#but her fears of mary were not paranoia. they seem to have been grounded in realism

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)

[bitch-its-me-alv]

Rose Gold Days Pt3

@crystalangelluna @k-poplunardreams @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @lilypos03

Pt2  Pt4

Dick was having a good night on patrol, it was a quiet night, maybe with two or three simple thieves that he handed over to the police without much fuss.

His mother was visiting that week, having found an important clue to the terrorist Hawkmoth's reasoning, she stayed at the mansion while the bats computer accelerate the investigation. The protective spells his mother always put on him were doing their thing under the keblar suit and all the latest generation armor.

With his father it was the same, awkward demonstrations of love and many fun workouts. The highlight of his life recently was when Bruce told him that he was proud of him.

It had been a few weeks ago, Mari was out of town, so Nightwing and Batman had gone on patrol together. Bruce always stayed on the roofs of buildings, running and using the hook simply for the widest jumps. But Dick liked to swing, pirouette on the air and land theatrically, a part of the circus boy would never come out of him.

Batman could see that, and he simply allowed him to do his tricks while probing the streets.

After stopping a gunfight in the middle of the street, batman and nightwing were back in the cave. With dick chattering about his possible occupation as a cop when he grew up. In the middle of talking about how much he wanted to help civilians inside and outside the suit, his father interrupted him with:

 “i'm proud of you son”

To simply ruffle his hair and continue the routine after the patrol. Dick froze in the middle of the batcave garage until Alfred asked him if everything was okay.

That night, by video call Marinette saw her son with the biggest smile of all, while talking to her about his plan to become a police officer. He hadn't even taken off his suit when the call ended a few hours later.

When nightwing entered the batcave thinking about the family's plans for the night, he certainly didn't expect to see a dirty and beaten 9-year-old boy next to his parents.

He seemed to be nervous, scared, and angry, looking at batman and ladybird as if they were going to bite him. As soon as he fully examine him, nightwing got excited

“Do you guys got me a baby brother?!”

Everyone in the cave got nervous. Batman put a hand between the boy and his son, fearing that Nightwing would get too close to Jason, or Jason would try to hit him.

Ladybird tried not to show too excited at the prospect of her beloved Nightwing with a little brother.

And Jason was just trying not to collapse on the ground, definitely stealing the Batmobile's tires was not a very good idea, now he would die in the hands of the vigilantes, what a way to die for an orphan.

“Nightwing sweetheart, we are going to talk to Jason here. Please wait up stairs.”

Nightwing didn't argue, he could spy on them perfectly on his trapezium in the hidden room. The echo in the Batcave was impressive.

He began to think what kinds of activities they could do if they started being siblings. Would they allow him to be vigilant? Would he go to school with him? 

Was it a requirement to be a black-haired boy with blue eyes to be adopted? Why did Mari and Bruce want to keep those traits on the line?

Nightwing was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't really hear anything they were saying until his father entered the room.

"Nightwing come down for a moment, we need to talk. Nothing serious, I just want to know what you think about it." Batman spoke. Nightwing only took a few somersaults to hit the ground.

Batman took a few seconds in silence to admire his son's abilities. Although Mari also did gymnastics and stunts, he was still disturbed and impressed by the movements of Ladybird and Nightwing.

"So ... Jason ... He ..." Batman couldn't find a proper way to start.

"Will you guys do it my little brother? Can we play on the trapezoids together? Will we go to school together? Say yes, pleaaaaaaaase.“ Nightwing grabbed his cape by the shoulders, in a futile attempt to shake him. Just managing to hang up on Batman… he still wasn't very tall to say.

Batman visibly deflated, relieved that his son took the idea of having a brother well. Of course he didn't expect any backlash, they were talking about Nightwing / Richard, a teenager who was all charisma, smiles, and justice.

Batman carefully dropped the vigilante. "So if so, we should go with Mari and Jason. Remember that he is new to this situation, it is understandable that he is nervous, if he wants to tell you where he comes from it will be his decision.”

"I'm not ten years old anymore batsy, I can manage to meet my little brother without problems."

"We'll see"

Ladybird put a hand gently on his shoulder.

"You can reconcide your answer if you're not sure Jason. We don't want to pressure you into anything, we just want you to be better"

Jason hugged his legs sitting in the main computer chair. "As long as I have food and a roof everything is fine, ladybird" His eyes were opaque, tired of life on the streets for a child.

Ladybird felt her chest clench a little more. "Jason, honey. We want you to join our family. Not only are you an act of charity, you may not feel comfortable with many things, but we want you to be well above all things.

Jason relaxed, but not quite. Ladybird knew it would take time. He was not like Dick, who upon arrival needed hugs and conversations about his nightmares.

Jason was a little more battered by life, neglect and general evil in Gotham, but he was still a child who needed guidance and love.

She was sure he and Dick would connect very well.

*Seven days after Jason´s arrival*

Jason was still insecure around adults, but he instantly became attached to Dick, much to his delight.

Despite his trademark smile, and the constant comforting touches that Jason was not used to. It was great to have an older brother, and a house, food, and real parents ...

He was fortunate that it was winter break, so Dick spent the whole day showing him around the mansion, and telling him anecdotes about his life at the mansion and before the Dupain-Cheng Wayne adopted him.

As for Bruce and Marinette, they were patiently waiting for Jason to get used to it.

They had both agreed that raising another child was going to be difficult. But they already had some experience, Bruce was in his best mental and emotional space, and Marinette had better control of the terrorist situation in Paris along with more experience in motherhood.

The rules about becoming a vigilante or hero were in place.

Bruce worked on his communication, and Marinette lessened her maternal paranoia.

*Two months after Jason´s arrival*

As soon as Jason settled in with Bruce and Mari, Dick had the brilliant idea to take another family photo, after all they now had a new member.

Jason began to express himself smoothly, showing a special interest in weapons and books.

Perhaps in another family things would have become complicated with his interests. But Bruce was a spoiling father with Marinette backing him up.

So the library of the mansion was very well dusted, three more shelves with different books were added. The Batcave's armory expanded, and Mari quickly put her protection spells on Jason, as soon as he began practicing under their supervision.

During free afternoons, Jason would be in Bruce's office, reading by his side while Bruce worked on the paperwork.

Other days he would be with Dick playing video games or sharing a mystery series in the projection room or in his own rooms.

And he would also meet Mari in the gardens, lying in a hammock while Mari sang for him and worked on his sketches. Or in the second kitchen, with Dick and him waiting to try the desserts she made first.

As family activities there will always be meals, movie nights, outings, and training.

Jason had already decided that he also wanted to be on the vigilante job. Motivated by his time on the streets, and decided to protect the children who suffered like him, but did not have the same luck.

When he saw that the painting on the main stairs had been changed, for the family portrait in which he had posed. He felt something warm in his chest, an inexplicable sensation that made his eyes water.

Twelve-year-old Jason Dupain-Cheng Wayne Todd was very happy with his family.

School sucked, but Mari and Bruce were always on the lookout for him. He was very good in his fighting classes, handling weapons and in parkour.

He didn't have many civilian friends, but the Titans and Roy were everything Jason wanted.

Dick was starting his police training, so he wasn't in the mansion all the time now, but he had no plans to walk away while Jason was still at school.

His mother had given Dick the miraculous dog, his kwami Barkk, always accompanied him, even in his new training.

Jason had been handed the Miraculous Ox, with his Kwami Stompp when he had earned his right to be on the field.

Red Hood appeared in support of Batman despite Marinette's concerns.

Batman did not want magic in the vigilantes, and his family could respect that. But it was not an impediment for the kwamis to be active.

Bruce was very pleased with the development of his second son on patrol. And Jason was more than happy to swing between buildings and hit thieves.

Things were calm and happy, the Dupain-Cheng Wayne family happily unaware of a certain ten-year-old stalker who was watching his hero, Batman, Nightwing and Ladybird closely.

Yeah… Jason literally wouldn't know what hit him next time.

Certainly meeting your new brother kidnapping him wasn't a good start. But no one would say that to Timothy Jackson Drake, so it will be quite a show.

[mileycyprus-hill]

A Simple Kindness

Kieran x Reader 

Had this on the back burner for a while and realized I haven’t written a Kieran x reader fic. So here’s a bit of fluff.  

Summary: You begin to sympathize with the new O’Driscoll prisoner, and decide to give him a little help. 

Warnings: none.

You weren’t exactly sure why this O’Driscoll was in your camp, but you didn’t bother to question it. You were taught to despise any member of Colm’s gang and you thought to do the same to this poor man. 

That poor man. 

He didn’t seem up to par to the common O’Driscoll, sniveling and begging for mercy while tied to that tree. He never cursed at any passerby. Never threatened death upon anyone once he would be free. 

He only begged for mercy. 

You never met a man that soft. 

Was this man really an O’Driscoll? A member of a ruthless, bloodthirsty, thieving, murdering gang? 

Hardly. 

It had been a week since Arthur had brought him back to that cold barn in Colter. He was tied up in the back of a wagon during the trip to Horseshoe Overlook like some prisoner. 

Well, he is a prisoner. 

Left to blister in the sun on this high bluff with no food and what little water he could swallow from the passing rain. That poor man sat there, his arms tied behind him on that birch tree. The papery bark scratched against his tender forearms while the thick hemp of his binds cut into his wrists. Blood red cuts and rash marks painted his pale arms that lay exposed beyond his rolled up sleeves. 

The past few days, you watched him struggle to stand against the tree, his head dropped to his chest in exhaustion and self-pity. Sitting from the table across the way, you’d watch his legs tremble and buckle beneath him as he’d struggle to hold his own weight. He’d squiggle and squirm and whimper to get just a little more comfortable. 

You had half a mind to shout at him, tell him to ‘man up’ and be strong. But watching him pull against his binds was like watching a stray dog pull against a short leash. 

Frightened. Alone. Starving. The only attention came from the daily beatings and tongue-lashings. 

A scrap of bread would be tossed at his feet. Barely enough to satisfy a hungry dog. It’d lay there, taunting him as he’d struggle to kick it closer to himself. Even if he could, how could he grasp it with his arms bound behind him? 

You’d watch him struggle for it anyway, his will driven by hunger. Day by day, that piece of bread would lay there. What was left behind by the pecking chickens would turn to mold and only the flys would claim it.  

How much longer would Dutch allow this to continue? Until the man dies? Or when he gives information that he deems satisfactory? 

From what you’ve heard while eavesdropping, this young man wouldn’t know anything reliable, being Colm O’Driscoll’s abused stable boy. 

You began to fear for him. Truly. 

What would he know, being a newly initiated member of Colm’s circle? For all you knew, he was excluded. Cast onto the edge of the social circle of the gang, left to chat only with the horses and other members of the lowest caste. 

Day by day, you struggled. What was it your mother always taught you? 

“If you watch an evil being done unto someone and don’t stop it, you will be judged for the same crime by doing nothing.” She would say. 

Could you stand there and do nothing? What kind of a person were you? The men around would say you’re a survivor. But is this surviving—torturing a man for information in a petty rivalry? 

When you reach those golden gates and are asked, ‘Why have you done nothing?’, what would you say? 

Because it wasn’t your place to interfere? Because you didn’t want to get in trouble? 

...........

You awake just as a the sun rises and decide this is enough. Only a select few gang members are awake as they stayed up too late and too drunk the previous night. Those who’re up are tending to their own business or had already left.

Walking towards the back of the provisions wagon, you notice he’s alone. Looks like no one’s started the torturing ritual yet. Bill’s talking to Arthur about some stagecoach job over by the horses and Dutch remains shut in his tent with Molly. 

You step briskly as you saw your chance, walking towards the small cooking fire and grabbing a tin cup that rests on the ground next to the warm percolator. 

Looks like Pearson just finished making the coffee. You peek over to his work station and find him deeply focused on preparing today’s stew.

“Psst!” You hear from your right. 

You dare not to look towards the source to avoid suspicion. Discreetly, you turn your head only slightly, pretending to check the hem of your skirt and peek from the corners of your eyes. 

From your downward gaze, you catch Kieran staring at you. You watch him desperately try to get your attention without alerting anyone else. 

Pretending not to hear him, you walk past him with your cup full of coffee and ignore his whispering pleas for water. You stop at the back of the food wagon, hiding yourself behind its large wooden panels. A bucket of rain water sits by a steel dish tub on the table, waiting to be dumped into the tub and used as dishwater. 

You hear Kieran drop his head in defeat behind you. An aching, heavy weight pulls downward in your chest. 

Taking a sip of your coffee, you fake a look of disgust. You take another sip and repeat your act before dumping the contents from your cup. 

Quickly, you dip your cup into the water bucket to rinse the taste from your mouth. 

The cool water touches your lips but you don’t sip, keeping your lips tight against the rim of the cup. 

The coast seems to be clear. No one’s watching or noticing. Checking around you, you dart over to Kieran. He hears your quick steps against the grass and almost yelps in fear. He looks up and sees your face close to his, causing him to drop his eyes and cringe in submission like a beaten dog. He pants pathetically and waits for you to strike him. 

Avoiding eye contact, you grasp his chin and gently prop his head up. He lets out a tiny whimper until you bring the cup to his lips. His eyes grow wide at this merciful gift. The cold metal clanks against his teeth and the cool water rushes through his chapped lips. He feels his throat expand as the water flows like a spring flood rushing through a dry desert canyon, washing away the dirt and dust.  

You continue watching around you for anyone who may come walking and hear him slurp from your hand.  

No one seems to notice, so you move your eyes over to watch him. He sips greedily from your cup, making you tilt it towards him so he can gain every last drop. His Adam’s apple protrudes from his throat in a sharp angle and bobs with every gulp. 

With a final gulp, he exhales in relief and attempts to breathe a ‘thank you’, to which you quickly silence with a finger to his moistened lips. 

“Nothing happened.” You stare at him with such intensity, it’s almost threatening. 

You step away with your dry cup and hear him speak to you in the softest whisper. He mumbles a sweet “thank you” under his breath, nearly undetectable. You smile softly on your way back to your tent until you see a pair of eyes watching you. 

Shit.  

Mary Beth. 

She stands by the rounded table, her hands paused from opening the domino box and watching you curiously. You freeze in place and plead her with wide eyes and upturned brows. 

Please don’t tell. You beg with a silent, sorrowful look. You don’t know what would happen if the others found out, but you’re sure it won’t be pleasant for you. 

A tight-lipped smile grows on her face and she gestures with an open palm towards the dominos. Her invitation is met with hesitation. Can you trust Mary Beth? You haven’t known her for that long and have kept your secrets to yourself. But the look in her eyes show comforting sympathy, not judgement. 

Stepping with bated breath, you bring yourself to the chair across from her. 

Neither of you speak while she shuffles the dominos on the table. The gentle clicking of the ivory rectangles seem so deafeningly loud compared to the unspoken words you pass to each other. 

Mary Beth gives an understanding nod and looks into your eyes with a sweet smile. No doubt she’s gushing at how romantic and noble your simple gesture was to the prisoner. 

You didn’t realize how long you had been holding your breath until you let out a relieved sigh through your nose. You sincerely hope Mary Beth can keep a secret. Sitting here with her, you begin to believe she’s more trusting compared to the others. 

However, you still worry she may not be the only witness to your act of kindness.

.........

Another day passes by and you hear a startled cry followed by angry shouts. The eruption startles you and the grooming brush drops from your hands. Your horse beside you immediately senses your alarm and reacts with a twitch of her muscles and a jerk of her head. She promptly resumes to grazing while you bend to pick the brush off the ground. Holding the brush against your chest, your fingers run against its thick bristles. Your heart rate quickens and you step over to look towards the dead birch tree. A sickening unease washes over you as you watch Arthur, Bill and Dutch surround the Duffy boy. 

You stop in your tracks as you watch Bill hold a pair of iron tongs with a sadistic look on his face. The edges of the tongs are glowing red and sparks fly with every metallic snap Bill makes. Arthur’s broad frame blocks your view of Kieran, but you can barely see his trousers that pool around his ankles. 

Your feet remain frozen in place. You hear Dutch’s voice but your mind doesn’t process his words as you’re too focused on what torturous act is about to happen. 

Tongue fat and lips glued shut, you stand there in the open, unable to prevent Kieran’s frightened pleas from entering your ears.

Just talk, boy. C’mon. Your thoughts scream. An internal conflict burns within you: desperate to intervene but the paranoia warns you’ll be ostracized and labeled a traitor for defending an O’Driscoll boy. 

“All right, I’ll talk!” He cries. 

It’s as if Kieran heard your thoughts. He spills everything. Colm...Six Point Cabin. 

But you don’t feel relief just yet, eyeing a disappointed Bill who still holds the hot tongs close to Kieran’s naked bottom half. 

It isn’t until you see Arthur cut his bonds that you finally loosen the tight fists at your sides. Your fingernails leave marks against the skin of your palms.

Pulling his trousers up to hide his shame, Kieran’s eyes catch you across the way. He sees the fear wash from your face as he follows the men to their horses. He still looks deeply terrified, unsure of whether this ride with John, Arthur and Bill will lead to his execution. 

“Be safe, boys!’ You call to them. 

The four of them, including Kieran who sits behind a disgruntled John, turn to you in their saddles. They look at you as if hearing a babe say its first word. The slight surprise mutes them for a moment until Arthur finally speaks. 

“We’ll be fine, (Y/N)” he says, “Don’tchu worry.”

You watch them ride off down the hill to Six Point Cabin, the location Kieran mentioned. You may not read people as well as others in this gang, but his words seemed true and genuine. You can only hope your instinct is true until the men return, and then you wonder if Kieran will be turned loose...or killed after the job is done. 

You sincerely hope it’s the former.

...........

It’s late afternoon and supper is just ready. The men have been gone for several hours now and your thoughts are no longer kept at bay by busy chores. You don’t hear the subtle hoof beats entering camp, nor the teasing remarks passed between the riders. 

Until a shrill voice startles you from behind, causing you to early spill your dinner. 

“Get this man a bowl!” Bill’s voice yells behind you, “We ain’t found Colm, but this lucky bastard here saved Arthur from gettin’ a bullet in the head!” 

Mumbled voices around the fire exclaim in shock and relief for Arthur’s sake, but little ‘thank-you’s are expressed to Kieran. He steps behind you as you turn to smile at him and Bill, grateful for their safe return. 

You watch him happily grab a bowl of stew and sit on a log next to Uncle, who makes a grimaced look of disgust and moves to a different spot—preferably upwind. 

“Thank you Kieran,” you gently call over, “For saving Arthur.”

He looks to you with those big doe eyes and smiles awkwardly at your statement of gratitude. 

Standing and rubbing your sore hip with one hand, you walk over and extend your bowl to him. He scarfed his food so quickly that his bowl looks almost sparkling clean. 

“Here,” you offer the rest of your dinner, “You sure look like you could eat.”

Kieran stammers, “Oh, no ma’am. I couldn’t do that.”

“Please. I’m not that hungry anyway...Hate for it to go to waste. And Pearson never makes enough for everyone.” You give a gentle smirk. 

“Thank you miss,” Kieran blinks. “That’s very kind of you.” 

He holds his bowl steady with his eyes darting nervously across your face as you transfer your leftovers. You nod and start to walk away until he stops you.

“Oh, and miss?” He whispers.

You turn to him, an eyebrow slightly arched at his politeness.

“Thank you for...yesterday.” 

“Don’t mention it,” you smile. “It’s the least I could do.”

Little do you know when you leave, Kieran feels eternally blessed by your act of kindness. It may not seem like much to you, but to him that showed your true soul. This world is brutal and unforgiving, but your empathy and tenderness is what gives him hope and comfort. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

[linettiewizowski]

So I saw this one post from someone on their opinion of the love square. And I really wanted to point out a few things but their replies are turned off.... So I'm answering it here anyways.

(This rant is very long, not kidding, if ya feel like reading what's basically a big ass PowerPoint then go right ahead)

- Being a child does NOT give you a pass to stalk, be possessive over, steal from, invade the boundaries, invade the personal space, of someone you have a crush on.

That is wrong. Children should not be allowed to carry on such innapropriate, behavior. No one should.

- Children need guidance and protection. They cannot always learn or handle things on their own....that should be obvious with Marinette and especially Adrien.

Plus-

°I don't think Tom & Sabine ever expected Marinette to be a stalker....so they would never think to teach her otherwise.

- Yes I know she does realize what she's doing is wrong.....but then she just continues anyways. (Or maybe it only seems like she didn't stop because the episodes are out of order? But even then she STILL acts like this in newer episodes so I'm still sticking to what I said.)

°Adrien.......needs to be taken away to a safe & stable household. (Please let Emelie awaken soon, maybe she'll set things straight. Gabriel deserves a divorce & prison.) Even so, Gabriel does recognize such unhealthy behavior. Gabriel also would not at all expect his son to behave so innapropriately. I am purdy sure he thinks Adrien is "perfect." He even calls Adrien "perfection" in one episode. - It would not even cross his mind to teach his son proper etiquette concerning a crush.

>Ahem, Adrien's possessive, territorial, pushy, somewhat obsessive, Jealous, sometimes moody behavior concerning his feelings for Ladybug.

Constantly hitting on her, flirting with her, getting up in her space, when she has repeatedly showed him that she is NOT interested in him. Even when she revealed she had feelings for another boy he kept pushing.

- The episode where he thought he had right to be angry when she "stood him up" when - The way "Chat" said it & the way "Lady" reacted? Lady only saw it as a dinner between friends.....He then went on to set up an obviously romantic candlelight dinner.

- Once again, Ladybug has made it specifically clear, she is not interested.

Lady did not even fully agree to said dinner. She said she had plans.

Adri-Chat asked "If they end early, come join me?" Lady said "We'll see."

- That is not a yes, that is a maybe. He didn't even take HER plans into account, didn't even think "Well maybe her plans didn't end early." He just gets mad. And Lady should not have been made to feel guilty just because Adri-Chat cannot seem to take/understand a no & a maybe.

- Adri-Chat getting jealous when that one artist expressed his crush on Ladybug and going on to cross Lady's boundaries by lying about the reality of his & Lady's relationship.

(Yes I know, that dude was an adult and Lady-Mar actually a teen. But at that point in the show I'm pretty sure no one could guess the age of Lady & Chat (strangely) and like Spooderman no one thought them to be actual children.) Adri-Chat did that without thinking or even asking for Lady's input. Not cool at all.

- Acting all happy, triumphant when they regained their memories in Oblivio and Alya caught a pic of their amnesiac selves kissing.

What Adri-Chat says: "We're meant for eachother Milady, you're the only one who doesn't see it." (Okay sigh, this boy.)

1. That is a totally uncalled for, arrogant and presumptuous thing to say to Ladybug.

2. (Entirerly From Adri-Chat's perspective) Oblivio erases memories right? So Adri-Chat doesn't even consider the erasion of Lady's supposed crush on this other boy. Leading her to fall her HIM yes, but that's not the point.

Neither of them were in their right minds, as they had no memories. From HIS perspective Lady did not remember her crush on this other boy, if she did, she would not have fallen for Chat at the time of the memory erasion.

Adri-Chat does not at all think about that, all the while STILL ignoring her feelings for the other boy. Nope, he thinks this is some kind of encouragement to keep harassing her because "Maybe she'll choose me one day?" A.K.A. "Maybe she'll come around one day?" - (contemplating calling it sexual harassment because the characters of course do not get sexual, it being a kid's show) But his intent is to get her to date him....Hm. It is still harassment though.

>Ahem,hem. Marinette's obsessive, compulsive, possessive, territorial, jealous, fanatical, controlling, a LOT of times single minded, stalker behavior concerning her feelings for Adrien.

°Same drill - Not dating (Even if they were, still wrong just adding in)

°Adrien has not at all made his feelings clear on anyone (from Mari's perspective)

°Has not shown romantic interest in her.

°Adrien is not aware of her behavior at all. Not even when he spots all of the pictures of him in her room does he get it. (Being too naive is a very bad thing Adrien.)

°Marinette sometimes acts as if Adrien belongs to HER and no one else can have him. She goes to great, ridiculous and sometimes extreme heights just to keep girls she sees as rivals away from him.

She goes overboard, embarrasses herself, acts immature & compulsive. Sometimes she gets mean.

°Chloe & Lila being horrible is no excuse for her to treat Adrien like a possession, and also like he isn't an intelligent person who cannot notice obvious/strange things or protect himself.

(The plot is confusing yes, Adrien not noticing Mari is Ladybug, giving Chloe multiple chances/still being her friend, Being sympathetic to Lila.

While ALSO in some cases being close to connecting the dots to Mari being Lady, Condemning Chloe's outrageous behavior even in one instance totally putting his foot down, and being one of the only people to see through Lila's lies and side with/protect Marinette....though not exactly how he should.) Chalk it up to not that great writing = serious plotholes.

Anyways

°Adrien can kiss, hang out with, travel with, talk to and date whoever he wants. Mari has NO right to manipulate situations where he can't do that. I.E Controlling behavior.

°Now, Kagami is not a bad person. (More than Half the fandom's treatment of her is very disappointing.) Yes I know, she can be harsh, standoffish and cold sometimes. But-

°She does not intend to be mean, she does not, nor does she want to bully anyone. She does not bully Marinette. She just wants Marinette to stop being indecisive and flighty because Kagami ALSO likes Adrien (and by the way she was raised) does not think people should be so indecisive & hesitant or they'll miss important chances for them to take in life.

°Kagami does not think Mari is right for Adrien no, but as soon as she thinks Adrien is interested in Mari? She immediately backs off & respects his wishes. She only engages again when Adrien shows interest in her again.

°Then later on in the show she even attempts to make friends with Mari genuinely because she wants to make friends.....(and Mari doesn't understand because of Kagami's awkwardness but is also simultaneously clouded by her feelings for Adrien.) Kagami actually feels hurt when she finds out that Marinette initially didn't like her.

Kagami is a GOOD girl.

°Now, what Marinette did to Kagami in Animaestro before that was very unacceptable.

Temporarily teaming up with Chloe to sabotage/publicly humiliate/embarrass Kagami to "not let her get Adrien" "not let her take Adrien away," mess with Adrien's perception of her.

- Jumping to outrageous conclusions out of paranoia, panic and fear. (My cute child needs to be sat down and sternly talked to about this.)

- Trying to manipulate & take away Adrien's choice to decide whether he wants Kagami or not.

(I think this probably marked the episode where Mari's unhealthy/toxic behavior starts to spiral as new episodes come out. (And these ARE out of order so wth is up with Mari's unhealthy escalation lately?)

- Using Tiki for personal, jealous purposes to humiliate Lila in front of Adrien. Acting so irrational and heated in front of 2 civillains(from her perspective) Mari?

- Invading Adrien's home/room, touching everything, lying on his bed....sniffing his things? 😧 Without his consent just to leave a present....when she could have just left it on the window sill, not barge into his room and NOT act very creepy.

- Everything she did & said when she thought that Adrien was one of the wax statues.

😮😬😖 Marinette, honey noooooOOOooo.

ALL OF THIS?

Toxic/Unhealthy behavior. It very much is.

Let's not pretend please.

This is not acceptable period. I very much side-eye another's perceptions on the matter when they say "I knew people like this" "They turned out alright."

Oh...did they? Or is this simply what YOU are saying and we, the internet people don't have the full story?

I Kill Bill squint my eyes at the opinions of people who so easily dismiss toxic/unhealthy behavior.

This is not simply a discussion on fictional characters btw, but on the behavior itself ECT. and the fact that this person brought in real people as an example.

(Btw Any teens reading this? Young adults? Please remember to use protection when having sex. Babies are a high stress responsibility that a person who is either still a kid or a very young adult should not be handling or have to handle. "Results may vary" and all that. Another person's experiences aren't guaranteed to be yours and we already have COUNTLESS evidence that having babies while young is NOT a good idea. Please & Thank you.)

In response to a little tidbit in that person's post.) Anyways.

- Being mature while in a relationship is very important. That much is apparent.

In the context of the show for these 2 teens they are in love with one another.

You cannot behave like all of THIS if you wish to maintain a relationship with someone.

This is not grounds for a healthy, safe, respectful relationship.

°Not respecting your friend or spouse, their choices, their boundaries, their space, their being makes you a borderline abusive person.

(Guys c'mon.) If Adrien & Marinette were real people? They would be very creepy, toxic kids. Hell we DO have some very toxic people, even children that act like this in real life. This is a no. All the no.

- Other ships in the show being unhealthy does not in no way invalidate or downplay the fact that Adrien & Marinette's behavior is unhealthy.

- There are many, many, many, many instances of their unhealthy behavior, not "just two." It's insulting that this person treats the fans who point this out as if we are some idiots who do not watch the show and therefore can not call out this obvious lie.

- There being moments where Adrien & Marinette actually behave theirselves for once does not at all erase or invalidate every single one of their toxic moments.

- The show does not do a good job of writing scenes where getting into these characters heads that behaving this way is unacceptable, at all. No character development there.

(Them giving up on persuing eachother at the end of the season does not address the toxic behavior. That is just them being tired of not getting the results that they want from their crushes.)

- It's hard for me to debate as well. Calling the whole ship unhealthy/toxic? In real life, no way josay would this be okay, in the show? Marinette & Adrien at their core ARE good kids. And they DO sometimes realize their mistakes. But it really, truly isn't enough. There is either not much or no consequences to their innapropriate behavior at all.

(You might say Chat Blanc, but that was circumstance because they didn't reveal their identities to each other in full, not consequence for Mari's creepy room invasion, that was separate.)

It's so debatable. These unhealthy behaviors should NOT be encouraged and the Love Square shouldn't be shipped during them.

I'm just gonna say that I hope with all my might that the writers get it into their heads that this is NOT okay to market to children and that they CANNOT expect kids to understand or tell what toxic behavior is or that the innapropriate things Adri & Mari do are okay.

THAT is a large issue above all else here.

(Let's get some major character development please.)

- "Sometimes you have to sacrifice when you love someone."

This sounds way left field and is not at ALL what the fans who protest Adri & Mari's toxic behavior are talking about.

- "I think a lot of the criticism comes from people who just don't understand love. Maybe they've never been in love."

How absolutely patronizing, condescending, presumptuous in itself and very ignorant.

That's not even. How do I respond to that?

Wow.

I am not repeating myself, I already wrote a whole darn essay. My answer to this is all of the above.

And lastly-

"But the love square is FAR from toxic.

Far, far, far from it."

...Hm. Hm Hm. Hm. Yes of course. 😐😐😐

Okey. I think I'm done here. It's literally been an hour gathering my thoughts, typing and editing this. Anybody who actually read all of this, feel free to comment? Note? I dunno, I'm new to Tumblr. Calling comments/replies "notes" is weird to me.

[darkblueboxs]

UPDATE: Limbic Resonance

AFTG Sense8 AU (No prior Sense8 knowledge necessary)

Prologue here.

Read on AO3

It’s been three weeks, and Nathaniel can still smell smoke. It clings to his clothes like an invisible outer layer but brings him little warmth as he hikes along the black roadside, alone for the first time in memory. He’s been following the glow of city lights for hours, feels like, but the city seems no closer than when he started out, like a desert mirage dancing forever out of reach.

The near-empty pill bottle is a constant weight in the pocket of Nathaniel's joggers. He has stretched out the doses as far as he can, his head thumping and his vision blurring with half-formed visions of worlds that aren’t his. Enough to hold back the voices, but still there’s a hum in the silence, like he’s hearing a conversation through thin walls. It isn’t hearing the voices that scares him most, however; it’s the fear that if Nathaniel can hear the others, then they can hear him.

He holds his last pill before him. It shines between his thumb and forefinger like a bead of blood. He would have six hours before this last pill began to leave his system, eight before it was gone entirely, another day’s journey before he had a chance of tracking down one of his mother’s suppliers. He had never been taken along to any of his mother’s exchanges. Her paranoia about anyone laying eyes on Nathaniel reached new heights every time the pills were involved. A seemingly impossible feat considering Mary’s usual anxiety levels, but if there was one thing his mother excelled at it was beating the odds.

Up until three weeks ago, anyway.

Eventually Nathaniel gives up on chasing the glow of the city. He finds an abandoned encampment of ripped tents and make-shift shelters left behind by squatters. He bundles himself up under a leaning hunk of corrugated iron held up by a flimsy stack of wooden planks and pulls a notebook from his duffel with numbing fingers and starts to scrawl today’s times. He’s been tracking the murmurs, periods of activity and rest, differentiating them, studying as much as he dares. Stupid, his mother would call him. Nathaniel can’t help himself; his mother promised him answers one day, but she’s in no position to provide them anymore. He has to understand the danger if he has any hope of surviving it, and that means probing the parts of his mind his mother never let him touch.

If patterns hold steady, three or four of the… of them should be waking up within the next hour, just before he swallows his last blocker. If “waking up” is the right term. Nathaniel is vaguely uncomfortable with the personification, would rather think of them as something less like…people. It’s easier to keep his distance when they’re just abstract noises buzzing around in his head.

But wake up is what they do, and so it is the term he uses.

If he times it right, he can sleep through the more active hours and travel under cover of darkness. Stave off the worst of the withdrawal effects.

He tugs at the roots of his hair, counts the number of days he has before it will need re-dying, and sighs. His breath hovers in the air like smoke. Nathaniel’s life is nothing but a battle against countdown after countdown, running from the big, blank zero that means his time is up.

His wristwatch starts to bleat like an air-raid siren. He raises the last pill to his lips.

Something collides with the side of his head, hard. Nathaniel realises, belatedly, that it was his own fist.

The pill slips through his fingers and skitters off into the dust. Nathaniel swears, falls to his knees and starts picking through the rocks for the tell-tale glint of his last hope.

Out of control, his hands snap back from the gravel. Like a confused marionette, Nathaniel throws himself to the ground.

“What the fuck,” Nathaniel grunts.

“Now, isn’t that interesting? Kevin’s little ghost is a real boy after all.” The words start fuzzy and distant, growing stronger with each syllable as Nathaniel’s withdrawal worsens.

Nathaniel shoulders himself over onto his back. His hands aren’t fighting him anymore, but they’re not exactly his again either.

A short, blonde man is standing over him with a smile sharp enough to cut. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s dressed in black, well-fitting clothes, like he’s preparing to break into someone’s house. The way he’s staring, Nathaniel feels like he might be the house in question.

Nathaniel’s mother’s orders snap through him like a drumbeat. He screws his eyes shut, grits his teeth, thinks not real, not real, not real.

“Not exactly a warm welcome. Weren’t you expecting company? You rolled out the welcome mat, after all.”

He had pushed the dosages too far. He should have known, should have thought, should have prepared- his mother would have killed him. Luckily, there was someone else on hand to do the job for her.

Mother, mother, mother. Someone has issues.

The thought chafes. It isn’t his.

The pill, he needs the pill, he needs-

His hand – Andrew’s hand – Andrew? How does he know his name? – wraps around his throat.

“Not yet, ghostie.” Andrew’s words lilt up and down weirdly, like his vocal cords are walking a tightrope. Is he high? His pupils are too wide. His thoughts are unintelligible, meandering, and the confusion is seeping into Nathaniel’s mind like second-hand smoke.

Yes. He’s medicated out of his fool mind. Falling into the trench that comes between one dosage and the next, just like Nathaniel.

“You’re smart enough to have survived this long, but you’re not going to last camped out alone in the dark.” Andrew crouches over Nathaniel, who can’t help but let his eyes trail up to meet Andrew’s. They’re hazel. Bright. Searching. Nathaniel flinches from the intensity, thanks every God he doesn’t believe in that he’s wearing his colour contacts. “They’ll catch up to you, and when that happens, you’ll become a liability to the rest of us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nathaniel gasps through the pressure of his own hand at his throat. Then he realises he’s talking, and nearly bites his own tongue off in anger.

“You really don’t, do you?” Nathaniel’s hand adjusts its grip. He can feel his own pulse thrumming through his fingers. “Let’s make a deal. Give me a truth and I’ll give you the pill.”

Nathaniel’s eyes slide to the red glint in the earth. They’re non-addictive, in theory, but it’s not that kind of need burning through him like a flare. It’s the same need that tells the rabbit to run from the fox, the mouse to hide beneath the floorboards. The need that pulled him away from the burning debris that was once his mother and forced one foot in front of the other on the trek that took him to where he is now. The need to run. To hide. To survive.

It pushes him to open his mouth and let the words spill out. “My mother is dead.”

Andrew nods. Nathaniel can feel the way the fact folds itself up and slots itself into the place in Andrew’s head he made for it. Like he already knew but wanted it in Nathaniel’s words.

Nathaniel’s hand trembles, releases, and is his once more.

“A deal is a deal. Stay gone and stay quiet. No more buzzing around.” He puts a finger to his temple and twirls it. “You’re either one of us, against us, or nothing at all. No middle ground. You’re making the others nervous.”

Nathaniel grabs the pill, doesn’t even stop to brush the dirt off before pushing it between his lips. “Not going to be a problem.”

Andrew’s head lolls like it isn’t attached properly to his body as he laughs. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard. Nathaniel can hear an echo to it that doesn’t match their surroundings. A small room, wooden floorboards, single bed, sunlight glowing behind drawn curtains. “You’re nothing but a problem.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Nathaniel mutters. He feels the familiar blanket of protection begin to press gentle pressure upon the corners of his mind. He can be nothing. He’s never tried to be anything else.

“Well,” says Andrew, his voice growing faint. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure.” He flickers before Nathaniel’s eyes like a candle in a breeze. Nathaniel skates his gaze over him once more despite himself. Most of his curiosity has been crushed down and killed by years of terror, but there’s enough of a spark left that he devours every detail he can take before Andrew disappears.

“Not exactly a warm farewell,” Nathaniel says quietly. Andrew raises his eyebrow as his own words are turned back on him.

“What a shame. You might have been interesting, after all.”

Then he disappears.

Nathaniel sits in the silence and breathes in the faint, lingering smell of smoke. It doesn’t smell of gasoline anymore. More like cigarettes.

He breathes and waits for the cold night to pass.

.

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!

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[ngfics]

Natural Instinct - overview

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Posts . 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 .

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Jana Sable (SIOC) and the premise of her story.

Realizes pretty soon what kind of world she’s in (when she's three and Roger is Executed). Wants to stay far away from plot, pirates and marines. Jana knows too much about future events and is terrified of anybody finding out.

It doesn't matter to her if it’s pirates or marines, her new family and entire world may be in danger depending on who gets their hands on her memories.

Mostly she fears a mind reader - in the world of one piece that is a possibility so to prevent any such from discovering her origins she reads and learns a lot so that any mind reader would find justifications for things she knows in her head and not immediately connect it to her knowing the future and being from another world.

SIOC has only read up until the end of Dressrosa, has not read Luffy winning and so does not know of Pudding’s powers, but suspects such things exist.

Most of the time, due to her being of mental age she feels as if she can judge situations and people fairly easily. She is only right half the time.

She draws from what she knows of the world, which tells her to be wary of everybody, but as this is tiring her vigilance wanes, or rather, she doesn't want to be so paranoid and distrustful of people.

She decides to give people benefit of doubt.

This is a mistake as she starts to lose security in her own insight after her estimations of people's characters are proven wrong at either her expense, or expense of people close to her.

Leading her to being even more paranoid and even more reclusive than she was before.

Marines hold a grudge against her family because her grandmother had a pirates child and refused to be ashamed of that.

So they keep an eye on them and harass them to ‘prevent them form becoming criminals’.

.

Her family worries about her continued paranoia and isolation, this changes when she gets a dog named Luca who can discern people's intentions.

It is with him that she starts to go out again.

Luca is rather perceptive for a dog, perceptive of people's nature. Jana notices and takes her cues from him. While Jana did know how to fight a little from what her father's builder co-workers taught her (so that she can navigate the larger city and stay safe) she mostly concentrates on speed and evasion.

This didn't help her when Marines actually caught her and broke her arm, but it did make her father give her some more self-defense training.

When Jana is 13, her sister Sara gets into a serious relationship with a Marine Van Gillian who is both a good man, and good Marine. Disappointed in his fellow Marines and dismayed at not being able to do much; he teaches Jana Marine martial arts, submission holds and pressure points that he himself learned.

In his mind this was for her defense and he was the one to bring Sara (then his wife) news of Jana missing and then later becoming a pirate. His marriage with Sara protects the remaining Sable family, who no longer hold the name.

Jana's mother dies when she's 16, in an accident while visiting their architect father. It is a building accident in which a part of the building collapses, a building that her father built.

It is a little before this tragedy that Jana nudged Van into teaching her Rokushiki, her desire to learn is amplified with the incident and she manages to gain some capability in both Soru and Geppou by the time she's 18  

Her mother’s death sends her father into depression which results in him merely going with the motions until in two years (when Jana is 18) he dies from an illness and wasting away.

Her older sisters are 22 at the time and already working as a jewelry maker and a cook, living in the city, her younger sisters are 16 and still living with them (one studying mechanics, apprenticed to a mechanic in the city; another apprenticed under a seamstress)

All of them spend as much of time as they can away from the inn, it brings bad memories. Jana stays to take care of their grandmother and the inn, with their grandmother taking over the business.

Sisters mostly talk over DenDen mushi, their relationship much easier on Jana now that they're all a bit older.

During the next 7 years Jana stays and works with her grandmother and endures Marine patrols that come by every three days or so.

Her grandmother and her routinely house pirates, even if just to spite the Marines who can never prove it.

These pirates are not all that famous; and while some are worse and some are better Jana can usually tell. This is in fact how she trains up her Observation Haki and intuition; with Luca as standby to check her hunches and a myriad of pirates and marines visiting.

.

When Jana is 20, there is a pirate attack in the larger city while she is there.

Jana uses her hard acquired skills to defend herself and civilians. Marines come in the aftermath where she's killed a couple of pirates, and protected a few kids and merchants, this makes them let up on her.

Marine harassment lessens and their patrols become more laid back.

They are even more lax if they're Van's friends; those marines are usually nice and only do these checks because they're supposed to. They also try to do something about those marines who like to harass them (these are usually ultimate justice types or marines who don't like Van).

Jana gets to know a handful of Marines this way, but nobody plot-important

Van and Sara married during this time, after 7 years of dating and living together (married when Jana was 20 and Sara 24)

They have a son a year after Jana joins Heart Pirates (when Jana is 26 and Sara 30)

Selena married when she was 25 (Sara 25 and Jana 21) to a fellow cook in a shotgun wedding in an after-party haze; but the two had been in love for years having a bit of a rivalry through their respective mentor cooks, though it leaned more and more towards love as years went by.

When Jana is 23 and Vana and Julie 21, the two have a double marriage. Its a marriage of twins marrying twins. Julie, a mechanic, marrying a florist (Johan Devitt) and Vana, a seamstress, marrying his twin a painter (Eugene Devitt).

Jana in the meantime forms a friendship with a local butcher's daughter who is her listening ear and a gentle friend. Her name is Marie.

Luca the dog dies when Jana is 24, at 20 years of age. Passes away painlessly in his sleep. Jana had been expecting it for years so she manages to stave off depression.

Jana had been amassing animal friends from all over the island.Little birds, cats, stray dogs all tend to stop by the inn for a quick meal, tail wag, petting, but none stay for long.

It is this that makes her spend even more time with her grandmother because she feels that once the woman passes away that she will have no direction.

Her connection to Marie is the only thing grounding her in some sort of a routine and purpose. She is slightly unsettled, but still very protective of her sisters who now have their own lives and don't call as much as they used to.

She doesn't want to risk anybody finding anything out from her and threatening her family and considers moving away to a remote house/apartment/hut once her grandmother passes away-thinks of selling the inn and just leaving for somewhere she won't be bothered.

.

It is not long afterwards, when she's 25, that Heart Pirates show up.

Jana isn't quite sure what to think of them, uncertain if her information and impressions are useful at all. So when they reach the inn she looks to nearby cats and dogs first. And relaxes.

These animals are well attuned to human intent, that is enough for a first impression.

Her paranoia and age make her a master of observation of gestures, subtle movements, tics, voice intonation. All of this is done mostly unconsciously and she is always uncertain if she is correct. She needs her beta check, her dog.

Heart Pirates have to stay for a week, so the Log Pose can set and in that time each of them gains a place in her heart.Jana finds that she fits well in with them. They seem to like her, consider her somewhat of a friend.

Heart Pirates are pretty unhappy with the way Marines treat her and her grandmother, but can do nothing lest they cause more trouble for the two. Jana and her grandmother brush their concerns off, this Marine behavior is not unusual.

Jana doesn't expect to like the Heart Pirates as much as she does. She liked them as characters, they were interesting, funny and somewhat mysterious.

Now, meeting them as people, both sides are surprised at how well they just click.

Some Heart Pirates are not okay with the thought of  just leaving her in her situation with the Marines and are planning to ask the captain to extend an invitation to her.

Then the incident Happens (on the last day of Heart Pirates stay)

Somehow Marines learn that pirates were there while Jana is out actually helping the pirates find shops they were looking for. She hears from a neighbor that ran to find her that the inn was actually being burnt down.

Jana runs back immediately. After a brief contemplation Heart Pirates follow. By the time they arrive Jana is already in a life or death battle with a Marine; some of the stray dogs are attacking other Marines with viciousness they haven’t displayed before.

Marines end up being incapacitated or dead and Jana is quietly devastated at her grandmother's death and the burned down inn.

She doesn't cry, she hasn't cried in a long time.

She is just tired.

Jana asks the pirates if they mind helping her dig a grave, they agree without any prompting from Law. After all is done and she's trying to see if something can be salvaged from the fire, he asks her about her plans.

His crew is immediately all ears, they have a feeling as to where this is going.

Law was given a good look into Jana's intuitive abilities, seen her get a measure of people with nary a glance; he has a feeling there is something there and feels like betting on it.

Jana says she'll probably go to one of her sisters and live with them; she has no idea what she'll do as she always planned to continue holding the inn.

And, as an even older woman than she appears, she feels guilty mooching off even if the situation cannot be helped. She's feeling a bit hopeless about her future. (Her sisters all married to lose the family name)

Then Law says that she could come with them if she liked.

Jana is actually surprised, tries to dissuade him, because really is she honestly pirate material?

Law counters that by saying he doesn't know, (which startles her because she thought him prideful, but realizes that she hasn't seen it and that that was a preconception) asks her if she wants to find out.

And because she can see something there, some opportunity for something, maybe discovering herself, her own motivations.

Wanting not to be tired or scared of living anymore, she agrees.

Unfortunately she has to leave her dogs. While the pirates are getting  supplies as quick as they can, she goes to the woman who warned her about the marines and leaves her the four dogs after saying goodbye to them.

The woman is kind and had known her since she was a child, the woman quickly packs her some clothes and necessities realizing that the young woman was leaving.

They part with a hug and goodbye, the older woman later following Jana's career as a pirate, always reading out-loud to the four dogs

.

Through her time with the Heart Pirates they teach her how to trust herself more and how to speak up when she has a possible solution. How to get involved with people and with the world again.

Some get angry in the beginning at how she amends with 'but I might be wrong about that' at all times, finding it annoying, but her near hysteria when she is wrong stops them from saying anything about it again.

Law tells her later to have more faith in others if she cannot have faith in herself. Telling her that they always know things might go wrong and that if she's wrong the responsibility isn't hers alone.

They will pull through together, that is the point of having and being a part of the crew. He actually knows just what to say.

She is shortest in the crew at 168cm

Her violin, the one given to her grandmother by her grandfather was burned along with the house so once Heart Pirates learn she's a violinist and a musician they buy her a violin for her birthday (it's white and black with the bow being yellow)

In one case there is a point where she has to protect an injured crew-member who tells her to just go and leave him - which she refuses - and manages to get them both out.

Possibly loosing her sight, and wearing a face mask from then onward concentrating her Haki to tell people and places apart, using echolocation as well or something like that.

.

Iris Sable (Grandmother)

Deceased Grandfather (was a pirate of the Rumbar Pirates, did not marry grandmother) - Jana looks a lot like him

Antonia Sable (Deceased Mother)

Mikael Sable (Deceased Father - suicide).

Vana Devitt (nee Sable) - sister, seamstress - Johan Devitt - Brother in Law

Julie Devitt (nee Sable) - sister, mechanic - Eugenia Devitt - Sister in Law

Sara Gillian (nee Sable) - sister, jewelry maker

Van Gillian (Marine, brother in Law) - Janus GIllian (nephew)

Selena Cane (nee Sable) - sister, cook

Hector Cane (brother in law) - Hilda & Hattie Cane (nieces, twins)

.

Jana’s Skills:

eye for detail

speed (due to running away from kids and Marines) and parkour as well as body submission holds (which have been lifted from Marine martial arts), flexibility, but not great power, relies mostly on avoiding hits, hitting pressure points and submission holds

Intuition (can distinguish if a person is lying) (with increasing effectiveness, regardless of how good of a liar they are) (can distinguish if a person means harm to her or those close to her - killing intent), can read body language and facial expressions expertly,  good with animals due to intuition.

Observation Haki (intent, direction) - if she loses her sight she can force her Haki into the floor to get an outline of her surroundings and people (a la Toph)

good with makeup and clothes as well as impersonation (this makes a great spy)

has a singing voice (her grandmother liked it when she sang, reminding her of grandfather), play a violin (only thing left of grandfather and another piece grandmpther shared with her)

.

Jana’s Flaws: insecurity in her own capabilities, paranoia, prone to sarcastic and snide remarks, intentionally miscommunicates

Likes: Books about everything and anything, writing songs from past life, rewriting them to suit this world.

Tropes:

Genre Savwy (knows she's in a 'fictional' world), Jack-of-all-trades (can apply most of her various bits and pieces of knowledge), Weak, but Skilled, Fragile Speedster(all speed, evasion and some self defense tricks), Sneaky Guy (scouts ahead, info gathering), Communications Officer/Mission Control (provides field info and intel), Hit-and-Run Tactics (pressure points and submission holds if necessary, but mostly tripping enemies), Damsel out of Distress (rescues herself in occasions she's captured), Combat Clairvoyance (Observation Haki), Specs of Awesome, Tranquil Fury (when actually pissed off), has a Canine Companion(Luca), True Companions (with Heart Pirates), Platonic Life Partners (with Law), Deadpan Snarker (sometimes when things are 'illogical'), Living Lie Detector (due to combination of Haki, good instincts and desperation), Good is not Soft (does not shy away from outright murder as she has a great division of us vs. them), Humble Goal (at first to just stay in that little village forever, peacefully, then to be unremarkable and forgettable while staying safe and keeping everybody else safe due to knowledge, after meeting Heart Pirates it becomes just staying by their side as long as she lives)

Quote: "Apparently I've been too kind." (to go with Good is not Soft)

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Heart Pirates notes:

Everybody knows basic mechanics (just enough to know if something isn't working as it should, if more knowledgeable then also what to do until they can get a mechanic)

Everybody knows basic medicine (at least to patch up minor wounds in a pinch, what to do in case of this or that and some symptom causes)

.

Heart Pirates members:

(this is likely to change with canon, but I’ll just add these guys on, cause why not?)

Trafalgar D. Water Law(cannon) - captain, doctor

Bepo(cannon) - navigator, martial arts - Shachi(cannon) - martial arts, mechanic - Penguin(cannon) - martial arts, mechanic - Jean bart (cannon) - strength, navigation - Bandana guy (sorta cannon/fanon) - called Bandana in Fanon - Wakame(fannon I think/ and maga in auction house) - Sven(OC) - navigator, tailor - Matthew(OC) - mechanic - Daniel(OC) - mechanic - Peter(OC) - medic - Marcus(OC) - cook, fighting with knives - Arthur(OC) - medic,chemist - Fran(OC) - cook

Jana(SIOC) - speed, observation haki (enhanced with emphaty), evasion, espionage, communications monitoring, musician - wears a Bucket Hat (white and black striped  at first - black 2YL)

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Posts . 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 .

Fic Masterlist

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[centaurianthropology]

Team Archive’s Roles

I’ve been thinking about the roles that Sims and Team Archives play, and why each of them is critical.  Why each of them is irreplaceable in the eyes of the Archives.  The below is going to contain both canon evidence and some massive speculation on my part, so yeah.  Combo canon-analysis and fanon ponderings, anyone?

Jonathan Sims – THE ARCHIVIST

I think, in light of the increasing evidence that Sims was selected for this role by the Archive itself, and that he would be very hard to replace, that Sims is slowly becoming the embodiment of the archives.  All others roles in the archives are ancillary to this goal, and to supporting him. Of course, how those roles get filled may well determine how much humanity and how much sanity Sims gets to keep, so they certainly aren’t any less important to us.  They’re just less important to the Archive itself.

It’s interesting that the first urge Sims had upon assumption of his new job in early season 1 was to record.  Not just to organize the archives which, while a daunting task, could go relatively quickly with his assistants helping carry and shelve.  But instead of that direct and very archival job, he started trying to record his own voice reading out all the old statements.  And when he couldn’t just put some of them onto his laptop, he dug out an old tape deck (almost like he knew without knowing that one would be there to find) and started recording himself that way.  His own voice, amalgamating the words and experiences of others into a gestalt of information and fear and feeling.  Into the Archivist.

Sims is becoming a repository of information himself, without even noticing he’s doing it. Even in the midst of his paranoia, he kept recording the statements.  You could say that he was using that as the cover of his job, but I think it’s deeper than that.  I think it’s a compulsion.  His voice and his words MUST unify the information in order to turn it from separate stories into a single story.  It’s a bizarrely meta approach to storytelling, if true (and good on Jonny Sims for it), that we are listening to a slowly evolving story, where it took us a while to realize there even was a large, evolving story, and as we’re doing that, as we’re realizing that there is a larger SOMETHING at play in the narrative, Sims himself (character, not writer), is creating a larger SOMETHING through the very reading of those statements.

Tim Stoker – THE OUTSIDER AND RATIONALIST

If we’re haring off the deep end into the uncharted waters of horror and madness, there has to be one person who tries to anchor everyone in sanity and rationality, no matter how futile that ultimately proves.  Tim has slowly evolved to fill that role nicely.  He always was the outsider looking at all these odd people, and finding the humor in the terrible events surrounding them.  He was the one to keep it light, at first, to disbelieve and to work with people outside the Archives more than anyone else there.  After the attack on the archives and Sims’ subsequent falling apart, Tim has become more and more blunt about being the voice of reason and about being the one who will tell Sims the unvarnished truth about how everyone is faring, whether or not Sims wants to or can hear it.  He’s the first to express true doubt, and the one it’s hardest to convince that certain things are beyond their control.

Think about how shaken he was to realize that he couldn’t leave, and Sims couldn’t fire him.  Tim is a person who is fundamentally about independence.  He is someone who genuinely enjoys standing apart, and that was just ripped away from him. I really want to see Tim slowly figure out how to operate as an outsider while stuck inside, and I want to see him force the others repeatedly to remember how not-right things are.  Part of staying sane in the archives, I think, is to remember that what happens there isn’t normal, to not get so immersed in the stories and the vast web that is the interconnected supernatural world that it becomes mundane.  That way lies totally subsuming oneself in the Archivist’s role, so Tim is perhaps the most critical person in maintaining Sims’ humanity in the face of the archives.  Tim’s greatest power in this situation is that he is stubbornly ordinary.

I also think that this shows us a bit about how much latitude a role can give its holder.  Tim went from a relatively light and playful interpretation of his role of rationalist and outsider to a confrontational, angry one, but with the same basic drive and result: to force everyone around him to recognize how wrong the situation is, and to approach it rationally.

Sasha James – SEEKER OF TRUTH

Sasha’s original role throughout season 1 was to be the person who dug up information.  She’s the one who continually provided context and elaborating details beyond the statements themselves.  As powerful as those original stories were, it was Sasha more than either of the other assistants who had the technical ability, tenacity, and legal fluidity to dig up the threads that connected the stories, and the backgrounds that really sketched out the larger picture.

And I think this is critical to understanding why Not-Sasha is so fundamentally wrong.  Because she’s obfuscating, rather than bringing new truths to light.  She’s intrinsically more Closed Eye than Open Eye, and the Archives is far more Open Eye.  While she lacks the technical acumen Sasha had, she also isn’t trying to make up for it in other ways.  She isn’t hounding down old records in public works offices or talking to witnesses.  In fact, whenever any of her colleagues attempt to say what it is she’s doing now, they draw a blank.  It’s only her ability to make certain they don’t notice what’s wrong with her that’s letting her clear lack of work go unnoticed.  If I’m right, that’s why the Archive is making Sims so paranoid, because the three-legged support he was meant to have is now missing a leg, and everything is in danger of tipping over.

I’ll be interested to see what happens to Not-Sasha should the real Sasha return and resume her role (or, if she doesn’t return, if someone like Melanie were to step in and take over that role).  What happens to something the Archive rejects?  We know Gertrude met a nasty end, but how much of that was the Archive's doing, or at least the Archive allowing it to happen within its own walls?  How much control does the archive have over those under its sway?  I feel like, with Not-Sasha, we might well get a far better elucidation of the nasty, dangerous side of the archive.

Martin Blackwood – THE PROTECTOR

Hear me out on this one. Martin has always seemed to be the carer of the group.  He’s the one who makes sure everyone is fed, and tries to keep spirits up.  He’s put himself in charge of Sims’ physical well-being earlier this season, and has attempted (with less success than he’d probably want) to help take care of Sims’ mental well-being as well.  Not all of his efforts are actually good for people, but he does try.

But I’m not altogether certain that the Archive cares about the sanity or health of its Archivist.  It cares about function, so he has to stay sane enough to remain rational (Tim’s job) and to link all the pieces together to form the gestalt (Sasha’s job).  But as for personal well-being?  I’m not sure that’s something that matters to the Archive at all.

Which leads me to conclude that what Martin is actually meant to be, and the reason he freaked out so much over accidentally leaving Jon and Tim to be eaten by worms, is that Martin is actually filling the role of a protector.  He’s meant to keep Sims alive and sane enough to do his job. Everything beyond that is Martin’s own initiative and mother-hen instincts.  But I have this funny feeling Martin is meant to be some sort of mystical bodyguard.  Which is hysterical to me.

This also plays into the idea I’ve had for a long time (and I know a few of you share) that Martin’s mother is a runaway Lukas, and her difficulties have largely stemmed from her ties to that family.  I think that Martin has old power in his blood, though his ability to tap that power is all but nonexistent.  He’s got a little knowledge and a little aptitude, but far more than that, he has the will to protect Sims.  We especially see it in his increasingly frustration this season, as Sims tears himself apart, and nothing Martin does seems to help.  Martin is meant to protect Sims, but Martin himself has reinterpreted what it means to be the protector.

Gertrude Robinson – THE WOMAN ALONE

So what about Gertrude, who lacked assistants that we know of?  First, I think she may well have had assistants in the past.  I think Mary Kaey may well have been meant to fulfill either Sasha’s role or Martin’s, and maybe even did for a time.  But Mary had the unique ability to remain unbound, and so she was one of the few people associated with the archive who managed to walk away from it.

Maybe it was Mary’s departure, or maybe it was the possible deaths of her other assistants that tipped Gertrude over to solitude, but whatever it was, Gertrude took on all four roles.  She tried to keep herself somewhat grounded in rationality, wrapping herself in coldness and distance.  She tried to tie all the threads together herself, flying all over the world and even purchasing Leitner’s books.  She tried to protect herself.

And in the end, she failed in that last part. I don’t know if that was because she was never meant to do all those things alone, or if she broke with what being the Archivist was all about, or if her death had nothing whatsoever to do with the will of the Archive. But in the end, she died alone, without any support.  

I don’t know what that means for our current intrepid team.  I don’t know if it means that between the four of them, they could keep each other sane and safe, or if it just means that they’ll die with company.  But I hope for their sakes they find a way to take the roles they apparently can’t leave, and make themselves as happy and sane as possible, for as long as possible.

[seenashwrite]

The Midwife: Part Three

Status: Complete (Part 3 of 4) Word Count: 3.7K Category: Multi-part; Behind-the-scenes canon compliant; Mystery; Teamwork; Historical; On-the-hunt   Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Various O.C.s; References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A Warnings: None Overall Summary: In the mid-1950s, a member of the New York City chapter of the Men of Letters is sent to the United Kingdom to assist with what appears to be another stack of cold case dead-ends, when he suddenly finds himself questioning one of his closest-held convictions.

         *~* The Midwife : Master Post *~*

I’d been wrong before.

No, this was how I’d die, walled in by heavy clouds that had lazily seeped down into the fog. They mixed with it seamlessly, swirling into tiny tornadoes. It was almost as if our surroundings wanted to make damn well sure we couldn’t find our way out.

He’d probably held promise at some point, they’d write. Perhaps a tragedy, hard to say, being taken away at so young an age, lost out on the moors, before the promise might’ve revealed itself. He leaves behind a fiancée who will most assuredly move on quickly, about a month from now, give-or-take, so as not to forfeit all the money her father has invested in the planned nuptials, please place your bets now. In lieu of flowers, move on with your lives as there is nowhere to send them, seeing as how the Men of Letters will deny he even existed.

I’m sure Burt was wishing I didn’t exist. I had brought us out here, with my idiotic decision. I didn’t want him to be lost with me, though if there could be a silver lining to the thick clouds, it would be that his family would envelop the Moles, the former members and civilians alike, bringing such pressure to bear that I wouldn’t envy them. They’d not let Burt be lost for long, that was fact, no question in my mind.  

Burt had never asked many questions of me.

I knew far more about him, his family, his many likes, his few dislikes, his past, his present. I’d always wondered if he thought I’d left him hanging with my shrugs and short replies about anything more personal than what Colleen was upset about in a given week, and I suppose now I had my answer. He was done waiting on me to decide what he should know.

“What did you say to them?” he repeated.

I blinked in surprise at the stern expression and no-nonsense voice. “What?” I blurted.

“What!? About the case! Was it about her daughter?” he demanded. “Did you tell them what we’d been thinking? I know you didn’t put it in writing, or else we’d have been sent to some back room in the furthest chapter they could find.”

I stayed quiet.

“I know they knew about the colluding with witches theory because I helped you type up the damn reports - you kept misspelling everything, wasted a whole ribbon, you were so excited, even though we weren’t really convinced! All because you thought it was something that was finally going to get them to notice you. And like a dummy, I went along.”

I crossed my arms. All I could manage to do was look into the fog. Done with its twisting, it was folding in on itself, edging closer at what seemed like a borderline alarming rate, getting denser with every inch. And I found I didn’t care. I wished it would leave Burt alone and swallow me up.  

“The Men of Letters have had vast resources in place long before anyone ever knew they existed,“ Burt continued. "They’ve always known about angels.”

“Your family tell you that, too?” I asked bitterly.

“Yeah, they did!” he shot back. “And it doesn’t take a genius to put it together - when the lore goes from nothing to left to find, to a random professor in Maine publishing revolutionary theological breakthroughs, translating Enochian left-and-right. Of course she had a heavenly source. No wonder the witch thing didn’t wash with them!”

“You can’t be sure that—”

“Then you started talking like we knew for a fact an angel had fathered her daughter, and… and… Jack, I just don’t know you anymore! Have I ever?”

I shifted from foot to foot. We’d agreed there was no way she’d have murdered her own child, even if her daughter was Nephilim. Sunder wasn’t some blind, naïve pew-warmer. We’d agreed she wouldn’t have bought into all the abomination talk. So we didn’t put it in the report, the part about how her daughter may still be alive.

Because we’d figured what the Moles would assume. Because we could imagine what they might do. But mostly because he and I, together, we’d agreed.

Then he’d gotten distracted with his wife, with the baby, so I’d talked myself into believing that Sunder had given birth to a Nephilim. Then killed her… killed it. And then I’d talked myself into believing she hadn’t - that she was using the chi… using it. For power.  

But I had to be convincing when I brought it to some of the elder brothers, didn’t I? It was a mental marvel, really. Never been much good at believing before.

“Say it,” I told him, finally looking him right in the eye.

And Burt called me on it - everything I’d just turned over in my mind.

“Why would I have done that?” I asked him, my voice not sounding right in my ears. They were ringing. I waved mist away from my face, wiped the moisture it brought from my already-sweaty brow, as if it’d do any good.

“So the Moles would be scared into paranoia. So they’d promote you, put you to work finding her, get you out of our dingy office. But it didn’t work, so here we are,” he answered softly, now speaking to me more kindly than I deserved. “And that’s why you’re so angry - I can see it in you, underneath, all the time. Am I wrong?”

I was trying to fight back nausea.

“Jack?”

“No,” I whispered, a strong burst of wind nearly drowning it out.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

I frowned at the out-of-character exclamation from Burt, not just the words, but because it seemed a bit over-reactive given he likely knew what I’d reply before he’d asked. But his sudden pallor told me I was no longer his focus. He was looking just over my shoulder, wide-eyed.

There, probably twenty feet away, right at the edge of the slope, was a circular break in the thick grey mass. In it stood a small group of various-sized people. And in the center was a dark-haired woman in a plum-colored dress, the tallest of the collective. She had a touch of a closed-lipped smile on her face, and her relaxed posture was completely at odds with what I would’ve asserted was quite the tense situation.

“We are interrupting.”

The woman’s voice had a scant bit of an accent that I couldn’t place, and her tone indicated a statement of fact, not one of apology.

The seven figures around her - and based on the size of their hands and their feet, I was beginning to think they were all children - wore long, hooded capes. They were ground-grazing, stick-straight, and black as coal. The hoods were of such a cut and depth that any chance for a glimpse of faces was rendered null. Despite our dank setting, where they were gathered some sunlight was slicing through the haze, but I suspected it wouldn’t have mattered if we stood next to the Chrysler Building - the purpose was to hide, and hidden they were.

We remained still and silent for what seemed like an eternity, not even the wind turning up to give us reprieve.    

Burt spoke first, but just to me, out of the corner of his mouth. “There’s opportunity here for a Snow White joke that I’m not calling up.”

“Disappointing,” I muttered, neither of us moving, not looking at each other, not reaching inside our jackets for our pistols.

Strange thing was, it wasn’t because we couldn’t have done so. The appearing-out-of-nowhere had me convinced we were dealing with beings of an otherworldly nature, to say the least, and I found it odd that we hadn’t been handicapped in some fashion, but I was thankful.  So when Burt moved his hand inside his jacket, I felt myself stiffen.

Not a flinch from the woman or the children, however, so my anxiety eased. A little. Mildly.

Burt was trembling, but I could tell by the look on his face that it wasn’t out of fear. It was pure excitement. We all watched as he fumbled with the strings on his notebook, nearly dropped his pencil, then tried to get the now damp, misted pages to separate.

“Really?” I hissed.

“Burt?”

He slowly looked up at the woman, and I followed suit.

“You know… you know my name, ma'am?” he replied.

“I do. We all do. Yours and your friend’s… Jack, yes?”

I nodded.

“H-how do—”

“You and Jack here are incredibly loud.”

I blushed like a boy who’d been scolded by his teacher.

Burt began to stammer, but I cut in, my initial shock now worn off. Moderately worn off. Fine, I told my nagging brain. Barely worn off.

“We’re leaving, ma'am. Apologies for the disturbance.”

She turned her head ever-so-slightly to me, arching an eyebrow, though the grin remained. “But you haven’t hardly looked around, brought out your fancy tools and taken measurements, Jack. Nor have you found your beanstalk. What ever will your employers say?”

The tiniest amount of tittering could be heard amongst her group, followed by a few hand-hidden whispers between several of them. Burt had let the backpack slip from his shoulders to the ground, and was scribbling furiously, not a sign of nervousness about his person.  And for whatever reason, I opened my big mouth.

“Nice bog you have here.”

“We think so,” she replied, not missing a beat, though her voice lacked the jovial lilt one would’ve thought with such a come-back, and she was still staring me down.  

“Ma'am?”

Her eyes didn’t leave mine as she answered. “Yes, Burt?”

“I, ah… I was wondering… well, you know my name, so I… what should I call you?”

Again she willingly answered, and I tore my eyes from hers, looked over to what Burt was writing. Underneath hastily scrawled descriptions of the group, he jotted down what he’d heard her say.

“Miss Finn, now is that F-I-N-N?”

More tittering, and if my ears didn’t deceive me, a giggle or two, which made me suspect Burt had gotten it all wrong, and that made me smile - briefly - despite our circumstance.

“No,” she replied, and left it at that. When I looked back up, her grin had widened slightly and the intensity was gone from her eyes, but her gaze hadn’t left my face.

“Oh,” Burt said, then let out what I knew to be a forced chuckle, the one he used when he was trying to cover embarrassment.

But any that he might’ve felt flew away when the woman gently touched the shoulders of the two children standing directly in front of her, prompting them to move aside, and walked towards us. She wore heeled boots under her heavy skirt, but they didn’t sink into the marshy soil one iota. She stopped in front of me, though she now looked at Burt.

“Fen, as in your current locale,” she told him. “No ‘Miss’. Only Fen.”

Burt crossed out what he’d written, then corrected it. He looked up to her with a smile, put his pencil behind his ear, and stuck out his hand. You dolt, I thought - we had no idea what we were dealing with. Little wonder he’d hardly been put in the field.  

“Burton Rendell Rawlings, pleasure to meet you, ma'am.”

The woman - Fen - merely reciprocated, giving him a firm handshake with a gloved hand. Upon the release, she extended it to me. Burt hadn’t dissolved or imploded, so I figured I may as well jump off the bridge with him. 

“Just Jack,” I told her as we shook.

“Well, then, Burton Rendell Rawlings and Just Jack - would you care for some tea?”

Burt put away his notebook and pencil, nodding vehemently, beaming like a kid on Christmas morning. He retrieved the discarded backpack and slipped it on. While he did, Fen removed a glove, then motioned behind her and one of the smaller children came over. As the hood was pulled back, I saw its wearer was a young girl, couldn’t have been more than ten, yet she walked with such purpose, with such confident posture, and if I were a poetic man I’d have said she had an old soul behind her wide-set, ridiculously large eyes.

“Ever, would you be so kind as to escort Mr. Rawlings while I escort Jack?” asked Fen.

The girl nodded, and slipped a hand in one of Burt’s immediately.

He smiled at her, saying, “Hi - Ever, is it? That’s a… a unique name.”

There was no reply, and Burt didn’t follow-up, mainly because he’d immediately started to sway, his knees almost giving out.

“Oh my, sorry about that, I guess I got a… got a little too excited to… to meet you, dear.”

I frowned, but Fen had clutched one of my hands - tightly - and the girl quickly reached over and snatched the other.

And now, here I was, sitting in a large kitchen drinking tea I didn’t want, in a large castle-like house on what appeared to be an equally-large, plush estate. That is, if my stolen glances through windows as we’d walked into a massive foyer and dining area were anywhere near accurate. I was certain I’d seen at least a baker’s dozen of children playing outside. There were handfuls more in a parlor we’d passed, and I was trying to construct a roster in my head of estimated ages.

Burt had gotten considerably faint around the time we’d walked past a staircase, and two teen-aged boys seemed to come from nowhere, meeting us in a hallway, each taking one of his arms. They guided him - accompanied by myself, Fen, and the girl called Ever - to a bedroom, made sure he was settled, then left after a nod to me and Fen. No one made a move to keep me away or hinder my line of sight - no evident worry on their parts for anything I might witness.

Ever had removed her cloak and sat herself in a chair across from the bed, pulling a small book from her dress pocket, then went to reading without a word. Burt was snuggled down and snoring in no time, dead to the world. Whatever… wherever… this world was. It didn’t feel as abnormal as I thought it should have, something it had in common with my tea time companion.

“Jack, I don’t believe what I’ve said surprises you. I don’t believe you truly thought witchcraft was the reason your quarry’s been able to repeatedly go to ground. And I also don’t believe you ever thought the girl was alive. Or that she was Nephilim.”

I sighed, shifting in my chair, and I pushed the still-full teacup and saucer away. I was getting irritated. And it irritated me further that Fen noticed but didn’t seem to care. “You already heard Burt and I, right?  So what’s your point? Why bother with my confirming it?”

“Because sometimes the things we keep inside should be said aloud - often, it is the only way to truly hear them.”

I added pseudo-platitudes to my mental list of irritations as she went on.

“And because you still seem to want to convince yourself you have all the answers, and all you need is the proof. That’s not how the truth works, hunting only for the results that will fit your theories.”

“So what? I was wrong about the Sunder case, okay? I messed up, and I can’t fix it. What else do you want from me?”

“I want you to accept you’re wrong about more than just that - and formulate a new theory. Now that you have some truths under your belt.”

I glared. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know where we are, who you and those kids are… what you and those kids are… if Burt and I are going to be allowed to leave here…”

Fen leaned back in her chair, the very picture of calm. “You and Burt may leave any time you wish. Although….” She trailed off, waited a beat. To pique my interest. Even bait me, I suppose.

It worked. 

“Yes?”

She shrugged. “Thought you’d be more… curious.”

I let out a huff, leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. She was infuriating. Yet I was still void of any instinctual fear. And my thoughts suddenly drifted to Colleen.

Colleen was just beautiful, no two ways about it. One of those Hollywood-grade, glossy magazine beauties. Even if she wasn’t a man’s “type” - whatever that means - I’d heard more than enough times how stunning, how appealing she was to others.

Her family was borderline Upper East Side, she’d had a modest debut ball, and she had decently frequent interaction with the who’s-who socialite crowd of New York’s so-and-so’s. She was classy and witty and sparkled up any room. But she was no Deb. Debutante, that is.  

We’d been together off-and-on since senior year in high school, and though she was titillated at my going to work for a covert section of the government - standard cover, per the Moles - we’d reached a stalemate around a year ago. She felt like an old maid and said we’d need to break up or get married.

So we got engaged. Her parents set a date, the never-ending bridal showers had garnered hefty turn-outs, and then a surprising amount of Debs had R.S.V.P.’d. A supposed Whitney cousin I’d never met had agreed to be maid of honor just before I’d left for Europe, ousting my bride-to-be’s only sister.

All said, Colleen hadn’t spoken of anything but the wedding for nigh on three months straight. Her ring’d been re-sized and ready for pick up at the jewelers since May. Which I should probably attend to, once we got back. I’d have to get in Burt’s habit, start making notes.  

I would have never classified Fen’s appearance as stunning or Hollywood, nothing of the sort. What Fen did was stop me in my tracks and cause my breath to hitch, because she was striking. I found her features quite lovely, to be sure - but it was hard to pin down what exactly was causing that punch in my gut. Just her proximity, her presence, the way she studied me, how it made my body run over with chills. The good kind.

Her eyes weren’t large to begin with and when she’d narrow them in my direction, just a promise of a full-on glare, only a sliver left below the lids to reflect any light, on God I’d swear the whites of her eyes would be all that remained and a flash would run across them, quick as lightning. And then it would vanish. Her eyes would go back to normal, she would visibly relax… yet I somehow couldn’t, even when I’d force myself to look away, telling myself I was doing something wrong.

I didn’t know what, exactly, was wrong, what it was I should be doing… no. No, that wasn’t true at all, I did know - I should collect Burt. I should make her prove she wasn’t bluffing, force her hand, so we could leave this place, then forget we’d seen a thing.  

“You’re distracted.”

“That I am.”

“Tell me what can I do for you.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times involuntarily, a series of ums and ahs making their way out. No one, and I mean no one, had ever said those words to me, not even Burt. Never just an open-ended opportunity to name what I needed.

But if anyone ever had, well… there was that pesky lack-of-belief of mine popping up again. I likely wouldn’t have trusted the sincerity of the offer. I had my reasons. Why I found myself believing Fen, I could not say.

She rescued me from my gaping. “Perhaps I should start with where you are. This is our home, mine and my charges.”

“Your charges,” I repeated slowly.

“It has been for quite some time. Many centuries now.”

“Centuries,” I mumbled, having apparently turned into a man-sized parrot.

“Which I’m pleased to explain, though the answers may be somewhat… time-consuming for me to relate, I’m afraid. This is new for me.”

Interesting.

“As to what we are, as you put it - I am human, just as mortal, just as powerless as yourself and your friend. And my charges are the offspring of humans and angels - your sought-after Nephilim.”

A breeze could have knocked me from the chair.

“So if you’d consider extending your visit—”

“Yes!” I practically shouted, and she genuinely appeared to be startled. I’d startled myself. It was the fastest I’d ever agreed to anything in my entire life.

“On one condition,” she said, then polished off the rest of her tea.

“Anything,” I replied, and meant it.

One of her unnerving, cut-right-through-you gazes lit on my face as she answered. “You’re going to tell me a story. How you came to feel such contempt for the heavenly host. And I’ll know if you lie to me, Jack. Then our deal will be off. You and Burt will be taken safely to town, right to your rooms at the inn, with no memory of this place. Or any of us.”

I confess I barely heard her, too excited for my irritation at her ability to read me to return, responding immediately. “Whatever you want, sure.”

My mind was back to its normal routine, filling with ideas and plans faster than I could catalogue them. This was it. I’d be able to write my own ticket, straight to the upper rungs, top-tier agent status. I was more determined than ever to make it happen. Hell, I was going to make it happen.

Assuming Fen and her Nephilim didn’t have other plans.

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[mr-hawkmoth]

You’re Not Her: 6. Fire and Ice

Shout out to @squirrellygirlart for beta reading this for me!!!!

Sorry for the wait everyone!! @polkadotsdesign @justa-dork

Ao3

Start                                <----- Previously

Marinette was suspended. Her parents were angry of course but once Marinette had explained what had happened they understood. She was, however, grounded for the duration of the week because “violence is never the answer Marinette.” Being grounded was fine by her, it was an excuse to keep from socializing, but that didn’t keep Adrien from stopping by and dropping off notes and instructions for their group project. Marinette wished he would leave her alone. Thus far Adrien had caused her more problems than she currently needed in her life right now. She knew it was irrational to be angry at him for Chloe’s behavior but she couldn’t help but feel a little bitterness towards the model. If he left her alone Chloe would have less incentive to approach Marinette of course after the stunt Marinette had pulled Chloe would probably keep her distance when tormenting her now. Maybe her dislike of Adrien stemmed more from Chloe than it did from his actual actions but Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to change that. She was exhausted by people. Talking to anyone, even friends became a chore. The only emotions that came easily now were overwhelming sadness, anger, or complete apathy. Sometimes it was easier to just mask over one’s sorrows with the all consuming hate that anger brought. It was a reprieve from the drowning misery of grief. All this made it easier to dislike Adrien. He himself might not be the problem but by being associated with him it had caused more face time with the people of her class, and to her utter horror, more biting comments from Chloe- neither of which Marinette wanted.

Unable to intercept Adrien at the front door, since she was grounded, Marinette’s parents scheduled a time for her to come by his place and work with him. Marinette was hoping that she could just do all the work by herself, her parents, however, did not agree that that was fair. So Marinette stood in front of the Agreste Mansion, ready to get through this as quickly as possible. The gate stood slightly ajar. Marinette looked to the telecom used to beep people in and grimaced. She didn’t need any extra interaction today. Talking to people was like forcing herself to chew on glass. It was painful, forced, and left her feeling mangled and raw. With a deep calming breath Marinette pushed the gate open and wound her way up the long walkway to the door. She rapped on the door and waited. There was no answer. Agitated about already having to be here Marinette knocked again this time more forcefully. A tall dark haired woman answered the door a confused and harried expression pulling her face.

“How did you get in?” The woman asked suspiciously.

“The gate was open,” Marinette explained. The woman’s eyebrows shot up, realization crossing her features. “I’m here to see Adrien,” Marinette said expectantly.

“Oh, yes, of course, come in. Adrien should be waiting in the library for you,” The woman explained before turning to walk up the stairs, steps forceful and frustrated, hands in fists at her sides. “Felix! What have I told you about leaving the gate open,” the woman shouted as she pounded on a hallway door out of sight.

“I refuse to encourage father’s ludicrous paranoia Nathalie,” Felix’s collected voice shot back much softer in response than the irate woman. The door slammed shut and Nathalie let out a frustrated groan before beginning to stomp down the hall. Nathalie paused at the top of the steps noticing Marinette still there.

“I don’t know where the library is,” Marinette said trying to keep the apprehension out of her voice.

“Yes, of course, I will take you there,” Nathalie rushed out, a bit frazzled. She quickly made her way downstairs and led Marinette down the hall.

Adrien wasn’t happy with Felix. He had avoided Adrien in the bathroom leaving to follow Marinette mumbling something about Adrien needing to learn how to knock. Then when Felix found out about Adrien being paired with Marinette on a group project he had ordered the driver to stop at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery and forced Adrien to talk to Marinette about when they could work on the project. Felix and her parents had made the arrangements. And now that Adrien had started working on the project with Marinette he was really unhappy with Felix. Marinette could not have looked less thrilled to be there. Adrien worried if it was the schoolwork she was unhappy about doing or his presence that was bothering her.

“What if we do ours on ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’?” Adrien asked. Marinette grimaced in response.

“Why would you want to do that?” She asked incredulously

“Well I mean it’s kind of funny, it’s a nice love story that’s easy to understand.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously, suddenly uncertain.

“Why don’t we do ‘Hamlet’,” Marinette suggested as her eyes glanced over the list of Shakespeare’s plays they had to choose from.

“You mean the dude who went crazy with revenge?” Adrien asked skeptically.

“No, I mean the guy who fooled everyone into thinking he was crazy with grief in order to kill his bastard of an uncle,” Marinette spat with enough venom in her voice to make Adrien’s hair stand on end. Marinette glared at the page as she looked over the plot. Adrien only hoped her anger wasn’t meant for him.

“Nothing against Hamlet it just seems a little… dark,” Adrien fumbled for words tongue twisting in his mouth with uncertainty. Sweat dotted his forehead. Why is this girl so frightening?  Adrien thought to himself.

“Life is dark Adrien, Faeries don’t come in to make everything right again,” Marinette explained bitterly, and suddenly her fury wasn’t directed towards the page in her hands anymore. Oh no! Take it back Adrien! Undo it! Undo it!

“I’m not saying they do I just think ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ would be easier,” Adrien reasoned.

“Marinette’s right, you should do ‘Hamlet’. Everyone else will either be doing ‘Midsummer’ or ‘Romeo and Juliet’,” Felix said as he casually walked to a bookshelf and picked out a large, green hardback book. Adrien hadn’t even heard him come in. Marinette looked over at Adrien a smug grin playing on her lips, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, challenging him. Adrien let her have her victory- mostly because he was afraid to go against her at this point and to see an expression other than annoyance or anger on her face was a relief.

“Okay fine, we can do ‘Hamlet’,” Adrien said agitatedly. The door creaked closed as Felix left the room. Adrien sighed. Did he mention how much Felix had been bothering him lately?

An explosion sounded outside. Marinette jumped to her feet rushing towards the window, Adrien followed. Outside smoke was funneling upward a few blocks away. Screams could be heard from the smoldering building in the distance.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Marinette rushed, wide eyes trained on the billowing smoke.

Ladybug landed on a rooftop next to Chat Noir across the street from the burning building.

“Nice of you to show up Bug-brat,” Chat said snidely.

“What are we up against?” Ladybug asked ignoring the comment.

“Siamese twins, one spits fire and the other ice,” Chat explained looking back towards the akuma. The akuma was indeed fused at the hip, the two splitting off into two very different akuma. The one on the right’s body was blue and white blended into a stiff looking ice sculpture of a human woman. Flames licked at her hips as they crawled up the orange molten body of her sister.

“You’re melting my sculptures!” The Ice Queen screeched. Her victims, all encased in blocks of ice as they fled the burning building, were beginning to melt from the heat of the flames.

“Well, why do you have to freeze my victims?! Get your own!” Molten Mary snapped.

“I would if I could,” Ice Queen snarled.

“They don’t seem to like each other very much,” Ladybug noted.

“No kidding,” Chat Noir snorted.

A scream drew her attention back to the building, a small child sat on the window sill of the building high above the ground. She looked at the ground 5 stories down with fear in her eyes. Marinette stepped up onto the roof’s edge, gripping her yo-yo tightly in hand. A hand gripped her shoulder pulling her back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chat hissed. Ladybug glanced back towards the girl and then to Chat.

“I have to save her, we don’t have time to defeat the akuma first,” Ladybug explained. Chat nodded releasing her shoulder and taking a step back.

“I’ll distract them, just try not to get yourself killed,” Chat commanded. Marinette nodded before tossing her yo-yo and sailing towards the girl in the burning building. Ladybug’s feet touched down tentatively along the windowsill. She reached her free hand down to the young girl who graciously took it. Marinette slowly lowered the two down to the ground by her yo-yo string releasing the girl as they reached the sidewalk. Marinette released her yo-yo and looked on the girl assessing the damage. A once over told her the girl, for the most part, was fine. Marinette moved to throw her yo-yo and jump into the fight with Chat but a hand on her arm stopped her. Big tear-filled eyes looked up at her.

“My sister, she’s still in there. You have to help my sister!” The girl screamed desperately. Marinette set her jaw nodding down at the small girl. Turning back towards the burning building Marinette flung her yo-yo swinging back in through the girl’s window. Smoke filled Marinette’s lungs causing her to cough and her eyes to sting. She crouched down careful to avoid the orange flames licking the sides of the walls. She moved towards the door of the girl’s room. Heat pulsed against her body beating down on her. Sweat beaded her brow as she checked the heat of the door. It was warm but not hot. Here goes nothing. Marinette risked opening the door. Heart hammering in her chest. Smoke poured into the room as the flames surged inward. Ladybug stumbled back out of the way, hacking into her arm. Ladybug pulled herself to her feet squinting through the black smoke in search of the girl’s sister.

“Hello! Is anyone here?” Ladybug shouted. She walked through the door only to shy away from the brightness and heat of the flames. Her eyes watered profusely as she looked through the haze.

“Annabelle!! Annabelle! Where are you?” She heard a girl’s voice shout. Ladybug moved quickly through the fiery wreckage towards the sound of the voice.

“Hello!” Marinette shouted once more. Coughs answered her. A girl no more than thirteen stumbled out of the hallway face filled with panic. Ladybug quickly approached wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders and guiding her back towards the way she had come in.

“Wait! I can’t leave! I need to find Annabelle first!” The girl pulled away from Ladybug voice already hoarse.

“I already got her. She’s waiting for you outside,” Ladybug assured her. The girl’s body relaxed as relief washed through her. “Come on we need to get out of here,” Ladybug commanded guiding the girl forward until they were able to make it to the window. Marinette looped her arm around the girl’s waist as they stepped up onto the window’s ledge. Marinette flicked her yo-yo out catching it on the flagpole of the building and slowly beginning to lower them to the ground below. Two stories down, three stories up the flag pole snapped and Ladybug and the girl went sailing to the ground. As if in slow motion Marinette watched as the girl slipped from her grasp. She saw the fearful look on the young girl’s face. In the distance, her younger sister watched in horror. She would not let this happen. She would not let this little girl lose her sister. She wouldn’t. Ladybug threw her yo-yo out and prayed it would catch on something. With her other hand, she reached towards the girl. And then as if time had returned to its normal pace the yo-yo string pulled taut as Marinette’s hand caught the girl’s wrist and the two swung safely down on the other side of the street. The younger girl came rushing up to them, both sisters clinging to one another once they were close enough. The older of the two turned towards Marinette.

“Thank you,” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

“No problem, you two better get out of here,” Ladybug wheezed. The two girls hand in hand quickly fled the scene.

Marinette stumbled forward placing a hand on the building next to her to steady herself. She coughed hard, sucking in air only for her lungs to reject the clean oxygen. Feeling light headed she looked up to find where the akuma and Chat had ended up. Before she could properly assess her surroundings Chat Noir’s arms were pulling her into him and turning her around. The movement caused her head to spin making her dizzy. She closed her eyes clinging to Chat Noir to keep her balance. Chat Noir let out a hiss as he squeezed her tighter against him. His body strong and tight against her and the heat utterly suffocating. She still felt feverish from her time in the burning building and the warmth radiating from Chat’s chest only furthered the pounding of her pulse and the flush of her cheeks. Ice shattered against the wall behind them. Chat Noir slumped against her, one arm coming out to support himself against the building’s wall, the other still wrapped firmly around Ladybug’s waist. He rearranged them, leaning more of Ladybug’s weight against the wall and shielding her with his own body. Face to face now, Chat’s nose brushed against hers, his chest rising and falling heavily. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as his eyes moved up to meet hers. His blonde bangs tickled her forehead. Her hands rested loosely at his waist no longer needing to clutch him for support.

“Are you alright?” Chat panted, voice pained.

“I’ll be fine,” Ladybug croaked. Behind him, Ladybug could see the two sisters had stopped bickering long enough to form a spear of flames. “Look out!” Marinette shouted. Hands quickly came up to grasp Chat’s back. Her body tilted to the side, her feet coming out to trip Chat’s, and with the loss of balance and extra weight pulling him down, the two went crashing to the ground. The burst of flames blasting heat onto their bodies but sparing them from being burned. Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief until her hand touched something wet and sticky. Pulling her hand away from Chat’s back she found dark crimson blood dripping from her fingertips. Chat groaned as he pulled himself up off of Ladybug and onto his hands and knees. Ladybug sat up holding her hand up for him to see.

“Chat you’re-“ Ladybug began.

“I’m fine Bug-brat! Come on, let’s get this over with,” Chat huffed. Ladybug grit her teeth and nodded. Injured or not they still had an akuma to fight. Chat jumped to his feet offering up his hand and pulling Ladybug to hers as well. Head pounding pulse drumming in her ears Ladybug pulled her yo-yo free from her hip lashing it out and calling on her Lucky Charm.

“Oh good a fan, because our biggest problem right now is overheating,” Chat snorted eyeing the electric fan in Ladybug’s hands.

“There’s no guard for the blades,” Ladybug whispered to herself.

“I hate to break it to you kid but those blades aren’t as sharp as you think,” Chat pointed out. Ladybug glared at him pursing her lips into a pout.

“I know that! Just give me a minute to think!” Marinette snapped. Think Marinette! Think, think!! She searched the area around her for any clue as to what the hell she could use an electric fan for.

“You have ten seconds,” Chat said pulling out his baton and spinning it in his hand body tensing for battle. Marinette noticed the firemen behind the akuma hosing down the burning building.

“Keep them occupied! I’ve got a plan!” Ladybug smirked.

“Sure it’s not like I haven’t been doing that this whole time,” Chat hissed.

“Just do it!” Ladybug called back as she sprinted towards the other end of the street electric fan in hand. Of course with the akuma having two heads it was hard to ‘sneak’ past her. Marinette felt the ice before she saw the blow coming. One foot frozen to the ground Marinette’s body continued its movement forward until she fell painfully onto one knee electric fan falling from her hands and skittering across the asphalt. Marinette winced at the burning of the ice against her suit and the awkward position her ankle had been forced into.

Chat noticed Ladybug’s trapped foot but before he could come to the damn girl’s rescue he had his own problems to deal with, mainly trying to avoid becoming a charbroiled Chat. Chat rolled away from the course of yet another fireball. Chat grit his teeth in annoyance. I am so done with this! He thought as he stamped out the flames curling up his tail. Molten Mary cackled as Chat turned to glare at her. Another burst of flames filled her hand as her arm reeled back. Chat smirked as he straightened his body slowly turning to the side gripping his baton in both hands. As the flames came sailing towards him Chat raised his baton and swung with as much force as he could manage. The flames fizzled into nothing but sparks.

“That the best you got?” Chat Noir snarled. Molten Mary conjured up a pillar of fire within her hand. She gave him a wicked smile before extending the staff to take a swing at him. Chat blocked each blow having to duck and dodge as he did so to avoid the sparks flying from her weapon. Behind Molten Mary Chat could see Ladybug still stuck in place deflecting icicles from the Ice Queen. Ice Queen giggled as she became more enthralled with watching Ladybug squirm. Ladybug with one foot stuck and a yo-yo as a poor defense against the larger ice weapons was having to throw her body into awkward angles to avoid being struck. Chat chuckled as inspiration struck him. The akuma took another swing at him. This time instead of deflecting the blow, Chat Noir leapt backward out of reach from the akuma. The akuma sneered at him and attempted to move closer. Her other half had different ideas, however.

“Stop moving!” Ice Queen hissed.

“Let me have control over my body!! I’m in the middle of getting the Chat Noir miraculous!” Molten Mary snarled turning to glare at her sister.

“Well, I’m about to get the Ladybug miraculous!” Ice Queen countered crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, you aren’t! You’re just toying with her!” Molten Mary scoffed.

“You always do this! I can do great things too you know! Just because mom loves you more doesn’t mean you’re better than me!” Ice Queen complained.

“Please!! You always get whatever you want!! It’s my turn for glory! I’m going to get the miraculous first!” Molten Mary screeched. As the two bickered and began to elbow and prod one another Chat Noir took his opportunity to slide over to Ladybug’s aid. Chat cracked his baton over the ice encapsulating Ladybug’s foot. Ladybug winced as she wiggled her foot free from the remainder of the ice restraint.

“Hurry up,” Chat commanded turning back to face the still arguing akuma. Ladybug nodded grunting in pain as she scooped the fan up off the ground. Her ankle burned in more ways than one. She flicked her yo-yo up towards the charred building. She wheezed as smoke filled her lungs. She would need to work fast. Down below the akuma had now turned their attention back towards Chat Noir. Ladybug quickly went to work setting up the fan at the edge of the building and attaching her yo-yo string to one of the blades. The plan was simple enough, the execution, however, was a bit more complicated. Marinette prayed that physics would be on her side today.

“A little help would be nice!” Chat Noir shouted at Ladybug narrowly avoiding being impaled by an exceptionally large ice sculpture. Marinette flicked on the fan but to her dismay, nothing happened. She flipped the switch on and off several more times in a panic. “Now would be good!” Chat shouted. One of his hands now attached by a block of ice to the brick wall behind him, sticking him in place. Ladybug banged on the top of the fan with her fist and to her amazement, the blades sputtered to life. As the blades of the fan picked up speed her yo-yo extended creating a much larger fan and with the extra momentum of her yo-yo much faster as well. “Wind isn’t really helping!” Chat yelled up to her. Molten Mary’s flames dancing dangerously close to his face. Chat cringed away shrinking uselessly back against the wall he was pinned against. Ladybug grimaced as she quickly hobbled down to the fire escape. The metal burned her feet through the suit as she ran down as quickly as she could coughing the whole way. Her lungs burned as she glanced back to the akuma laughing maniacally as the flames began to lap against the sides of his suit. Without bothering to look how far up she was, Ladybug gripped the railing and hopped to the ground. Pain shot up her leg as she landed and rolled to the side. Grunting she pulled herself back to her feet, wheezing as she approached the firemen. Ladybug opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t leave her throat so instead Marinette captured the arms of the gentleman manning the hose, thrusting the spray of water upwards into her glorified super fan. Water rained down on all of them instantly putting out the flames that threatened to burn Chat to a crisp. The water put out Molten Mary’s fire and began melting the frost off the Ice Queen. The akuma shrieked in outrage throwing up their arms in an attempt to shield themselves from the torrent of water coming down on them. Marinette grinned as she realized her plan had worked. Spraying the akuma’s with the firemen’s hose could have hurt or even killed them but directing the water into her super fan reduced the dangerous pressure of a fire hose.

“The belt! Get the belt!” Chat shouted pulling against his quickly melting ice shackles. Ladybug nodded rushing in through the storm from behind the akuma and snapping the iridescent belt from around their conjoined waist. Ladybug tore the belt in half (much to her own amazement) freeing the little akuma out into the air. Ladybug’s hand moved automatically to her hip only to realize her yo-yo wasn’t there. Her eyes widened as her pulse sped up. She looked desperately to Chat.

“Chat my yo-yo!” She called in a frenzy. With one final tug Chat pulled his wrist free from the ice block. Without missing a beat Chat scooped his baton from the where it lay on the ground and ran towards Ladybug pulling her into him by her waist in one fluid motion and vaulting them up onto the rooftop. Ladybug gripped his shoulders until she was sure of her footing. Rushing up to the fan and switching it off Marinette stood in agonizing wait as the fan began to slow. Chat Noir growing impatient stuck his staff into the throws of the spinning string. The yo-yo spun wildly around his staff. Ladybug fumbled to detach the other end of the yo-yo string as Chat rapidly detangled the yo-yo from his staff. yo-yo now in hand Marinette’s eyes scanned for the akuma. Which was now floating dangerously close to one of the firemen. Marinette didn’t waste another second, throwing her yo-yo out and trapping the akuma inside. The momentum of the movement causing her to tip forward. Ladybug began to lose her balance before Chat Noir’s hand came out to snatch her elbow, steadying her once more. Ladybug smiled gratefully at him before releasing the purified akuma out into the open air. The two breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the white butterfly ascend into the air.

“Aren’t you forgetting something Bug-brat?” Chat coughed into his arm. Marinette knit her brows together before she noticed the electric fan still sitting at the edge of the rooftop. Ladybug picked up the magical item and feebly tossed it off the roof. A flurry of red set things right again clearing the smoke from the air and restoring the burning building back to its former glory. As if on cue Ladybug’s earrings rang in her ears. She didn’t have long.

“I’ll see you around Chat Noir,” Ladybug called as she leapt off the roof yo-yo in hand.

Marinette’s hand barely caught the windowsill of the Agreste mansion when her transformation wore off. With a pained groan, Marinette pulled herself back into the bathroom letting her body collapse on the tile floor. Her whole body ached. Not only was she sore but the newly acquired injuries intermingled with the still healing ones were not helping things. With a deep breath, Marinette pulled herself up off the bathroom floor and back to her feet. She glanced in the mirror and let out a frustrated groan. Not only was her hair dripping wet but her face was smeared with soot. Marinette yanked her hair free from its ties and washed her face in the sink. Using a hand towel she wiped her face clean and did her best to dry her messy hair. When she looked a little less haggard Marinette briskly exited the bathroom only to immediately run into someone. Marinette stumbled back wincing as she did so. She had definitely sprained her ankle. Marinette’s eyes shot up to meet Felix’s. Felix raised his eyebrows at Marinette in surprise. Marinette noted his mussed, damp hair. She had never seen Felix look so… unravelled. Felix ran a hand through his ragged hair in an attempt to smooth some of its messiness to no avail. The hair fell right back into his face. Felix groaned internally.

“Hi,” Marinette breathed softly. Felix raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Everything alright?” He asked eyeing her damp hair.

“Yeah, I uh had a problem… with the sink…” Marinette’s eyes grew wide as the terrible lie fell past her lips. She had to consciously tell herself not to cringe after hearing her own words out loud. Felix nodded suspiciously.

“I heard you were suspended,” Felix said bluntly.

“Yeah. I am. I hit Chloe,” Marinette responded dryly. Felix nodded eyes narrowing as if analyzing the information before him.

“Why?” Felix asked.

“It’s personal,” Marinette huffed. Mentally telling herself to keep her cool. Felix raised his eyebrows but didn’t press the matter.

“Whatever it was, I’m sure the situation warranted it,” Felix spoke factually as if this was something as certain as his own name. Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. Felix’s hand shot out to grab her chin stopping the motion. Marinette froze unable to breathe. Felix moved his face closer to hers nose nearly brushing against her own as his eyes looked at her with an intense stare. Her moved his hand from her chin reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face. His thumb skimmed her temple, his breath tickling her lips.

“Is this... soot?” Felix asked eyes trained on her temple where Marinette had missed some of the remnants of the fire.

“Hey, Marinette are you-” Adrien froze as he entered the hallway and saw Marinette and Felix standing startlingly close to one another. “Why are you both wet!?” Adrien shouted incredulously.

[missterius]

2018 Writing Wrap-Up

And again we get to the part of the New Year where I post a bunch of stuff about writing that’s more for me than anyone else.

I didn’t get around to sharing anything during 2018, not because I didn’t like anything that I wrote. Mostly because I think I’d want to start a new blog for writing-related things - this blog is enough of a mess already without adding my writing into the mix - and I just didn’t have the motivation to set it up.

With that, let’s get into it!

Total for 2018: 171,410 

Firstly, may I just say that that word count is completely insane. I included a journal that I wrote about my life this year, which I normally don’t do (but this one was written discussing everything going on in my chaotic life looking back on awhile when I didn’t journal, so it’s more narrative than most of my journal writing), which definitely helped boost the number of words. Still, this is over twice what I wrote in 2017! I write more than I think I do, because I’ve been feeling like I haven’t used writing enough as an outlet. I think 2018 has proved that sometimes I don’t realize how much I actually write.

The focus this year remained mostly on short stories. There was a lot of writing based around silly concepts that start out completely ridiculous and then take a dark turn at the end, casting the main character in a different light. I’m trying to be more versatile with my characters, making them more shades of gray than black and white. One other thing I noticed is that I really like writing multiple short stories based around the same characters/world. I love tying things together, or leaving endings open for potential sequels, even in short stories. 

While I really do like a lot of what I wrote during 2018, and it’s hard to pick out highlights without including too much, I did notice looking back that my 1st person POV tends to sort of be cookie cutter. The characters may differ, but they use the same kind of language and thought processes as each other. I’m guessing this is because I don’t write loads in 1st person POV, so that may be a goal for 2019.

The longest thing I wrote this year was a WIP novel, Creature of Scandal, which I wrote during NaNo and hit 50,000 words on.

Okay, with that, I’m going to get into the highlights:

‘He shot me a panicked look, but what could I do? Did he want me to tell a priest that sitting the two of them at the same table was a bad idea because this grown man and his grown ex were acting like middle schoolers dealing with drama for the first time in their lives? I almost wish I had...’ ((Supposedly) Good Catholic Kids)

‘Mass that morning had gone nicely up until communion, when a girl named (Censored) decided to prove that I can’t get a day’s rest, even on the Sabbath.’ ((Supposedly Good Catholic Kids)

‘I’m stuck on a pendulum called Grief Swinging between agony and emptiness. When I feel anything, I feel everything. But otherwise, I feel nothing. Nothing is heavier than I thought it would be.’ (From an untitled poem I wrote after my childhood dog, Cinnamon, was put down)

‘Charlotte Wilson wanted more out of life than to be playing gigs at college bars. Her music deserved to be reaching the ears of the forlorn across the country, not just the drunk students swaying off the beat. As the last chord of her song died out, a cheer rose up from the small crowd. Charlotte didn’t feel much better. These kids looked for any excuse to cheer when they were this plastered.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘It had been thirteen years since the last time Charlotte had met with her mother. She’d been seventeen, preparing to graduate from high school, when she’d got the summons. Invitations from Marie Green never felt optional.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘“How do you know I rejected her?” Joon asks defensively. With another laugh, Seok sends Joon a knowing look. “Seriously? You haven’t gone on a single date for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve been working here for how long now? For years? You never make trouble. You’re never late. You’re the least troublesome employee Haneul’s ever had.” Joon narrows his eyes. “You work for Haneul, too.” Seok grins, “And I’m sure the old man regrets it every now and again. But come on, you aren’t exactly a wild guy.”’ (Flowers and Tattoos)

‘Soo Yun is furious. She is furious at the prophecy and at the prophet and at her fellow countrymen. Her family has suffered ridicule at the hands of their neighbors for decades. She has grown up in poverty, begging and stealing to survive under the judging eyes of the townsfolk. And now, the prophet has the audacity to name her the savior of their nation. To rest the burden of ending the reign of the emperor on her shoulders. To force her to serve those who refused even to look her in the eye. Soo Yun is furious, and she will have none of this.’ (Forsaking the Stars)

‘“We could keep him in the store, and he could help guard the door!” Natalie suggested, eyes wide as she beamed at the dragon as though it were a puppy. “Guard us from what?” I demanded. “The only thief I’ve had since I took over this store is him.”  “I’m calling him Midas,” Natalie announced. And I knew it was hopeless.’ (Swindler of Fortune)

‘Ned had never been to this part of the country before, but he’d heard stories of the Bodmin Moor - stories of ghosts and beasts and tales of King Arthur’s rule. He’d always chucked it up to superstition and myths, but staring out at the dreary landscape through the rain-streaked glass, he could almost believe that something supernatural lay out among the granite jutting up from the ground.’ (Untitled short story)

‘“You must be desperate to seek me out,” Aubrey told him. It wasn’t a question, so Ned didn’t give an answer. Aubrey continued. “The people of St. Ives have deemed me to be mad. Tell me, Ned Abbott, do I seem mad to you?” Had anyone asked Ned that question upon first seeing the sailor, he’d have answered, without hesitation, that, yes, the man appeared in all senses to be completely mad. But sitting in front of him, there were several words Ned might use to describe Aubrey Skewes. Intimidating. Intense. Powerful. But mad was not one of them.’ (Untitled short story)

‘The sight was a startling one. A demon in a Best Buy break room? That’s just about the last place a demon should be. I might’ve been paralyzed with fright had I not started to associate that awful screechy sound with the middle-aged woman I’d had to deal with the day before, who was convinced we should replace a laptop a year and a half past its warranty.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘I was left with a husk of a demon at my feet, and ten minutes still left on my break.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘Inside, the barracks were a minefield for Cristoval to navigate, each interaction with other officers a potential detonation. There was also a frenzy of activity, the kind of chaos that could only come from men finally released from the strictly controlled environments they worked in for a day that would be fully their own.’ (How Far Can You Carry This?)

‘Enoch slowly begins to fill out the form, making sure to grumble audibly under his breath. Had he realized the afterlife would involve such an incompetent bureaucracy, he’d never have bothered dying in the first place.’ (The First Haunt)

‘The sounds of celebration, the shouts and laughter and music, clashed with the steady pounding of Rin’s heart, her breath that came in gasps, the blood-curdling scream her lungs were begging her to unleash. The smiling faces of strangers seemed to taunt her, their casual enjoyment a slap in the face to Rin’s horror. Her attempts to reach the front of the crowd became an obsession, ducking around people became shoving them aside in her desperation. As she pulled to the front, Rin doubled over the bar separating the masses from the performers.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Fear was different now...[It] wasn’t intense. It didn’t paralyze her, or set her mind spinning. It held a silent presence, like an examiner during a test. It manifested in paranoia, in a deeply instilled distrust. It didn’t make her eyes tear up, it made them shift. It didn’t make her run, it made her hand hover near the holster on her thigh as she took careful strides.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Clara, who had been trying to take a drink, nearly spat out her coffee. Managing to choke it down, she burst into a laugh. “Let me off easy? I just asked where you got your degree from, you didn’t have to deliberately dress up your henchmen in my least-favorite color! If you don’t have a doctorate, you have no excuse to title yourself Doctor Revenge.”’ (Out to Lunch)

‘“You’re unbelievable,” Clara laughed. “Until next week, then, Mr. Revenge.” “See you next week, you second-rate mastermind.” Clara threw her head back and laughed as she walked away from the café.’ (Out to Lunch)

‘With a tug on the back door, I discovered our mystery house-guest. Ms. Schofield from down the street still had her hand up to continue knocking. When she saw me, she threw open the screen door and moved past me into the house. Most people in my small town are close, but few are close enough to barge into our house without so much as a ‘hello,’ and certainly none of those on the list would be the seventh grade science teacher, Ms. Schofield.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“Where’d you look?” my dad yelled from the kitchen over the sounds of something sizzling in the frying pan. “Mostly local corporations,” I responded, closing the lid of my laptop and leaning forward onto the breakfast bar. “But if I don’t get any calls back, I can always update my resume and apply elsewhere.” “Update your resume?” my mother frowned. “You know, I’m sure I’ll get plenty of job experience as a drug dealer,” I joked. My mom rolled her eyes while my dad chuckled from the stove.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“It’s my sister!” he shouted, pounding a fist against the arm rest. “She’s never accepting of my career path. Constantly nagging me about when I’m going to settle down. Always trying to set me up with her single friends. I’ve had enough!” With that, the evil Doctor Revenge the public saw as a raging madman – the one responsible for the chaos of the Christmas Tree Lighting Fiasco of 2014 – was reduced to Mr. Henry Weldt, a brother fed up with his sister.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘Only then did Mr. Weldt look up and make eye contact with me. He gave me a dark look, the one he’d perfected to terrify people. But he wasn’t in costume now. We were in my office, where the only superhuman was the woman jotting down notes and talking with clients.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘A few minutes passed, and a knock sounded on the cockpit door. Deidre removed the strap holding her to her seat, and she crossed the room to open it. Atticus stood on shaky legs. “Excellent work!” he applauded. “I wish I could’ve been of more help, but I know about as much about these flashy ships as I do about the Buvocury System. But I see that the two of you handled it fine.” ---------------- “You can fly this thing?” Deidre shouted over the sound of the gunfire. She adjusted her scope and aimed for the bunker. “I thought you said you knew as much about flying as you did about the Buvocury system!” Amara added from the copilot seat. Atticus nodded. “I do! I spent twenty years in the Buvocury System working on ships like these!” Silence fell over the intercom. When Deidre managed to speak again, she demanded, “Why haven’t you told us this?” Atticus grinned wildly. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know!”’ (Untitled short story)

‘There was a pause, then Marlow forced herself to turn and start up the stairs. Over the railing, she watched as Rin returned to the street, never quite able to fit into the crowds. She smiled ruefully. They were not friends. But she still felt bound to Rin somehow. Allies. Teammates. None of the words felt quite right. Not quite friends, but something different. Trying to find the word, Marlow took her key from her pocket and made her way into her apartment.’ (Christmas in Aubergneux)

|Blood TW| “Have you been using my scissors?” I ask, keeping my gaze away from the blood staining his carpet, his shirt, and his hands. But it’s tough. There’s even a little spatter of it in his hair. Geoff’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, yeah dude! I was just cutting out paper snowflakes earlier. They’re right over on my desk.” He starts to move back into his room, but I clear my throat. His hands are caked in blood. Geoff only now seems to notice this and nods at me as he wraps a towel around his hand to pick up the scissors. “Thanks for letting me borrow them, man.” “Sure thing, Zodiac,” I say, and Geoff shuts the door to his room again. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

|Death TW| Back at the house, I decide to confront Geoff about it. “So Mr. Cortland has died under mysterious circumstances, apparently.” Geoff doesn’t even look up from the recipe card he’s on. “Wasn’t me.” “You always say that, and I never believe you.” I set the bags of groceries on the counter and begin to put away some of the food in the fridge and freezer. Geoff shuts the box of recipes with a click. “Look, he’s a rich guy who treats him employees horribly. You’ve got to make a lot of enemies in that field.” “I wasn’t aware the toaster oven industry was so cut-throat,” I remark drily, and immediately regret my choice of words. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

A week after the dinner party, I am lounging on my couch, watching Netflix, when I hear the front door open. Being pretty sure that Geoff is in his room, I roll myself off the couch and crouch beside it, glancing around the side to see who it is breaking into my house. Despite Geoff’s best efforts in tracking down the copycat, he’s had little luck so far. Meaning I’m still at risk. As it turns out, Geoff left earlier to pick up some groceries. He spots me on the ground and squints for a minute, trying to piece together what I’m doing. I try to play it off as relaxing on the floor. I don’t want to let him know how much the idea of being the target of a serial killer is getting to me. “Did you get more bread?” I ask casually. “Yeah, they had a deal on split-top wheat,” he answers, still frowning at me. (My Serial Killer Roommate)

[purify-orre-blog]

Epilogue: Start

TW / CW : Major Self-Loathing and Self-Worth Issues , Mentions of Past Sexual Assault (This is crossed out so it’s easier to skim past), Mentions of Past Child Abuse (Also crossed out so it’s easier to skim past, the same incident as the other one, actually), Suicidal Thoughts and Plans

TL:DR; Michael’s in the middle of a really bad depressive spiral. He knows it’s the periodic depression talking, but since it is bad right now doesn’t care. He just wants to repay his debts.

Also, I know Caelum in the past was kidnapped in his backstory, but Michael sure doesn’t. Major points of interest are that Michael feels stupid for being all gung-ho. He didn’t know Junpei and Caelum wouldn’t come back. Or the upperclassmen ghosts either (since those ones were data apparently???). When it was said it was a simulation, he assumed everyone everyone would come back.

And when he talked about GAMEs and SAVING. That was dumb too. And thanks to Celebi messing with Michael’s memories, we live in Schrödinger's canon. The textboxes are real and how Michael and the people of Orre see the world. SAVING is up to you, and the mods. But mostly the mods. (Aside on SAVING, and Undertale Headcanons here) (Aside on Michael’s hallucinations I never had the chance to mention here) What else goes on? Michael acknowledges that SAVING could be fake, because Celebi did take Hope’s Peak (except some kisses and hugs from Yogi… and also Michael talking to Jovi about Halloween Costumes and how he almost stabbed Rocky... and a few snippets of groupchat conversations between him, Eve, Espella, and Zacharias about teen stuff) from Michael and maybe added some new stuff about SAVING and GAMEs in. I mean, it’s not impossible. Celebi was willing to do anything to be free of the TIME FLUTE that Jovi had. If GAMEs were real there were points in his adventure where someone (points to self) was very much controlling him against his own will, further adding to his ‘maybe-I-didn’t-do-anything-to-help-anyone’ mentality. But if they weren’t, Celebi’s just pretty messed up.

He’s also afraid to talk to Jovi, and afraid to visit the UNDER, because he thinks it will give him his wartime memories back (and it could, possibly, I mean, regaining memories after amnesia is not really guaranteed, especially since Celebi also took removing Hope’s Peak memories to mean memories made during the time he would technically attend Hope’s Peak) and also is afraid to see his old family. And he’s afraid to meet Yorgi’s family (the people from Circus). So there’s a lot of fear going on. And self-hatred. Can’t forget that. He really wants to kill himself. And he’s aware it’s the mania and delusions and paranoia and his anxiety but he’s just not doing well.

Accompanying Music: Phenac City (You’re Running Out-Of-Time To Repay Your Debts, Michael)

It was over. It was all over.

Michael could hear the quiet music again. Michael could talk loudly again. Michael could feel with his fingers again. His new scars were gone.

And so were the people behind the whole hostage situation.

He forgave them. Just like he said he would. And he didn’t blame them. They wanted to end a war. And to most, especially people like Michael and Junpei, who had seen kidnappings and hostage situations first hand before this one, well, another one could seem like a good idea. They brought people together, and split others apart. But only in theory was it partially good. But spending time honestly talking things over was just as good, if not leagues better! No, definitely better! Because even in a simulation, the whole thing was messed up beyond compare. Michael forgave them, but he would never discount how bad it was for the others. He would never try to protect their actions.

To Michael, Forgiveness did not mean blind acceptance. Forgiveness meant an attempt in understanding. Forgiveness meant realizing everyone came from somewhere else and their actions could have been your own were the circumstances right. It was knowing that people sometimes committed atrocities, but they were not all bad. That everyone was worth kindness. No matter how bad. Even murderers. (But not people, Pokemon, or animal haters. Not those that saw others as less-than-human or inferior. Those people sucked.)

Junpei - who Michael saw himself in - and Caelum - who Michael always overlooked, always trusted, never once actively suspected - were both gone. And the ghost upperclassmates too, probably.

So now, Michael knew why Mugman got violent. And why that Marie person was so angry. Not existing was terrifying for most other people. He didn’t understand when he talked to her or Mugman what was going to happen. He felt bad for showing his stupidity and arrogance. He WISHed he had paid some more attention before just speaking recklessly. There were probably hints he overlooked. He was usually so careful not to instigate people clearly in pain that wouldn’t benefit from REVERSE MODE. And blaming the anniversary of those 5 weeks on his actions was cheap. He only blamed himself. But stooping low was expected of criminals, and so he didn’t feel too bad about his actions. Only how badly he hurt everyone. (They wouldn’t see him for much longer if he played his cards right. And that would help make up for it.)

Especially Mugman and Osborne. Hopefully he only hurt them for only that moment. His attempts to distract went in vain. He should’ve talked about the weather or something, anything instead of bringing up the upcoming deaths and trial. He showed his stupidity, and even though he paid for it (but not enough, just like with Phenac he could never pay enough), he knew it would hurt them forever, maybe not what he said, but definitely Junpei and Caelum’s deaths. It was selfish of him to think he could help, and stupid to try and treat them like Pokemon that could understand Michael’s motives and would bite back instead of showering him in pity. Even Mugman was too gentle with him, too kind and too forgiving and it made Michael feel sick.

On top of that, he wasn’t sure if he should tell them GHOST, PSYCHIC, and DARK types could see other GHOST types when invisible. That maybe that could apply to real ghosts. He didn’t know if that would help more or not.

It was bad timing- sure - and more than easy to fall into old habits when he didn’t have any other memories or choices, especially when it came to acting within videotaped crowds (Crowds loved performances! And if Michael performed well enough! Everyone else would eventually probably get half a slice of bread a piece to eat for the next week! Like Snattle promised to Michael when they were alone before he had Michael- That wasn’t important. It wasn’t. Important. It wasn’t and Michael had said no 5 times before Snattle had almost forced things further but Michael used SPARK and it didn’t work because Snattle was wearing rubber gloves and pinning Michael down but Michael got away because crying pitifully and snottily trying to apologize because the others needed to eat he’d do anything he was sorry. But the whining made him unworthy and childish and immature and useless. Snattle was one of the first to actually say that out loud. And he was right. He also kicked Michael to the ground, calling Michael a common harlot. And Snattle said continuing to put on a show would work just as well to build the other’s ego as- That wasn’t important. Michael was 15 then, he was maybe 19 to 21 now, it was in the past. It was okay.). He didn’t mean any of what he said when he talked about being in a GAME again. When he talked about being in a GAME and on SAVING and it being exciting he was really just terrified.

GAMEs were awful. Terrible. Michael hated GAMEs. He knew Arrow had been listening for certain once he died because of course Jovi would realize the loophole the same as he did and he was terrified of that too. Arrow had heard everything he said when he thought he was unseeable. And Jovi probably knew too.

He knew regardless of the future, his family would visit and be able to talk to him, but now that he was alive, everything was so much worse. (He didn’t want to go wherever he had been before Dynamo and him traveled to destroy Oswald bots. He said how proud the UNDER folks would be of them both in-between a successful HYDRO PUMP. He didn’t know what the UNDER was. He didn’t want to know.)

Especially since Junpei had been a HERO too. He probably had an idea how SAVEs worked. Maybe his were different? Junpei’s were tied to dying. Apparently. He called it time-traveling, but maybe it really was SAVING?

((SAVE nonsense starts here

For Michael, the deep-blue SAVE menu never took you back timeline-wise, because he didn’t know how. His just. Came with a feeling of rightness, like he was true to himself. The overwhelming feeling that he was following in his father’s footsteps and OVERWRITING Wes’ adventure for the better, changing the terrain and people of the world usually offset the rush of wrong and unearned integrity that came flowing through.

Unlike Wes, Michael never figured out SOFT RESETs. His father was always so brave, citing a feeling of similarly wrong kindness and wanting to help when he SAVEd. Wes once told Michael he went went through the same fights over and over again, but never had to worry about permanence because there was always someone else to go back and help. Unlike his father, who could go back to a previous SAVE when he wanted to do something different, Michael never knew himself well enough to figure out what would bring him back. He had the idea, though! Integrity was tied to sense of self. So if he thought about a time he acted out-of-character and wanted to fix it, that was probably the ticket. But, he never had much of a sense of self. And if his guess was correct, you had to match the feelings of whatever your SAVE was to go back. Like Wes had to want to help, or think about how doing something different could help make things better in one way or another. Michael’s team was always decently leveled and nothing - except Phenac which he did wrong - ever went horribly wrong. He never felt like he wasn’t himself in an action because the whole adventure he had never done anything for himself. There wasn’t anything to go back in change because it was never about what he wanted to begin with.

And no one from Orre that Michael knew of other than Wes, Michael, Gonzap, and Jovi had ever seen the SAVEs. Or at least talked about them. Maybe because only a HERO could see their own SAVE POINTS. And everyone’s SAVEs were different. Michael’s were Deep Blue Spinning Quavers, Wes’ were Green Flames, and Gonzap’s were Yellow Stars like Jovi had seen but only used once. Plus, they went away forever after the GAME ENDED. Not even Eagun ever saw them. And the text boxes and YES and NOs were a staple of ORRE for everyone, HEROs and otherwise. Wes’ adventure was in ORRE and Michael’s adventure was nearly the inverse of that. Gonzap’s had been his stay at HPA. Wes SAVEd at Pokemon Center PCs, Michael SAVEd anywhere when he checked the MENU of his PDA and had actually done something for himself (so not very often… maybe only 23 times that he could recall), and Gonzap at the time SAVEd whenever he touched one of the stars apparently placed around the HPA’s campus.

His own GAME ended when he returned the SNAG MACHINE and along with it, the SAVEs. To know he had been an NPC in another GAME made an already awful week even worse. GAMEs were bad and if you were unlucky you started to feel like your actions weren’t your own. Like you really were a tool without even a choice to speak back. (Not all the time… Not everyday, and certainly not during nights when he was the freest, in Michael’s experience.) But the small pull he had felt when on his journey was enough to set him off.

And it didn’t start that way. Only after returning the Professor home, did he feel a pull. Michael was more than content to just send Bow to Grandpa Eagun and have him PURIFY the bear Pokemon, but… Instead he found himself saying he would do it. He found himself agreeing to help every SHADOW POKEMON without actually thinking about it. (He would have anyways, not knowing what he was getting into, but the fact he was aware he was being led around, being watched, made everything different. Worrying. If the force knew he knew, it might make him hurt someone for a fun reaction.)

Once, he remembered wanting to talk to Jovi after visiting the Outskirt Stand to return a Togetic (because despite what her OT said, she had wanted to evolve a long time ago to prove she loved her adoptive daddy and Michael was willing to help), but he physically couldn’t. He had been walking towards her and then took the elevator. His feet had moved on his own. And when he tried to talk to her after talking to the Professor - which he didn’t want to do, he didn’t like that man because that man thought Michael could do at 13 to nearly 17 what his dad did at 19 to 20, he didn’t want to talk to him alone; Jovi had promised she would help Michael talk to that man and Michael was planning to ask her for help - but the force pulled him aside. He tried to wave his hands and at least say goodbye to Jovi on the way out, but found his arms rooted in place, like a preset walk animation. At that point he just let the force make him do whatever it wanted. He wasn’t the leader of his team, even as a figurehead from that point, because he wasn’t the one walking around. And it was acting. It was entertaining. It was fine. He was fine.

He had been elated to ‘die’ because that meant he didn’t have to fear the cameras that where everywhere - even outside, it let that force watch and control him during his GAME - and had always been then even since before First House, even though Rui tried to say different. But Michael knew the true nature of their world. Whatever force Wes had told Michael and Jovi about growing up as scary stories was very real. Something was always watching everyone. But not at every time, only during the lens of a GAME. It affected everyone, because Michael was pretty sure everyone was a HERO of one GAME or another at some point, even if they didn’t know it. He had seen Jovi play games without SAVING before. He had seen her speed run games without ever opening any menus. He knew it was possible. And it was more than probable. He was pretty sure Jovi’s GAME was during the time they lived at First House. She had once mentioned seeing a floating yellow star on the floor of their attic. She had never used them more than once, she told Michael. She had been filled with an uncontrollable anger after touching that first time, and broke a lamp in frustration because Michael was 8 and she was 5 and real kids went to School and could see the Outside World. Michael remembered Arrow and him covering for her. They got time out and Lassiter and Aureolus did too because they thought Michael was learning to use his MOVEs with Arrow and tried to explain it to Rui. But everyone was okay. It was okay.

((SAVE nonsense ends here

And all of this could be major delusions. And once he asked Jovi and she inevitably told him the truth that he was wrong because he was always wrong about everything except knowing he loved other living things - it wouldn’t be the first time Michael’s family had been able to prove his delusions were just delusions - it would continue to be okay. Like when Rui ate takeout for the first time Michael had seen and didn’t die the next day. Or when Lassiter and Wes helped Michael be calm enough to get his first big boy check-up at Grandpa Kaminko’s lab. And, there was the fact he knew the Agate Celebi messed with his memories.

It was why he didn’t remember Hope’s Peak and probably never would. Jovi was nothing if not true to her word and there was no doubt they were out one of the two ever TIME FLUTES to exist. Agate’s Celebi had known the world was ending and true to form was eager to destroy any means of calling them back to this time in addition to leaving for good. And since Michael couldn’t contact them, there was no telling what the well-meaning fae added, only what was taken away. If Michael thought he was never in control, it would make him feel better about Phenac. If Michael really thought he was a HERO of a GAME and that everyone was in their own one for a little bit, it would contextualize his adventure into something positive. It would make it easier for past-Michael to agree to being in the simulation at all. There was no way to tell if it was real. He knew the SAVING had been real at least to him, because he had seen and felt them. But he might just have been hallucinating those and what he had seen might just be relying on false memories. And the possibility that his family was humoring him was very real. They had lied to him about a lot of things to make him feel better and this could be just the same.

He knew the people of ORRE were part-toon for certain, he knew Pokemon were real. He knew his adventure was real. The Aura Reader was proof of that. His SHADOW HEART GAUGE was proof of that. But SAVEs? The nature of his memories surrounding that? Could just be the Celebi implanting false memories to further connect him to his family so Michael felt less alone. Was probably the Celebi trying to help the only way it knew how. Just like how Michael only knew how to be the butt of the joke. To be the joke. To be used.

And his classmates didn’t understand him or his need to help. They still thought he was joking, even then, probably even now. (He was the joke, not his actions or thoughts. He would forever be useful to anyone that asked as long as no one but him got hurt in return.) They would probably never understand him, and honestly speaking, he was okay with that. He would be fine as long as Yorgi let him stay by his side. He could live the rest of his life happily with Yorgi and his family (or friends that were family? Michael only vaguely remembered his boyfriend mentioning Circus, which Michael knew sponsored Nyanperona) instead of going back to Old Home or UNDER Unknown Home. Ideally Jovi would visit them now and again. But he would never go back. Going back might make those memories return (because Celebi’s orders were to get rid of Hope’s Peak and only Hope’s Peak) and Michael didn’t want that either. If his extended family (Wes, Rui, Gonzap, Naps, His Cousins, His Grandparents, That Man, and That Woman) ever wanted to see him, they could visit a Nyanperona performance. Arrow, Jovi, Emili and his Pokemon friends could visit anytime.

Yorgi was still too nice. So most everything was back to normal. To how it was when they first met… Second met? But now two people were gone forever.

Michael wouldn’t have been able to save them anyways. (He only got lucky when he caught himself. And he was conscious the whole time. Besides, If they had just been in a coma or something and Michael’s code was faulty, if he killed them too? He’d have to face the wrath of people he might have cared a little bit about more than standard, speaking truthfully.)

So Michael added 2 more people to his tally of… over 63 accidental malpractices. He had voted a few times, after all, so it counted. How many hurt living beings did it make if he counted in just the people he hurt through his words? … He didn’t know. Did Oswald bots count? Did Phenac count? Did all the times he broke Jovi’s heart count? Did the Eve and Espella and Zacharias he still couldn’t remember count? And what about the people of Orre who watched the whole time? What of his TEAM? What of Arrow who he no doubt let down? What of Devant and Allegro and Mimi and Pluplu and probably some others?

Did anything count anymore? He didn’t know what would happen next. When Jovi arrived (because it was a matter of when) she’d try to keep Michael alive. She’d give him his Snag Ball and probably try to get him to tell Yorgi what it meant, maybe. No matter what happened, it would go over okay. It had to. Yorgi had all but showered Michael with understanding and acceptance and love and it made Michael feel worthless. Their relationship was all take-take-take and Michael was afraid Jovi would mention it and that would make Yorgi realize how bad Michael really was. (When they first seriously talked after they died Michael had thought maybe asking Yorgi to open up to him would help Michael feel better about their situation, but then Michael started getting nervous about the Anniversary, which meant so far it really was all take and no give and Michael wasn’t sure if his boyfriend would want to be with him after seeing him continue to fall so badly. Michael really wanted some sort of actual reassurance. Like his SNAG BALL back.)

Even if Yorgi did love Michael and would let him stay by his side forever, Michael still knew practically nothing about the others. He had the rest of their lives to learn, but it was still scary to think about. And he was so excited to be dead, to not have to be used anymore, to have his own freedom. And he had pledged himself to Yorgi then, still was pledged to him, would forever be pledged to him even if they ever broke up because they were friends before boyrfriends. And it wasn’t like Gonzap or Jovi or his parents wherever they were or anyone else could make him do anything ever again, but that was under the assumption he would live forever and never have to meet Yorgi’s family.

Now he would.

And if they watched the hostage situation they knew Michael was a tool of a monster. Michael was meant to be used and these were strangers, they could use Michael all they wanted and Michael would be okay with it. But he also knew love now and Yorgi seemed to not want Michael to be useful to just anyone who asked, which was okay. Michael might not actually want to help everyone that asked for it, truthfully speaking. It was also getting less scary to think he might just love Yorgi the most of everyone and would rather be with his boyfriend than helping someone else. But what if making his own choices meant they didn’t like him?

They had seen the simulation, probably, what if they already hated Michael?

What if they hated Michael enough to say he wasn’t good? Or thought he was no good for Yorgi? They probably thought he was a risk, even Michael’s own family kinda’ treated him like an uncapped grenade.

Or worse, what if they weren’t nice to Yorgi like Michael’s family was sometimes a little tiny bit rude in how and when they used Michael because he would actually do whatever was asked of him. Michael wasn’t sure if he could convince Yorgi of anything if that were the case. Michael wasn’t good with people. People could be blinded so easily when in bad situations. Michael knew he could! And Michael was really good at knowing how bad things were and also pretending they were okay, so…

But those were worst case scenarios. And even if Yorgi’s Circus didn’t like Michael, he would stick around as long as he could. He was ride-or-die.

But that was assuming he made it past November. Because the thought of leaving was very tempting.

If Michael was fast and careful during the next week or so when he still felt brave enough, he could use the Aura Reader by himself and end it. The time limit was Jovi’s arrival and any inevitable orders. Yorgi would never recover and be sad if Michael left. Which would be bad. But Michael could start to repay his debts through that action. Which would be good. And the timing would be perfect. And his brain would be happier.

He would be much happier.

Everything would be better. He just had to be careful. Unless Jovi had his Pokeball. He needed that back. And he would trade his one shot at a fast end for it. (Smashing it would do nothing to him physically. Just release him. But Michael didn’t want to be released. When he woke up and found his new OT was his boyfriend, he was ecstatic. And Yorgi would probably find it weird and ask him to change it. So if Michael had it, and Yorgi didn’t know, Michael could stay officially as Yorgi’s knight. And okay, maybe the idea was a little hot in addition to being just what Michael needed to feel worthwhile, so call him a Zorua using the Trickster ability to be tall enough to grab a berry off a tree.)

He needed his SNAG BALL back more than he wanted to stay with Yorgi, but Michael couldn’t stay by his side as is for very long, not when the trial’s anniversary was coming up and he had killed, actually killed. Michael killed technically 6 people, even if it was officially 3 people directly. Not like Yori when he put Honoka down because she was sad. (Michael had done that to a few particularly sad GHOST and PSYCHIC types over the years. Heartbreak was a killer. Michael had had to put down a lot of Pokemon and animal friends over the years for other reasons too. He didn’t like thinking about them. But his own death would be the same. Ugly, but necessary.) More than he wanted to prove he was worthy of being someone’s friend, more than he wanted to love and be loved, in this moment as it was still November.

And he wanted to die.

His quiet mania told him on repeat that he needed this. It was what Michael really wanted, despite any tries at refutation. It would make it up to at least Justy, if no one else. An arm for a life. Fair deal.

The ROUND upon ROUND of ENCOREs would cease after about November 19th, but they would come back next year around October 2nd. They always did. And if he spent the whole five weeks coping, he would be more-or-less okay. And the ENCOREs would be annoying and draining more than convincing like they were now. After all, he skipped this year. As far as he knew he skipped every year he didn’t remember. Which meant... Maybe 3? Oh, but the war was a year probably too. Maybe longer. Did he graduate Hope’s Peak? And How old was he, really? He remembered turning 18, he knew that. So, maybe he skipped 4 years. Or maybe just 3. Or maybe 5. It was hard to say.

Which meant the guilt that had subsided when he ‘died’ had come back and was much much worse now.

He just hoped Jovi wouldn’t be fast enough to have Yorgi stop him. He didn’t want to force his boyfriend’s hand.

[electionsintheworld]

“It’s the Russians! – Maybe”

In preparation for German citizens casting their ballots this Sunday, government officials have been proactive in monitoring possible strategic attacks by the Russians. But is Russia really a legitimate threat to the German National Election, or is Russia just a scapegoat to inhibit the greater threat – the growing right-wing nationalist party Alternative for Germany (AfD)?

Despite her plummeting approval rating since her last re-election in 2013, it’s likely that the incumbent Chancellor Merkel will see a fourth term. Her policy changes, particularly her allowing hundreds of thousands of immigrants into Germany during the 2016 Europe Migrant Crisis, has left dissatisfied Germans searching for alternative parties. (pun intended)

As a result, there’s been considerable growth in the right-wing populist Alternative for Germany (AfD) party. Their anti-immigration ideologies have understandably been their most appealing attribute, doubling their percentage of support since they first emerged in 2013. In this election, they’re expecting 13 percent of the national vote, granting them an estimated 85 seats in the Bundestag. By breaking the threshold of Parliamentary legitimacy on a national level, it is likely that the AfD is here to stay.

Unfortunately, this is bad news for Merkel – and possibly the fate of the free world.

The European Union’s fate is in a state of limbo, and their only chance for survival is to restructure it before it collapses. As of now, the major powers in the EU have put their ducks in a row with Merkel as future reelect Chancellor in Germany and Emmanuel Marcon, the newly elect president of France, both championing reform for the EU. Just last week, The European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker made a bold State of the Union Address that assertively reemphasized his agenda for reform as well. He outlined goals for a dramatic expansion of the eurocurrency for the entire EU region, and a single EU foreign policy.

The biggest obstacle for increased federalization of the EU at this point is Brexit, which would not only magnify the divisions in Europe, but also withdrawal 10% of the EU’s annual budget. Now, the EU is scrambling to initiate reform before it’s too late – but internal conflicts within the major powers of the EU are presenting another obstacle entirely.

In France, Marcon juggles demands to remedy the French labor markets while simultaneously pushing for EU economic convergence and eurozone congruency.

Coincidentally, he almost didn’t win the election against his rival Marine Le Pen – leader of the far-right, anti-EU National Front party. Two days before the end of the election, Marcon’s campaign emails were leaked on an anonymous document sharing site. Of course, the cyber-attack was blamed on Russian military intelligence.

In Germany, Merkel struggles to satisfy the German public that wants to limit migration and refugee flow, and somehow remain congruent with the EU’s ‘open door’ foreign policy plan. Though Merkel is expected to remain Chancellor and a major leader on the global stage, the allocation of seats to the Alternative for Germany could make driving EU reform much more difficult.

I don’t think it’s ironic that Germany has also broadcasted the anticipation of Russian interference in their election process. Especially because they haven’t found any major indications ‘big enough to change the outcome of the election’, but have traced funded propaganda originating from Russia that supports the AfD.

I’m initially skeptical of any political issue that immediately points a finger at Russia. I mean, who else is to blame? Whether it’s a real-life event or a fictitious action movie, the most appropriate fit for the lead antagonist always seems to be a Russian man operating from a heavily armed dark room in the heart of Moscow. Is it not illogical to suppose that competing populist and euroskeptic groups like the AfD are gaining ground on the political field because people are genuinely unhappy with the EU – and not because they’re victims of malevolent Russian influence, or that they’re Russian cohorts?

Granted, I do acknowledge that there is incentive for the Russian government to take advantage of the current vulnerabilities in the western world. But I would encourage people to search for tangible connections on a macro level, as opposed to face value accusations guided by bias.

The future of The European Union rests in the hands of German-Franco Axis leaders and their ability to initiate reform on both national and Union levels before Brexit finalizes. France wouldn’t be able to do this if populist party leader Marie Le Pen had won the 2017 election. Nor can Germany in a timely manner if it must compromise with populists in the German parliament. Both countries have blamed these threatening obstacles on Russian interests rather than acknowledge populism’s resurgence as the consequence of leaders prioritizing the EU over national issues.

All the pro-EU nations are waiting on Germany to deliver a pro-EU government and spear head reform. The AfD alone seems to be the biggest uncertain threat to saving the EU, not Russia. Strategically, if you want to keep people faithful to current powers, ignite public fear – accuse extremists of possibly being in cohorts with the Russians, and society’s paranoia will take care of the rest.