried out from pain of it.

“Where are my friends?” he demanded. “What are you—”

“Your friends aren’t here, Skywalker. Vader rescued you.” Luke’s jaw fell open. “And if you want to survive, if you want to escape being hanged, you are going to walk with us.”

Luke did not walk with them. And he did not make it easy for them to drag him.

Even undead soldiers disliked it when their fingers got ripped off.

[the-tubbo-admisitration]

Letters from the dictator

5

"Where are we going?"

"I'll show you!" Tubbo beamed, pushing the doors open and leading Tommy into what looked to be a small dancing room; round, with candles on the walls, a shiny wood floor.

Tommy glanced around the room, he felt very nervous about this for some reason but couldn't put a finger on it. "Tubbo...why are you doing this..?"

"So we can dance!" He giggled and grasped both of Tommy's hands. "Dance with me Tommy! Forget about all this chaos and dance with me!" He tried to twirl with Tommy.

Tommy just went with it, clumsily following Tubbo's lead. "You know I don't dance…"

"It's ok, I'll lead, I've been practising." Tubbo adjusted his stance, putting one hand one Tommy's waist and reaching the other hand up to Tommy's shoulder. "There we go, now follow me and just relax."

He quietly kept time under his breath, helping make sure Tommy doesn't miss a step. There was no music but their footsteps on the glossy wood floor seemed to make their own rhythm. Tommy did find himself relaxing, his thoughts and fears melting away as he just enjoyed his time with his best friend after so much stress.

After they'd finished dancing they went to sit on one of the benches placed around the room. Tubbo smiles softly up at Tommy, he'd missed him so much and it was fully hitting him right now how alone he'd actually been. He hugs Tommy tightly, smiling happily.

Tommy seems surprised but smiles and pats him on the back. "Missed me too huh? Can't have imagined it was any fun working under Schlatt, he really hates you."

This struck Tubbo as odd, he was under the impression that Schlatt was wrapped around his finger, he looked up at Tommy, confusion written clear on his face. "He does?"

Tommy nods. "Yeah, when he was meeting with me and Wilbur all they were talking about was you...they were planning to hurt you Tubbo, or at least bring you down."

Tubbo felt rage bubbling up under the surface, how dare Schlatt plot against him- of course he knew that that's why Schlatt had met with Wilbur, but to talk about him like that in front of Tommy? That was too far. And Wilbur...he hadn't done anything to Wilbur, did Wilbur really just not like him? "But...why would Wilbur let him..?"

Tommy shrugged. "I tried to defend you but was just told to sit down…"

Tubbo nodded, sighing. The knowledge that Tommy had jumped to his defence made him feel very happy, he had hoped he wouldn't have to manipulate Tommy- he would never want to lie to his best friend. "Thank you Tommy, that...means more to me then you know."

Tommy chuckled, his arm around Tubbo's shoulder. "Well you're my best friend, of course he'd defend you! We gotta stick together big man!"

Tubbo paused. "Oh hey! I am the big man now aren't I? I'm in charge!"

Tommy gasped. "Yeah!! Yeah you are!" He laughs and punches Tubbo in the arm gently. "Big man Tubbo!! We gotta get that on a shirt or something; 'big man Tubbo'."

Tubbo just laughs at that. "Well Eret's got a ton of fabric."

"We could rob him!"

"No no, we don't wanna steal from him, he's like, legally my dad."

"What?" Tommy looked very confused and Tubbo couldn't blame him. "Since when??"

"Cause he's the king yeah?"

"Yeah..?"

"Well I got L'manburg turned into a principality so I'm the prince so technically that makes him my dad doesn't it?"

"...holy shit it does." Tommy looks stumped for a moment then frowns. "Wait why didn't you just crown yourself king?"

Tubbo shrugs at this. "Well I didn't want to declare war on Eret, I'm not the villain here."

"What? Do only villains declare war?" He chuckles, gazing down at Tubbo.

Tubbo nods. "Yep." There's no way Tubbo was going to be labelled as the villain, even if he definitely was. He didn't want a bad image.

Tommy just chuckles. "Sure Tubbo."

Tubbo pauses, a few moments of silence went by. He thought about how he'd won, he had everything he'd ever wanted, power, affection, a family… his plan had gone off without a single hitch, it was almost too good to be true. He smiles up at Tommy, Tommy had always been the louder of the two, deciding what to do and when. But for once Tubbo was the one in control, and what kind of friend would he be if he didn't offer his best friend a nice cushy government job. "Hey Tommy?"

"Hm? What's up?" Tommy glanced over to him.

Tubbo stood up, heading to a table where he'd prepared two hot chocolates with cream and marshmallows. He handed Tommy one with a smile. "How would you like a job?"

"A job..?" Tommy took the hot chocolate and looked at it curiously. "What kind of job?"

"Well I'm the prince aren't I? I don't have a right hand man yet, how would you like the role?"

Tommy looks surprised, he didn't even think about that, of course Tubbo would want him next to him. Who else was qualified to know what Tubbo wanted at any given time. He had been the right hand man to Wilbur before...but Wilbur never let him do anything, Wilbur was a dick.

Tubbo smiles, it didn't take much thinking to realise that Tommy was comparing him to Wilbur, he holds his hand out, smiling. "You know I'm better than Wilbur, you can trust me."

Tommy nodded, smiling and shaking Tubbo's hand. "Of course, thank you Tubbo."

Tubbo felt a bubbly excitement build inside, he felt a powerful smile grow on his face and he simply had to spin around to get rid of all his excess energy. Everything was fitting into place, everything was perfect and exactly how he'd imagined it would be, he felt he was exactly where he had to be- exactly where he deserved to be.

He giggled again and beamed at Tommy. "Come on then! I had a bedroom made up for you to stay in!" He leads Tommy back down the stairs, towards a little door.

He pushed the door open to reveal a small red and white room with a whole set of music discs above the bed. "I couldn't get the originals for you, but I did the best I could…"

Tommy smiled anyway, nodding. "Thanks Tubbo, it's still a great gift." He went to sit on the bed, it was soft.

Tubbo smiled, he'd planned everything out to the littlest detail, he wanted nothing but happiness for his friend, Tommy was like a brother to him after all.

He went to sit on the bed with Tommy. "Do you like it?" Tommy just nods and Tubbo sighs, he knows Tommy isn't one for emotions much, he must be very tired. He stands up, heading to the door and putting a hand on the frame. "I'll leave you to sleep, enjoy your chocolate." He turned to leave when Tommy raised a hand.

"Tubbo-"

"Hm?" He turned back to see Tommy smiling softly at him, Tommy wasn't usually this soft.

"Thank you…"

"Aw, it's no problem! You're my best friend!" Tubbo chuckles, heading back upstairs to his own room.

He gets into bed and lays there, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what has happened to his L'manburg.

Wilbur had founded it but he was a filthy, disgusting man; greedy and powerful, Tubbo knew he was a threat. He wanted nothing but to seize back control of L'manburg by any means possible, Tubbo couldn't let that happen. He'd thrown the nation into war, throwing both he and Tommy, literal children, onto the first line of battle against universally renowned champions. He'd manipulated an entire nation to arms over a dramatised drug cartel and was still trying to exercise control over the citizens.

Then Schlatt had taken over, ha- Tubbo had to laugh at that. Schlatt's first order was a favour, it had helped Tubbo more than it had helped Schlatt himself. Schlatt was a greedy bastard but he really had done no harm. In fact Tubbo had to admit he'd quite enjoyed Schlatt's administration: it was like a free trial of his own. Schlatt had been lazy even before the poison, he'd done literally no work, Tubbo had done it all. It was easy to manipulate the manipulator, ironic he thought, very ironic.

Honestly, the people of L'manburg deserved him, neither of their previous rulers had been any good. He laughed to himself, realising he'd forgotten to get out of his outfit or even remove his cloak, but he didn't really care, he had spares, plus his cloak was super warm and comfortable.

He did however, take off his crown and put it on his bedside table. Then he lay on his side and curled up, he felt warm and safe and fuzzy, this was nice. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, he'd had a long day.

[slashingdisneypasta]

MultiVillain x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: Okay, so this is how it goes. Reader’s in love with (Villain), and (Villain) is in love with them… but no one ever said it out loud, and now Reader is marrying someone else.

Includes: Napoleon Boneparte (Misc), Human!Oogie Boogie (Disney Villain), Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham), Slenderman (Creepypasta), The Clown (Horror Villains)

Warnings: Alcohol intake, talk and hints towards murder of course, and swearing. 

Notes:

Inspired by ‘Marry Me’ (Either by Thomas Rhett [The guy’s POV which is what this will be in] or Elle Mears [Your POV, if you wanna see how Reader’s thinking]) and I recommend you listen while you read! ^^

I’m so happy!! I finally wrote something more then headcanons for Oogie! And this is also my first time writing for the Clown, so be easy on me XD

I hope you like this- I for one, am actually pretty proud of it! 

~~~

Napoleon Boneparte (You’re having a nighttime wedding- you made this decision of course so your friend and secret soulmate could attend):

She wants to get married, she wants it perfect She wants her grandaddy preaching the service Yeah, she wants magnolias out in the country Not too many people, save her daddy some money

Before walking into the church, I halt a moment at the side so others may get inside by me. This will be hard. I need a moment, just a moment… to pull myself together. It would be very bad, if I were to panic as Y/N makes their way down the aisle.

Hand on the church, more to hold myself together rather then to hold myself up. Am I doing the right thing? Should I be here? Should I leave? That stupid Capone said I might not be able to control myself and will object when the preacher asks… he’s not right, is he? It’s true, I don’t feel entirely under my own control right now…. But I need to be here. To support Y/N on their big day.

… I do love them, far more than any man every should a nearly married person, and even if I can’t have them for myself, I would, happy, do very near anything to make them happy.

So, if… If they want me here, as they said they do… Then I have to go in. I can’t chicken out now. I am the great Napoleon Boneparte. I can attend a wedding. Bon dieu.

Viva La France.

I can do this.

Forward!

As soon as I walk in, it is as if I am strolling into Y/N’s mind. This is just as they always wanted, with a few obvious added things by the other one that’s getting married today, like the chiselled cat head mahogany chairs… not that I think Y/N would disapprove if they weren’t, in fact, kind enough to just agree right away, seeing as it isn’t only their day.

The white makes a beautiful backdrop for their chosen accent colour, and the people in the room are exactly who I would imagine to accompany Y/N in her daily life, when I cannot be there. There’s not a sour, or in any way unexcited and unencouraging expression in the place.

Honestly, with my whole heart, wish I could feel the same as them.

Then Y/N comes into the room, and steals the breath right out of my chest. Like always.

Human!Oogie Boogie:

Ooh, she got it all planned out Yeah, I can see it all right now

I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

Christ, what kinda shindig is this?? I’ve asked everyone and their cat, including somebodies’ mother who looks like a cat, to play a tiny game of Blackjack with me while we wait for the main event, but nothing! Nada! What’s wrong with these people? Are they dying to just sit around and contemplate their loneliness until the two hosts get hitched??

I, for one, am not playing that game today.

Of course, I’m also avoiding Y/N at all costs so maybe I’m not the best example of a man controlling his emotions.

“Oogie!”

My shoulders seize up visibly, at Y/N’s voice behind me and I stop shuffling my cards. I only decide to turn around and face them like a man, when they give up waiting and round me so I can see their beaming face.

Oh, they look so happy.

That’s nice… in a terrible, heartbreaking, awful kind of way.

“Heya, Y/N. You look great!” I start shuffling the cards again in my hand, distracting my hands from and refraining myself from, taking their hand and kissing it, or pulling them into a hug. If I did that, I think theirs an acute possibility I would end up saying something we would both regret, in a moment of determination… and devastation, of course. Can’t forget that.

Really, I can’t. It’s a very prominent feeling right now in my chest, just being here. Just knowing this is happening.

“Thank you!” They beam wider, and oh Jesus. They’re so beautiful when they look happy- I wish I could make them this happy.

… But that’s all the other guy. The one they’re hitching.

They run their bottom lip through their teeth, looking down at the cards in my hands and then smirking in that mischievous way that always somehow makes this blackheart’s insides clench up. In a good way, but still. Tilting their head, they look back up at my face. “Had no luck getting anyone to bet with you yet?”

I let out a deep, theatrical sigh full of frustration. “No! Your guests all suck, Y/N.”

“Even you?”

“No, not me. I’m the King.”

“Right,” They laugh, then goes and sits down at a nearby table. “Well we have 10 minutes until I have to go get ready to walk- I’ll play you if you want!”

My heart pops like a balloon, and goes flying, wheezing around in my rib cage as I just smile at them for a good moment- unmarried, and free, and mine. For ten to fifteen more minutes. Hell yeah, I’m going to sit down and play with them.

Why aren’t I telling them not to? I wonder, as I deal us both cards and they pick theirs up and make cheeky ‘Hmmm’ sounds to throw me off. Why don’t I tell them, right now, how I feel? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I here, is also a valid question but I already beat myself up over that last night when I was picking out my tie. I’m her friend, and they deserve to be… yuck. Happy, with the person they chose.

And I guess, that’s the answer to all my other questions too.

Let me just enjoy this last game, this last 600 seconds with them.

Oswald Cobblepot:

I remember the night when I almost kissed her Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we'd been friends for forever And I always wondered if she felt the same way When I got the invite, I knew it was too late

And I know her daddy's been dreading this day Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away

As soon as Y/N leaves my side to go and freshen up for the aisle walk, I find myself a seat in the very back of the church / auditorium and rest in for the event. I will not be moving from this hidden away spot, in convenient shadow, with my secret flask of terrible smelling stuff that Victor gave me before arriving, until this shitshow is over and I can leave.

I’m only here in the first place, because Y/N asked me. And, evidently, my idiocy runs deep because I accepted such an invitation. I will do anything, for them. I learnt my lesson in dealing in peoples love lives, with Edward and Isobel- I will not let my relationship with Y/N go as badly as that one did, with Ed.

So if I must sit here and watch them marry that moron, (Fiancé’s Name), then that is what I’ll do. But I won’t sit in the front and watch it, and I will be as drunk as whatever this drink can make me.

Maybe I should text Victor, the deadly assassin, and ask what the contaminants are…

An unevolved, ap-like woman walks past my seat and I must be too close to the aisle because I can hear her yap like a strangled cat about what a cute couple Y/N and (Fiancé’s Name) are together and how they must be soulmates, and I don’t think twice before gulping down a huge mouthful of the alcohol. If this is how I die, then so be it, I think bitterly as I slide further down the aisle.

“Fuck!” The word comes out of me before I can stop it, my face probably the picture of horror and disgust. This… drink, if I can even call it that -more of an undiluted acid, if you ask me, - tastes like regret and earwax.

The same ape-like woman from before flashes a stern, disapproving look at me like she thinks she’s my mother, and I show her my middle finger. Uncouth, yes, but affective. This is a bad day, and I am in no mood to deal with bitches like her. She quickly looks away, and I take another, smaller, sip of the drink.

Another moment passes and the wedding doesn’t seem to be even a second closer to ending, so I sit up straight and close my eyes, holding the flask in my lap. Take me back to a better time…

In the silent, middle-of-the-conversation lapse moment, I allow myself to look down at Y/N’s mouth. They have a soft smile, left over from whatever we were just talking about, on their face as they sit comfortably in our silence and I suddenly feel total confidence. They’re here, with me, instead of off with that boy toy / girl toy / gender neutral or fluid toy. They’re with me. That must mean that I mean something to them, right? And Ed said they looked at me like… like, they love me. Or ‘care deeply’, as he put it. But we all know that was just his stiff version of the word ‘love’. Ever since Isobel… had her unfortunate accident… he’s been focused on one emotion only and it is not, love.

Anyway, the confidence spreads through me and I smile. It mixes with my perpetual desire to kiss them, and goddamnit, I should do it. I should just lean over and press a gentle kiss on their mouth- if they aren’t interested or pull away, I can blame it on the wine between us. If not…

Butterflies erupt in my stomach and my chest, and I’ve just lean an inch forward… when their phone rings on the table and I see (Boyfriends Name) flash on the screen.

I rush to lean completely back in my chair, as they answer. I don’t like to believe fate has anything to do with Gotham, but… that was entirely too close.

My eyes snap open and I roll my shoulders back, inhaling another, bigger slug of the contents of the flask and feel even angrier.

That was, most certainly not a better time, you nitwit.

Slenderman:

Bet she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now

I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now But I ain't gonna mess it up, so I'll wish her the best now

I’ve been sitting in the back of this church, a place I likely shouldn’t ever enter in the first place -Well, at least I’m not Offender. I would probably burn to death, in that scenario, - for over 2 hours and I only got to see Y/N for 45 and a half minutes of that time.

Not that that really matters. Its more important that they see me. I certainly don’t want to see them. I don’t wish to see them, or their wedding clothes, or their wedding guests, or the stupid moony smiles on their faces, or the cake, or their partner. Definitely not their partner. If they show their face before they absolutely have to, or worse, talk to me, I will promptly go home and kill 30 people. I don’t want to be here.

I shouldn’t be here, in fact. If I were a good man, I wouldn’t be here. A good man would never turn up to a wedding that he know’s he’s just going to sit back in and think unholy, too-fond and too-angry thoughts about one of the marriage participants. Marriage is supposedly a sacred thing, and if I were this good man that I’m thinking about, I wouldn’t urinate on it like this.

But I am not a good man.

So, really, what would I know about what a good man, would do in the first place?

Enough thinking about good men, it’s making me queasy and very uncomfortable.

I don’t look around, but I can infer with general certainty, that Y/N will be welcoming all her other guests now that I ‘allowed’ -Not that I could have stopped them. They just didn’t want to leave me in my own company,- them to let me be alone here. And they’re in their wedding clothes, which look lovely on them, and their smiling and their giddy.

Giddy. Ugh, I hate that word, especially in this sense. Defined by the Cambridge English Dictionary as ‘feeling silly, happy, and excited and showing this in your behaviour’. And by the Oxford, to ‘Make (Someone) feel excited to the point of disorientation.’. Yes, I looked up these definitions and memorised them before I came, and loathe every single word, in that order.

Because apparently, as if it wasn’t already obvious by the very fact that I’m HERE, I hate myself.

This other person has made Y/N giddy, while I have to sit here and pretend, I’m happy for them both and that I don’t feel like vomiting for the first time in 5 centuries.

But I can’t do anything about it, because I love them, Y/N, and I will… I will not, allow myself to be the reason their wedding wasn’t perfect. So, I wish them the best.

Or I try my damn hardest to.

The Clown / Jeffry Hawk / Kenneth Chase:

So I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees Yeah, she wanna get married Yeah, she gonna get married But she ain't gonna marry me

I don’t know if I’d call this a real wedding. For one, its in the entities realm so how ‘magical’ could it really be? And for another reason, the only white thing here is my grease paint. Its pretty laughable. I would laugh, in fact, if I didn’t know it would cause a coughing fit and bring attention to me as Y/N walks down the aisle- O don’t need them looking at me. I might accidentally blurt out an ‘oopsie’ or something not-at-all funny like that, with all the whiskey I’ve injected today. Not that that would be the biggest issue with these kids seeing that I’m here, in the first place. Only Y/N knows, I’m hiding by a tree.  

But, I digress I guess. They’re calling it a wedding. The big one with the beard is officiating -I guess he has an online certificate from before he was brought here,- , Y/N’s wearing a pit of plastic bag on their head like a make shift veil / bit of plastic bag fashioned sort of like a tie, and all the lovely little fingers, or survivors as they like to call themselves, watch. With silly gleaming smiles and hope in their eyes- Pft, suckers.

Honestly the idea of weddings in the first place make me a bit uncomfortable. All those wide eyes watching and perving on your happiness?? Seems pretty creepy to me, and I’ve been told I’m pretty creepy myself! So, I would know!

The fact that possibly the sweetest, perfect person I’ve ever had the pleasure of setting my gaze upon is the one getting married, has absolutely no stake on my take on weddings in this moment.

Absolutely not…

Aha… hahahaha…

I kill myself.

I kill them, too, but let’s put that on the backburner like their fingers, for now.

Let me wallow in self-pity for a while longer before we start making jokes.

Yeah, let me… I take a swig of my flask -a bee-oootiful concoction of all the most toxic hootch I have in my collection, and maybe also some actual poison maybe since I wasn’t paying much attention when I created it this morning and I keep it all in relatively the same place, - and savour the horrible flavour on my tongue. Let me wallow, for a little bit.

This is going to be a bad day, for these little fuckers when I get into the game.

[brucewaynehastoomanykids]

I'm not who you think I am

Azarath metrion zinthos...

Azarath metrion zinthos...

Azarath metrion zinthos...

Aza--

The Titans alarm blared through the tower, distributing Raven's meditation session. She mentally groaned today was not the day to be dealing with villains.

For the last few weeks, it seemed like the world was out to get her. Between dealing with her own emotions, her father, Garfield and Jaime arguing over petty things that they would more likely forget about later, and Kori breathing down everyone's necks, she was bound to lose it at any point.

The only person in the tower that really didn't seem to give her any trouble was Damian. I mean, they were a couple after all, and even if they weren't, it wouldn't be anything new. However, in this case, Damian would always be the person she'd go to when she needed a break from everything and vice versa, but he had been gone for a little over a week on some, what Raven liked to call, 'Batman business', and wasn't expecting to be back for another few days. Sure, they had phone calls and video chats, but they would always come short because of something happening and one of them having to leave, leaving them barely any time to talk.

Raven ran down to the main area of the tower where her teammates were waiting. "What's the emergency?" She asked as she walked down the small flight of stairs.

"The Fearsome Five is causing a ruckus in the city." Kori began, leading the team out the door. "I've received reports of destruction, robbery, anything you could possibly think of, really."

"You know with Rob gone this ain't gonna be an even fight." Garfield said.

"We've taken The Fearsome Five down before without Damian." Raven said with a slight snap in her voice.

"Yeah, I know." He whined. "But it's a lot faster when he's here."

"Well, he's not." Now she was really snapping at him. Though she didn't really mean to. She was just frustrated with everything going on and, if she were honest, she desperately missed Damian and wanted him home. She muttered a quiet apology and walked ahead of her team.

~

The city was a mess. Buildings were crumbling on both ends of the street, some even catching on fire, bank alarms were ringing, children were crying and clinging to their mothers who were trying to find their way out of the ruckus. The entire scene made Raven sick. It reminded her of the destruction of Azarath, just to a minor degree. How someone could do something like this was beyond her.

The culprits in question emerged from the smoke and ash holding backs of money in each of their hands.

Jinx looked at the four, counting silently to herself before smirking, "Where's the pretty boy?"

Raven wasn't very appreciative of the cocky tone that came from the sorceress before her but still answered her calmly, "He's away. It's just us."

"What a shame. Just my luck, right?"

She threw an energy blast at the team and all hell broke loose. Starfire seized after both Shimmer and Mammoth, Blue Beatle came for Psimon, and Beast Boy after Gizmo, leaving Raven to deal with Jinx, blocking her attack with a shield of her own energy magic.

Both sides struggled for a while. Blast after blast and hit after hit, neither side seemed to be slowing down any time soon.

Raven was growing angrier at her fight. Jinx had been making snarky comments and taunts since the fight started and it was starting to drive her nuts.

"Is it true what they say?" Jinx as the two finally clashed, "That the little crystal on your head has your dad trapped?"

The question threw Raven off guard, causing her to weaken herself and giving Jinx the upper hand on pinning her to the ground.

"If it is true..." the sorceress began, leaning down towards the empath's face, "then I wonder what happens if I do this..."

She touched the small stone, sending a shock of magic through her fingers and into it. Raven's eyes went wide. She could feel herself losing all sanity she had left. All the anger and frustration she had built up until this point was about to make itself known. Her vision went from black to white, to red in a matter of seconds before she had completely blacked out.

~

Raven awoke in a cell. Her wrists were chained with cuffs that halted her magic. She recognized the cell from her visits to Damian's home: this was a cell in the Batcave. For a moment, she wondered how she had got there before bits and pieces came back to her. She remembered screaming of citizens and the yells of her friends trying to stop her. She remembered nearly killing everyone in sight and destroying nearby buildings and roads. Then she remembered a plane: the Batwing coming into Jump City.

"I must have fought Batman himself..." then, she realized, "Oh no... I must've fought Damian, too..."

She begins to think the worst at that point. She had feared for a while that Damian was only with her for research reasons because he didn't trust her. Because of this, she refused to ever look into his emotions. She couldn't bear the thought of finding out it was the truth. Thought, if that is, in fact, true, she'd definitely find out about it now.

She heard some yelling going on upstairs. She recognized the voices to be Bruce and Dick. It was difficult from where she was, but she tried to listen in on what they were saying.

"...ruce, aren't you being a little rash?"

Dick, she decided.

"She's a chaotic monster, Dick, she has to be restrained somehow."

Bruce...

"Look, all I'm saying is that we don't know what happened. This could be one huge misunder--"

"What misunderstanding, Dick?! You were there, you saw what she did, for God's sake, Dick, she tried to kill us!"

"You don't see the Titans every day, Bruce. I've seen this girl every day since she arrived and trust me she is anything but a monster. The only reason you--... Did you hear that?"

"Came from the roof."

"Wait is that..."

"She's getting away! Still think she's good, Dick?"

"Shut it."

There was running before silence filled the air.

"What was--" Raven began, but was cut off by a familiar voice.

"A distraction."

Raven snapped her head around to see Damian holding a pair of keys in his hand.

"Distracting him with his own holo-tech. Grayson's idea, actually. Still, we should hurry, my father is no fool." He unlocked the door and got the cuffs off Raven, who only looked down at her freed wrists in confusion. She snapped out of her trance when she saw Damian reach for her hand, leading her to a nearby motorbike that he was obviously planning to use as a getaway vehicle.

"What about your dad? Won't he come looking for us?"

"Grayson said he had a plan for convincing him to reconsider his wishes. Is it a good plan is still in question, but it's the only plan we have."

"Whatever you say..."

They were silent the whole way back to the tower, leaving the Empath to her thoughts. She mentally scolded herself for allowing Jinx to get that close to her but was madder at the fact that she caved into her advances so easily. She knew she was stronger than that, and wondered why she would have allowed herself to be overtaken by a low leveled witch. It was then she decided that Bruce was right, that she was too monstrous to be a hero.

The couple finally reached the doors of the tower. Raven put a hand on Damian's shoulder, stopping him from going inside.

"Wait, Damian..." she hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't sure you'd actually save me... thank you."

The boy wonder scoffed slightly. "You should know by now that I do not care what anyone else thinks. I will always back you up."

"You didn't let me finish... I think your father is right."

"What?"

She crossed her arms and gave him a serious look. "Damian, half the city is destroyed because of me. Hell, I tried to kill people I care about... besides, it's not like you probably trust me anyway. You've always been skeptical of people, even your friends, and family. And especially people who have done something like this." She flung a hand out, pointing at the city where reconstruction was still happening. "And not just that..."

"Then what else?"

"If I may be so blunt: you're not exactly the most hideous person in the world, and it doesn't help you share the blood of the biggest billionaire out there... you could've had anyone. You could have had someone better than me--someone more heroic than me... so why me? Why trust me? Why love me?"

He was silent for a moment. Shocked at what came out of the girl he loved so dearly. Truth be told, he loved everything about her. Even her faults. After a moment, he finally was able to respond, "Because you are the only one I want. You always have been... is that really so hard for you to believe?"

"Damian, listen..." She put both of her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye as she spoke. "I'm not who you think I am... I'm a demon who has her own demons. Ones you can't possibly imagine. And I don't want to hurt you because of those demons."

Damian smiled a rare but genuine smile. "And I pray one day you will allow me to meet them. But until then, I'm just pleased to stay by your side. You have already proven to me that you are trustworthy, Raven, time and time again. I know you believe that your outward appearance and your family history makes you a horrible being, but trust me, it doesn't... I think I'm a pretty good example of that. And even with recent events, I know this isn't fully your fault. I've already been in contact with Koriand'r, she told me everything. Besides, as you said, you, yourself, have demons."

Raven couldn't say anything. She only looked at him pleadingly to just leave her and live an at least semi-safer life, but he only continued to smile, saying, "You cannot convince me otherwise, beloved."

She sighed in defeat. "I figured as much... though I should warn you that there may come a day you regret that decision."

"Highly doubtful."

"What?"

"You heard me. You should know I could never regret you. Not for a moment."

Raven smiled, seeing as though there was no point in arguing with him. "You should probably go help Dick."

"Sadly, yes. You should get inside. I'm sure everyone is worried." He said, walking towards his bike. "I'll return shortly." And with that, he drove off.

Raven let out a sigh before turning a heal to walk into the tower, smiling slightly to herself.

[chroma-ki]

Two Hearts, One Mind

This is a one-shot BakuDeku fic that I wrote and posted on AO3 about a month ago. I posted the link onto my blog a while ago, but wanted to get a copy of it up on here as well to spread the love.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653701

Summary:

It was almost like they were kids again, curled under a blanket in Izuku’s childhood bedroom - talking of heroes and villains and imagined futures. But they weren’t children anymore. Life had swallowed them whole, crushed them down and spat them back out into mangled versions of themselves that no longer fit together the same.

AKA - A sleep-deprived and anxiety-filled Deku runs into his childhood friend and current rival in the middle of the night. Kacchan wont let him get away so easily.

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In the  heavy, dreary silence of night that settled over the Alliance Heights common room, Izuku Midoriya rubbed his face for the hundredth time, fighting against sleep, as he scrawled another note onto the page in front of him.

With the next big exam right around the corner and his work study program keeping him from attending class on a daily basis, Izuku had spent the last three days studying during every free moment. Between his work study, daily courses and his extracurricular training with All Might, the 24 hours in a day felt like not nearly enough.

Free time was a luxury he didn’t get to have. It had been that way since before UA. Since he’d first met All Might, really. At this point, the drive to push forward, to go beyond his limits, was like a constant mantra in his head.

He needed to seize the moment - every moment - if he wanted to reach his goal. No excuse was good enough; no pain great enough. He had too many people counting on him to succeed - to many promises to keep - to himself and to others.

But in times like this, in moments when the pressure built too much, the enormity of his dreams felt like an insurmountable weight upon his shoulders; pressure so intense it threatened to crush him completely.

His brain was a muddled mess, his body sore and aching from a long day of training. Maybe a few hours of sleep would fix it. Maybe if he closed his eyes for just a moment, he would finally get some peace; some relief.

Izuku’s heavy-lidded eyes searched for the clock at the other end of the room, squinting to read the time thanks to his sleep-deprived brain, and couldn’t help but to let out a defeated sigh as it read 4:05am. He’d been studying for five hours; much longer than he’d initially planned.

Another all-nighter . All Might was going to kill him if he kept overdoing it like this.

An unexpected racket sounded from down the hall, startling Izuku into reluctant alertness. It was too early for any of his classmates to be awake, but the thought alone was enough to have him packing up his books and flipping off the common room light, preparing to slip out and back up to his room as quickly as possible.

He was too exhausted to make pleasant conversation; too drained to offer a smile. Running into anyone would only require explanations from him that he didn’t have the energy to give.

As Izuku hastily shoved the last notebook into his backpack, a familiar disarray of blonde hair came into view and Kacchan stumbled his way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes dazed with sleep and a muted yawn on his lips. Izuku froze.

Like prey caught by its predator, he only watched in tense silence as Kacchan blinked - aware of the moment his childhood friend caught on to his presence in the room, even in the darkness of night.

“What the - What the hell are you doing here, Deku?”

Kacchan’s voice was rough, gravelly in his half-awake state, and an annoyed frown played across his lips as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and took in Izuku’s disheveled appearance; the backpack in his hands. His eyes narrowed in what Izuku could only interpret as disdain.

“I-,” Izuku started, and then paused. Nothing he said would satisfy Kacchan anyway. It never did. “I was just leaving.”

Without another word, Izuku zipped his backpack closed and threw it over his shoulder in one swift motion. Making a quick bee-line for the hallway, he kept his eyes on the ground, every inch of his body aware of Kacchan’s presence - until a hard, muscled arm whipped up to block his path.

“As if,” Kacchan growled, the rough grate of his voice like the scratch of sandpaper against Izuku’s already frayed nerves.

It was enough to cause Izuku’s gaze to lift; his eyes meeting ones of deep blood red. His breath caught in his throat. From fear or something else in the charged space between them, he wasn’t sure, but their eyes held nonetheless.

He prepared himself for what could only be a string of insults, a lash at his pride or whatever else Kacchan felt like throwing his way this early in the morning - but none came.

For a moment, they only stared at each other in tense silence. Then, Kacchan lowered his arm and turned toward the kitchen counter without another word; pulling out one glass, then another. Izuku watched with anticipation as Kacchan filled both glasses with water from the tap, taking a deep gulp of his own, and pushing the other towards the edge of the counter; toward Izuku.

A silent offer.

Izuku found himself at an impasse - the desperate desire to escape to the confines of his room and allow himself to rest, if only for five minutes, warring with the magnetic pull of Kacchan’s presence.

Lifting his stiff and aching arm, he reached out a hesitant hand toward the glass, allowing himself a small sip and waited for Kacchan to make a move - to set the pace of this interaction.

“Talk. Now, nerd. What were you doing down here before I caught you?” Kacchan finally asked, his tone acquisitory. “Must have been up to no good, if you thought you could sneak away from me so easily.”

Izuku let out an exasperated sigh. God , was he not in the mood for this.

“I was studying. That’s all,” he spat bluntly, not entirely prepared for the way his voice came out in a clipped, irritated tone - more bravado than he actually felt. “Are you satisfied?”

He was definitely losing his mind.

Kacchan’s eyes widened slightly - but he didn’t snap back. It seemed he was also ill-prepared for sass this early in the morning.

His eyes flashed in the dim light of the room, the corners of his mouth turning down into a scowl, but otherwise Kacchan seemed calm; calculated. A side of the explosive boy that Izuku knew existed, yet rarely saw up close.

“Not in the slightest, nerd,” Kacchan muttered in way of reply before brushing past Izuku and heading for the front door of the dorms. Without another word, he opened it and left it wide as he stepped out onto the front porch of the dorms and into the still, black night.

There was little need to suggest that Izuku should follow. It was implied, as most things were when it came to Kacchan. It was a dance they had performed time and time again. And Kacchan always took the lead.

With a resigned droop of his shoulders, he followed Kacchan outside and stepped into the cool night air, taking in a deep breath that filled his lungs. The crisp chill of the air sang to Izuku’s senses, pulling him back to a state of alertness he hadn’t known in hours.

Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed a breath of fresh air - or how much his body craved the glass of water that he still held firm in his hand. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Kacchan was actually being...considerate. But assuming Kacchan’s intentions when it came to him was something out of the realm of Izuku’s expertise.

Since their second fight at Ground Beta - since all their dirty laundry had been bared to each other in a blur of fists and rage - Izuku knew that there was more to Kacchan that he had yet to uncover. More to the boy he’d spent his entire life chasing. No matter how tired he was, no matter how worn down and beaten, Kacchan’s hold on him was like a vice grip around his heart. As it had always been.

Kacchan sat on the porch step, his back to Izuku, as he gazed out into the empty night. A picture of stoic perfection against the dark sky. Despite the rift that had grown between them over the years, it was a sight Izuku thought he might never tire of.

Without invitation, he slowly made his way forward and lowered himself to the step at Kacchan’s side, his gaze following Kacchan’s as they both stared at nothing; locked in their own heads. The moment felt more private - intimate - now that they were outside. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous. After a brief moment to collect himself, he spoke.

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you. Honestly. I really was just studying.”

“Hah,” Kacchan scoffed, his gaze never moving, but his demeanor remained cool; distant. “You lie too easily for someone who claims not to hide anything. Yet you somehow still manage to be shit at it. Why is that?”

Izuku only frowned in confusion, unsure of what to say. Why did Kacchan always assume the worst of him? Claim that he was keeping secrets? It was knowledge that didn’t sit well in his head. Kacchan knew the only big secret Izuku really had. What else was there to tell?

He felt the familiar feeling of frustration rise in his chest.

“You obviously didn’t sleep, if the horrendous bags under your eyes are any indication,” Kacchan continued. “Everyone else managed to study without turning themselves into a pathetic mess. So what’s the deal? If you’ve got something bothering you, just spit it out. Pisses me off that you don’t say what you actually think.”

Izuku took a moment to ponder the boy’s words before answering matter-of-factly.

“I have to do better. It’s as simple as that. I have to try harder than anyone else here if I want to succeed. What does it matter how I get there? I’ll keep going until I have what it takes.”

Kacchan turned to him then, his lips pressed into a thin, frustrated line; his crimson eyes searching for answers in deep pools of green. He opened his mouth and paused, as if warring within himself over what to say, and then spoke.

“Jeez, Deku. You always say stupid crap like that just to piss me off, don’t you?”

“No, I -"

“Listen here, nerd. Stop with the bullshit,” Kacchan snapped, his voice dropping to a vicious, low note. “Why bother making yourself sound so noble, huh? Like you’re somehow so much more driven than the rest of us just because All Might gave you his stupid power.”

The words coming out of his mouth sounded raw - unrestrained - and they cut through Izuku like a searing blade in his vulnerable state.

“All of this - gettting into UA, training to be a hero, getting your stupid provisional license - it’s all been so easy for you. You’ve got All Might giving you everything you could possibly need. But, if you run yourself into the ground worrying over stupid shit, then it will have all been for nothing . We don’t all have our dreams handed to us on a silver fucking platter.”

The explosive boy rarely spoke so much. But when he did it was always what he really thought - what he really felt . Kacchan wasn’t one to beat around the bush. It dove straight under Izuku’s skin, boiled his blood, in a way that he hated.

He was so tired; worn down and running on fumes - and hovering way too close to the edge of sanity to hold back the thoughts raging around in his brain.

“Y- You think this is easy for me? Hah,” Izuku scoffed, the deliriousness making him brave.

Kacchan’s eyes widened slightly but they held Izuku’s firm and true as his fears and anxieties came pouring from his mouth like a bursting dam.

“You’re right. Meeting All Might,becoming his successor, learning from him, it’s more than I ever could have dreamed. He’s had my back since the beginning - and his help is more than I deserve - but it will only get me so far. You don’t think I’m reminded every single day of how lucky I am that he chose me? You think I’m so full of myself that I wouldn’t see the big picture?”

The words were spilling out of him so quickly, he could barely contain himself. The building pressure of having to prove himself, having to turn himself into someone that was worthy of the gift All Might had given him, had already been eating at him for months. He’d done everything... everything he possibly could to reach this point. And now, having to justify it to Kacchan was only evidence that he needed to work harder - that he had more to prove.

“You were born with a quirk. I had to earn mine. And I’ve spent every day since pushing harder and harder to prove that I’m worthy of what he gave me. Me - a useless, quirkless nobody who never deserved a second glance. Not even from you. So no, it hasn’t been fucking easy , Kacchan. Just because you know my secret doesn’t mean you know how I feel.”

When he was finished, Izuku resisted the urge to slap his own hand over his stupid mouth. He’d really gone and done it now - he just knew it.

Kacchan’s body was tense beside him, his explosive hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides. Izuku waited, holding his breath in anticipation of the backlash he knew would come. Instead, Kacchan’s mouth turned up into a satisfied smirk.

“Fucking finally.”

Izuku could only gape.

“It’s about damn time, Deku,” He continued, the growl in his voice sending shivers down Izuku’s spine; the rumble of thunder before a storm. “You’ve got my attention. So go ahead. Yell. Rage at me. Give me everything you’ve got. Make me understand.”

“Why?” Izuku asked, unable to keep the question to himself.

“All Might already told me his side of the story after our fight,” Kacchan explained, pushing forward on the palms of his hands so that his face was only inches from Izuku’s. “So tell me yours. Fill in the pieces I’m missing. Let me inside that thick head of yours - and maybe I’ll listen.”

Izuku wasn’t quite sure he was hearing correctly. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch and all of this was some messed up dream concocted by his overloaded brain. But the coil of dreaded anticipation in his stomach felt real. The brush of Kacchan’s breath against his face felt real.

“What do you want to know?” He asked, the words a breathless whisper on his tongue.

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Kacchan. Ask me, and I will answer honestly.”

Kacchan’s gaze narrowed, but the intensity in them didn’t lessen. Ever since they were children, Kacchan had been a master of intimidation - among many other things. He was used to getting what he wanted. But Izuku had never been good at giving Kacchan what he wanted. Maybe this time could be different. Maybe things could change.

“Let’s start with the day of the sludge villain attack,” Kacchan started, matter-of-factly, finally giving Izuku a reprieve as his demeanor relaxed. “When you ran in to save me.”

Izuku slowly nodded his agreement.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Kacchan rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Why did you run in to save me?”

This wasn’t the type of question Izuku had been expecting.

“All Might said that’s when he decided to give you his power. So, tell me. What were you thinking when it happened?”

It took Izuku a moment to formulate an answer. But when he did, he had to turn his eyes away from Kacchan’s intense gaze. His answers were meant to be honest, but that didn’t mean Kacchan would like them.

That was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? The open, honest truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I think it was the look on your face,” he answered, his voice coming out small.

He felt more than saw Kacchan shift uncomfortably beside him.

“Explain.”

“I don’t know. When I saw your face - when I knew it was you - my body just moved. It- It looked like you were asking for help. Even if I didn’t have a quirk - even if I was useless - I had to save you. There was no other option.”

“I wasn’t,” Kacchan muttered, but there was no bite in his words. “Asking for your help, I mean...”

“You didn’t have to. It was you.”

The air was pulled taut between them - a worn, frayed line damaged by years of resentment, anger and pride.

Even with his vision trained on the step below his feet, Izuku could feel Kacchan’s eyes on him like a searing brand. It was making his heart race; his stomach flip. This conversation wasn’t like their other talks; talks that had involved a fury of fists and broken screams.

This was new.

It was a few awkward seconds before Kacchan spoke again - actively avoiding Izuku’s comment - but he’d heard it all the same. He was listening.

“Next question. When was the first time you used it? The power, I mean.”

“The day of the entrance exam,” Izuku answered without hesitation.

“You- You what?”

“I used it for the first time the day of the entrance exam. Wrecked by body completely,” Izuku said, a huff of a laugh on his lips. “You would have hated it. I was pathetic.”

“What the hell, Deku?”

“I had ten months to get myself ready for the exam. Ten months of training to prepare my body for this quirk,” He said, lifting his crooked hand as he spoke - allowing a spark of green lighting to course through his fingers. “It was hard, but I finished that training the morning of the exam. It’s not like I really had time to test it out first.”

“So, you’re telling me that you passed the entrance exam - into the highest rated hero course in the country  - without ever using your quirk before? Without even testing it out? Don’t you hear how ridiculous that sounds?” Kacchan’s voice was quiet, but wavered on a hysterical edge. “You really are something else, you know that?”

Izuku’s eyes were drawn back to Kacchan like a moth to flame. The boy he’d known all his life was watching him with an expression he’d never seen before. His crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness but - at least for the moment - they were for no one and nothing in the world but Izuku.

Since when had Kacchan started looking at him like that? It made Izuku’s breath catch in his chest.

“I know. But don’t you see? Passing the exam, getting into UA, everything I’ve done since then - none of it was enough. It took me months of training - months of analyzing and study - just to be able to use it without breaking apart entirely. Literally.”

Izuku didn’t bother to hide the solemn look that he knew must be on his face as he gave his thoughts voice.

“I have months to play years of catch-up. I see that every time I look at our classmates. Every time I look at you. What I am now - who I am now - still isn’t enough. That’s what bothers me.”

Kacchan seemed to contemplate his words a moment, but his penchant for insults seemed worn out - along with his pride. This Kacchan was exposed - unguarded and honest.

“Now that I think I can understand. The ‘not feeling like enough’ shit.”

Kacchan’s knuckles were white, skin and bone straining with the pressure in which he clenched them, but after a few moments he let out a disgruntled groan and flopped himself onto his back against the porch. He stared up the ceiling, unseeing, before starting again.

“Ever since my quirk manifested, people have always had their eyes on me. Like they were just watching - waiting to see what I would become. They told me I was special. And I believed them. I- fuck. I’m not good at this, dammit.”

Izuku watched as a pained expression crossed Kacchan’s face.

“I thought their praise meant that I was strong. But I was wrong. It made me blind. I didn’t see that until I got to UA. Until you-” He paused. “It made me question a lot of shit about myself.”

Izuku knew what it cost Kacchan to say such things aloud; the vulnerability it exposed to acknowledge any sign of weakness. But for Kacchan to have thought that he wasn’t enough was… incomprehensible to Izuku.

As quietly as he could, Izuku laid back on the ground next to Kacchan - risking closeness with the boy who’d always been his inspiration. Kacchan didn’t seem inclined to move away, so instead they lay side by side, just allowing themselves to inhabit that same headspace - be on the same page, for once. It was like drawing in a breath of fresh air.

Izuku felt more alive than he had in days.

For a few minutes they stayed in comfortable silence, only the sounds of their breath and the songs of crickets leaking into the night air around them before Izuku picked up the thread of conversation, his voice a whisper of breath between them.

“What’s the next question?”

For a while they went back and forth like that - Kacchan interrogating him with question after unexpected question while Izuku cast aside the filter of his mind and poured out truth after truth. It felt good - more than good. The weight of his anxieties didn’t feel so heavy, as he was sharing them with Kacchan.

At some point, they rolled to face one another and Izuku couldn’t hide his smile against the expressiveness of Kaccchan’s face as they spoke; his striking features mesmerizing as the first changing colors of sunrise danced along the horizon.

It was almost like they were kids again, curled under a blanket in Izuku’s childhood bedroom - talking of heroes and villains and imagined futures. But they weren’t children anymore. Life had swallowed them whole, crushed them down and spat them back out into mangled versions of themselves that no longer fit together the same.

But maybe time was ironing out their kinks. Maybe each time they pulled back the curtain, just long enough to truly see each other, they were able to discover where the pieces used to fit. Where they could fit again.

They spoke of numerous adventures - those lived together and those lived apart. They spoke of fighting styles and refined techniques. They spoke of good times and bad, of fights won and lost; they spoke of All Might.

“I don’t have to like it,” Kacchan said, a small smirk on his face. “But I understand what he saw in you - why he picked you.”

“What do you mean?” Izuku asked, leaning his cheek flat against the floor, relishing in the coolness of it against his flushed face.

“I've seen it too. Ever since we were kids. Always pissed me off,” Kacchan said, reaching out a hand and poking Izuku none-too-lightly in the chest. “ That’s one of the reasons why you shouldn’t be worryin’.”

“If you say so, Kacchan.”

“Damn right, I say so,” Kacchan huffed, his crimson eyes drifting closed under the weight of exhaustion. “Don’t let that stupid head of yours get in the way. Stay beside me, Deku. Don’t let yourself fall behind. Keep fighting, and I’ll fight with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Izuku mumbled, a yawn escaping his mouth as he followed Kacchan’s lead and let his eyes fall shut.

Consciousness was fleeting and Izuku felt himself drifting as his relaxed body and mind fought to succumb to its most basic needs. But he didn’t want this moment to end.

In his half-conscious state, he felt something brush his face, pushing the hair from his eyes, but couldn’t bother to open them to see what it was.

“Sleep, nerd. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for class.”

Izuku nodded mutely but reached out blindly, his hand searching for Kacchan’s arm but instead found the solid planes of his chest. That would do.

“Stay.”

Kacchan said nothing in way of reply, but Izuku felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his scarred hand and allowed himself to succumb to the blissful darkness. He drifted off to sleep with the thought in his head that, as long as Kacchan was by his side, everything might just be okay.

When the bright morning sun woke him hours later, Izuku found his hand twisted in the fabric of Kacchan’s white shirt and the explosive boy sleeping like the dead beside him.

[sidespromptblog]

Truly.: Part 3

One, Two, End

Summary: And just like that, walking further and further away from Thomas’ house, his host, and all of the other sides…

Logan was alone, truly alone.

Word Count: 2120

AO3 LINK

It was one cup of hot chocolate and one warm crepe cone later, and Logan was hastily rushing past the cafe doors letting them bang loudly upon his exit. The chattering of the people, the sensation of the closed air.. the closed walls around him, and just the feeling of brushing shoulders with so many people at once. It had all felt like a migraine pressing into every crevice of his head, the urge to just drop his spoils and slam his hands over his ears had been overwhelming. At least until the bell from the cafe doors had jingled upon another person entering, just then letting him know where his exit was should he choose to take it and get the hell out of there. 

In the end, he was left walking for what must have been fifteen or maybe even thirty minutes, with the chilly winds nipping at his cheeks, and cutting right through his long-sleeved shirt. He really should have brought a jacket, and maybe then some as well, but hindsight… and here he was. Nevertheless, he walked with nothing more than his eaten crepe cone, and his cup of hot chocolate to keep him warm against the ailing winds of winter. He walked and he walked until his feet were sore, and he finally came across an abandoned children’s play park. 

It was fairly easy to tell why it was abandoned in the first place, it was winter and so very cold. And it wasn’t like parents were just going to let their kids out to play in freezing weather when it could get them sick. So… finally, he had a place, a place where he was alone and he could spend his alone time. 

At least until… 

“Logan?” 

Within an instant, the logical side in question felt his head snap up at the familiar and so very soft voice that graced his ears, within seconds he was staring back at those familiar brown and golden snake eyes that reflected back a look that Logan wasn’t entirely sure how to read. Terror gripped Logan’s middle as he kicked his feet, scrambling and surging up to stand on his own feet. He had found him, and Deceit.. Deceit of all people had found him in how long? It couldn’t have been more than an hour or so. 

Did that mean the others were looking for him too? Were they hiding and waiting to drag him away once Deceit had distracted him well enough?  

Something uncomfortable seized in his chest at the thought, a feeling.. no a sensation that just slammed into his lungs and stayed there like a cement block steadily getting heavier and heavier with each second that he spent looking back at the dishonest side. He didn’t want to go back. It was far too soon, and didn’t want to go back to confined walls, confined spaces, and… confining people just yet. He wanted to enjoy this more, he wanted to.. to be free just a little while longer before he had to go back to being the Logic that everyone else knew and ridiculed him for being. He wasn’t going to go back, not until he was good and ready. Nobody would make him go back. Not Patton, not Virgil, not Roman, not even Thomas, and most certainly not Deceit. He was going to take as long and as little as he wanted to, away from it all, and he was going to be damn sure that they didn’t stop him.

Logan’s feet itched to run as the muscles in his legs tensed.   

Deceit slowly raised his hands, taking just the tiniest step forward as if Logan was a flighty caged animal that would attack at any second. “It’s okay,” He calmly spoke, keeping a personal and direct eye contact with the logical side to ensure that the other knew he meant every single word. “It’s okay Logan, you don’t have to run. I’m not here to force you to go back if you don’t want to, the others were just worried about your location. Virgil sent me to find you, it’s okay if you’re not ready yet. I get it.” He gingerly added, taking the tiniest of steps forward when it became clear that Logan wasn’t going to parkour his way out of the kiddy slide he had been sitting on before. “You aren’t the only one who’s  had to escape at one point or another.” 

“Who?” He couldn’t help the question, it burst free the very moment that his own curiosity seized it. “Who else?”

A look of pain spasmed over Deceit’s face, and for a second… just a second, Logan regretted putting it there in the first place. But the question had been asked, and Logan got the feeling that whether he wanted to answer it or not… Deceit was going to be honest when it came to this kind of subject matter. He didn’t even know why he felt this way, just the almost hopeless and melancholy look on the dishonest side’s face and the way that his fingers twisted the material of that familiar purple and black jacket. Sitting back down, Logan almost awkwardly patted the space next to him, finally allowing Deceit to get more than a few steps closer to him. He buried the sigh of relief that swept through him as the other side settled next to him, their shoulders brushed, and instead of the itching sensation that had wormed its way under his skin before… there was only warmth as he shared the abandoned park with his fellow side.

Just warmth.

“Remus was the first,” Deceit began, slowly resting the side of his head against Logan’s shoulder. “They tried to run a few months after the split, they were confused and everything that was new… felt wrong to them. They just… took off in the middle of the night. No bag, no food, and no supplies. They just… ran, and ran and ran. I don’t even think they knew where they were going, they didn’t feel whole anymore.” Deceit could remember that night well, how every little sound had seemed to throw Remus off, how the slamming of their door came in the middle of the night and woken Virgil up. Virgil… who had told him in the first place that Remus was gone, but had been too anxious to do anything other than get him. “The next side to run...” Deceit tugged at one of his scarves, another shiver wracking his body as he huddled just the slightest bit closer to Logan.       

A warm cup of hot chocolate pressed its way into his hands. 

“You’re cold.” The way that Logan said it left no room for discussion, at least no other than the story the Deceit was telling. Not that he was complaining, as he cupped his hands greedily around the warm cup, feeling its warmth spread through his hands and all throughout his body when he finally took a sip. A shudder raced through his body as he relaxed, forcing out the next words that would surely ruin what little goodwill had been built up between them in the few minutes they had been talking with one another. 

“It was me.” 

“What?!” Deceit felt Logan’s body jerk a little as the logical side twisted himself so that he could get a proper look at the dishonest side, he could feel the others stare boring into him scalding him from the inside out. “Why? When? And for how long were you gone? Why didn’t we notice anything?!” 

Deceit’s lips quirked humorlessly at the underlying guilt in Logan’s words, “I left because I didn’t see a point in staying Logan, what was the point in staying someplace where I was hated? Virgil leaving… it hit me very hard, and to know that he hates me.. I didn’t see a point in staying around any longer. The more volatile dark sides were restrained, and Remus was happy doing their own thing in the imagination. And I… I was alone. I didn’t want to be alone, and I didn’t want to be in a place that reminded me of nothing but my failures in life. So.. so…” 

“Deceit.” 

“So I ran!” He blurted out, “I took what was necessary and I just ran, nobody was going to miss me anyway so I.. I..”

“Deceit!” 

The sensation of a feathery soft fabric rubbed against the human side of his face, and it was then and only then… did Deceit numbly realize that his face was wet with his own tears. Out of everything… he hadn’t expected to get so emotional over such a thing, his runaway fiasco had happened years ago and well before he had ever even thought about showing himself to Thomas in the form of Patton. Nevertheless, the only thing he could do was sniffle as Logan gingerly rubbed his tears away with the end of his scarf, leaving him to helplessly clutch at his cup of hot chocolate until the other side was done with his gentle touching. 

“I was gone for a two and a half weeks.” He dulled whispered, instinctively curling up as soon as Logan’s arm curled around him, “There was nobody there to find me, and there was nobody there to bring me back. Nobody came looking for me, and…” He swallowed thickly as he pressed his face into the side of Logan’s shoulder. “I didn’t expect anyone to.” 

That was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

He had run, and the only reason he was even there to reveal himself to Thomas was because for some stupid reason he had decided to go back to a place that still hated him. A place that still feared him, that still saw him as nothing more than a villain, and that still… didn’t think that he could change. Some nights he laid awake in his bed, wondering why on earth he decided to come back at all, sure the outside world had been hard to navigate but.. but at least they didn’t hate him, at least there had been people who didn’t want to see him sad and upset. At least then… he had felt worth something, better that than a low worthless snake of a side. 

 Logan’s hand rubbed up and down his back, and it took a conscious effort to fight back the rest of the tears that wanted to fall at such a tender and genuine touch. 

“Did you ever tell Virgil?” Logan finally asked, the air hushed between them as he rested his cheek against the top of Deceit’s head. “Did you ever tell him that you ran… and came back?” A sarcastic snort from the side next to him answered him without words. “He deserves to know Deceit… he came close to losing you forever, and yet he… we all still treat you and Remus the same. Something has to change, something has to change in the way that we treat each other. We can’t just keep going until we drive someone away, because…” 

What if he never came back? 

There had to be a line, a clear one so that one day they wouldn’t wake up to find one of their very own missing determined to never come back to them. They needed to make sure that something like that could never happen. Remus had already run away, Deceit had already run away, Virgil had ducked out, and finally… here he was, having run from the prospect of telling the others that there was something wrong with him. That he needed help, all because.. because why? Because he was too scared of how they’d react to it? Because of their response to how he had acted feeling scared that they wouldn’t respect him? 

They already didn’t respect him. 

A warm gloved hand slipped into his own and gave a gentle squeeze, “The same goes for you,” Those five words hit Logan like a truck, “They deserve to know too, they deserve to know how what they say affects you, and how their actions reflect how easy or hard it is for you to come to them.” Logan wanted to laugh, but honestly… he was sure that if he did then he’d most certainly cry, because.. he was sure that Deceit had somehow read his mind and figured out just what was destroying his heart so much. “So…” Deceit shifted where he was sitting, before staring right back at Logan. “Let’s make a deal, if you tell them. I’ll tell Virgil, I’ll even tell Remus if you wish for me too. But you have to tell them, one way or another.” 

For a long moment, there was silence, and there was nothing but silence. 

Until…

“Deal.”

[tarithenurse]

The good Villain - 7

Based on the prompt “You’re the villain and you know that you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why”

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader (eventually) Content: Parley? Chips, yearning, dealing with trauma.

Chapter 7

…   Reader   …

You have never in your life enjoyed standing up before a crowd. Speeches, attention, gawking silence. None of it was your glass of kwah, and even less so when the audience consists of a bunch of people carrying a grudge who have only just agreed to release you from prison. Still, a sideways glance at Loki helps steel the nerves. I can use their help, anyways.

Quietly, searching for the right way to express yourself better than the translation device can do on its own, you explain about the mission that brought you and your team to the seemingly vacant facility. If only I had known. Like in the ghost stories for adolescents, a worse faith than death had been waiting to suck out the very essence of each crewmember, leaving them crumbled on the floor as empty husks with heartbeats, and while the first apparently had been swift and painless attacks…each member of the Avengers turns pale as you describe the effects of what you learned to be a Soul Leech’s feeding ritual.

Confusion comes first, replaced by a skin-prickling mix of understanding and fear. The kind of terror that creeps in from the darkest corners and weighs a person down with leaden chains as the body no longer is under their control. Then comes the complacency. Dulling their senses and the will to fight except in short bursts of clarity where desperation flares like bombs going off in their mind to illuminate – for no more than a second – what they have lost and what is about to slip away for ever. They know beyond a doubt what is happening but cannot change the horrible fate.

You had heard their strangled cries echo, smothered by the faintest whimpering before that too seized and all there was left was silent pleading. It had compelled you to end the life of five, instinctually knowing that they were about to suffer a fate worse than death. Your second in command had come staggering towards you with the last teammate trailing behind, both dazed and confused and all too keen to accept orders without questions or concerns about the fate of the rest of the crew whom they helped carry on board, only leaving a child behind riddled with wounds. Dead. The youngling had to be dead, you were sure…but something made you linger on the threshold to the airlock.

By the time your heartrate returned to normal, the research station was ablaze.

“You tracked them here?” Stark is not really asking as much as trying to organize his thoughts aloud.

There is a pain in Barnes’ eyes when he looks up at you. “The two survivors?”

“Padded cells,” you grimace at the croak in your voice, “barely remember any of their lives.”

The redhaired woman is more calms than the rest, clearly analyzing the situation like any other mission report. “Why through the chin ‘nd up?”

“Not noticeable at first glance by the authorities…gives me time to either eliminate new targets, move on.”

“Smart.” Of course. “How many targets left?”

“Unless they have multiplied…just one.”

 …   Loki   …

Something has shifted within the God of Mischief. What had simply been a slight infatuation fueled by curiosity starts to fill his thoughts at all times, and while the memory of [Y/N]’s smile brings him joy it also bothers him to the point where he often finds himself walking the empty halls at night in the hopes of a distraction.

One such night, he passes the room [Y/N] has been provided as replacement for the cell to find the door ajar and a sliver of light streaming out. Not a sound can be heard. She must have left to retrieve something.

Hesitating for only a heartbeat, Loki slips in after checking the coast is clear. One look. Now that it has been accepted that she may not be a simple murderer, she has gotten her belongings back

Displayed along the long desk by the window are the weapons laid out in neat rows next to a few tools he assumes are for maintenance. At the foot end of the bed sits the backpack with the contents tightly rolled except for a set of clothes and the heavy boots over by the chair to the left. All of it is easy to access and even the weapons stash can be rolled up in a makeshift container and carried with ease. Easy to get ready for a fight or escape.

Already, his hands are itching to move things around maybe even take one of the lovely knives for himself, just to tease the Betan, and stepping closer Loki is already making up which one to slip away with when something hard presses into his back right between the shoulder blades.

“Explain yourself,” [Y/N] hisses coldly.

She won’t kill me…I’m her first ally and the only one that has lived up to a promise that made a difference. Self-assured and ready for a bit of fun, he spins around and adeptly catches and twists her arm to deflect whatever weapon she carries…but the only thing dropping to the floor is a bag of chips. In a swift move, Loki has her wrists in each of his hands (the difference in size now the cast apparently has been removed is obvious), her arms crossed under her bosom and back against his torso.

“Not this time, my dear,” he chuckles into the multicoloured hair.

They are cheap moves, stomping on his foot and banging the skull into his face, but they hold the element of surprise thus serving the purpose and before his vision has cleared again, he is lying on the floor.

“Yes, also this time.”

Perhaps shame or anger would be more fitting at this moment, however it is admiration that fills his heart and he cannot help the smile playing across his face as he stares up at the woman. Even now, dressed in soft shorts and a pink t-shirt that clearly does not belong to her, [Y/N] still maintains all her strength and poise.

“You are staring.” Even the furrowing brows are a shimmer of blue and green.

Naturally, pet. “Simply admiring the view from down here. You should join me.”

She does not. Picking up the fallen bag, she throws herself onto the bed with a sigh. The foil of the snack crinkles as it is torn open, and Loki finds a new smile growing on his lips at the sound of appreciation escaping her with the first crunch. It is so easy to imagine how slender fingers carry the golden slices to the darkened lips where the tongue slips out to aid in bringing the prize home in a cheeky yet delectable manner before the mouth closes in a tiny pout.

Deciding he has to see it the Asgardian sits up only to have the air stolen from his lungs at the sight of the splayed out figure. Oh, there is no doubt [Y/N] knows that he is staring…still she does not stir, not even when Loki takes a corner of the bed to sit on. Not when he scoots closer, a hand reaching forward undecided what the movement is meant to grant him.

“One more inch, and you will be half the male you are now.”

As Loki lies in the darkness of his own room, the mesmerizing shimmer in [Y/N]’s dark eyes is the last memory to flutter through his mind before sleep claims him.

[elsaclack]

they’re burning all the witches (even if you aren’t one)

read on ao3

“This is a bad idea.”

Despite the roar of the passing trolley and the responding volley of honks from upheld traffic, Jake knows she heard him. Her back is to him and she makes no move to acknowledge him, aside from a slight tilt of her head and a jump of her shoulders in repressed laughter.

“I told you to meet me in the park,” he tries again as he approaches, lowering his voice accordingly. She still hasn’t turned; he’s afforded a rare view of the back of her head, eyes following the waterfall of hair that falls halfway down her back in slow, tantalizing waves. “Why’d you change the location?”

“First of all,” she says coolly, “when have I ever done what you told me to do?”

He barks out a laugh as he drops off the stoop, closing his eyes as the sound echoes back to him off the other side of the underpass. Pedestrians and vehicle traffic intermingle and pass before them; despite his misgivings, he has to admit, this is a much better place to blend in and go unnoticed.

And blending in is the most important thing to Amy Santiago. She’s looking straight ahead but her expression is relaxed, and after a moment of studying her profile, he follows her lead. “Secondly,” she says once he’s focused on the graffiti on the far end of the underpass, “I got a tip that there might be some action here later. I wanted to be early.”

“So punctual,” he says with a smile. “I’m assuming that it’s action we’ll hear about later?”

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head, still smiling, and leans forward to plant his elbows on his knees. “Well, I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

She snorts. “Your facetiousness is noted,” she says. “And it’s really no trouble - I know it must be bad if you’re asking for my help.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. As always, she’s startlingly accurate. “Double homicide,” he mutters once his laughter is in check. From the corner of his eye, he sees her lean forward, too - if only slightly. “Both vics died from multiple stab wounds, but they were also shot in the head post-mortem. Execution style. Both bullet wounds had gunpowder burns along the edges, so it was extremely close-range.”

Amy clears her throat. “Any evidence?”

“Nothing substantial yet. Labs are still running tests on the bullets, but there were no casings on site, so it’s not likely to get me very far. Every surface in the house was wiped clean, which makes me think it was professional.”

“And the victims - were they related in any way?”

“Husband and wife, though they were apparently estranged and not on speaking terms, according to the neighbors. None of them heard anything, which again makes me think this was a professional job.” He turns his head slightly, peering at her sideways. “Any of this sound familiar to you?”

She narrows her eyes at him, lips pursed, and he could swear the gears turning in her head are visible even from here. “I know of a few people who might fit the bill,” she finally says, calculating eyes darting back to the opposite side of the underpass. “You got any leads?”

“A vendor who was set up across the street that night has given us a composite sketch, but we’re not sure how accurate it is, since he kept contradicting himself. We questioned him, too, but he checks out -”

“We?” Amy repeats.

He drops his head for a moment. “She’s my partner, Santiago,” he says quietly.

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Can you blame her? Most cops tend not to trust the badass vigilante types.” Amy scoffs, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Diaz has helped me cover for you more times than I can count, you know. She may not trust you, but she does respect you.”

“I’m so honored.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Your facetiousness is noted,” he says in a high-pitched voice, and Amy’s responding glare could wilt the flowers sprouting up from the concrete beneath his feet. “Anyways, we have a composite sketch, but we haven’t released it yet since we haven’t been able to verify -”

“Let me see it.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket without another word, pulling the image up quickly and passing it off to her.

And the moment she seems to fully take it in, the color drains from her face.

“I don’t know him,” she says, all but shoving his phone back. Suddenly she’s edging away from him, leaning as far to the right as she can, attention darting and unfocused on the traffic around them. “Never seen anyone like that.”

“Hey,” he grabs her wrist and she whips back toward him, wrenching her arm from his grasp so quickly he barely registers the movement. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“I told you,” she snarls, “I don’t know him and I can’t help you.”

“Okay, it’s very obvious that you do know him - or know of him, at least - who is he? And why are you so scared of him?”

She’s panicking, like a rabbit caught in a trap, eyes wide and fists clenching and unclenching rapidly. “It’s not - I’m not - just -” a passing pedestrian trips over her foot and she lurches forward blindly, seizing at her ankle. “Just don’t, okay? Don’t pursue this, don’t - don’t.”

“What? Don’t pursue this? Are you serious?” She looks to be in agony, her expression so bald-faced he feels his own chest tingling with anxiety. “You’re the one who quit the Academy so that you could help people without all the stupid rules -”

“Rules aren’t stupid, it’s the bureaucratic red tape that contradicts and negates the rules that are meant to help people that are stupid, and that isn’t the point, Peralta. Please, just - just trust me. This case is so much bigger than you could ever imagine -”

“Tell me his name, Santiago.” he interrupts firmly. She shakes her head, stubborn, and he inches closer. “Tell me why you’re scared of him.”

Her chest is heaving and she’s blinking rapidly, but she’s no longer scrambling to get away from him. “Look, there - there are bad guys, and there are villains. There’s crime, and then there’s evil. He -” she points to Jake’s phone still clutched in his hand “- is pure, unadulterated evil. Everything he stands for, everything he’s involved in, is evil. You need to let this go.”

“I can’t. Because those victims have families and those families deserve answers. And this guy deserves to be brought to justice. Him being evil is all the more reason for me to keep pursuing this. Someone has to bring him down.”

“Not you, Peralta.” she says firmly. “You’re not gonna be able to do this alone.”

“I won’t be alone, I’ll have -”

“Diaz won’t be enough,” she snaps. “He’s cunning and cruel and if he finds out that you’re pursuing him, neither one of you will stand a chance. Please, Jake,” her voice cracks, and he’s paralyzed by the desperation in her eyes. “Don’t pursue this. Drop it. Forget it ever crossed your desk. Please.”

“Okay,” he hears himself say. The desperation has not diminished. “Okay, I’ll drop it. I promise.”

He offers her his pinky, and she stares down at it for a beat. Her chest is heaving slightly with the intensity of her urging, but after a moment she raises her hand and hooks her own pinky around his, squeezing firmly.

Her touch is far warmer than he was expecting.

And it isn’t until she’s walked away, disappeared into the flow of foot traffic, that he realizes that was the first time she’s ever called him by his first name.

His name is Freddy Maliardi.

It took a while - far longer than Jake was hoping - but after cross-referencing a dozen criminal databases nationwide, they get a hit on a mugshot marked as a close match out of California.

He served twelve years for aggravated assault, but that isn’t what interests him - what does interest him are the twelve counts of alleged first degree murder, all of which were dropped during his trial due to insufficient evidence.

Maliardi is thin and sickly-looking in his mugshots, but his eyes are dark and glassy - almost dead.

And despite the fact that it’s just a grainy picture, Jake shivers, Amy’s words still ringing in his ears.

“So Santiago didn’t recognize him?” Rosa asks from the other side of the briefing room.

Jake grunts, feigning focus on finding a free thumbtack to add Maliardi’s mugshot to their steadily-growing evidence board. “He’s pretty average-looking,” he says evenly, “and the composite wasn’t the most accurate compared to the real thing.”

“True, although that doesn’t answer my question.” Her heavy combat boots scuff along the tile floor as she approaches, but he doesn’t look around; she pulls even with him and stops, surveying their evidence board with her arms crossed loosely over her middle. “It’s not solid enough to hold up in court, yet, but it’s a start,” she finally mutters. “Is Santiago working her magic or should we start canvasing the scene?”

He clenches his jaw at the contempt in her tone, but stays quiet. His relationship with Amy has always been a bit of a thorn between himself and Rosa, though she seems to have less of a problem with it now than she did way back at the beginning, when Amy’s “anonymous tips” lead to him solving five cases in the amount of time it took her to solve one. “Let’s start with calling the vendor and asking him to come down to verify that this is who he saw that day,” he says. “No point in canvasing if we’ve got the wrong guy.”

He sees Rosa nod in his peripheral vision, but she remains rooted to the spot. “I’m sorry,” she finally mutters. “I know she’s...helpful.”

“She is,” Jake confirms quietly.

Again, Rosa nods. “Probably best to keep me in the dark, but is it safe to assume that we’re just getting the evidence trail and she’ll deliver this guy in a few days? Or -”

“She’s not helping this time,” Jake interrupts. “She took one look at the composite and freaked out. Said he’s pure evil. She didn’t want anything to do with him.”

“What, she’s scared of him?” Jake shrugs, eyes glued to the mugshot. “Why?”

“No idea. But I intend to find out.”

Rosa hovers for another moment, before stepping sideways toward the briefing room doors. “I’ll call the vendor and set up a time for him to come in,” she says, subdued.

Jake nods, jaw clenched, waiting until the doors are closed again. He approaches the evidence board slowly, until the mugshot is just inches from the end of his nose. Maliardi’s cold, dead eyes seem to track his every move.

“I’m sorry, Amy,” he whispers.

For all of her hidden depth and range of emotions, Rosa Diaz has never been one to succumb to terror. Fear in general is not an emotion she has to handle with any regularity; beyond her childhood, she’s hard pressed to pinpoint any one time she’s ever truly felt scared.

Until now.

Fear claws rhythmically up her throat, choking off her airway, and no matter how hard she concentrates on the feeling of her lungs expanding and contracting she can’t shake the feeling of suffocation. The shadows she’s currently shrouded in certainly aren’t helping, but she won’t leave them - she can’t leave them.

Someone may recognize her.

The butt of her gun pressing hard against her palms is the one reassuring lifeline keeping her afloat amidst the shuddering darkness around her, and she grips it as hard as she can as voices approach, crest, and fade from the other end of the alley. She’s been waiting all of two minutes but already it feels like a lifetime - two minutes waiting are two minutes wasted, two minutes she’ll never get back, two minutes more of whatever he’s going through wherever he is -

“Diaz?”

Rosa jumps a foot in the air, nearly whipping her gun out despite the voice’s quiet, gentle tone. Amy Santiago stands ten feet away, hands raised in surrender, eyes wide and uncertain as Rosa heaves for breath. “Jesus Christ,” Rosa snarls, flattening her hand over her hammering heart.

“What’s going on?” Santiago asks slowly, hands still raised. “Where’s Jake?”

And even though adrenaline is still coursing through her veins, Rosa feels her heart squeezing mercilessly at the mention of her partner’s name. “I need your help,” she says quietly.

Somehow, Santiago’s alarm seems to double over. “Where’s Jake?” she repeats, stepping toward her carefully.

“Maliardi,” Rosa says, and even in the faint light she can see how quickly Santiago pales. “We were going to interview a witness to confirm the mugshot was who he saw on the scene, but Peralta got ahead of me ‘cause I had to go back to the car to get his stupid notebook, and by the time I caught up, I - I - they were shoving him into the trunk of a car -”

“How long have they had him?” Santiago’s voice has gone ragged, steely, like the sharpened edge of a serrated blade.

“Twelve hours,” Rosa says hoarsely.

Briefly, Santiago squeezes her eyes shut. “He’s still alive,” she finally says.

Something like relief briefly flares to life, like a match in the pit of a pitch-dark cave. “What makes you - how do you know?”

“Because they’re waiting for me.”

Ice floods through her entire body; without a second thought, Rosa rips her gun out of her jacket and points it directly between Santiago’s eyes.

To her credit, Santiago looks little more than annoyed. “Not like that!” she snaps, but Rosa refuses to lower her gun. “They’re using him to draw me out and force me to intervene. They’ve been trying to get a reaction out of me for months now, but I haven’t directly engaged. They must’ve figured out that Jake - that I -” she stops and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “He’s still alive because they’re waiting to kill him in front of me. Because they know that he’s - important to me.”

Slowly, Rosa lowers her gun, surprised at the genuine distress rolling off of her in waves. It’s been obvious for months now that Jake has been nursing a secret, hideously inappropriate crush on the morally-grey vigilante superhero-wannabe standing before her now, but never in a million years did she suspect that that superhero-wannabe would actually return those hideously inappropriate feelings.

“We’re doing everything we can on our end,” Rosa says, and Santiago nods, looking like she’s hanging off of Rosa’s every word. “We’ve put out APBs on Maliardi, the witness, and the car they drove off in, but it’s been hours and we’re no closer to finding them than we were at the very beginning. I know we’ll find him eventually, but I’m afraid - I’m afraid we might not be fast enough.”

“So you called me,” Santiago offers quietly when Rosa does not continue.

“I know you don’t really have any allegiance to me. We don’t have a lot of history, and what little we do have has been...complicated.” Santiago clenches her jaw, but says nothing else. “I know that you’re scared of Maliardi. I know there’s a history there that I don’t know about, that Jake doesn’t even know about, and I know that the idea of going after him alone is - is probably terrifying. I don’t have any right to ask for your help and I won’t pretend like I don’t need it. Because I do. I need your help, so badly. I know that I don’t stand a chance at solving this and saving him before something really bad goes down. He needs you, Amy. You’re the only chance he’s got - that any of us has got. Please, please help him.”

She swallows hard, gaze searching Rosa’s face. “You realize that if I get caught, they’ll kill him, right?” she asks, voice low. “I may be his only chance of getting out of this alive, but that’s only if I can get to him before they catch me. I’m his best chance, but I’m also his biggest liability. Are you sure?”

“Never been more positive of anything in my life,” Rosa answers quickly.

A beat passes, and then Amy nods, expression quickly slipping into a steely mask of grim determination. “Keep your phone on.” she mutters before backing into the shadows and disappearing from sight.

Through the haze of blood and agony, Jake tastes salt water.

He’s certain it’s a psychological by-product of the salty air blowing in through the busted window to the right of where he’s bound, whipping off the surface of the churning sea beyond it. It fades in and out of his senses, much like his consciousness, but it’s never stronger than it is when Maliardi is pounding the unyielding curve of his steel-toed boots into Jake’s ribs.

His hands are shaking where they’re bound behind his back and Jake gasps for air, grunts and moans of pain escaping his chest of their own volition. Maliardi paces back and forth before him, watching, those dark eyes all the more dead-looking now that they’re up-close and personal.

He’s been at this for hours, starting from the moment Jake lurched back to consciousness bound and gagged here on the floor. There are a half-dozen other men loitering around them, in varying degrees of engagement; a couple of them jeer and mock his screams, some snort with laughter, one has yet to look up from his phone.

That one’s the leader, Jake’s sure of it.

They haven’t really talked to him, outside of taunts. It’s been clear to him since hour one that they’re waiting for someone - that torturing him is merely a way to pass the time.

He isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

Maliardi kicks him again - inches from his groin - and Jake screams, biting down on his gag until he’s positive his teeth have cracked. The other men are laughing again, and Maliardi is grinning, and as the tears clear up from Jake’s vision, he registers that the leader has looked up from his phone for the first time all day.

“Enough,” the leader says, and Maliardi backs off at once, retreating to the far wall and leaning back with his hands folded behind him. “We need him alive until she gets here.”

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” one of the others pipes up timidly. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

“Maybe she isn’t coming,” another one says.

“She’ll be here,” the leader says calmly, knowingly.

Jake heaves down as much air as he can get through his nose, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the conversation. It’s hard to track with his own noisy breathing and the pain radiating through his body, but he understands enough to know that he was correct in his suspicion that they’re waiting on someone.

And that the rest of his lifespan can be measured by that mystery woman’s commute to this warehouse.

It does not occur to him that she might just be his saving grace until after the gunfire has already started.

The world is narrow and unforgiving where he’s trapped flailing on his back, but somehow he remains relatively unscathed even as the volley of bullets exploding deeper in the bowels of this room whiz over his head and crack against the wall to his right. Voices, forever ingrained in his memory for all the taunting and jeering and the like, cry out in the kind of finality that sets his teeth on edge, but instinctively he knows that for every heavy thud of a body hitting the floor, he inches closer and closer to freedom.

As quickly as it started, it stops. And once again, he’s left struggling to hear anything over his own noisy breathing.

The footsteps that approach him are quicker and lighter than any other he’s heard all afternoon, and a split-second later his hazy vision is focusing in on Amy Santiago’s desperate, blood-spattered face. “I told you to drop it,” she growls.

Despite her obvious rage, her fingers are exceedingly gentle where they work the gag out of his mouth. He gasps, lungs filling to capacity for the first time in hours, and lets his head fall back, content in knowing that she’s going to keep him safe. “When have I - ever - done what y-you - told me t’do?” he manages to rasp once his jaw has readjusted.

She tries to stay stoic, she really does, but he catches the exasperated smile that cracks through her glare, and it’s like fireflies flickering in the pit of his gut. Briefly, her hands frame his face, and then she’s scanning down the rest of his body, gingerly picking his shirt up away from his torso and examining what bits of skin she can see through the torn material of his jeans. “Nothing fatal,” she murmurs to herself as she gently touches his face again, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “You definitely need medical attention, but you’re gonna be alright. Your team is on their way right now, they’ll be here so soon.”

He hums out a broken note, eyes closed in relief and at her touch, relishing in the kindness of each gentle caress. “Good,” he mumbles, “I’m really tired.”

“I know you are,” she whispers. “Just rest, Jake. They’ll be here soon.”

Her hands are no longer on his face and he’s panicking, alone, in pain. “Amy!” he yelps, eyes flying open to find his view of the ceiling unobstructed. “Amy!”

She’s there again, face contorted in alarm, hands warm and steady where they press into his chest. “It’s okay, Jake,” she says quickly, “it’s okay, it’s okay, calm down before you hurt yourself -”

“Please,” he gasps, “don’t go, d-don’t leave me -”

She stares, frozen, gaze burning. “I’m sorry, Jake,” she whispers, barely audible over the sirens quickly fading in from somewhere outside. “I have to go, I’m so sorry - I promise I’ll find you, okay? I swear, I will find you.”

He can barely keep his vision focused, so close to the edge of unconsciousness is he; the last thing he sees is her leaning forward, her lips brushing against his forehead, and then -

And then, darkness.

He’s in and out over the next few hours, each foray into consciousness fleeting, but long enough to know that he’s in the hospital under protective custody, both from the officer standing guard outside his closed door and Rosa, who stubbornly refuses to leave his side. Others have filtered in and out, he’s heard their voices distorted through the filter of sleep; he learns from their quiet conversations that every person who was in the warehouse with him earlier is dead.

Including Freddy Maliardi.

And according to Captain Holt, they have absolutely no idea who is responsible. No idea who would mow through a room full of hardened criminals, including the kingpin of the Ianucci crime family, but leave him alive.

Rosa remains a steady fixture at his side even after visiting hours are over, slumped over in sleep when he briefly surfaces around midnight, clearly insistent on keeping vigil.

Which is why it’s so disorienting when she’s suddenly gone around 2 in the morning.

He blinks, trying to make sense of the empty space she seemingly just occupied. His senses are dulled from whatever painkillers are coursing through his veins, but he’s fairly certain he can’t hear any movement in the bathroom; for the first time since he woke up this morning, he’s alone.

At least, he’s alone until he hears the doorknob turning half a moment later.

It’s hard to tell through the darkness, but he’s pretty sure the person easing their way into the room is a woman. Not Rosa, though - her hair seems straight, no errant, wild curls to catch the moonlight spilling through the window on the opposite side of the room. The woman eases her way inside and quietly closes the door, and then pauses. He can feel her gaze on him, even from here.

“Who’s that?” he asks (slurs).

“You’re awake?”

And now that he’s heard his voice, he feels a little silly for asking. “Amy?”

“Hey,” she crosses the distance between them quickly and claims Rosa’s seat, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed. And now that she’s inches away he can see more details through the darkness, like the way her concern seems to be fading with each second that passes or the way she nibbles on her lower lip subconsciously. “Rosa said you’ve been sleeping since you got here yesterday - how d’you feel?”

He hums. “Surprised,” he says after a moment, and her brows raise in an unvoiced question. “Didn’t know I’ve been here a whole day already.”

She nods, gaze drifting down his neck and chest. “You were pretty beat up,” she murmurs. “And you lost a lot of sleep working on the case. You needed it.”

Slowly, he reaches up, catching a lock of her hair between his fingers and gently tugging. “Are you okay?”

He sees her jaw clench as her eyes squeeze shut. “I will be,” she says after a moment, eyes fluttering open again to meet his gaze. “Knowing that you’re okay definitely helps.”

He swallows, letting her hair slip through his fingers, mesmerized at the silky texture. “You saved me,” he says softly.

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, her right hand gently closing over his forearm bent up toward her hair. “You needed me,” she murmurs, and he nods. “I couldn’t just leave you with them.”

He closes his eyes, the memories of the warehouse flashing through his mind, but he quickly banishes them; all that matters is Amy, now, and the slow, steady lines her fingers stroke into the skin of his forearm.

“I can’t stay long,” she whispers, and his eyes pop open again. “Rosa snuck me in, but I only have a few minutes before the other officer comes back -”

“I don’t want you to go,” he says quickly, and she slides her fingers around his forearm again, squeezing in what he thinks might be a reassuring way. “Please, you saved my life, and I - I want you to stay, please stay, please.”

“I can’t,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry, Jake, but I - I can’t. They might figure out it was me, and if I’m here with you when they figure it out then you’ll be in trouble, too -”

“It was self defense,” he argues, aware of the fact that his voice is rising in pitch and cracking from his own desperation. “You didn’t do it for fun, or because it felt good, you did it to protect yourself and to save me -”

“You’re right,” she says quickly, her voice low and soothing. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. I didn’t do it because it felt good. But, Jake, the thing is...I’d do it over and over and over again if it meant keeping you safe. I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe. And right now, the best thing I can do for you to keep you safe is to get as far away from you as possible. Right or wrong, I’m responsible for what happened in that warehouse, and I - I refuse to let you and your career be collateral damage for my actions.”

“But I don’t want you to leave,” he all but whimpers.

“It won’t be forever,” she says softly, free hand reaching to gently card through the curls that have fallen against his forehead. “I just need to lay low for a while, until all of this blows over. I promise you, it won’t be for long. And you have my number - if you ever need anything, I’m just a call or a text away. No matter what.”

He bites his tongue, trying and failing to distract himself from the sharp emotions jutting up his throat and welling in his eyes. “This isn’t fair,” he mutters as the first tears fall.

Her smile is melancholic, and it makes his heart ache. “You’re starting to sound like me, now,” she murmurs, thumb brushing over his forehead. “Don’t pull too hard at that thread - they need good cops like you on the force.”

He swallows thickly, fingers still tugging on her hair. Slowly, he increases the pressure, until she acquiesces and bends her spine a little more. She pauses with less than three inches between the ends of their noses, searching, waiting.

He lifts his hand up through her hair to the back of her head, pulling her down to close the distance, meeting her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. The fireflies that ignited in the pit of his gut before are spreading quickly, bursting through every inch of his body, buzzing with excitement and tenderness and affection as her fingers slowly curve around the back of his neck.

She pulls away much too soon, leaving him aching for more. She looks winded when he manages to pry his own eyes open; winded and vulnerable, and maybe, just a little bit hopeful.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she murmurs, fingers tangling with his as she stands beside his bed.

“Promise?”

A shy smile spreads across her face as her pinky hooks through his and squeezes. “I promise,” she echoes with a nod. “I’ll see you soon.”

He resists the urge to reach for her as she retreats back toward the door, holding his breath until she’s out of the room and the door has clicked shut behind her. He releases it in a long, loud exhale, vision blurry as he stares up at the ceiling.

Rosa makes her way inside a few minutes later, the whites of her eyes visible with the steadily increasing light coming in through the window. “You alright?” she asks, paused at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah,” he grunts, still staring at the ceiling. “Kinda screwed up that she has to go into hiding, now. But I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fair,” Rosa agrees as she drops into her seat. “She risked a lot to save you, and now it’s like she’s being punished for that. It’s fucked up.”

He turns his head to look at her head-on. “It is fucked up,” he murmurs softly.

She flashes him a half-smile that almost touches her eyes. “So what’re you gonna do now?”

He inhales through his nose, gaze flicking back up to the ceiling. “I’m gonna wait for her,” he says steadily.

Rosa’s quiet for a beat. “It could take years,” she says quietly.

“I know. I don’t care, though. She’s worth the wait.”

“She won’t expect you to wait. Sacrificial lamb complex and all that.”

“I know that, too. That’s part of why I - y’know.” He clears his throat, and Rosa offers him a plastic cup full of half-melted ice chips. “I don’t care how long it takes,” he says, waving his hand in refusal. “She’s worth it. All of it.”

Rosa seems to contemplate it in silence for a while. “I’m starting to agree,” she finally murmurs.

He doesn’t see her again for eight months.

When he does finally spot her, she’s alone, standing still in the midst of a sea of pedestrians, her face like a beacon in the night despite everything that stands between them.

He forgets what he’s doing, why he’s there, who he’s with. His entire world narrows down to her, standing on the sidewalk, less than a block between them.

A slow, hesitant smile begins to spread across her face.

It grows to blinding proportions by the time he actually reaches her.

He wastes no time once his arms are around her, kissing her thoroughly, momentarily forgetting they’re on a sidewalk surrounded by people. She doesn’t seem to care, either - she kisses back enthusiastically, hands curling along the back of his head and neck, respectively, anchoring him to her.

And in an instant, every last ounce of heartache from the last eight months is eradicated.

“Please tell me you’re staying,” he gasps when their lips finally part. “Please say you’re staying.”

“I’m staying,” she breathes, fingers squeezing tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like every other promise she’s made to him, she keeps this one, too.

[official-ladyblog]

If you haven’t heard yet, Swiss channel RTS Deux has released the episode names and synopses for the entire season 3! Translations below the cut! (And in the above images, for easy sharing lol)

Edit 1: Got the gender wrong for “baker,” whoops. But more importantly, I got the translation for Feast completely wrong. The other translation you’ve seen going around was more accurate.

Edit 2: Thanks to an anon for informing me that “sentimonsters” are Mayura’s power!

Edit 3: As I suspected, I misunderstood an expression in Stormy 2, it is just about Stormy returning. Thanks @kisilinramblings!

English episode names are derived from this list (which I don’t remember ever actually seeing a source for, but uh... it was real!). 

Keep in mind that the numbers are not chronological order, they are in production order, which just means the order they were made in. Sometimes that helps with plot points, but for the most part it isn’t airtight. I highly recommend waiting until you’ve seen the whole season to make an approximate timeline.

Chameleon: Ladybug and Chat Noir battle Lila. Now Chameleon, she can take the appearance of anyone and hopes to use that to destroy Ladybug. 

Animaestro: Ladybug and Chat Noir battle a director. Now Animaestro, he wants to show the world what an animated movie director can do. 

This screencap from LatAm actor Jesus Barreda was thought to depict Marinette dressed as a maid at a pop culture convention, which... looks pretty likely considering the premise.

Bakerix (Boulangerix): Ladybug battles her own grandfather. Become Bakerix, he wants to destroy everything he thinks too modern to bring back Paris to his era. 

I broke it down in this ask, but it looks like my call was right about Bakerix being both Mari’s grandpa (perhaps still named Roland) and Gaul-inspired. “Boulanger” is literally French for “baker.”

Backwarder (Rebrousse-temps): Ladybug and Chat Noir battle a friend of Master Fu. Now Backwarder, she wants to reclaim her time and steals others’!

Heh. So glad this was technically an accurate translation. I’m also glad we got that official English ep list because trying to concisely convey “retracing-time” was gonna be a challenge.

Reflekdoll (Poupeflekta): Ladybug and Chat Noir battle Juleka, back as Reflekta. But this time, the supervillain isn’t alone...

“Poupée” is French for “doll.”

Weredad: Ladybug faces her father, akumatized as Weredad. This monstrous guard dog-man wants to shut away Marinette to protect her from the outside world!

Silencer (Silence): Ladybug and Chat Noir fight Luka, akumatized into Silencer. Ready to raise your voice?

Oni-Chan: Ladybug and Chat Noir battle Kagami, now Oni-Chan. Jealous of Lila, she wants to prevent her from getting near Adrien... forever!

@kisilinramblings I eat my entire foot. “Oni” is a Japanese demon, “chan” is a feminine honorific. Anyway, boy is Kagami vs. Lila a face-off I’m dying to see.

Miraculer (Miraculeur): Ladybug and her team fight Sabrina, who’s now Miraculer.

I can’t even comprehend what this episode will contain with this vague of a description. “Team” tho???

Oblivio: A villain appears in Paris and Ladybug and Chat Noir lost their memory! Can they defeat Oblivio so he’s nothing more than a bad memory?

Desperada: Ladybug and her team face Desperada, an akumatized guitarist. A rock-and-roll day in store for our heroes!

The adjectives mean that she’s female, fyi. With music and the episode code 311, I wonder if there’s a certain miraculous we might see...?

Chris Master (Maître Noël): Nino’s little brother is akumatized into Chris Master. Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t get wrapped up if they want to stop him!

I was wondering why it sounded like a pun on “Christmas.” Literally the synopsis said they’d “be given as gifts,” as though Chris can turn them into presents or something.

Startrain: Ladybug and Chat Noir face Max’s mom, who becomes Startrain. Our heroes will need help to stop her! 

Another big team-up? We’ve also seen art of Startrain before. Makes sense that Max’s mom is the one in charge, seeing the cool robots on the train. Max had to get it from somewhere!

Kwami Buster (Chasseuse de Kwamis): Ladybug and Chat Noir face Mrs. Mendeleiev, now Kwami Buster.

Does this remind anyone else of fairy hunter Mr. Crocker?

Feast (Festin): When Master Fu’s past comes back to haunt him, he removes the Miraculouses from Marinette and Adrien to protect them...

Gamer 2.0: Ladybug and Chat Noir face Max, now Gamer 2.0. Let the game begin!

Yep, the original title had 2.0, and it looks like they’re sticking with “2” for the sequel names. Oh well.

Stormy Weather 2 (Climatika 2): Ladybug and Chat Noir face Aurore Boréale again, now Stormy Weather 2. To stop her, the heroes need to keep their cool!

Ikari Gozen: Kagami’s mother is akumatized into Ikari Gozen and wants to punish Kagami, who disobeyed her. Will Ladybug save her best frenemy?

From what I can tell, the name means “Lady Fury.” It just says “best enemy” but I wanted to make the pun clearer. Glad we get to see her in an ep!

Timetagger: Ladybug and Chat Noir fight Timetagger, a supervillain that came from the future to seize their miraculous. The future of Paris is in their hands!

A mysterious male supervillain, maybe even from the future? W-what

Party Crasher (Trouble-Fête): Ladybug and her team face Wayem, now Party Crasher. Will our heroes get him to smile?

The Puppeteer 2 (La Marionnettiste 2): Ladybug and Chat Noir face the Puppeteer at the Musée Grévin! Our heroes can’t wax off if they want to stop her!

...there was originally a pun on “staying marble” which means “to be impassive/emotionless.” I’m sure there’s a better idiom I can’t think of at the moment. Anyway, the lucky duo are in the famous wax museum in real life, so it was about time that we got it in an episode. 

Chat Blanc: Ladybug faces the last person she could believe to be capable of getting akumatized... Chat Noir!

Yes, this is real. No, they didn’t steal your fanfics. It was a pretty obvious/intuitive concept. That’s why it’s so ubiquitous. 

Félix: Ladybug and Chat Noir face Alya, Rose and Juleka, akumatized into the Trio of Punishers, and Felix, Adrien’s cousin.

Wow! A blast from the past! You can read my old summary of who he is here, if you didn’t know. After years, he’s finally canon. Also, this is one of the first episodes since Sapotis where we see multiple people get akumatized with the same akuma. This will be a fun ep for sure!

Ladybug: Marinette gets expelled, but an even greater problem awaits: she must face a sentimonster in the shape of... Ladybug!

Edit: Sentimonsters are the things that Mayura makes!

Loveater (Mangeamour)(The Battle of the Miraculous: Part 1): Ladybug and Chat Noir face the Bourgeois couple, now Loveater, a guard dog with two heads that eats all the love in Paris.

Another season finale two-parter! That akuma concept is... genuinely horrifying to imagine. 

Miracle Queen (The Battle of the Miraculous: Part 2): Hawk Moth akumatizes Chloe into Miracle Queen to set a fatal plan into motion. Will Ladybug and Chat Noir escape him?

Francophones: if you see anything I missed or that could be better represented, please let me know. Thankfully I didn’t have to interpret akuma names myself, so most of this should be pretty close to what we see in the episodes.

Get ready to see 7 of these real soon!

[fontasticcrablettes]

The worst Vesperia take is anything along the lines of “Alexei was just a power hungry megalomaniac” or “Alexei was greedy and wanted to take over the world” or “Alexei is a one-note villain who’s just an evil bastard trying to seize power.”

Alexei didn’t watch his shiny ideals get crushed and lose his resolve in the Great War and then slowly watch himself become the villain he once swore to eliminate to be called a greedy megalomaniac.  Alexei’s plan was to use Zaude to seize control of the empire because he saw that it was corrupt and broken and had lost his optimism that he could change it while playing by the empire’s rules. He’s a fallen hero, a well-intentioned extremist, someone who sees himself as the hero of his own story because he is willing to get his hands dirty and commit actions deemed criminal by others in order to purge the empire of corruption and create a better world. (Oh look, what an interesting foil for our main protagonist)

And this isn’t just me headcanoning him.  The game could have fleshed him out a lot more than they did, but this is all alluded to in the text.  Yuri asks Raven why the Royal Guard are so loyal to him: 

“Well, Alexei wasn't a piece of crap when he got his start. ...  It was his responsibility ta bring peace ta the world.... That's a heavy load for anyone.”

Then, when confronting him at Zaude:

Flynn: Alexei! What happened to the ideals you held? What changed?

Alexei: Nothing has changed except my methods.

Alexei never denies that he held the ideals Flynn - and everyone else - believed he possessed.  In fact, he rejects the notion that he ever lost them and still claims to hold those ideals of creating a just and fair empire.  “Nothing has changed except my methods” - he still wants to create  a better world, he just believes he is justified in doing any act of cruelty in order to achieve it.  

He directly states his motivations: 

“Absolute power is the only thing that can revive this rotting, stagnant empire.  Indeed, the world. [...] No true reformation could occur so long as I followed the means presented by the empire.  At times, dreamers must be branded as criminals.  But I’ll suffer such burdens gladly.  I promised to free this world from the Entelexeia, from the aer, and from this pitiful empire! This world shall be reborn!”

I mean, he all but looks directly at the camera sand says “I am doing this because I want to save the world from corruption and I am willing to become a villain if that’s what it takes.”   (Once again, that is... basically Yuri’s entire thing, Alexei is a fantastic villain to oppose Yuri as a protagonist)

His bit about “freeing the world from Entelexeia” also shines more of a light on his actions with Heracles and Astal.  His attitude toward Entelexeia become clearer when looked at through the context of him surviving the Great War.  Imagine Alexei as a younger man, still new to being commandant (Alexei is 42 at the time of the game, so he was 32 during the war.  Flynn is acknowledge as unusually young, so Alexei likely got the position only a few years before the war).  He’s still an idealist, he’s a low-ranking noble who earned his prestige through a tournament rather than connections or money, he wants to reform the knights.  And then the Great War happens and he watches more than 90% of the troops he deployed get slaughtered by monsters - monsters led by the Entelexeia.  Of course he wants to build Heracles.  After going through that, it’s perfectly logical that he’d a) have a deep hatred of Entelexeia and b) go to extreme lengths to ensure that if a fight with Entelexeia happens again, he’ll be ready and won’t have to endure such losses again.  

All this is directly from the game.  Even deeper Alexei lore can be found in the Raven manga, Empty Mask.  Take it as canon if you like:

This is a villain who became commandant with big dreams of breaking down class barriers in the Knights, changing the system to be more just, and creating a better world.  But his faith in humanity is continually challenged and broken down, until he’s ready to just throw the whole thing out the window.  The empire can’t be fixed, and humans are too weak and selfish to be trusted.  What does it matter if he hurts a few people along the way?  They’re likely going to die anyway.  Life is short and painful and meaningless.  Nothing matters.  Any suffering is a worthwhile sacrifice if it means creating a world that’s not like this.

Back to game canon, the part I find most interesting is his line immediately before dying: “It seems, in the end, I was the greatest fool of all.”

Alexei knows he made a horrible mistake.  All this time, he’s justified his actions with the knowledge that he’s working for the “greater good”.  Kidnap and torture an innocent girl?  Who cares!  It will save the world! She’s just a tool, right?!  Every death, every abuse, all the harm he caused... all of that was justified because it would ultimately lead to prosperity.  History would remember him as the hero who saved the world from itself.  Except... then the Adephagos appears.  Not only has he doomed the world, but it means that every cruel action he’s taken is now meaningless.  He’s soothed his guilt over all his harmful actions by telling himself it would be worth it in the end, but the end is nigh and it didn’t justify the means.  So yeah, he has a bit of a meltdown over the crushing realization that he’s just as awful a person as Yuri’s group said he was.  

“I was the greatest fool of all.”  Because he used to view others as fools.  He saw them as foolish humans who squabbled over petty differences and corrupted the empire with their greed.  They were fools who weren’t able to look at the big picture and see why his sacrifices were necessary.  Except, it turns out that he was wrong, his actions were pointless, and he became the very thing that he was willing to become a villain to destroy.  “The ultimate irony,” as Alexei says. Alexei’s dialogue immediately before and after the fight only makes sense with the context of him thinking he’s the anti-hero saving the empire.  A man acting on lust for power has no reason to talk about reformation, of there being irony in him causing the apocalypse, of being a dreamer, or of freeing the empire.’  

Anyway, Alexei is a lot more than the power-hungry monster some critics write him off as.  

[giftfromthesleepprincess]

Chapter 5–An Unusual Event Visits With Expressionless Justice; Scene 5

Gift from the Princess Who Brought Sleep, pages 193-200

Hanne and Heidemarie had been put in the prison in the World Police’s Marlon headquarters.

Hanne was thinking—what was going to happen to them later on?

Bruno had said that they would be “disposed of”. If they interpreted his words at face value, eventually Hanne and Heidemarie would undoubtedly be killed.

The fact that they hadn’t been killed right away was because they were at the Freezis Foundation’s main headquarters. If any murders were openly conducted on the premises then even Bruno wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of that. It was because she knew that that Hanne hadn’t put up any reckless resistance.

But inside a jail away from prying eyes, it was a different story. Even if people affiliated with Bruno killed the two of them there, he could come up with some sort of excuse for it later.

Sickness, suicide, accident—any reason would do.

Of course, Hanne had no inclination whatsoever to quietly accept that.

They had plenty of methods for escape.

--But, before that.

There was something Hanne wanted to ask Heidemarie.

They had been put into separate cells, but fortunately they were adjacent. It was easy for them to talk.

“Heidemarie, you awake?” Hanne said, speaking up to Heidemarie who was in the cell left of her.

“Mhm...”

That was the only reply that came back.

“I’ve got something I want to ask you. Regarding your charges for being arrested—the people at the Charity Institute dying.”

“…That thing happened, while you were in Lucifenia. When I ran there, everyone was asleep, unable to wake up, and then—”

“Everyone in the Charity Institute!?”

“Yeah. All of them, the adults and children.”

She couldn’t believe it. How could those children, the mood-swinging Rita, all be dead?

--She shouldn’t have left Toragay after all.

Hanne regretted her negligence in thinking that there would be no more deaths.

Heidemarie continued to speak.

“—But, it wasn’t me. I didn’t, do something like that.”

“I know. Your being the criminal is just a frame-up on Bruno’s end. And I have a hunch on who really did it. Not just for that case. Marquis Kaspar and Doctor Marx and everyone have been ‘put to sleep’ by one person.”

“And, who is that?”

“—The wife, Margarita, I think. Though I don’t have any definite proof.”

“...But, Margarita, wasn’t in Toragay, on that day.”

That’s right. She had supposedly been in Aceid around then. It was for that reason that Hanne had gone to Lucifenia without worry.

“What about her coming back without anyone knowing?”

“I don’t think so. Ayn said that, he’d seen Margarita in Aceid when he went up there later, to call on the doctor.”

Margarita would periodically make meals for the Charity Institute children. So Hanne had thought she’d put poison into their food. But if Margarita hadn’t been in Toragay that changed everything.

Maybe it was a slow-acting poison? But I don’t think that Margarita ever went to the institute while I was in Toragay at least. –So then how in the world did she do it?

She didn’t think they had time to loaf around in jail. They needed to return to Toragay immediately.

They would have to do something about Bruno too. The way things were now, even if Hanne and Heidemarie escaped from the jail, they would still be pursued as criminals.

But they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

“Heidemarie...Shall we leave soon, then?”

“Leave?”

“Of course, we’re going to leave from this cell.”

“But, my gun’s been taken away.”

“You don’t really need something like that—or rather, neither of us do.”

Hanne grinned. Of course, Heidemarie wasn’t able to see her face.

“…You sure?”

“Now that Shaw Freezis has died, it’ll be difficult for us to leverage any more influence with the foundation. And with the way things have turned out now…there’s no point in hiding who we are.”

“…”

“We don’t need to be ‘Shaw Freezis’ great-grandchildren’ anymore.”

“—I understand.”

“So then—“

In that moment. There was a ruckus from outside the cells.

“…It’s here! Heidemarie and Hanne must be in here!”

“…Good grief, why am I doing something like this for the likes of them…?”

Hanne could hear an exchange between a familiar voice and one she didn’t know. Both were male.

In no time at all the two of them appeared before the cells Hanne and Heidemarie were in.

“--! Ayn!”

“Thank god, you two seem to be alright. …Wait a minute, I’ll get this open.”

Using the key he held in his hand, Ayn opened the cells that they had been put inside.

“…Thank you, you’ve really saved us Ayn.”

Although well, we didn’t really need saving.

There was a man standing next to Ayn with a sour expression on his face. Hanne had no memory of him at all.

“And who is this?”

Heidemarie was the one who answered that question. “The chief of Justea, Hob Homer. …My superior.”

“Oh, is that so—Nice to meet you. Thank you for taking care of my sister,” Hanne said, holding out her hand for a handshake. Despite tentatively returning the gesture, Hob didn’t smile back.

“I wonder what’s gonna happen to me when this gets out…Hmph.”

Heidemarie was his subordinate, but she didn’t smile towards him at all; rather, she was glaring at him.

“Here. I’ve gotten this back for you.”

Hob handed over a gun to her. It was her gun, the one that had been seized from her. Even so, Heidemarie’s expression didn’t change.

“…I had thought, that you were, on Bruno’s side.”

“--It’s true that I followed his orders. But I had no idea it would turn out like this! Putting innocent people in jail…This is none other than an abuse of authority! …Despite appearances I am the proud leader of ‘Justea’. I can’t allow something that infringes on justice.”

“…I see.”

At that, Heidemarie smiled for the first time. –Although, it didn’t look like any kind of smile that someone other than Hanne would recognize.

Ayn cut in to the conversation.

“It’s like he said. Heidemarie can’t be the one who killed the people at the Charity Institute. I was with you at the time. And—“ Next, Ayn turned to Elluka, “You aren’t this ‘Elluka Clockworker’, either. …I know that. You’re reckless, and willful, and the kind of person to interfere in an investigation, but I know you’re not the sort of villain who would kill someone.”

“…Thank you. I’m so glad you believe in me, Ayn.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. They’re short of guards at the moment. And—right now, Toragay’s in trouble. We have to do something!”

“Trouble?”

Hob handed Hanne a sheet of paper.

“…This is the Schuburg Newspaper slated to be published next week. I know the president there. I asked him to give me a copy. …Well, I figure there’s no problem showing it to you, you being a reporter yourself.”

Hanne took it and skimmed the contents.

Written first was the incident at the Charity Institute.

Twenty Four Dead at the Charity Institute—Cause Unknown

That headline jumped out at her.

And—when she saw the next headlines, Hanne’s face paled.

“What is this…’No End to Toragay’s Strange Epidemic in Sight’, ‘Travel Between Toragay and Aceid Prohibited’…”

It seemed the situation had grown dire far more quickly than she could have imagined.

“At this rate, Toragay is doomed. No, it might not just end there...Anyway, we have to leave now!” Ayn said, urging all of them to head out of the jail.

“Yes…We’ve got to. –But, Ayn. Before that, there’s something I ought to tell you,” Hanne said, exchanging a look with Heidemarie. She seemed to understand, wordlessly nodding.

“Something you want to say? What in the world—”

Before Ayn could finish talking, Hob fell to the ground right beside him with a loud bang.

“--!? Chief Homer!? What’s wrong? You just suddenly—"

As he tried to rouse Hob, Ayn finally realized something.

--That the one who had attacked Hob was Heidemarie nearby.

And that Heidemarie and Hanne’s body language was vastly different than it had been before.

“Ayn. You said that I’m not ‘Elluka Clockworker’.” Hanne slowly drew closer to Ayn. “But you’re mistaken.”

And then, Hanne held up a hand in front of Ayn’s chest.

“...St—stop it. ...What do you intend to do? ...Hanne Lorre?”

“’Hanne Lorre’—That’s wrong. That isn’t my true name.”

In the jail that had no windows, an impossible wind began to blow.

“In thanks for saving me, I’ll tell you. My true name—“

The wind gradually grew stronger.

So much so that Ayn was about to be blown away.

“Thi-this isn’t happening...”

“My name is—“

.

--Elluka Clockworker—

.

Ayn lost consciousness immediately after hearing those words.

The wind had slammed his body up against the prison wall.

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