#i was thinking today about the things the adversary says if you deny her a fight

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Hanging Piece.

Pairing: Yandere!Ningguang x Reader x Yandere!Beidou (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Implied Imprisonment, Dehumanization, Mentions of Sexual/Emotional Abuse, and Implied Non/Con By Proxy.

“Pretty little thing you got there. How much did it run you?”

You shifted on the edge of Ningguang’s lap, doing what you could to make yourself smaller, less visible. It was a futile effort, obviously. From where Beidou was seated on the opposite side of Ningguang’s elaborate chess table, less than a full arm’s length away from you, she was free to scan over you, to let her remaining eye bore into your skin as she slowly evaluated the merits of her Ninggaung’s newest luxury, from your silk robe to the golden chains strung around your wrists and ankles to the way you were being held – closely, but not tightly, already trained not to mistake a slack leash for one that didn’t exist at all. Already taught what would happen if you mistook her gentleness for an unwillingness to enforce her overbearing rules.

Ningguang hummed, by way of response. She made a show of her preoccupation, her fingers skirting over the hand-sculpted chess pieces laid out in front of her as she pretended to consider her next move. You’d been with her long enough to recognize the way her lips quirked upward, to catch the silver-lined glint in her eyes that seemed to darken as she drank in Beidou’s playful envy. Usually, she tried to keep you away from those who might share her fixation, but today, she'd made an exception for her sometimes friend, most times rival. What end she was working towards, you couldn’t say, but you were thankful she seemed so set on it. You were thankful for anything that released you from her chambers, even it meant she only wanted to flaunt you in front of one of her many, many adversaries.

Eventually, she selected a pawn, but her gaze fell away from the board and onto you before she could finalize her decision. “Only my love and care, although I won't deny its value. I'm not expected to adorn myself with anything but the finest gems, after all,” And then, after a short pause. “Now, what do we say when someone pays us a compliment?”

You hesitated, but not for very long. Bowing your head and stringing your arms around her neck, you buried your face in the dip of her shoulder, doing your best to remain properly respectful without seeming too excited to speak to anyone else, anyone she might see as a threat. “…thank you, Captain.”

That earned a deep laugh, a cheek propped up on a curled fist as Beidou leaned forward. Unlike Ningguang, she didn’t deliberate over her course of action, choosing her piece in the time it took for her hand to reach the board. You didn’t know anything about chess, but Ninggaung’s easy smile faltered, and you chose to believe it wasn’t only because of Beidou’s brazenness. “You know a fine gem, but you clearly don’t know how to treat one. I mean, if it were me, I’d skip the clothes and jewelry altogether. A diamond shines a lot brighter when it’s stripped bare.” You stiffened, but if Beidou was concerned, she didn’t stop. She seemed to lean forward, if anything, to soften her tone into something more coaxing, but no less unwanted. “I’m not trying to suggest anything, but I'm set to leave port next week, and there is an open spot on my ship. It’d be a shame to pass up such a golden opportunity to fill the vacancy, if you think they’re up for a little travel.”

You held your breath, waiting for Ningguang to narrow her eyes, to dig her nails into your side and order you back to her bed. You knew there wouldn’t be an outburst, Ningguang would never wear her anger so visibly, but you could already hear her sharpened tone, picture her cutting stare, imagine how she’d make you regret garnering the attention she’d put you on display to attract. In less than a moment, you were able to convince yourself that her punishment wouldn’t be so delayed – that she’d just shove you to the floor now and let you kiss her thighs and beg for her forgiveness until your throat went hoarse, until her guest was well-assured of where your loyalties had been forced to lie. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing for Ningguang’s sneer, her disciplined outrage, her…

Her laugh, airy and distant, as if nothing in the world was wrong. Involuntarily, you melted further into her, but there was no need. With little more than a palm pressed into the base of your spine, she replied, her voice completely void of any trace of hostility. “I suppose it would be rather selfish of me to deny you outright, especially after you’ve been so flattering. And I seem to remember someone complaining about how greedy I've been recently, isn't that right, dear?” You tried to shake your head, to silently plead with her to stop, to think this over, but she didn’t pay you any mind, only humming as she drew small, shallow circles into your lower back. “I wouldn’t be opposed to adding a few new stakes to our game. If, by some miracle, you win out next match, I could be convinced to let my prized jewel temporality leave my collection.” There was a slight pause, a tap of curved nails against your hip. “As long as I’m told exactly how you intend to polish it, of course.”

“Never took you for that much of a voyeur. You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” You could hear Beidou’s smile, even if you were too much of a cowered to look.

“I intend to take very good care of your precious little gem.”

[crepesuzette2023]

What’s a fic that made you cry ?

Thank you for asking—and for immediately sending me off on a brief 'meta' slingshot trajectory around my own navel! (Don't worry, I'll answer your question.)

Your ask reminded me of the fact that I almost never cry over stories. I either enjoy them, or I'm shaking with rage, if they're too painful. For a story to hit the sweet spot of undiluted sadness, of simply being moved, without spouting angry tirades in my mind trying to argue with the sad events of the story, is pretty special.

For this reason, the stories your ask made me think of are among my favorites. Sorry if I mentioned some of them before, but here we are.

(I'll mention some spoiler-y and hopefully brief explanations under the cut.)

Miracle Worker by @scurator. Still Mates by @pauls1967moustache. The late, great, johnny ace by @midchelle. Coast Starlight by bookofapril. All I Know Since Yesterday by RedheadAmongWolves.

I guess what the three quote unquote saddest stories in this list have in common, to me, is that they're a big, noble Fuck You to the ultimate adversary, everyone's final lover, the great oblivion, etc.: Death—while at the same time summoning its inevitability. It will get you, even if you love a Beatle. Even if you are one.

So, you better hold on tight and make the most of it while you can (she says, typing these lines on tumblr while seizing the fuck out of her instant coffee flavor).

Miracle Worker is about Paul and Robert Fraser making love after John's death. It's about death, and fading physical beauty, and the untarnished beauty between them. The guttering flame. Yes, it's very hot, and both sad and invigorating—like a good cry, but without the ugliness of anything as overt as crying.

Still Mates is about Peter Asher giving himself permission to reject a life of politely closeted desire by sleeping with Paul, his sister's ex, in '68. It's a story about courage, and the ability to face who you are and who you want. I'm sorry for sounding like a movie trailer. It's also a fantastically realized outsider's perspective on the beauty of J/P turning ugly, and on the mystery surrounding this legendary relationship—the elusiveness of Paul's soul is in striking contrast with Peter's hot but mundane physical closeness to Paul, the man.

The late, great johnny ace is a ghost story that denies being a ghost story, but at the last moment can't resist reaching for comfort. (At least that's what I choose to believe.) Paul, George and Ringo make a record in 1981. Paul writes Here Today. The ghost is John. The 'at the end of all things' atmosphere is shattering, but the music in Paul's soul, and the surviving bonds of friendship, and, just possibly, John's ghost, prevail.

Bonus: crying/tears without sadness

Sometimes a story is so beautiful it makes my eyes well up with it.

Coast Starlight is about a world where Paul and Robert Fraser are together in the 70's, and they're vacationing on Fire Island, and they fuck a lot, each other and others (together), and it's fine. More than fine. It's heaven on earth. As I said before, I really can't do this story justice. The relief (what a weak word) I felt in the end, when Paul realizes he can let go of his burdens and be loved for who he is (by Robert, who is giving this to him), nearly had me speaking in tongues of the awesome power of fiction.

All I Know Since Yesterday is about two teenagers in love, without either of them having told the other. They're sheltering at one of their houses after being caught in a rain storm, and dream about the future. A future with each other. And, finally, they kiss. The teenagers are John and Paul. And what I love about the story is that you feel throughout that this is the beginning of something big. The kiss is both sweet and elemental.

[owl-with-a-pen]

I’m gonna start by saying forgive me if I’ve already sent this ask. I feel like I might have but I have a bit of a memory problem so I’m really not sure. If I have ignore this.

That said, if you’re still taking requests I would absolutely love it if you did a scene that would fit into the episode featuring the courage totem where Brainy says he can’t wake Nia but we don’t get to see the process of him trying and realizing this. I saw in the tags of an old post you were considering writing about it so if you’re still interested that would be really cool.

This may be the latest prompt yet, but I just reached this episode on my re-watch and remembered this ask specifically. So again, anon, if you're still out there, I hope you enjoy!

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The moment Brainy touched down at the Tower, he headed straight for the training room floor. The elevator moved unbearably slow, uncaring of his plight even while he tapped ineffectually at the button controlling his descent.

All the while, his mind continued to work over the last hour’s events.

Alex and J’onn had been affected by something during that altercation – clearly – and yet Brainy was struggling to pinpoint a cause. Indeed, he seemed to be having a hard time thinking of anything. He was still unnerved by the punches he hadn’t been able to evade during the fight. Punches thrown by human adversaries, civilian adversaries, and for some reason he hadn’t seen them coming. Differential calculus had failed him in the moment, leaving him with a dangerous blind spot that had nearly cost him the safety of the citizens he had been meant to protect.

Perhaps he had been unable to predict their moves because they themselves had been dictated by an otherworldly force. Or perhaps this was Vita’s doing, somehow. The Kryptonian witch had been meddling inside his projectors not hours ago, although any trace of her had been expunged completely the moment she’d fled back to her crystal.

Which meant that there was nothing wrong with him internally; no matter how many diagnostics he ran didn’t change the facts.

No. He was missing something, he had to be. And he still couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get worse.

And, if that was the case, then Nia needed to be informed. She’d stayed local to the Tower to try and use her dreams to search for Nyxly, and while Brainy hoped she’s made more progress than the rest of them, he couldn’t deny that his main priority was an entirely selfish one.

Simply, he wished to see her again.

Things always felt clearer when he had the chance to talk them out with Nia Nal, and he desperately sought that clarity now. But Nia’s job was by far the most important if they were to gain any insight for the fight to come, and he could not allow his own feelings get in the way of that.

When the elevator doors finally shuddered open and Brainy stepped foot into the training arena made makeshift den, the sense of wrongness twisting his stomach didn’t lift as anticipated. In fact, it only seemed to intensify.

Nia was sat on the other side of the room, mostly upright on one of J’onn’s scavenged antique armchairs.

Brainy’s lips twitched fondly at the sight.

Over the last few weeks, Nia had been spending more time in the dream realm than she ever had before, so much that she’d become impressively adept at appearing otherwise conscious during her meditations.

Only her soft snores betrayed her now.

Brainy folded his arms, ducking his head with another suppressed smile. As much as it pained him to disturb her dreams, their current circumstances had made it something of a necessity.

“Nia,” he said softly, not yet at her side. Oftentimes, that was all it took to reach through to her. The sound of his voice always found her eventually. No matter how far into the dream realm she may have travelled, that had always been a certainty.

Today, however, something was different.

When Nia didn’t stir after the predicted one minute and fifteen second window Brainy normally left for her, a nervousness began to creep its way into his throat. He swallowed it down quickly, crossing the room towards her.

Even his proximity didn’t appear to dispel her dreams. When he was close enough, Brainy crouched down in front of her, tentatively taking his girlfriend’s arm, attempting to reach her. “Nia Nal?”

Nothing. Nia remained perfectly still, her lips half parted.

Brainy frowned, eyes skirting across her expression, intent on finding anything that might account for this abnormality in her sleep cycle. Nia’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though she was concentrating on something very far away. Her fingers were tense, curled inward, impressing strained lines into the leather armrests.

Most worrisome. The dream realm wasn’t meant to cause such an adverse physical reaction. Nia would often wake from a dream disoriented, the physical embodiment of her astral self coinciding with that of the waking world, but that occurred after the dream had dispelled, not before.

Brainy forced his breathing to still, taking his girlfriend’s shoulders, squeezing her with gentle reassurance. He let his eyes flutter shut, focusing instead on his internal enhancements. He had long ago put buffers in place to match up against Nia’s own energy frequencies, though as her abilities had grown, he’d found himself implementing more to prepare for any variations in which her powers might manifest.

He thought he’d known what to expect, but when his attempt at connecting with her was met with a powerful snap of dream energy that lanced down both his wrists, Brainy jerked his hands away with a hiss, shaking them out.

“Sprock,” he muttered, winding a protective hand around his ring finger where her energy continued to smart. He stared at Nia’s unresponsive posture, wide-eyed, a panic flaring inside of him so fiercely that it took every ounce of his self-control not to grab for her and shake her with all his might. Anything that might wake her.

But it would do not good. Nia was protecting herself from the outside world, her energy posing a physical threat against anything that sought to disturb her focus. A soft blue highlighted her cheeks, her gloves glowing a brilliant but dangerous shade. She'd travelled deeper into the dream realm than he'd ever witnessed, somewhere that even Brainy couldn’t reach through to her.

What had brought on such prowess, Brainy wasn’t sure. Had she found new certainty in her mother’s teachings, or perhaps she was responding to a vengeful trigger set in motion by Nyxly?

Either way, Brainy should have known, should have predicted this. By being attentive to her feelings, by being present at all. He was failing her, and he was failing himself by being unable to focus on probable cause, to outline anything at all with absolute certainty. Not with Alex, not with J’onn, not with this…

It seemed he needed… help.

Brainy nearly recoiled at the notion. He hated that feeling, the vulnerability that came with such uncertainty, but he couldn’t deny it any longer. Something was wrong, and if he was going to figure it out, he needed to alert the rest of the Super Friends to Nia’s current predicament.

He balled his hands together nervously before dipping forward, cupping the side of Nia’s face so that her energy bleached his palm. He sighed, pressing his lips firmly to her forehead, taking comfort in the warmth of her skin, the sweet scent of her shampoo.

“I will return,” Brainy promised her, his voice barely a crackle in her ear.

Nia remained unresponsive throughout, though from the tightness of her expression, Brainy knew her battle raged on elsewhere. He only hoped that wherever she was, she might have heard him. Enough to know that he was not leaving her. That he would be back. He would always be back.

He didn’t allow himself to linger a moment longer, otherwise he would never have had the strength to pull himself away. Instead, he headed back towards the elevator, twisting his ring close to his chest, still hot with errant dream energy, and made his ascent known.

[alovelyfox]

Chapter 10: Oh Hamburgers

Please note there are mentions of implied drug use and implied domestic threats in this chapter, so reader discretion is advised.

Is Y/N a Whole Foods disguised as a beautiful girl? That’s the only explanation Kyle can think of as to why so many of his South Park friends are suddenly appearing back in his life after he met her. He knows it’s probably all a big coincidence, but even if it is true, he can’t blame them. She has a magnetism around her that draws people in, one he himself fell prey to earlier that day. He knew it was impossible to control himself when he’s around her, yet did it anyway. But… she didn’t pull away when he asked her not to stop what she was doing, and that single thought fills him with an inexplicable feeling of hope that he hasn’t felt since he started killing.

However, he has no room in his head to think about these feelings right now , instead his mind is darting between asking what the hell Butters is doing here, or how the hell Y/N seems to know him. Deciding that the first question was less awkward to put forward, he does, and Butters sighs.

“Well, I was just telling Y/N over here that my boyfriend and I broke up, so I came here for a fresh start.”

This didn’t really come as a shock to Kyle. He had sort of always assumed that Butters wasn’t the straightest guy, especially when he got sent to that conversion camp and gave an impassioned speech about bi-curiosity that would rival one of Kyle’s own.

“Ex-boyfriend in South Park? Anyone I would know?”

“You sure would know him, it was Eric!”

“E-Eric Cartman?”

This did come as a shock. It came like a slap in the face actually. Kyle didn’t even know they were dating, much less that they’d broken up. Sure, he’d lost contact with most of South Park years ago when he moved, but this was big news, and he feels like it still should’ve reached him somehow. Even if someone like Ike had to pigeon carry it over.

The revelation of his mortal enemy’s recent love life stuns Kyle into disturbed silence, so Y/N clears her throat and smiles at Butters.

“Well Butters, it's a pleasure to meet you. We should have lunch together sometime.”

“Going out with some friends sounds a helluva lot better than eating a ham & cheese sandwich at my desk, how about today? ” he asks, and Y/N nods, before dragging a still shocked Kyle away to his office, setting him down in his desk chair and leaving him to rethink his life choices at how Eric Fucking Cartman has had more romantic experiences than him.

…

Sienna’s was Y/N’s choice, the familiar ambience relaxing a tense Kyle. The three of them are huddled together in a booth overcrowded with food, while Butters catches his friend up on all the things that went on in South Park in his 7 year absence.

“Tweek and Craig are still going strong. I actually think they’ll be engaged soon, if Tweek can stay still long enough for Craig to ask. Oh, and Clyde…”

Kyle absent-mindedly nods along to what Butters is saying, wondering when he’s gonna get to Cartman. Sure, it’s nice to hear what his old friends were up to, but he can’t deny that the only thing he wants to know is whether or not his former adversary’s life has gone down the shitter like he expected. He knows he shouldn’t compare or whatever, but the verification that years of tormenting had come back to bite Cartman in the ass is something Kyle didn’t realize he needed until his name was mentioned. Realizing that Butters could talk about Tolkien and Nicole’s kids for hours, he tries to delicately plant the idea of talking about his ex into his mind, but accidentally drops it like a bomb.

“So Butters, why the hell did you date Cartman?”

Butters nervously drops the fry he's eating and turns his gaze down towards the food, while Y/N kicks Kyle under the table for being so rude.

“Ow. Sorry dude, I just meant-”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t even know myself. But all of you fellers left, so it was just him & I stuck together. He was pretty sour about it, ya know? Everyone leaving? That’s probably why he clung to me so much. And well, I know it sounds cliché, but he started growing nicer the more he felt he needed me, and one thing led to another… We ended up living together in my parents house, but money was tight, since Eric never had a steady job and I didn’t make enough as a waiter at Denny’s to support both of us. Plus, I had always wanted to move to this city, but Eric was firmly against it. ‘Too many minorities’ he would say when I brought it up. So when I saw this job opportunity as a secretary, I figured, ‘Screw Eric, I wanna do what I wanna do!’. So I broke up with him, hopped on a plane, and here I am!”

“And Cartman was just… fine with that?”

“I think so. We both know it's for the best. In fact, he kept making funny jokes when I broke up with him about how he was gonna come find me, bring me back to South Park, and keep me trapped in his secret bomb shelter until I learnt to love him again. Silly old Eric.”

“Oh my god Butters,” Kyle says, dumbfounded at how lightly he took Cartman’s threats. “Please tell me you haven’t seen him since he said that.”

“Nope! The only people I know in the city right now are you and Y/N unfortunately.”

“Actually, Wendy and Stan are also living here now too,” Y/N informs him joyfully, and a big grin emerges on his face.

“Oh gee, that’s great! Now if Kenny could come back from god knows where and Eric could get over his fear of other races, we could reunite the whole gang!”

Kyle’s mouth falls agape as the realization hits him that Cartman could move here to be closer to Butters. Eric Cartman, the guy who made his entire childhood miserable, who inspired so many of Kyle’s insecurities that he thought he would never like himself ever again. Until Y/N.

Fuck. What happens if Y/N meets him?

Kyle knows that Y/N is pure-hearted, and would never fall for Cartman’s lies and deceptions. But… if he managed to turn her against him, Kyle doesn’t know if he’d be able to control himself. He swore he would only kill for the necessity of it, but with someone like Cartman in the picture, who can rile Kyle’s anger up in a way no one else can… Or even worse, if he managed to find out about what Kyle’s been doing in his free time… Let's just say he wouldn’t let it slide.

He can’t manage another word for the rest of lunch, sulking in silence over the possibility of Cartman returning to his life, while Butters and Y/N continue with their introduction to each other. She keeps sneaking glances at Kyle every time there’s a lull in the conversation, but she eventually sighs when she realizes he's going to be no help, and leaves him to wallow in his own self-pity.

…

After they all return back to the firm, Y/N pulls Kyle into his office and shuts the door behind her, forcing him into his chair before sitting down opposite him.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. You were acting really weird that whole lunch, super sad for no reason. So something’s gotta be up, tell me.”

“You noticed? Sorry.”

“Of course I noticed. I didn’t mind talking with Butters since he’s really friendly, but I would’ve liked a distraction from you when he started talking about how he got grounded by his parents for making all the aspiring athletes of South Park and Tom Brady drink his ‘creamy goo’. Which, by the way, what the fuck is up with your town?”

Kyle lets out a small laugh, but remembers who told Butters to do that in the first place, and a somber expression crosses his face. Y/N notices, and gets up from where she’s sitting and kneels down in front of Kyle’s chair, taking his hands in hers.

“Kyle, you know you can tell me anything, right?” she exclaims softly, and the look of pleading for him to be honest with her breaks the last wall in his heart.

He pours out his entire history with Cartman, all the bickering and fighting, along with the constant taunting of his deepest insecurities. Y/N listens carefully to every word, never interrupting, just taking it all in. He finally sighs, and turns his head to the side to avoid her gentle eyes.

“I just… I don’t like who I am when I’m with him. I turn angry and volatile, pretty much the worst version of myself. And I would hate for you to ever see me like that.”

“Kyle,” she whispers, clutching his hand closer to her chest, looking up at him with her affectionate gaze. “Did I ever tell you about the time my best friend got arrested?"

He shakes his head, and she continues.

"Yeah. I had grown up with this girl for most of my life. I knew everything about her, how smart and funny and talented she was, all her passions and dreams. I thought she would be destined for big things, but during our teenage years, she got peer pressured into taking drugs, and eventually became addicted. It was so painful, seeing her turn into the shell of who she once was. Everyone had given up on her when she turned 18, yet I still had hope. I was on my year abroad when she told me she got pregnant, and wanted my help delivering the baby. She had realized that this drug-addled monster wasn't who she is. It had been forced out of her by her 'friends', and it wasn't who she wanted her child to define her as. So, I came back, she got clean, and stayed that way."

She suddenly stops, switching her eyes to the floor.

"But some people didn't like that. And she was found with traces of cocaine in her room despite the fact she hadn't touched the shit for months. But no one believed her, since finding the drugs already fit with the image they had of her in their mind. They refused to let what they thought they knew go, and she ended up in jail."

She takes a deep breath before looking up at Kyle.

"She and her unborn baby died in there, due to how the doctors thought she was still taking, and she didn't receive the proper treatment a pregnant woman needs. That's when I knew I wanted to become a human rights lawyer, to protect not only those who are innocent, but those who become innocent. But what I'm saying is, I believe that our past selves are better left there, in the past. The way you are right now is how I’ll always see you. You could never be ruined in my mind.”

He breathes deeply, trying to control the rapid beats of his heart as he fails to contain the blush spreading across his cheeks. Fuck, how does she know exactly what to say to make his insides glow?

She goes back to her seat, but rests both her arms on his desk and delicately places her head on top of them.

"So that girl is the reason why you were so upset over Gemma?" Kyle asks, and she nods.

"It's also why I said I would help Stan get Wendy back. I'd like to believe there's good in everyone, despite how their past might make it seem. But.. I don't wanna talk about them. Tell me more about South Park, and try to leave Eric Cartman out of it as much as possible. Unless he did something stupid.”

Kyle smirks, leaning back in his chair as he recounts the time Cartman thought he got his period because he was bleeding out of his ass, the anxiousness Kyle feels towards him slowly fading away with every one of Y/N’s soothing laughs.

[moonshineboyz]

[17:40]

Pairing: volleyball player!Juyeon × volleyball player! fem reader

Genre: Smut, enemies with benefits

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, rough/hate (?) sex, usage of the word slut, mentions of choking and spanking, lowkey public sex, brief fingering

a/n: i know juyeon is not holding a volleyball but let's just pretend. i got this idea from listening to lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off by panic! at the disco 🤠 i'm not sure if i like the ending but,,, (@annyeongffs enjoy bb)

masterlist ♡

“Okay guys, let’s wrap up for today. Both teams did great!” The coach called and everyone got out of their positions, stretching out the tense muscles and walking out of court. “Nuh uh, minus you two Juyeon and Y/N.” He called again making you stop in your tracks. “You’re gonna take the volleyballs and net to the equipment room and pump up the basketballs. That’s what you get for arguing and swearing at each other every five minutes even during practice.”

You cursed under your breath sending a death glare towards Juyeon, who just looked at you expressionless. ‘Stupid son of a bitch.’

The coach left the court with the remaining of your team mates that waved at you from afar. You waved back and went to collect the scattered balls letting the boy get the net, since he was taller.

“If you weren’t so annoying, I could be going to my dorm right now.” He said when you walked past him on your way to the equipment room. You thought in giving a rude reply but bit your tongue not to curse back at him, already feeling your blood boil. “I'm talking to you.” You turned on your heel to face him.

“What do you mean? It’s your fault! You were throwing the ball too far for me to catch it in time!” You snarled.

“Isn’t it the whole point? Make the ball touch the floor on your adversary's side? I think you're just complaining because you're not that good of a player." Juyeon had just finished getting the net out of the first pole and glared at you with a raised brow. He really was getting under your skin.

"For your information, I'm the second best in the female team. I just can't deal with bullshit coming from a jerk like you."

Fuming, you turned your back again, walking away to fight back the temptation of throwing one of the balls in your arms directly at his annoying handsome face. Juyeon knew exactly how to get on your nerves and you couldn't stand having to be in the same room with him for too long without getting annoyed or bickering.

You were looking into the lockers searching for a second air pump, since there wasn't any other way and you had to pump up the balls, the best option was to you two do it separately so you could go home as soon as possible. While you were at it Juyeon entered the equipment room bringing the net and you quickly thought of a way to get yourself out of that situation.

"Here, the air pump." You handed him the object, to which he accepted but kept looking at you puzzled. "I didn't find another one, so, you do it."

"And what you're gonna do?"

"Go home!? What else do you expect me to do? Blow out the balls like they're balloons?" Your eyes rolled at how he scoffed at you, arms crossing in front of your body.

"I mean, I know something else you'd like to blow." A cheeky grin grew on his lips and past scenes of his dick on your mouth flashed through your mind.

“Shut the fuck up, will you? You’re so fucking annoying.” You raised your voice taking the boy aback for a moment, your jaw clenched and brows furrowed. “I can’t even stand looking at y-"

The words died at your throat as Juyeon dropped the air pump to grab your jaw firmly, pushing you up against the nearest wall. He was close, his tall figure towering over yours as he looked down at you with dark eyes.

“If you want to yell at me so bad, then I'll give you a reason to do so.” He muttered through gritted teeth and you could feel he was getting mad as well.

“Fuck you.” You scoffed trying to masquerade the fact that your heart was beating fast.

“Oh, you just did on semi-finals night, darling.” Juyeon let go of your face to brush his knuckles against the skin of your cheek, trailing south till it reached the side of your neck. You wished you didn’t shiver at the light touch, making it obvious to him that you enjoyed it. “Speaking of which, where have you been these past weeks? Were you too busy with that asshole from the basketball team?”

You didn’t even notice when you started to hold your breath but you were already feeling intoxicated by the low tone of his voice, knowing exactly what he was implying. His longs fingers wrapping around your throat not helping at all, and you thanked the sound of your racing heart wasn’t audible.  

“Why? Jealous much?” It took everything in you to let that out in a disinterested voice, sticking to an attitude not to let him win in any circumstance.

“C'mon, doll, you know I'd never date you; this is just for the fun. You’re just someone to hook up with.” He took a step closer, few inches away to press his body against yours. His skin was still glistening from the after practice sweat and you could almost say he looked hot, even though your mouth told otherwise.  

“And that’s all you can get after all. You’re good in bed but you’re as charming as a rock. No surprise you’re single.” Juyeon quirked a brow, his eyes dark as ever.

“Aw, you’re not attracted to me? Yeah, keep lying to yourself, darling. This is the most fun you can have besides taking your clothes off, isn’t it?” His breath fanned at your lips as the grip on your throat tightened, making him chuckle when a small moan dared to scape you. “Gosh, I really missed your pretty little pussy swallowing my dick and you screaming my name.”

You hated Juyeon to the moon and back with your whole being. He was arrogant, full of himself and egocentric, but what you hated the most was the fact that he knew how to touch you and make you feel things in a way you’d never experienced before, and you’d never admit that out loud. You'd never admit to his face how you also missed him pounding into you while you hooked up with other guys.

It was hard to recall when or even how you two started having this type of relationship, an 'enemies with benefits' kind you could say, because you clearly weren’t friends at all. You would pay not to have to spend the practice time looking at his face, and Juyeon would rather die than bumping into you in the hallways.  

But both couldn’t deny the sexual tension, and maybe that’s what led you to it, or maybe that was only a tactic to release stress, and you just happened to be there for each other. What’s a better way to calm your nerves than fucking your enemy? The sex was great after all and you couldn’t name any other boy who has ever made you cum so hard. Perhaps the hate towards each other really did add fuel to the fire and made things more interesting, competing who could make the other orgasm the fastest.

"I hate you so much." You said trying not to moan again when Juyeon pressed his torso against yours, sneaking his knee between your thighs, to which you rolled your hips grinding down on it.

"It's reciprocal, I just like to fuck you dumb." His hands went to your waist, grabbing hard and pulling you more into him. You were already melting at the tip of his fingers and didn't think twice before crashing your lips together and tugged at his hair with force as he moved his leg to cause more friction on your core. His big hands roaming all over your body roughly and squeezing your ass. A hiss came out of Juyeon's lips when you scratched his back underneath the shirt, sure to leave red marks. "Don't start a game you know you're gonna lose."

Juyeon pulled you by the wrist to the old desk to careless bend you over it. You couldn't lie saying you didn't like how everything was rough with him, it made a shiver run down your spine every time he kissed you hard and pulled your hair as you cursed at him digging your nails into his skin. He never cared about whether or not he was leaving bruises on your hips, neck and inner thighs, but neither did you. You secretly enjoyed admiring them later in the mirror.

“Here? Really?”

“It’s not like we haven’t done this before. Plus, everyone left, you can scream all you want.” A hand came down hard on your right ass cheek making you yelp. Another smack on the left side and you winced in pain arching your back. “You look good in the team's uniform, but look even better when I'm filling you up.”

He massaged your ass before harshly pulling your tight shorts down to your ankles and you stepped out of them, feeling his hands travel up your legs and holding your hips to press his hard on on your clothed core. You sighed grinding against him, your mind already getting hazy.

The boy brought you up to leave hungry kisses down your neck and bit on the curvature. Your breath hitched when his short nails raked the skin of your belly and you let your head rest on his shoulder, closing your eyes lost in the sensations. “Now tell me, is it still me that makes you sweat? Did you think of me when you were in bed with them?” He growled in your ear biting your lobe, making you grind harder.

“Not even for a second, didn’t even cross my mind.” Lucky you your mouth worked faster than your body so you didn’t dumbly nod agreeing with him. “You’re good but not the best.” You weren’t even ashamed in lying.

Juyeon let out a dark chuckle and grabbed your throat while the other hand squeezed one of your breasts. “We both know I've got a hotter touch, a better fuck than any guy you’ll ever meet. Or else you wouldn’t be coming back begging for my cock whenever you feel horny.”

“You wish.”

“Then why are you still here?” He teased licking your neck and smirked when you shuddered.

“Didn’t you say you missed my pussy? Then fuck me already.” You huffed impatient to which his only answer was to rub circles in your clit over your damp underwear. Juyeon pushed you back to bend over the desk, quickly and roughly pulling your panties down that you’d had stumbled if you were standing straight. “You’re gonna rip my panties, you asshole.”

He scoffed, slapping you once again. “You didn’t complain the other times I did.” His hand palmed himself through the shorts while the other went to your core, fingers playing with your wet folds. You whimpered when he slid one digit inside and added a second right after already moving, making your back arch. “Think I need to remind you that you’re just a fuck toy, not some porcelain doll. They must’ve treated you so nicely, but you like it rough, don’t you?”

Juyeon removed his fingers from you and pulled his own shorts down just enough to free his member and teased your slit with the tip, making you bite your lip in anticipation. Your breath got cut short when he gripped your waist and pushed in in one quick thrust, his cock disappearing into your warmth and your pussy clenched at the feeling of every inch of him stretching you open.

He didn't give you time to even take a deep breath and started moving in a fast pace, grabbing your hips with force. You could feel your whole body getting hot, sweat starting to form on your temples, skin prickling. "How someone so annoying like you have a pussy so good?" He groaned giving a hard, sharp thrust making you gasp and lifted your right leg to put over the desk. You were there so open for him; bent over that he could do anything. And you enjoyed every part of it.

Breathy moans were leaving your lips mixing with obscene wet sounds from your dripping cunt and his hips slamming yours recklessly now, going deeper and deeper inside you. Juyeon was holding you so strong and digging his nails in your skin that you were sure it'd leave bruises. "F-fuck, Juyeon!" You screamed out when he pulled almost all of his length out just to pushed it back in with a quick motion. He smirked to himself and kept repeating it, just to see you writhe and lose your mind.

His hand pulled your ponytail to which you winced but couldn't contain a moan. Your knuckles were turning white holding onto the desk for dear life as Juyeon completely rammed into you. "Not so talkative right now, huh?" He grabbed both your arms, pinning them behind your back with his own hands. "Look at you clenching so desperately. Gonna cum on my cock like a good slut?" His voice was low, watching your whole body shake as you approached your high, loud and breathy sounds escaping your lips.

You came crying out his name, shaking violently and trying to roll your hips back to get more of him. Juyeon pulled out slowly, feeling your walls fluttering and you whimpered at the emptiness. Even though you were sensitive, Juyeon's dick was so good that it never failed to make you want more and more.

A last sigh left you before you got pushed to your knees facing his cock. "Now be the good little slut and you are and put this mouth to a better use."

[danadeservesadrink]

Hi, I saw a post about you wanting requests, not sure if they are still open or not. But if they are, I would love to see something with a fluff/angst spin, where Scully comforts Mulder after a tough case and it leads to feelings FINALLY being revealed. If not, sorry to bother you and hope your day is fantastic.

Hello! So sorry this took me so long to write, but prompts are always welcome even if I can’t get to them right away! But happy fictober, I hope you enjoy!

Collapse 

Pusher missing scene, Rated T, 1.7k words, tagging @today-in-fic

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. She carries him out of the building, into the car, his weight leaning into her small shoulders. He whispered in her ear, questioning if she was ok for the fourth time since they got in the elevator and she offered him reassuring nods and a quirk of her lip, smoothing sweat-slicked hair off his brow as it furrowed, trying to get a read on her. He tried to walk on his own but the exhaustion of sharing your skull with another man overtook him, and he draped his body over her tiny frame, trusting only her to hold him. He crumbled down on top of her and she was forced to stand like Atlas and hold the weight of her world. 

Sloughing him off into the passenger seat she drove them home in silence. His phone rang and he blindly reached to answer it, but she snatched it from the center console before he could, silencing it. He stared, dazed and confused, at her set jaw and white knuckles, before he let the silence take him and slumped into the cool window, letting the rumble of the interstate pull his thoughts away. 

Her hand met his cheek in a gentle swipe to let him know they had arrived home. 

“I can do it” he had insisted, but when he stumbled out of the car she was right at his side, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. 

“I’ll walk you up” she replied, and let him try to convince himself he could have made it there without her. His fingers wound their way around her shoulder and she shivered as he gripped her there. But she did not waver. Someone slammed a car door and the sound rang like a gunshot off the cement walls and he was the one with white knuckles now, bruising fingers latched onto her after both of them jumped in fear. He released a breath when she met his eye cautiously, and the pair moved inside. 

The elevator was filled to the brim with their silence, she doesn’t know how anyone else could have gotten on. The third floor dinged and doors opened to an empty hallway they were both grateful for. Explaining their fragile state to a neighbor would have been difficult. They walked joined at the hip to his door, and as his hands shook with his key she stole it from his fingers to press it into the lock herself. 

He tumbled forward with the door, his final resting place in sight, abandoning her sturdy crutch to fall neatly onto the couch with a grunt. She followed him in, watching him close his eyes and settle into the leather. She stood over him a statue, stillness to conquer his shake, watching as he trembled with exhaustion. She wanted him to rest, she wanted the tension to release itself from his shoulders, she wanted the thoughts that were haunting his mind to leave and never return. She was frightened by how easily she would have killed for him. How thoughts of pure oxygen lept from her brain at the sight of him with that gun pressed to his temple. Her only thoughts were of how to get it, and how when she did she was going to pull the trigger as many times as it would take to get him out of their heads. She wasn’t thinking of all the lives this man had taken from the world, that he was a murderer, a sick bastard who deserved to be dead because of justice. She only cared that he might take away his life. 

He went to sit up, but she practically saw the stars spinning behind his eyes. Carefully she pressed him back down onto the couch, his protesting weak.

“You need to rest”, she insisted. He nodded slowly, but wrapped his fingers around her wrist. 

“Please don’t leave”, he whispered, and it was her turn to nod. She sank to her knees slowly, and he relaxed his grip on her so she could spin to sit with her back against the couch on the cold floor. Her hand reached up over her shoulder and their fingers twisted together. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, call and response. 

“I was so sure” she heard him mumble. She didn’t know if it was for her to hear, but the silence had seeped so deeply into her ears that she felt like screaming, so she replied. 

“Sure about what?” 

“Sure that if he had me, I would be able to fight it”, he sighed, choking slightly on his words. She shook her head, amazed at his arrogance. 

“Why, Mulder? He pushed people to kill themselves, light themselves on fire. He convinced a man’s heart to stop beating and you truly believed you could fight it?” 

He laughed and she felt like shaking him. 

“I don’t know. I was his worthy adversary. I knew him, I knew what he wanted, how he ticked. Something in me believed he wouldn’t be able to control me” 

His voice grew stronger with every word, and she was inclined to believe him. She couldn’t deny that she’d been praying for the same thing. With all the demons that had haunted them over the years, when she watched him walk through the hospital doors she had wanted to believe that he was strong enough to fight it. He was brilliant, he knew the mind better than anyone she knew, but still it wasn’t enough. She had practically begged him at the table, begged him to be stronger than he was, begged him to do the impossible. 

“But he did. And you almost shot yourself”

Her words were bitter and she tasted the bile in her throat at the image of Mulder’s brilliant brains bloody on her blouse, blown to pieces by his own hubris. 

“I almost shot you,” he whispered harshly, “That's worse.”

“Mulder how can you say that?” she choked out. 

“Because if I died of my own arrogance I would have paid the price for my mistake. If you died because of me I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself”. As he spoke he gripped her palm tighter, stroking his thumb over hers like a metronome for his confession. 

“Mulder if you died…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her head dropped and her mind was invaded with the thought of him gone, wiped from the face of the earth for good, his wonderful confident mind splattered on pristine hospital tile.

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. But her pillar came crumbling to dust and a sob wracked her body. She was supposed to be his strength, she wasn’t the one who’s mind had been invaded, torn in half, pitted against itself. But he pulled on her hand and she twisted up into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She held onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt. The hand she had been holding found a place on the back of her head, pressing her lightly to his stomach, and she felt him shake under her. 

“I’m so sorry” he wept, arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her knees into him. She fit herself on top of him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms engulfing her as if he could pull her further into him. His apologies spilled out into her hair as he pressed his lips to her scalp and begged for forgiveness. Eventually the words fell away and only their sniffs and hiccups were left, their tears falling silently in tandem. When even those drifted away, she pulled herself up off of his chest and he followed her, refusing to let her be out of his grasp for even a second. 

“Scully I need you to know.” His eyes were wet and pleading. He looked at her with such intensity she was frightened. “I need you to know how much you mean to me” 

They were close. Too close. This kind of collapse only comes with closeness and until quite recently they had forbidden this level of intimacy for fear of this exact scenario. She was practically sitting in his lap and his arms were still around her somehow and there was a wet stain in the center of his chest and it was all far too much to deny. 

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them. 

Slowly she inched her face forward, eyes still closed, exploring the contact between the two of them. Her nose brushed his cheek and she felt him still like a statue, awaiting what was to come. Her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, quick and dangerous, and she pulled back almost instantly. Her tongue darted out and she tasted the salt of him on her lips. She squeezed his hands, and felt a flutter within her when he pulsed back quickly. 

She was braver this time, finding his lips with hers, and he kissed her back instantly, desperate to convey his affection. Neither pushed deeper, allowing the soft contact of lips on lips to linger between them, a simple profession of the utmost devotion.

She pulled back eventually, wanting to look at him fully. She smiled a tentative smile when she saw the pain that had dwelled in his eyes replaced by the smallest glimmer of hope.  

“Now there’s that smile I was looking for” he teased, which only resulted in her smile widening. 

“You should get some rest Mulder” 

“Only if you’ll rest with me”, and he pulled her back down until she lay slotted next to him, face pressed into the warmth of his chest. The silence of sleep taking them both, comforting confessions still hanging in the air surrounding them. They had time to sort through the rubble tomorrow. For now, their time belonged to them and them alone. 

[ladyonfire28]

[Marie Claire released a pretty big interview with Marine Turchi, the reporter who did the investigation on Adèle’s sexual assault case. So i translated the parts of the interview that talked about the case. The whole interview is very interesting, you can see how professional and thorough Marine Turchi really is. She was the youngest journalist on the team when Mediapart started in 2008, and before she started investigating sexual assault cases in 2017, she was, and still is, writing about the french far right party, which is also talked about in this article. So I can only recommend you to read the whole interview if you can !]

Marie Claire article : “Marine Turchi, the one who changed Adèle Haenel’s life”

[...]

Marine Turchi, the one Adèle Haenel trusts

Marine Turchi, 37, journalist in Mediapart, is one of those who demonstrate that impunity is no longer possible. By releasing the Adèle Haenel case, she signed one of the most outstanding investigations of recent years. It was on Sunday November 3, 2019, at 7 pm; Mediapart posted an article entitled "French actress Adèle Haenel accuses filmmaker of 'sexual harassment' when a minor French actress Adèle Haenel accuses filmmaker of 'sexual harassment' when a minor".

It's long, very long - three times the size of what you're used to read. With "surgical" precision, Marine Turchi carries out seven months of investigation, gives the floor to more than thirty people, accumulates dates, testimonies, extracts from letters and notebooks.

From this ultra-detailed millefeuille, the following emerges: from 2001, and for three years, Christophe Ruggia, a filmmaker then aged 36, allegedly sexually assaulted and harassed Adèle Haenel, a 12-year-old debutante actress.

The day after the article was published, Adèle Haenel was invited by Mediapart: a special live broadcast, free (unlike the website, which is a pay-per use site), hosted by the boss and co-founder Edwy Plenel and by Marine Turchi. The double cesarized actress tells us today: "I was a bit nervous before the show. I wanted to have a think about all this. I had carefully prepared for it. At worst, if the words wouldn’t come out, I thought there would still be Marine’s article, which was extremely solid.” But she manages to talk. She speaks to every soul, touches every heart.

Vibrant with contained anger, sensitive and without giving in, Adèle Haenel suddenly gives a voice, a face, a body to those who no longer want to keep quiet. She says she is expressing herself to "put the world back in the right direction", calling for an awareness of society as a whole.

It’s a deflagration. The case is unique because of its repercussions, because of the very status of the accuser, a "powerful" woman, who’s aware of her power, but the case is also sadly ordinary in the way it reveals violence against women and minors. It precedes the Matzneff case and the Abitbol case, comes after the Denis Baupin or Roman Polanski cases, and in parallel with those involving Luc Besson, Tariq Ramadan or Gérald Darmanin

It seems endless. It is, and it’s also for this reason that Marine Turchi accepted the appointment with Marie Claire. "Because sexual violence is a huge public health problem.”

[...]

The meeting between Adèle Haenel and Marine Turchi

[...]

Adèle Haenel and Marine Turchi meet in April 2019, during a party that brings together "about a hundred people": at the end of the evening, by chance, they are a few women who find themselves talking. Very quickly, they tackle the #MeToo issue.

Adèle Haenel recalls: "It was the second time in a few months that I heard women's groups tell each other stories of sexual assault. It was crazy. Everybody had one... As for me, I was trying to do something about it. I felt it was necessary to speak out, given the total impunity of my abuser who was about to make a film with teenagers again, using the same character names as Les Diables”

That evening, one of the women in the small group said that Marine Turchi is a journalist, that she investigates sexual violence cases. Two days later, Marine Turchi and Adele Haenel met again. Two long interviews, then the actress finds letters from Ruggia, her own notebooks, gives names of people to call. The investigation can begin, on a long-term basis. With hindsight, Adèle Haenel thinks that "Marine Turchi is not affected, she doesn't let herself be carried away by sudden emotions or hot reactions. On the contrary, she is meticulous, lucid and courageous. And even when the wind is blowing hard, she remains calm".

The turning point in the case has a date: June 2019. Marine Turchi contacted Christophe Ruggia's former girlfriend, director Mona Achache, and told her: "I'm calling you about accusations of sexual violence against Christophe Ruggia." A “long blank” follows. Then Mona Achache answers by pronouncing, "the first", the name of Adèle Haenel. And like about thirty other people, the director agreed to speak openly. The memories of some and the anecdotes of others give credence to the actress's words.

It’s still necessary to collect the testimony of Christophe Ruggia - the "adversarial procedure" in Mediapart language, the testimony of the defendant. We are then in October 2019. Marine Turchi tries, on several occasions, to contact the filmmaker. "I really wanted him to answer me. Adversarial is not a gimmick to make things look pretty. It's crucial to get the version of the people involved, and besides, it strengthens the article. »

But Ruggia remains mute. She ends up sending him detailed questions about the case, while giving him a helping hand on the theme: "Could you have had an attitude, gestures, of which you would not have measured the consequences?” And what if he had recognized tendentious behavior or even sexual assault? "Of course I would have included it in the article! We would have had her own path, how to go from silence to words; and on the other hand, what goes on in the mind of the defendant." Except that the silence persists. Eventually, Christophe Ruggia briefly lets his lawyers know that he denies any "harassment" or "touching" - which will be included in the article.

Then, on November 6, three days after the publication of the investigation, the filmmaker sent a right of reply to Mediapart, "which was immediately published": he acknowledges a "hold" on the actress but continues to refute the sexual assaults.

The same day, however, the Paris Public Prosecutor's Office opened a preliminary investigation. Shortly afterwards, Adèle Haenel, who had initially dismissed the idea, filed a complaint. “I am aware that I have benefited from a journalistic investigation that most women victims of violence will not have" she told Marie Claire. “Therefore, following the opening of the investigation by the public prosecutor's office and in order to move things forward, I had to file a complaint. Because what is left for women who are not in the media space, if not justice? »

More than 400 reports after broadcasting Adèle Haenel’s testimony

Since November, Marine Turchi has been receiving a large number of reports of sexual violence - more than 400 emails, letters, or alerts via social networks. All of them say something clicked after the speech of Adèle Haenel, all of them evoke an immense pain, the difficulty to speak against the "powerful", to speak at all. Some of these stories have triggered ongoing investigations.

Only some of them, because a choice is made within the Mediapart editorial staff, in a collegial manner, according to multiple, necessarily subjective criteria, among which: the date of the cases, the number of victims, the number of witnesses ready to speak, the degree of notoriety of the people who are accused... “The worst thing," says Marine Turchi, "is not the cases we take; it's the ones we won't take. It's seeing the injustice and impunity that can persist. It’s to see that justice sometimes fails to deal with these cases. It’s to tell people who are in pain that we will not be able to deal with their case.”

People in pain... But how is she? Are we followed by psychologists, when we're so immersed in these files? "No, I'm fine. You learn a lot.”

[...]

[k-s-morgan]

I just read an amazing Hannigram fic with thousands of kudos written during season 1 timeline. For people who were watching back then, did the shipping start from season 1 ? Please tell me everything in details. What was the reaction, what were the cues people picked ( no s2 / s3 in horizon) .. I am all ears and need a long indulgent read from you. What was the reaction from season 1.. and what was everyone expecting to happen to all characters ?

Hello! Ah, it’s so interesting to read the works published before all episodes aired - and S1 as a stand-alone is the most confusing since people could only guess what the central plan was. It’s difficult to figure Hannibal out based on it without at least S2 there.

I am actually a pretty new old fan. I joined after S3 aired because I tend to wait for the shows to be complete before watching them, so I wasn’t around during S1 and S2. I did read everything I could find, including old discussions, though, and I made a wonderful friend @typicalher who has been here from the very start, so her insights helped me to learn a lot.

So, S1 and the situation in the fandom. Obviously, the shipping was very varied at that time - you could easily find Hannibal/Alana and Will/Alana fans. Some were making bets on Hannibal/Bedelia since Bryan mentioned Hannibal getting a love interest in S2. Hannigram was there from the beginning, too - in fact, as it’s evident from Bryan’s pre-S1 teasing tweets, some people were hoping for some Hannigram content even before seeing a single episode. Hannigram had a small group of shippers ever since the books came out, with Hannibal being briefly drawn to Will before getting pissed off at being denied his phone number and sending Francis to attack him with his family. The movies, with all the “Remarkable boy. I do admire your courage. I think I'll eat your heart” and “How I'd love to get you on my couch” only fuelled the shipping, even though it was never particularly large-scale. The fact that one of the promos for the show presented after the pilot entailed Hannibal sniffing Will, some people caught on onto what was happening at that point already. But no one really took it very seriously, and people’s opinions differed. 

Some were swooning over Will with Alana, calling it an amazing exploration of a relationship between two mature people. Others expressed hopes that Hannibal would try to get closer to Alana to mess with Will. Some were excited to see Hannibal touching Will’s shoulder in E9 and expressing the desire to be a family with him and Abigail. A bit of discussion from those times I saved out of amusement:

Commenter 1: I thought that whole scene had a homoerotic feel to it.

Commenter 2: Gay dads. Gay dads.

Commenter 3: I thought that whole show had a homoerotic feel to it.

Commenter 4: I feel like Hannibal is sexually attracted to Will, but I might be making too many leaps here...

Commenter 5: I don't think he is sexually attracted to Will. I get the sense that he is only sexually attracted to himself. As a pure narcissist, I don't think he is capable of feeling attracted to another person, regardless of gender.I think his attachment to Will is based on the fact that somebody can finally understand him. I think he legitimately see's Will as a friend.

Commenter 6: It's great to see more of Hannibal with his own psychiatrist. The fact that he seems to genuinely want a friendship with Will seems so touching. His reaction when Will came over to his house to tell him he'd kissed Alana was priceless and almost showed a hint of jealousy (but maybe I'm reading too much into that).

Some stuff about Will and Alana:

Commenter 1:  I am so loving everything happening between Will and Alana. To have characters talk out their issues despite sexual tension, and hold off on a relationship because of them... it feels almost revolutionary in today's television landscape.

Commenter 2: A romantic relationship would weigh down the show. They really don't have time to get invested in that. It's pretty obvious from an outsider's POV that there's a Will/Alana attraction going on, and to not acknowledge it would in some ways actually draw more attention TO it. My guess is they're setting something up for season 2 or 3 (if we get them).

Commenter 3: At the rate he's going, by season three Will's going to be drooling in a mental hospital somewhere.

Commenter 4: I'm pretty glad the whole Will/Alana thing was a bust. She's right about them being bad for each other, and I feel that if they did get into a relationship, that drama would just distract from the story. Plus Will is such a tragic character, a relationship would normalise him too much.

Mads already said he plays Hannibal as in love with Will at that point, so some took it into consideration while others ignored it. People seemed to love the show: they admired how cunning Hannibal was, worried about Will, and screamed at the finale. Many were looking forward to seeing how the tables were going to be turned, with Will paying Hannibal back. 

 People’s major theories included Hannibal seeing Will as a protege / adversary - there were even fights about it since some thought he was genuine in his care while others believed he was just playing a game; many believed Abigail was still alive; Will was predicted to spend most time in jail in S2 while being consulted; many thought Will and Hannibal would be trying to dance to one up each other next. Will’s darkness was a rare topic and no one really thought Hannigram would take the central stage in a mutually romantic way. Will’s Becoming wasn’t a common topic either - few people considered that he might start indulging in his own darkness. Many were wondering how much Bedelia knew and why Hannibal was crying about his lost Murder Family when he was the one to destroy it. 

Interesting links: 

This is a panel from 2013. At 39.13, a person asks about the eroticism between Will and Hannibal and everyone starts cheering. Hugh says he thinks the connection between them is profound but that he doesn’t think it’s sexual. Bryan asks, “Oh yeah?” 

And here you can read discussions of all episodes as they were airing. I think the quotes I provided above are from there as well. 

[autochthonousone]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #18: Panglossian

“Oooooh!!”

The excited gawking of a young boy filled the air as his deep blue eyes shimmered with captivating; turned to the heavens. A man — a highlander of auburn hair and formidable figure — sat cross legged just behind him. The man seemed far less distracted by whatever skyward display had captivated the boy. His eyes were closed and his breathing was measured; focused.

“Da! Did’ja see tha’?!” The boy wheeled about excitedly to face his father. “Did’ja see Isolde catch her outta the air?!”

He hadn’t. Though he *had* seen it plenty of times in the past. Herleva had a penchant for displays of bravado and derring-do. Though he could not deny their occasional effectiveness in catching her adversaries off-guard. That she would *insist* on being so reckless — even during mere drills with her mount — was only true to her being.

“It’s quite something isn’t it, Barengar?” He answers quietly as his eyes opened to reveal an azure gaze. “Your mother and Isolde train very hard to be able to predict each other’s moments.”

“D’ya think I could be like that?” The question was almost a conspiratorial whisper.

Adalbert could not help but laugh. It was a warm and smooth sound. Measured and steady. He smiled at his son before dipping his head forward in general confirmation to the question.

“I would say that your mother’s ideals run strong within you already, Barengar.” He explained, almost sounding amused. “I have no doubt that you will, one day, stand as tall as she.”

Not to mention as stubborn. Aurochs, the both of them. Though he could not love them more for it. It was heartening to see how readily Barengar seemed to take on responsibility. An oft rare trait in children. Even if the boy’s notions were a touch romantic. Again, the influence of his mother.

There was silence for a time. They simply sat and watched griffin and rider as they put on display their uncanny connection.

“D’ya think we’ll need to fight soon?” Barengar asked suddenly; unsure.

Adalbert looked over to his son with a quiet gaze. A slow breath filling his lungs. It was impossible to hide the incredible volatility of the region from even a young boy like Barengar. Theodoric’s reign grew ever more unhinged and it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

“Perhaps.” He answered gently, but honestly, while putting his large and calloused hand upon his son’s small shoulder. “But you’d best leave that to your mother and I. You’re going to have other responsibilities.”

“Why’s it gotta be like this, Da?”

A question that didn’t have the easier answer that such a young mind was seeking to hear. To delve into the motivation of a monarch gone mad was a complexity that would never be seen as comprehensible to the boy. So he would, instead, offer different words.

“This is the world that we have, Barengar.” He offered with a gentle tone and encouraging smile. “Mired in the grit, grime, and blood it might be at times, but it is the one that we have. It is the one in which moments such as these are able to occur.”

The man glances out over in the direction of his wife as she urges Isolde into a steep nosedive that she pulls back from may a dozen yalm above the ground at remarkably high speed. He looked back to Barengar.

“Though it may seem difficult and painful at times, it was a beautiful world. As it is our only one it is worth persisting. So that we might have more suns like today. Suns in the company of those we love.” He gives Barengar’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “So we will fight if we must and we will remind the world — and all — of its worth.”

It was entirely clear that Barengar was affected by these words. His gaze distant, even further out than the swift form of Herleva and Isolde. He was within his own mind at the moment. No doubt attempting to chew upon such a concept with his youthful spirit.

“So we’ll fight.” The boy murmured. “So *I’ll* fight.”

[osleyakomwonkru]

10 Days of Favourites - Character

1 day to season 7!

Today’s countdown topic: My one favourite character! I mean, the answer to that one is obvious, so before I get into that, let me say why I didn’t choose to make this a more expansive list of favourite characters earlier in the countdown. Well, the answer is simple: Who is on that list changes frequently. Diyoza and Niylah tend to trade places for number two, depending on the day. Jackson’s up there on the list as well, as he’s my favourite male character. Murphy’s my favourite male main, but where he falls in comparison to the others can fluctuate. Echo and Emori are also on the list. Among the dead, we’ve got Roan, Lincoln and Luna who are contenders for high placements. Bellamy used to hold a pretty steady second place, until season 5 rolled around, but I still have hope that he might win my heart back. (It might be a foolish hope, but we’ll see.) So yeah. Who is on that favourites list changes regularly. Except for the top spot. The top spot never changes. It is always her. 1. Octavia Blake

I’ve written hundreds of posts on why. Octavia is my brand, just a scroll through my posts and tags will tell you everything you need to know about why. She’s strong, she’s fearless, she’s beautifully broken, she’s resilient, but most of all, she’s human. Human. That’s the part I want to focus on today, because this show talks a lot about humanity and losing it or keeping it or whatever else, but my thesis statement for this post is that Octavia is the only one who has never lost her humanity, because to be human is to be flawed. To be imperfect. To be compassion and violence and love and hate and hundreds of other seemingly contradictory things rolled up in one. And to accept it. Other characters often forget that, still to this day (though the S7 trailer seems to hint at Clarke beginning to understand it). They still live with the idea of “who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things” or “first we survive, then we get our humanity back”. But there is no difference. “We are what we’ve done and what’s been done to us”, as Pike said in Octavia’s mindspace (so it was actually just Octavia talking to herself). This is what Octavia’s journey has been from day one - a young girl with literally no experience of the many shades of human experience besides the life-or-death cruelty of the Ark’s legal system and the simple good vs evil of all of the stories she grew up with. We all see how black and white she was in her thinking in the early seasons, and her story has been one of learning that there are shades of grey, and that that’s where most of the world resides. But tragically it is just as she’s learned about the shades of grey of the human experience that others are trying to shove everyone back into the boxes of black and white. It’s hella confusing, and weird, and I have to believe that this is part of some greater purpose that will be revealed in season 7. This show is heavy on themes of mythology and psychology and all of that, and ones that I really connect to Octavia are Jung’s theories on the “shadow self”, and also his idea of the “sunset tendency”. The Shadow Self is best encapsulated in this Jung quote: “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” Hmm, that sounds a lot like Clarke and Octavia’s mindspace experiences, doesn’t it? Clarke isn’t ready to face herself, face her own soul, face her darkest memories - that’s made clear at multiple times throughout her mindspace, and in the end she imagines Monty as her “figure of light” to help her get out of it by any means necessary. But Octavia’s experience is very different. Octavia chooses to enter the darkest corners of her mind (we’ll come back to this again in the next section) and there she does face herself, making the darkness conscious - both her Shadow Self of Blodreina, and the projection of her greatest adversary, Pike. Both of them teach her important lessons of who she is and who she wants to be. Because that choice is critical. Which brings us to the sunset tendency. The sunset tendency is, in short (you can read a longer description if you just do a search and find the phrase in one of his works), the cycle of life and how people resist the “sunset” (or the darkness, in Octavia parlance), because they fear what could come after that, they fear change, they fear the unknown - but if one doesn’t face that change and the unknown, then one will wither away into stagnation and platitudes (sound familiar for some characters?). People resist the sunset tendency, because it can be risky. But I’ll let Jung speak for himself: "Fate itself seems to preserve us from this, because each of us has a tendency to become an immovable pillar of the past. Nevertheless, the demon throws us down, makes us traitors to our ideals and cherished convictions - traitors to the selves we thought we were. That is an unmitigated catastrophe, because it is an unwilling sacrifice. "Things go very differently when the sacrifice is a voluntary one. Then it is no longer an overthrow, a "transvaluation of values", the destruction of all we held sacred, but transformation and conservation. Everything young grows old, all beauty fades, all heat cools, all brightness dims, and every truth becomes stale and trite. For all these things have taken on shape, and all shapes are worn thin by the working of time; they age, sicken, crumble to dust - unless they change. "But change they can, for the invisible spark that generated them is potent enough for infinite generation. No one should deny the danger of the descent, but it can be risked. No one need risk it, but it is certain that someone will. And let those who go down the sunset way do so with open eyes, for it is a sacrifice which daunts even the gods. Yet every descent is followed by an ascent, the vanishing shapes are shaped anew, and a truth is valid in the end only if it suffers change and bears new witness in new images." (C.G. Jung, Collected Works Volume 5: Symbols of Transformation) This is Octavia, in a few paragraphs. She’s never been afraid of the darkness, because she knows it is a part of the human experience, and a part of the cycle of life. To rise one must fall. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It is all a part of the same theme that’s been her defining story arc: change and metamorphosis. It’s no coincidence that Octavia’s story is filled with metaphorical allusions to this - butterflies, her symbol, appear in 1x02 and 6x09 as metaphors for her own metamorphosis. Niylah gifts her with Ovid’s Metamorphoses in 5x02, where Octavia reads out the first line “I intend to speak of forms changed into new entities.” Her constant jump from one nickname or title to another. The Girl Under the Floor. Sky Girl. Skairipa. Osleya. Blodreina. All symbols of her change and evolution, moreso than any other character on this show. So what does all this mean heading into season 7, in terms of what I think is to come? In one of JRoth’s interviews today (the Fandom piece), he says that Octavia’s experience on the other side of the Anomaly “changes her” and that her story with “time misbehaving” allows them to “really evolve that character”. Now, for a character whose entire arc on the show has been one of constant transformation and change, these comments seem a bit odd. Octavia’s changing and evolving, must be Tuesday, right? (Or Wednesday, in this case.) What’s new and revolutionary about that? It could end up just being the regular change and evolve that Octavia’s been through each season. But maybe it is something different. Taking JRoth’s comments into consideration with Marie’s earlier comments about Octavia “finding her peace in a place you’ve never seen her before”, maybe she’s changing in a way we haven’t seen before. With this new season opening up all sorts of possibilities with other worlds and possibly parallel universes and who knows what else - perhaps the only change left for her to have is to evolve past the limitations of her current human form, to transubstantiate and transcend humanity into something completely new and different. Would that be the logical final evolution of her character, or a corruption of the most human character on the show? I’m not sure myself. But today’s reading of these new interviews and articles are at least making me hopeful and optimistic for a story that I could be happy with in this final season. So I’m going to choose to have faith. Maybe not necessarily in the showrunners, or the writers, but I do have faith in Octavia Blake. She is a force of nature to be reckoned with, and I trust her ability (and that of Marie playing her) to transcend whatever bullshit might happen to be able to reach a satisfying conclusion to her story, a conclusion that is true to the character and spirit of our beloved Octavia Blake.

[fe-husband-heaven]

AHHHHHHHHH HELL YEA 3H BOYS. I’m so in love with Felix, honestly he makes me emotional 🥺. Okay so,,, how about a drabble of him and his fem s/o in which he’s jealous of Sylvain flirting with her all the time and Felix shows her she’s his? 👀 can be pre-timeskip or post-timeskip, whichever you prefer! Thank you in advance!

Hnnnn I love Felix so much too, what a sword dork mwuah!

__________________________________________________________________________________

"What does that fool think he's doing?"

Ingrid turned away from her lunch to look at what had the prickly swordsman hissing, laying her eyes on the resident town flirt, she immediately felt a headache arising-

"Now, doesn't a nice hot meal in town with me sound great?"

A laugh from you rang out, you couldn't help it. Leaning against the dining hall wall with your arms crossed, you huffed up at Sylvain, who was currently hovering over you with an arm extended to cage you in one spot while he made a show in the seething Felix's field of vision.

"You're rather brazen today, huh Gautier? Are you sure its a good idea to be prodding the bear?"

Sylvain winked before leaning down to purr in your ear,

"It's what I'm best at."

Sylvain was having way too much fun. Felix never e v e r caught feelings and now, he's head over heels for his sparring partner turned friend turned lover? Oh this was too good not to have fun with.

You pressed a hand to Sylvain's chest to push him back lightly, you weren't going to become collateral damage for one of his pranks.

"Yeah, well, that bear knows how to wield a sword so you might want to-"

You were cut off by the loud sound of Sylvain's arm being slapped down, with enough force that Sylvain nearly fell face first into the wall behind you before he managed to stabilize himself and hold his arm in pain.

"Ow?! A little much don't you think Felix?!"

You stood amused at a clearly annoyed Felix who had made his appearance, seemingly having had enough of the display. Sylvain really shouldn't play with fire.

"Get your lance."

"Huh?"

"I said. Get your lance. If you like to run your legs as much as you run your mouth, you might just survive my blade. "

"Ahaha...Now now Felix, don't you think beating your friends into the ground is a mean and excessive thing to do?"

With his hands up in defeat, Sylvain began getting nervous. He'd teased Felix countless times before, pranks on his easily irritable friend were a normality in their friendship and while, as children Felix would chase him with a stick afterwards, a grown Felix with a sword would likely not end with a little bruising as it did when they were younger.

Sylvain thought he'd known his friend quite well but it seems he might have underestimated Felix's feelings for you..just a little. Felix had always been a little territorial of things he considered his, namely his sword, but the icy look he was currently receiving let Sylvain know that you were beyond off limits, prank or not.

"Right, Ingrid?"

Hoping for an ally, Sylvain turned to the blonde chivalrous woman who had walked up following Felix's abrupt rise from his seat in the Dining Hall,

"Actually, Sylvain, I might just join him in it."

Ingrid's stern tone was not lost on him so he turned to look at you, and for a second Sylvain thought he heard something akin to a growl come from Felix.

There was an unspoken "Help" in his eyes, and you shook your head at his antics before reaching out to grab Felix's hand.

"Now now Felix, it's in the nature of our local Gautier to go skirt chasing as he pleases, you know that. So don't go wasting your sword skills on him, yeah? Let's just go~"

You tugged gently at his hand and when he turned to you with a glare, you just smiled at him, your grin growing bigger when you saw him soften.

"Fine.", he relented, side eyeing Sylvain who shot him a grin.

You were a little surprised to see it was so easy but happy nonetheless.

"We'll see you two later, c'mon, let's go Felix."

Felix allowed himself to be dragged away but not before looking back at Sylvain with a glower and mouthing a "Watch your back, half-wit." accompanied by pointing at his own eyes and jabbing them in Sylvain's direction.

As you two exited the dining hall, you thought you heard another smack, probably Ingrid slapping Sylvain upside the head-

________________

Plopping yourself on his bed, you let yourself smile at Felix's behavior in the dining hall. Rolling over to face the ceiling of his room, you glanced over to see him watching you expectantly with his hands on his hips, foot tapping the floor impatiently. He liked the sight of you on his bed more than he should.

You took a moment to think of what to say, as per usual, he didn't like to initiate a conversation that wasn't started off with "Hey, dog."

After a couple more seconds of silence, you settled on needling him a little. With a small smirk peeking on the edge of your lips, you broke the silence,

"I didn't know you were so..possessive~"

He scoffed at you and crossed his arms,

"Don't be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with you...I just don't like seeing the mutt slobbering over anyone, it's annoying when I'm trying to eat. That's all."

You giggled at his explanation. It's so like him to try to deny he was feeling jealous, but you weren't going to push him to admit it.

"Is that so?"

Staring at the ceiling, your mind wandered. Felix was the bane of all things romance. He never entertained the attention of anyone else because he considered them interruptions. For someone like him to come to like you..well, you must have being doing something right.

You were sure of his feelings for you, he doesn't play around and he doesn't waste more time with others than he needs...but how sure is he of your feelings..?

"Hey, Felix..?"

"What."

"You know that Sylvain was just teasing you..right?"

He scoffed,

"Of course I do. I've known that mutt for years, it's no surprise to me. Don't worry, it's not going to make it hurt any less for him later."

You smiled at that, he put on that front but his friendship with Sylvain was as strong as steel. It also reminded you of before the two of you were involved. He was always pretending that you were nothing more or less than a training partner.

Always keeping you at arm's and sword distance, but immediately getting cross when you took so much as a risk. You remember the long lecture he gave you when you got a scratch from an enemy lance.

Your opponents weren't the only ones Felix had a problem with, apparently, pathogens were also on his reasons-to-berate-you list. You had only been sick for a couple days but he made it a point to be there everyday and nag that,

"If you can't handle a couple of germs, how are you supposed survive battle? I can't believe you got yourself sick, if you die from something as small as this, I'll kill you."

Looking back, he was a lot more obvious than he probably hoped he was, it didn't help that anytime another man got you alone, Felix would magically appear needing to hone his swordsmanship with a worthy adversary.

"-what are you daydreaming about now?"

"Ah nothing, I just...Felix..you know I only want you, right?"

Half expecting him to be a little flustered, you were a little surprised when he folded his arms and didn't miss a beat,

"Obviously. I refuse to put up with anyone half assed. If I thought you weren't going to become Y/N Fraldarius, I wouldn't have bothered."

Not being mentally prepared nor expecting something like that from him, you blinked owlishly, lips parting in surprise.

It seemed to be a slip of the tongue if Felix's eyes widening were an indication. Immediately, he sputtered out some sort of attempt to backtrack. Clearly, mortified to have said something so sappy.

"Wait! No-I don't mean-ugh..."

He gave up and pinched the bridge of his nose, he never spoke with a filter but if there was ever a time for it to show up, it was then. His cheeks felt like they were burning and he hated it, he'd rather take on an army than deal with having said that in your presence.

You bit your lip as Felix hid his red face in his hand, the tips of his ears were tinged the same color his face was. Trying to hold back from laughing failed miserably as giggle after giggle escaped past your lips.

Felix watched you incredulously, before furrowing his brows and clambering onto you, caging you between his arms. Momentarily halting your laughter but your face started to strain with the smile you had on.

"What do you think is so funny?"

You grinned up at him, he was embarrassed, and when he's embarrassed, he goes on the attack.

"Nothing! Nothing! It just made me happy, I think I love you a little too much, I couldn't hold it in~"

Felix sometimes hated how honest you were. It was never like his honesty, blunt, brutal, crass. You were just open, sincere, and candid. He was never prepared for any of it.

He sighed and shook his head,

"..Why'd you have to go and say that?"

Slowly, he leaned down, lips dangerously close to your neck.

"Is something wrong with it?"

A hand trailed gently under your shirt, you shuddered,

"Yeah...now we can't return to the dining hall."

____________

"Are those-"

"No."

"But they look like-"

"No."

"..are you su-"

"Sylvain."

"Alright! Alright! I get it, I'll drop it."

"Thank you."

"...ButTheyLookLikeHickeys-"

"Sylvain! Ugh, you know this is all your fault you know!"

Near snapping your spoon in half, dinner time hadn't started without a few stares from your comrades,

"MY fault? How is this MY fault? Just reign in your little mosquito boyfriend! No one's seen you since lunch! It's dinner time already, you were gone for so long that..."

He trailed off,

"..you guys were gone for so long...oh my god, you guys were...!!"

You slapped a hand over his mouth and considered strangling him for a moment-

"Shhhh! Could you be any louder?? And yes, it's your fault! If you hadn't gone and made a show of your philandering then my neck wouldn't look like I was rolling around in poison ivy!"

You jabbed a finger into his chest,

"Felix never forgets grudges, I should have known! He knew that laundry day isn't till next week and that I don't have any high collared clothes left. These little things, are a declaration to you doofus! He's marking his territory!"

Sylvain stared at you for a moment before howling in laughter,

"Oh this is too good, I knew I was in for a bruising later but I didn't think he'd be leaving a couple marks on you too..!"

For a moment, you thought about lying to Seteth and saying Sylvain had been pestering Flayn (he hadn't) but you were too busy beating yourself up for not realizing.

You should have known! He was licking and sucking on your neck more than usual, and you had noticed, but you were too busy being distracted by what his fingers were doing-

Ahhhhhhh, this is some next level mastermind stuff, and! And! By the time you realized, he had already scampered off to the training grounds.

You couldn't exactly yell at him over it in front of the tournament head.

Huffing, you sighed in defeat, he'd won this round but the next White Heron Cup was coming up soon and you knew the perfect suggestion for who should enter.

Which only left the other monkey sitting next to you,

"Sylvain...I'm going to tell Gilbert you were hitting on his daughter-"

He stopped laughing,

"You wouldn't..."

"Watch me."

[itscookieoverlordtoyou]

t nejilee owo

Miraculous Encounter 

 From an ice cream artisan’s negative emotion a monster arose on Pont des Arts. In an instant, the creature laid its rampage: covering everything in its passage in ice cream. Highly inconvenient really. Nonetheless, at the sight of trouble, Paris’ heroic duo is quick to jump in action. 

 “Why now of all times? I can’t lose this job!”, deplores Coccinelle as he meets up with Malchance on top of a roof. 

“Late on rent again?”, she asks already knowing the answer.

“When am I not…” They swing from building to building to catch up to the monster.

 “If Coccinelle and Malchance received a dollar for every time they saved Paris, we wouldn’t be struggling to make ends meet. LEFT!”

 Malchance yells out that last part to her partner. Coccinelle swiftly turns left and punches the humanoid ice cream’s finger off, it slowly grow back. The dance begins.

“I took a job far below my qualifications”, says Coccinelle while dodging sorbet projectiles. 

 “I feel you; anything’s better than unemployment”, agrees Malchance breaking the waffle glove the monster wore. 

 “At least the guy I like works there.” 

 “Did you mean me?” asks a man appearing suddenly. 

 “The Monarch!”, They both call out jumping away. 

 “My Coccinelle, as pretty as ever!” 

 “Shut up!” 

 “Coccinelle!”, Malchance calls out to get his attention, “The ice cream scoop the monster’s holding has to be where the akuma is hiding.”

 “Take care of it, I’ll handle the Monarch.” Malchance nods and takes off leaving them alone.

 “I missed you, so I thought André’s glaces de l’amour could help us reunite”, teases the Monarch.

“Solid logic”, retorts Coccinelle kicking ice cream at his adversary’s face. 

 As the Monarch jumps to his left to dodge it, he’s met with the hero launching at him. He blocks the punch in time but not the kick that follows. 

 “Alright, let’s make this short and sweet; I don’t have time to deal with you today!”, says Coccinelle before summoning his lucky charm. The ladybugs gather and give him a golf club.

 “What are you going to do with that?”, taunts the Monarch. 

 Coccinelle can think of one way to use it, but that’s probably not its miraculous intended use…He would’ve looked around to think of another way if it weren’t for the Monarch launching at him. He quickly counters his attack, but his club flies off. Whether it’s to defeat the ice cream monster or the Monarch, Coccinelle still needs it, but his enemy is blocking his way. He runs towards him; as the Monarch swings his cane, Coccinelle jumps. He lands on the cane successfully bringing in it and its wielder to the ground and jumps one last time to retrieve his club. 

 Unfortunately, Coccinelle realized too late that in doing so, the Monarch had seized his yo-yo. Coccinelle’s unsure which is worst, but he also needs it back pronto!

 The Monarch unrolls the string and gets into a fighting stance. Well, if it’s a fight he wants, who is he to deny it. Coccinelle quickly gets in position and initiates the fight. Their spar is a mess of punches, kicks, and counter kicks, Coccinelle fights as swiftly as he can, but he can hardly land a blow. What’s worse, the Monarch takes immense pleasure in reeling him in with the yo-yo string.

Something about the Monarch is different today. Or maybe he’s the one who’s off his game? Coccinelle can’t quite put his finger on it. Suddenly, he sees it: an opening. A feint, a punch, and a trip later, Coccinelle has his opponent pinned down. The monarch smiles and with a swift roll followed by a strong kick, throws the Coccinelle away towards the Pont des Arts.

 “Does your thingy come back like a boomerang?”, the Monarch asks before hurling the yo-yo in his direction. Coccinelle tries to catch it, but he’s slowed down by the string entangling him. He fails and the yo-yo flies through the bridge’s railing.

 As soon as it comes back, the Monarch grabs it and pulls with all his strength. The string tied around Coccinelle’s wrist tightens around one of his legs and forcefully restrains him to the bridge. This is bad, Coccinelle realises, he has to escape, he cannot allow himself to be fully immobilized because then, the Monarch will be free to steal his miraculous. His free hand is suddenly pinned to the railing with the Monarch’s cane. Not good…  

The Monarch steps forward. 

 Coccinelle’s desperate at this point. He struggles to get away, but the Monarch’s advance is inevitable. With all the strength his position allows him, he tries to kick the monarch away, but he easily grabs it and holds it firmly at his side. So much for a last stand…

“That’s what I love about you: you never give up”, whispers the Monarch uncomfortably close. 

 What? 

 “Bop”, says the Monarch lightly bouncing his index on Coccinelle’s nose.

The Monarch then smiles. If he didn’t know better, Coccinelle would say it’s a genuinely happy smile. But that can’t be it, right? The Monarch is their nemesis, an enemy who seizes every opportune negative emotion to terrorize the city, a menace bent on possessing the miraculous for his greedy needs, a villain whose ultimate plan must never be allowed to see the light of day. 

 “I’ll see you next time, my beautiful Coccinelle.” 

 With that, he steps away and a swarm of monarchs cover the Monarch’s escape. Malchance arrives soon after. 

 “What happened?”, Malchance asks kneeling to free her partner, 

“The akuma was called back, I thought maybe you defeated the Monarch, but clearly something else went down.” 

 “I don’t understand it either. He had me completely immobilized, you were too far to come to my rescue, he could’ve taken my miraculous. But he didn’t: he smiled and left…It worries me how uncharacteristically our encounter went.” 

 “I’d say he was off his game, but I mean look at you. Kinda funny, though.” 

“What could possibly be funny about our close call?”

 “He has a thing for you and here you are tied to Pond des Arts: love lockets bridge...”

 “That’s his game; flirting. But it doesn’t mean anything!” It doesn’t mean anything he repeats to himself.

“Who knows what goes on in his head…Five minutes before clean up?” 

 “Yeah, see you next akuma, Chance.” She turns around so he sees her roll her eyes, “Malchance.” 

 They part ways. Coccinelle heads back to work. When he’s close by, he finds a nice isolated corner to call out his creation powers and restores the city to its glory.

 “Spots off.” After the words are uttered, the little kwami re-emerges from the earrings she inhabited. Tikki grabs the macaroon her wearer produces and hums happily as she eats.

 “What do you make of our encounter with the Monarch?” 

 “Don’t worry, Neji. I’m sure our next time will go better.” 

 “Yeah…Well Tikki, time to get fired!”

 Neji enters back to the café to face his doom. To his surprise, his new employer’s quite understanding about the excuse he provides. 

 “Don’t worry! I have other employees who are absolutely terrified of the Monarch’s attacks. I myself was outside enjoying a mountain of ice cream that fell nearby. Go to the kitchen, someone probably reappeared from their hideout by now; they can start your training.”

 Neji thanks his employer once more and heads to the kitchen. There’s a man busy washing the dishes who doesn’t notice him, Neji recognizes him as the cute waiter he’s been crushing on for a while now. Gosh, how many times had he dinned there just to see him? Is he one of the employees who are afraid of the Monarch’s attacks? Neji feels an odd sense of pride knowing his heroic persona gets to protect him. 

 “Hey, I’m Neji!” 

 The man turns and smiles when he sees him, a smile he could live in Neji thinks. 

 “Hi! I’m Lee. You’re the new guy? Don’t worry, things here run smoothly. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

 Neji follows Lee as he shows him everything in the café. When they’re back in the kitchen, Neji notices a woman chopping fruits. Another co-worker! 

 “Tenten, this is Neji, he’s new”, introduces Lee. 

 “Oh, hey”, she says indifferently continuing her work. 

 “She’s a cook, so pretty busy. But she’s nice once you get to know her”, explains Lee. 

 “I just hope I’ll last long enough to actually get to”, Neji says that but he’s glad Lee’s the one who’s training him, 

“You have no idea how many jobs these attacks have cost me.” 

 “Yeah, they can get pretty wild; it’s only natural to be afraid.” 

“I’m not afraid.” 

 Lee is taken aback by the firmness of Neji’s statement, impressed. 

 “I just wonder about of this whole hero/villain stuff, what their motives are”, says Neji. He also wonders why he tells Lee that…  

“Hero complex I always thought.”

 “I meant the Monarch…” 

 “Oh. Fun”, says Lee without a doubt.

 “Fun? What could possibly be fun about remorselessly putting people in danger?” 

 “Collaterals. Think about it, since everything returns to normal by the end of the attack, the Monarch’s actions are inconsequential. Therefore it’s like a recess where everything goes, a moment where chaos can be set free.” 

 “Provided the Coccinelle’s there to clean up, but what happens when the Coccinelle’s tired of playing janitor?”

 “I don’t think that’s possible. That’s what I love about him, he never gives up.”

 Neji looks at Lee, registering what he had said…for someone this cute; he sure doesn’t make a lot of sense. 

............................. 

@alumort aaaaaaaaaaaaaa I did not forget you it just took me like a week to write, weesh the rarepairweek sucked me dry of ideas T^T i think imma take a break of writing because ouffff with that said it was really fun to write, hope you enjoy it and that youre doing well <3

@meloodles the nejilee miraculous au i was telling you about ^^

[agarserv]

Adversary | IV

Word Count: 5044

Violet watches the way the scenery past her changes within each gust of the light wind. Those leftover from the storm of the past night carry into today as they brush some of the flooded waters at her boots once more. Leaving the browning leaves to stick to them like glue—even amidst to the annoyance of the blonde herself. As the trio silently make their way back to Clementine’s apartment.

At least in hopes that they’d do it before the sun would set.

“I didn’t think this would take us literally all day.” Sophie groans, biting into a piece of the old candy bar they’d found—primarily from the looted bodies Clementine had stolen from during their first encounter.

Though she’d never tell them it was from there exactly…

“Well, our little nap kinda took most of that out. Climbing and then running from a guy with a rifle will probably be enough to tire us out for hours. Plus the rain doesn’t help.”

“Alright- you have a point.” Sophie shakes her head. “What’s gonna happen to that old guy back up there anyway? Isn’t there a way he could try and kill Aasim and Louis?”

“They’ll be fine.” Clementine assures, her gaze is kept forward and vacant as she watches the way one of the old willow trees barely dips some of its leaves into the flooded waters below. Creating a few ripples every few seconds as it almost gives her a sense of calmness, something the rest of the city—even when it seemed devoid of walkers, never usually did. “He was limping the whole way. I doubt he’ll be able to hop down those roofs like we did. And even if he does, he’ll be worse off than a drowned out walker. “

“That’s...good I think. We’ll just have to warn them about that old skyscraper, right Vi?”

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, stuffing her hands into her old vest pockets. “I just wish they could come along with us, but I don’t want those two idiots to get into more trouble because of us.”

“Listen.” Clementine turns, her tone slightly harsher. “You’re doing the right thing. Questions it isn’t going to do anything but make it worse on yourself.”

Violet purses her lips, almost like she wants to deny that to Clementine or wants to go against her words. But it’d be useless. This random—and slightly murderous, girl could simply just forbid her from coming along. She didn’t need them. And if this was their last chance of getting Minerva back? They were going to take it.

Hopefully it was going to end well.

Sophie glances around, keeping her gaze clear and steady as she remembers Delta. What she’d seen and been through, and what Lilly was like back there. Chances are she was even worse now. With two of her previous right hand men leaving and escaping them, she could only imagine what Minerva was going through back there as well.

Or what was in store for them once they’d arrive. She just knew that she had to trust Clementine’s plan.

Whatever that was…

“So...Clementine…” Sophie begins, digging her nails into her own palm as she begins to immediately regret even thinking of such a question. But the sheer difference between the two girls was enough to come through with it.

The brunette, however, was not as patient.

“Well?” 

“Why do you want to kill Lilly?” She pauses. “I mean- don’t get me wrong. I despise her, but I don’t know if that’s reason enough to go on a near suicide mission for it. You’re free. You can live now. Why would you want to go back there?”

“I can’t let Lilly do- do what she did to us, to happen to anymore people.”

“You just…you don’t seem like the righteous type, Clementine.”

Sophie points out, keeping her stance tall against the turning glare of the amber eyed girl. Wondering what Violet was most likely thinking of this situation herself. “This seems to be more for revenge than anything, but...not for her keeping you there before you escaped.”

The redhead watches as Clementine clenches her fists momentarily. Her arms shaking as the brunette visibly grits her teeth. Turning to face the openness of the rest of the street, which had finally begun to show its dry parts as scattered garbage leaned between the water and the asphalt there. Laying against concrete walls of the reddened rust of the old vehicles many had tried—and failed, to use to escape when the dead first started walking.

Their terror merely turned to anger as far as Sophie saw it, and Clementine was a prime example of that. Her voice low and gravelly momentarily as it chills both girls to their core with each word.

“That’s because it is.”

“What happened?” Violet asks, immediately covering her mouth as she wants to simply slap herself for speaking out without thinking. Squeezing her eyes shut as she expects to be yelled at or maybe even punched.

Hell she deserves it even.

But none of that happens as Clementine looks to them again. And the green eyed girl can notice the look of betrayal and sadness playing across her face. Almost as if it was telling a story itself. Once that soon escaped her lips.

And one that Violet wishes she could unhear.

She killed the only person who mattered to me!” Clementine says, attempting to prevent her voice from breaking as she runs her hands through her hair across the vivid memory. Almost as if she could feel the flames burning at her fingertips and eating away at the edges of the old clothing she once had. The smell of the smoke as it forced its way down her throat, choking her from the inside out and blurring her vision.

But it wasn’t enough

“I was looking for a little boy” Clementine says, shaking her head as she wipes away the physical memories of it. All except the sight she’d remembered. The one that wouldn’t ever escape her mind.

“There was this group attacking the place he was being kept. I-I ran through and did what I had to. But I just...I took too long.” She mumbled, taking a shaky sigh as her eyes move to the old roads as she watches some pebbles fall between the cracks within them. Trying to keep her memory from detaching from reality. “When I found him he-“ she pauses, her eyes glossing over again as she forces her tears to stop in their tracks. Her face turning into the angered force of nature Violet was already quite fearful of. “He was gone.”

The two girls are silent as Clementine waits for their reactions. Watching their looks of pity and sorrow just as she expected. The way her heart burns similarly to how McCarroll did and the way her anger only builds gets her feet moving on the way back to her apartment. Throwing a brick far and fast at a nearby wrecked van, watching as the object breaks into pieces after the long sound of metal denting rings in her ears. Leaving the girls slightly behind as she isn’t able to hear their ongoing conversation.

She doesn’t want to.

“Okay so you know how I hated Lilly before?” Violet asks, her gaze set and glued on the brunette ahead. “Yeah fuck her. Hated her before and I didn’t think it’d get worse but now she killed a three year old.”

“I’m horrified, but not surprised.”

“She do anything like that to you over at Delta before you left?” Violet asks again, wary of such a topic after Clementine’s outburst as she feels a pang in her chest. Neither of them had exactly gone through and talked about it. Only keeping their eyes ahead and what was coming up next for them after everything that's happened.

Sophie pauses, looking down at her friend as she visibly bites her lip. Obvious to the fact that she’s holding something back, the blonde just couldn’t tell what it was. “Let’s just keep going.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

The trio slowly make their way back among the silence around them. Knowing it was something almost too familiar to everyone who was left alive her. Simply left to look and listen to the world around them for dangers or something else that might have caught their eye.

For the two girls behind her, Clementine noted that silence alone was enough to arouse some sort of questioning. Especially from the green eyed girl once more.

“So...how come there haven’t been many walkers here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like...I always heard cities were full of them, and now there’s like none.”

“Well.” Clementine says, pointing to a nearby deep body of water that’d hovered over a pothole. “Some fell down there, some are stuck up in the buildings around us. Others are drowned out by the flooding or the collapsing buildings...or, they just died out and now are out and after the people who escaped the city to begin with. There’s still a lot of course, but you just haven’t seen them yet I suppose.”

“Should I have been seeing them?”

“There were a few dead ones up the climb to that skyscraper. Some were beneath the deeper water. All slightly hidden...unless you really know what you’re looking for.”

Violet bites her lip hard. She’s been living in this word for eight years, she knew she should be better at this! There could be some random walker waiting to pull her into the murky and mossy waters and she wouldn’t even see it to get some sort of warning beforehand.

“Don’t worry about it, Vi.” Sophie smiles, patting her friend’s back. “You’ve never really been in a city. You’re only used to finding them out in the forests and not the buildings.”

“It should be easier.”

“But it isn’t, because you’re not used to it. But you’ll get to it at some point. Clementine must’ve, considering she’s probably been all over the place with Delta.” 

That sparks a look from the brunette as she stares at the two blankly. Not exactly answering their question, but they’d already known the answer to it anyway.

The two slowly back off, knowing it’s probably best if she doesn’t listen in just in fads they fade back into their previous conversation.

Which is exactly what they were doing.

“She said that kid died before Delta took her.” Violet points out. A frown reappearing across her face as she glances back down to her boots. “What do you think happened?”

“I dunno. And I don’t think I do want to know. Not yet at least. Whatever it was that kept her at Delta? It couldn’t have been good.”

“No...not at all.” Violet shakes her head, watching as Clementine slowly keeps her gaze on the world around her. Doing anything in her power to avoid making eye contact with the others. Instead finally speaking up as the old apartment finally came into view.

“We’re here. I take it you two are gonna want to let your friends know about...everything. But right after? We’ve gotta set off. So say your goodbyes now and get what you need before we head off.”

The two girls look on somberly as they make their way up. Their stomachs reacting even having to say such a conversation as Clementine merely waits outside. Listening to the breeze flow by the buildings and echo outwards before hearing a mumble of voices above. Knowing how that conversation was most likely going. And how the pit in her stomach is telling her how sad and pitiful it was for them to have to say goodbye to their friends for now...forever possibly. Something she didn’t want to tell them. And something she wouldn’t say if they truly wanted to get their friend back.

She just had to make sure Minerva wouldn’t see her as well. That would surely blow things to shit.

And how she’d probably have to give them some time.

The brunette makes her way over towards one of the overturned cars. Noting the way the rustic metal beneath it was now visible as it barely is able to reflect some of the little light that was flooding within the city in its blanket of warmth. The way the small specks of the clean metal still untouched by the apocalypse shined right back at her in her own reflection.

She watches the dirtied parts of her face. The dirt and muck and the blood that’d all faded into her previously vibrant skin. Now slightly sunken and thinned out. Her eyes still remain in the previous brightness she once had years back. But she knew that it would fade too. Wondering when the clock would stop ticking around them and they’d turn into the soulless and lifeless auras the walkers held within.

Her attention is drawn away from the slightly lively reflection within the pipe as she hears a cry up above. Almost enough to draw her heart into a race before she realizes what it’s from. And why it’s occurring.

“Shit.” She mumbles, shaking her head quickly as she squeezes her eyes tightly. Walking further away from the old apartment to give them some peace and privacy. Finally finding a place on an old and separated car seat before she reaches into her ripped pockets. Pulling out the old pack of cigarettes she’d taken from the hunter yesterday. Watching the small logo that shined in what little light was left of the day. Enough to bring her to slightly shake her head as she pulls one of the cigarettes out. Glancing between it momentarily as she mutters something until her breath.

“Fuck you Bonnie.” The brunette whispers. As humorous as she’d found it originally, the woman did introduce her to cigarettes to begin with. And while they “helped”,  she certainly found herself dependent on them every once in a while. Luckily not enough to need them every waking second like some others would, but certainly so she’d keep a pack whenever she found them.

There’s a small and flickering array of orange, yellow, and a slight blue as Clementine uses her lighter. Pulling the cigarette to it as it casts a tiny glow at her dirtied fingertips. Moving across her face as she brings it to her lips with a sigh while the night seems to fall upon the rest of the city. What once would be a cascade of lights and life within the city was now a signal of death, destruction, and the ultimate demise over the failure of those who tried to keep it all upstanding. Leaving others to militarize themselves either in groups or on their lonesome in the fight against both the dead, and the other humans remaining.

With each puff of light smoke Clementine reminisces about the old times. Those she had with people who cared about her. And people she cared about too. Those who always swore to protect her.

And those who failed. Those who left like the rest of them.

This would be nothing new to her. All she had to do was kill Lilly. These girls will go off with Minerva and be back together like their own family. Without a care from the brunette if they’d last or not. 

And she’d...keep moving forward. Like always.

If she makes it out of there alive.

With a last puff towards that though, Clementine flicks the cigarette down and into a nearby puddle. Watching the ways the last flicker of the lit cigarette fixed into the ground before it’s crushed beneath her boot with a quick movement. Her boot moving side to side momentarily before she looks up and towards the old apartment. Watching and listening for anything else to come out from them.

And it was silent.

Her hands move to her pockets as she walks up towards the beginning of the small climb to her home. Pools of amber catch the two girls hauling their bags over their shoulders as they join in for one last hug with the other two, enough to see Clementine herself as they all come up to her.

Well, shit.

She almost wishes she still had that cigarette now as she watches the two boys—Louis and Aasim, walk up to her. Their faces forlorn and nervous, even if they were slightly grateful they wouldn’t exactly have to come along after all.

“We just...we wanted to thank you for saving us and helping us get Minerva back-“ the freckled one says, and Clementine immediately puts a hand up to stop him. Shaking her head quickly.

“I’m not helping. I’m delivering them if anything. Whatever happens there? It’s not up to me and I’m not going to be doing anything to help. I just need my revenge.”

She watches as the boy’s eyes almost look to her in fear. Giving a sheepish smile as he quickly shoved the other—equally nervous, friend up. And Clementine can make quite the assumption of who it was, practically the one who’d given her the bandage on her head.

Guess it was more like a bandana now.

“I-I Uh...just wanted to apologize about the um-“

“The bat? The one you hit my head with for no reason? The only you could’ve killed me with?”

He merely scratches his neck, looking fearfully towards the floor momentarily as Clementine waits nonchalantly for some sort of answer. 

“Yeah...that.”

“Well.” She hums, tapping the bat in her palm before offering it forward. “Might as well keep it, seeing as you’re good with it.”

“Wh- are you sure? I-“

“Positive. Take it, because the rest of us have got to go.”

“Oh...right.” He nods, holding the item in his hands as Clementine watches them give each other one last hug. Whispering something about luck and coming back home to them. 

And promises. Which was almost funny to her. How easily they probably would wind up broken.

“You guys ready?” Clementine Asia, taking a last look over to her apartment as the group is still wiping at lone tears or sniffling. Enough to almost warrant her to feel annoyed by it, but she didn’t feel anything at all. It didn’t seem to matter much to her right now.

“Yeah...yeah we better go before we change our minds.” Sophie nods, giving a short wave over to her friends as they stay within the small apartment. Obviously seeming skeptical and worried, but it was their only hope for another friend to return. They knew how important it truly was.

“Bring her back.” The freckled teen says again. A confident nod being given towards the girls as Clementine’s two companions nod in agreement. Looking determined as they finally head off, in the opposite direction they came. With the night fallen in the darkness upon them as the events from the past night come over them. Almost too much as they realize how little time had truly passed. But they didn’t have long to begin with. And if Clementine was correct, this was their only hope.

They just didn’t know if the risk was worth taking, but it would be too late to reconsider now.

Clementine keeps a careful eye out on their surroundings. Her vision wading through the thick darkness of night as it only left for small grazes of grey to be left on the sides of buildings, reflecting down towards the flooded waters nearby as it became their main source of light. At least, that’s all Clementine planned on using until there’s a sharp glow of white from behind her, as the blonde carries a flashlight in her hand. 

“Hey! Watch the eyes.” Clementine warns as soon as she shines it at her face, blinking a few times to get the burnt image out of her eyes as she looks back ahead. Not even bothering to turn around this time.

“Sorry, sorry. Wanted to make sure it works.”

“Oh it does.” Clementine whispers. “Just check it on your arm or at your feet next time, not the back or front of my head!”

Violet pouts, even more so as Sophie gives her a sight elbow to the side over something that probably should’ve been obvious. Well can something she definitely should’ve known better about. 

Too late now. 

Clementine watches the area around the light given by Violet’s flashlight. Knowing she’d have to be on lookout for those that they wouldn’t catch. While she could possibly rely on them, it wasn’t at all a given, or something as guaranteed as what she’d see with her own eyes. Wading from the darkened and murky waters where walkers would lie beneath, to the way the light would reflect off the metallic remains of the buildings. Those that weren’t covered in nature, at least.

She listens to the crunching of the soaking wet leaves beneath her boots. Listening to the way the silence around her seems to grow. Not a bug or anything else in earshot. All but the boots of the trio and the rustling of their old and worn clothes together highlighting the seeming loneliness the city had held within it now. Gone we’re the bright lights available to see even from the tops of space, and back down was the despair that could come crashing down onto any of them once more.

Clementine was all too familiar with it, in retrospect.

The silence is broken only by the whispering of the two girls behind her. Enough for Clementine to hear and listen in to, but she blocks it out. Focusing all her senses on the area ahead, as she doesn’t know exactly what to expect.

“You doing okay, Vi?”

“Yeah...I know we both miss them. We’ll see them soon. With Minerva too.”

“Yeah. We sure will. I just ...I promise to keep you safe. Even when I couldn’t bring Minnie back, I knew she’d want me to protect you. So I’m keeping that promise to her….to the old Minnie, at least.”

“Hey.” Violet’s voice softly resounds above the rustling of leaves beneath their feet. “You have been. As best you can. Only when you needed too as well. And we’ll get the old Minnie back.”

And if we can’t?”

“Then we’ll force this new Minnie to come home with us. Or else.”

“Violet she’s taller than me and like a foot taller than you.”

“I have my ways. Just wait.”

“I just hope you won’t have to use them.”

“Yeah...me neither…”

The conversation slowly drifts away as both girls bring their eyes to the world around them. Shivering amidst a cold gust of wind that almost wills them to simply go back. The cold trickling up their arms across the bumps forming on their skin, becoming teeth-chatteringly chilled within each passing second before they step into another pool of ankle-height water.

Which was even colder.

“Jesus Christ!” Violet yelps, hopping slightly as she immediately feels the freezing drops of water hit at the rest of her from the harsh movement. The sound getting the attention of the other two as they stare, waiting for her to be done with her shenanigans. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold.”

“That’s kinda what happens when water sits in the dark, especially after the storm we had yesterday.”

“I know that. But still. It shouldn’t be this could.”

“It’ll get warmer as we head up through the pipe through the emptied sewers. It might sound disgusting, but all the water got flooded with the other kind, so don’t make a fuss about it.” Clementine tells them, pointing to the grated entrance through a large pipe. Where the inside--even with a flashlight, is practically pitch black. 

“Head up through there?! Really?!” Violet asks, watching the skeptical look from Sophie over it as well. 

“Unless you’d rather stay out here, be my guest. We’re already far off from where the apartment is. So there isn’t any turning back.”

Violet pouts again, looking warily into the old pipe as she lets out a sigh. Knowing she was either going to regret this, or wouldn’t make it out to even do so.

“Fuck it.”

Violet feels herself go stiff as they begin their walk into the dark unknown. Listening to the echoey drops of water that’d make their way down to the small amount of water within the ground. Her vision slowly becoming apt enough to see the cracked and smashed walls, those that led to openings filled with dust and small crumblings of concrete and whatever other material it’d been made of.

There’s a silence as they listen to the echoes through the deep pipe. Watching the small stairways nearby that led to further openings and paths. All of which Clementine avoided, not even moving to search.

“You sure you know where we’re going? This place gives me the creeps.” Sophie asks, knowing it was probably exactly what violet had been thinking of to begin with.

“Yep.”

Sophie blinks momentarily at her simple and short answer. “Oh...ok…”

“So uh- what’s the plan?” Violet asks, hoping to change from the awkward situation. 

“The plan?”

“You know...like. What we’re doing in here or whatever you’re wanting us to do once we reach that drop off point.”

“You mean pickup?”

“Yeah- for the recruits or whateverthefuck.”

“You’ll see. If I tell you now it might screw everything up.”

“How?” Violet asks, slightly louder than before as her voice shoots through the rest of the pipe and sewer. Getting lower and lower in tone as the other two glare back at her. 

“Like that.” Clementine says, almost in a monotone voice as she doesn’t continue moving. Her hand moving towards the holster as Violet’s eyes widen. Seeing the old and slightly chipped and stained machete the brunette pulls out.

Well she’d certainly not expected that.

“Whoa wait it was an accident, no need to uh ...do that…” Violet chuckles, watching the eye roll of the brunette as she turns again. 

“Not you, dumbass.” Sophie warns, her hand etching towards her own weapon—her revolver, as Clementine whispers something.

“Hear that?”

Violet listens only, hearing an almost pained groan from deep within the tunnel. Knowing exactly what it must’ve been. 

“Walker?”

“Not just one.” Clementine says, listening to the higher pitched scream from down ahead. Sounding more like a human than anything, but they knew better. “Not a lot of space in here, either.”

“Shit...this could be bad…” Sophie mumbles, her hand tightening over her own gear as she watches Violet get prepared as well.

“We have to keep moving, come on.” Clementine warms, walking slower and more intricately as the girls keep up a similar pace. Their flashlight gazing ahead to show them the sight of whatever they might be missing. Enough for their hearts to pound and for them to will their senses to work in overdrive. Teeth gritting and gaze shifting in the quiet as they’re wary of the noises becoming louder, closer.

“Looks like there used to be a camp here.” Violet notes, getting the girls’ attention as they eye the emptied supplies and mattresses nearby. Shelved in torn backpacks near both new and dried pools of blood.

Violet’s heart pounds as she sees it. The flashlight glinting off the fresh crimson. It hammers in her chest as she sees another mark. As if someone had been dragged as hand and body marks are stained in the same red. 

But there was no body...not yet at least.

Her eyes almost stay glued to the blood before her flashlight flickers, sending her heart into another palpitation as she quickly hits it against her palm. Shaking the torch to get the batteries to stop malfunctioning.

Thankfully, it works.

The blonde brings the flashlight back forward to ahead of them, unskewed by her companions as she realizes what’s only a few feet in front of her. Her green eyes widening as she subdues any sound from coming from her throat.

There’s a walker up ahead. Faced away from her and towards the bloodied ground it’s still dripping upon slowly. Its ribs torn and open as they’re spread out of its body, as if it were some sort of bug eating plant that was just waiting to crush its prey between them. As if it was a hug of death from something already dead.

Its jaw was unhinged. Gawking open towards them with so many wounds in the newly turned walker Violet could hardly count. It’s fingers broken and bending backwards as they exposed the bone through them. Sticking out like jagged rocks as the walker finally turned fully towards her. It’s pale eyes gazing right at her in realization, especially as it simply stood there.

It wasn’t until now did Violet see the rest of its chest has been gashed open. Somehow keeping whatever was inside stuck there as she could see everything. But none of it was moving nor functioning. Only rotting and decaying as they girls were completely quiet for the few lingering seconds they’d each seen it. 

That is, until Clementine stabs her machete through the upside of its neck, splitting it easily as violet sees that perhaps it wasn’t that dull after all. Watching and listening as the frail bones bunch and shatter as the machete still moved up with the brunette’s swift movement from its chin. Finally ending right in the middle of its nose before she retracts it. Letting it fall face down as the split skin slides off to the sides. Decaying even further than it had originally.

They watch as Clementine’s face comes into view of the flashlight. Hues of white scattering across her skin as the walker blood is freshly splattered across it. Soon to join the old human stains of it. But her gaze doesn’t change from the almost furious expression she has as she turns around. Gazing forward as more noises escape down the tunnel.

“Sophie, how many bullets do you have in your revolver?” She asks, face still staring forward and away from them as her gaze darkens like the rest of what lied ahead.

“Four.”

“Good. Just continue keeping count. That number might lower in just a second.”

[supremeuppityone]

One-shot written for Klaroline AU Week 2019

Please review here.

You can read the sequel here.

Day One: Mythological Creatures

Shrieky Clean

             The familiar sizzle and hiss of the solvent normally would perk Caroline right up, but as she watched the toxic fumes rise from the wide, greasy stain where viscera had spilled on the concrete, her bad mood only got worse. Only a clueless hybrid asshat would think this was an appropriate form of flirting. When she arrived at the crime scene, she couldn’t help but wonder if Klaus’ volatile temper was the cause of the carnage, and when she saw the disgusting room, she knew for sure. He’d arranged the victim’s intestines into the shape of a heart.

           Caroline ran the foremost supernatural crime scene cleanup service in New Orleans, and had enjoyed a symbiotic (and lucrative) relationship with Marcel for decades. However, in the aftermath of the power struggle with the Originals, Marcel was a pariah and Klaus had declared himself king. While she’d assumed her business would be affected by the hostile takeover, she never would’ve predicted this.  

           One month ago  

           The high-pitched, bordering-on-terrified voice of a young vampire named Josh roused her fifteen minutes into her first decent nap after a grueling 12-hour shift. “The hybrid king requests your agency to sanitize Rousseau’s on Esplanade Avenue.”

           “I’m booked until next Tuesday. Rougarou got loose and shredded through most of the residents in a two-block radius bordering Jackson Square.”

           “Klaus expects you there within the hour.”

           She let out a bark of laughter, not bothering to keep a civil tongue when she was this sleep-deprived. “And I expect Klaus to pull his head out of his ass and have some of his spineless minions do it instead. If this bullshit hybrid king can’t properly delegate menial tasks, I suspect his reign will last about as long as a werewolf in a silver mine.” With an irritated huff, she disconnected the call and quickly blocked the number, tossing her phone back on the nightstand as she settled more comfortably against her pillows.  

           She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her doorbell woke her, refusing to glance at the clock as she irritably started shuffling toward the door. She fuzzily recalled her monthly delivery of hypothalami was set to arrive today, and suddenly there was a skip in her step as she eagerly opened her door. If her delivery had been late, all that was left in her fridge was ingredients for a pineal gland smoothie. She’d rather chow down on frontal lobes. Ick. She just didn’t get fad diets.

           Her excited grin turned into a grimace as she realized there was a hybrid asshat holding her delivery. “Mail theft carries a mandatory fine and a potential prison sentence of up to five years,” she flatly told him, snatching the box from his hands. That he let her take from him. Stupid Original strength.

           “You’re Caroline Forbes,” he asked, his gaze sliding up and down in a manner that she absolutely did not find appealing. Of course, if she did, it easily could be explained as misplaced hunger pains. Her kind weren’t known for subtlety once hunger set in.

           “Yes,” she answered defensively. She refused to be embarrassed by her Pinky and the Brain pajamas and glared at him, daring him to say something when he was dressed like a figure skater who desperately wanted to be a biker but didn’t have the street cred. Although, he was wearing the hell out of those skinny jeans.

           “The Caroline Forbes whose company performs supernatural cleanup services; the one that Marcel won’t stop blathering on about and insisted your continued employment be a cornerstone of our negotiations?”

           Caroline was taken aback; Marcel hadn’t mentioned what he’d done for her business before he’d retired to the old Algiers neighborhood to avoid further political fallout. She’d foolishly assumed that word-of-mouth had kept her business afloat since the regime change. She owed him a beer. Or possibly a bar.

           Klaus seemed to take her silence as agreement, his eyebrow raised as he sputtered, “But the Caroline Forbes I’m speaking of is a zombie.” Cocking his head, he frowned slightly, adding, “You can’t possibly be a zombie, sweetheart.”

           “Seriously?!” She shrieked, “So, zombies are just decaying corpses who are mindless eating machines, right? Well, hybrid asshat, you and your ignorant prejudices can get the hell off my porch, and if you think for a minute I’d ever work for you, you’ve lost your goddamn mind!”

           She stormed back into her house, slamming the box on the kitchen counter, and whirled around in shock when she realized Klaus had followed her. His gray eyes darkened, tone turning menacing as he told her, “I can count on one hand the number of times someone was foolish enough to raise their voice to me. I suggest you don’t do it again, love.”

           As a scary supernatural creature, it had been ages since Caroline had been afraid, and she’d be damned if she’d let Klaus make her afraid in her own home. Organized to a fault, she knew the location of every item she owned. Especially her industrial-strength cleaning products. Typically, she used less-abrasive solvents for sanitation and disinfection of supernatural crime scenes — blood, brain matter and other tissues were surprisingly easy to remove when she used her specially formulated products.  

           However, sometimes crime scenes presented unique cleanup challenges and required halogenated solvents that were so toxic it was fortunate she no longer used her lungs for breathing because even with her biohazard suit, it felt like her bones were on fire. It was that spray bottle she reached for, inwardly hoping the nozzle wasn’t clogged as she rapidly pulled the trigger and liberally sprayed down the furious Original until his skin began to blister and boil off of his face. Hissing and emitting guttural noises, he flashed out of her home, leaving her shaken but feeling immensely pleased that she’d managed to surprise the overconfident hybrid king.

           After that, she’d enlisted the help of a friendly bokor to set up the right protection spells around her house, and thoroughly researched her jobs to ensure they weren’t connected to any of Klaus’ kills, but she knew sooner or later she’d have to face him.

           And that’s when life got weird. It started with little things at first — a client who tipped a little too generously, extra bookings that finally allowed her to hire more employees — and then flowers started appearing at the crime scenes. They were stunningly beautiful, rare Himalayan blue poppies that perfectly matched her eyes, presented in exquisitely cut crystal vases that were lovingly displayed so that she’d notice them the minute she crossed a threshold.

           After that, rumors spread throughout the Quarter about how the hybrid king was wooing Caroline, the perky little zombie who helped their community keep their supernatural secrets from the humans. Apparently, he was enamored with the fearless blonde who’d been the first adversary in centuries to leave her mark. Literally — neighborhood gossips swore he had a wavy line near his temple where the brunt of her cleaning solvent had landed.

           Caroline did her best to ignore these things, having no inclination to cater to the psychotic whims of the hybrid king. However, she couldn’t deny that it was the first time someone had tried to woo her in such a unique manner. Plus, he apparently had started stalking her food deliveries and learned her snacking preferences and now she received triple shipments of hypothalami that were several grades above the cuts she used to order. The way to a zombie’s heart was definitely through her stomach.

           She was still glaring at the heart-shaped intestine stain when Klaus entered the warehouse. “If this is your A-game, I’m going to assume you normally just let your dimples do all the work,” she told him with an angry huff, checking to ensure her trusty spray bottle of halogenated solvent was within reach just in case.

           He chuckled lightly, absently running a finger across a thin scar at his temple. The scar she gave him. “You caught my fancy the moment your lovely, grumpy face greeted me on your doorstep. No one has left their mark upon me before.” His expression turned almost shy as he confessed, “I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to courting practices, sweetheart, but I believe this is the moment when I ask you to dinner.”

           “You displayed your victim’s viscera as a heart for me to find,” she said, rolling her eyes at the hopeful hybrid. How was this her life?

           He looked at her from under his lashes, his dimples on display as he offered, “I could spell out your name if you prefer.”

           “Fine, we can go to dinner. But I’m bringing my spray bottle.”

[karazor--el]

Supergirl's Nicole Maines Is the Trans Hero the World Needs

Trans actress Nicole Maines is seeking justice on Supergirl.

The CW’s Supergirl is showcasing the power of the press, says Nicole Maines, who plays reporter Nia Nal (a.k.a. Dreamer). “This is really a season about portraying journalists as superheroes,” she explains. “When we have a president who’s trying to vilify journalists, then you guys really are heroes.”

When the show’s creative team was planning the fifth season, Maines says they wanted create an enemy “that the Super Friends couldn’t necessarily fight with their fists or with heat vision.” The show’s writers found their adversary in the leader of a human supremacist group who’s “fanning the flames of hatred and bigotry in National City.” Even after he’s imprisoned, the city continues to be ravaged with problems. “How do you fight fear? “ Maines asks. “How do you fight ignorance and hatred and bigotry? That’s not something you can punch.”

The parallels are all too real given the constant attacks on immigrants, reporters, and trans people like Maines. At 21, the actress has already had a life of fighting the kind of bigotry she tackles on TV.

In 2007, Maines first challenged her elementary school over bathroom access. The case went to the Maine Supreme Court, which ruled in 2014 that denying a trans student access to a bathroom that matched their gender identity was unconstitutional. Since then, she’s advocated for LGBTQ rights, appearing in the HBO documentary The Trans List and in the book Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family. At 17, Glamour named her Woman of the Year. She’s also received honors from HRC and the Matthew Shepard Foundation.

These days, her acting career is taking center stage on a show that could not be more relevant. Her screen work is reminiscent of Wonder Woman’s Lynda Carter — who is, ironically, now Maines’s costar on Supergirl, playing U.S. President Olivia Marsdin.

The show delivers plenty of timely issues, including immigration. Maines, who accepted the role before she even knew the storyline, says, “I knew that I was going to play a trans woman and I knew I was going to play a reporter and I knew I was going to play a superhero.” Once she found out about how they were going to draw a parallel to America today, she knew this was “a story that needs to be told.”

“This is what we need in a superhero show,” says Maines. “We have a show about… otherworldly refugees coming to Earth, coming to National City. What would that look like? It would look like you know a lot of people saying aliens are coming to take our jobs, they’re dangerous. The exact same conversation we’re having with immigrants today... How do you make sense of it all? How do you combat people’s fears?”

Without a doubt, Supergirl is attempting to challenge the hearts and minds of its viewers. “I think superheroes are a great way to talk about these issues because superheroes are a huge staple in American culture and something everybody’s familiar with,” Maines says, adding that by using superheroes to talk about things like xenophobia or homophobia, it can make such topics more approachable in real life. The camp aspect of it all keeps it light.

“I am not reading my news app and crying and freaking out,” admits Maines, “At least I’m seeing this through Supergirl. At least that’s how I cope with it.”

Using fantasy as a tool to talk about political issues isn’t new. Films like Iron Man, Captain America, and Superman have managed it successfully — using historical enemies, like Nazis, and even setting the time amid the backdrop of the Cold War. Superheroes have always existed at the intersection of culture and politics, but Maines says it hasn’t always resonated with everyone, especially radical right-wingers who’d rather take politics out of superhero movies. “People are only upset about it now because, for the first time, they are on the other side of it,” she explains. “The enemy is potentially at home. It’s not overseas, it’s not someone you can point at.”

Playing Nia makes Maines an even bigger role model as well, and she feels that love on social media. While she feels enormous pressure being the first trans superhero, Maines admits it’s easier because she’s not the first trans character on TV.

“We are exiting the era of television where trans characters feel a need to explain themselves,” she says. “Where all trans characters are the trans characters and that their role on the show is to educate other characters…[and] the audience about what it means to be trans. I don’t have to be necessarily the trans superhero. I can be a superhero who is trans.”

“What an amazing trajectory to know in 50 years we can go from being a completely isolated community and being thrown in jail for wearing the wrong article of clothing to being on television in a super-suit, and being seen by everyone,” she adds. “Not just people in our community but people outside of our community, people across the country, across the world are seeing us.”

Maines hopes that Hollywood will now be more open to cast trans actors in trans-specific roles, mainly because of the effects it has off-screen.

“One of the arguments that I see is, ‘Well it’s acting, it’s pretending.’ Well yes, but you also have to take into account how that is reading to someone sitting on their couch watching — someone who has never seen a trans person before. If you cast a man and put him in a dress and say this is what ‘trans’ looks like, well then that’s where we get the whole ‘men in dresses’ argument. That’s why I feel it is so important, because we are actively combating that narrative that trans people are somehow pretending or playing dress-up.”

While she thinks equal opportunity for gay actors, for example, should be a consideration, the rest of the arguments aren’t the same. “No one is going around saying that gay people are straight people pretending to be gay to get into gay functions. No one is saying that. There’s not that harmful narrative reinforced [when compared to the trans narrative].”

Though Maines is quickly racing to the top of the Hollywood A-list, she can’t help but be anxious, especially since she’s now part of an industry with so much rejection. That’s why she’s choosing to “stop, smell the roses,” and “be very, very happy, be very thankful.”

Of course, that includes finding love. At 21, Maines is “single as a Pringle,” she jokes, and the men she meets in Vancouver (where Supergirl is filmed) are often outdoor adventurers.

“I feel like all the guys in Vancouver are like, ‘Let’s work out, let’s go skiing!’ And I’m like, ‘Let’s not.’ After a 16-hour day, the last thing I want to think about is working out. I’m going to sit on my couch in my sweatpants eating ice cream and…rewatching The Office.”

Her family back in Maine have been a great support, especially in helping cut through red tape so she could continue her hormone treatment while filming abroad. She jokes about the difficulty of working with insurance in the U.S., living in Canada part of the year, and no longer being able to have her mom mail hormones across the border to her on set. “Look at me smuggling estrogen across the border,” the baby-faced Maines quips. “I am the face of crime.”

Maines’s new vampire movie, Bit, premiers soon. “It’s freaking great,” Maines boasts. “I play a transgender girl from Oregon who visits her brother who is an actor in Los Angeles, and she falls in with a gang of intersectional feminist vampires in Los Angeles — and it is amazing.”

Hollywood clearly has a new superstar on the rise. And to whoever is casting the new Avatar: The Last Airbender reboot, Maines says she’s waiting for their call. Oh, and she’s game to do a Star Wars flick too.

“Superhero and Jedi,” says the young starlet, exposing her inner geek girl. “Those are where the goalposts are.”

The Advocate Magazine.

[brandyleewhatever]

The Clubs [Thor x Reader]

If Its Meant To Be…

Summary: In a world of soulmates, what do you think would happen if yours turned out to be someone disliked? 

Warning: Just a hand full of bad words, and some light making fun of Thor. I promise I actually love him dearly.

Pairings: Thor x Reader 

Square Filled: Soulmate AU

Words: 1049

AN: This is for @capsavengersbingo lovely bingo card I was thankful to receive! 

The Soulmates Club. There are only three locations in the world.

Oslo, Norway. Belgrade, Serbia. Nashville, Tennessee.

The Club is a strange thing to understand, most people just think its complete bullshit. Of course, most of those people will never know the truth. They will never end up at the door of A Club. It just isn’t in their Stars to have a soulmate.

Because in this world, this alternate universe you could say, not everyone has another half that makes them whole. They are just meant to fall in love with another lonely soul until death. Maybe they will get lucky in their next life.

Very few people are half of a whole soul. That’s way there are so few Clubs, and why when a person ends up outside of one of their doors, the world seems to slow down and they must stop and catch their breath.

No one ever sets out on going to The Club. They just end up there. As does their soulmate. Every single time, without fail, in all the world’s history. Being part of this club is a truly special thing.

Y/N was a hardcore anti-cluber. Believing that the cities were just filling their pockets with money from the gullible tourist that flocked there in hopes of seeing “true love”, which she said was an unrealistic idea.

She had an entire blog dedicated to the shut down of The Clubs, or at the very least, hefty taxation upon the owners. Shame on them for praying on peoples hope that there was something pure left in this world. The simple days went out the window the minute that Horse God and his unnecessarily large hammer smashed into their planet.

“We wouldn’t need all this superhero nonsense if you would have stayed in Assgaurd.” She mumbled, scrolling past a picture of “The Mighty Thor” fighting some adversary from space, on her social media newsfeed as she waited for her flight.

She’d been invited to a press conference on the negative affects the Avengers were supposedly having on the impressionable youth around the world. This was her first step into the world of super politics, and she was excited. Which is probably why she didn’t notice she was getting on to the wrong flight. Why the lady who checked her ticket didn’t notice, I can’t say.

“Hey, could I get a drink please. Water, no ic-“

“This drink, I like. Another one! Please.” Roared across the plane cheerfully, cutting off her own drink order.

Y/N leaned over, peeking around the flight attendant. “You have got to be kidding me.” Looking up at the older lady, who clearly wanted to get her drink and move on, she pointed toward first class and right at Thor who could been seen between two black curtains. “He can fly. Why the hell is he on a plane?”

“We all deserve a little time to relax sweetie. He tries his best to keep us all safe.” The older lady smiled longingly toward the handsome God before sighing. “Plus, I think that’s a common misconception. I’ve heard he can only jump really high.”

The whole flight all she could do was stare in annoyance as Thor laughed and interacted with brave passengers who made their way to his first-class section for a little meet and greet. By the time the plane landed, she wanted to scream. She was in such hurry to get away that she didn’t pay attention as she stood, knocking her shoulder against a solid piece of rock.

A large hand clasped her upper arm to steady her. His touch was gentler than she would have thought. “My lady, I apologize. Are you injured?” He was much taller than her. She looked up her nose at him as he smiled that Godly smile that was all over the news. With a jerk, she ripped her arm from his grip.

“I am fine. Now if you excuse me.” Everyone watched in shock as she shoved past the Avenger and stormed off the plane. Despite her rudeness, Thor couldn’t help with chuckle and watch as she disappeared.

“Please explain to me how the hell I ended up in Nashville instead of DC.” She demanded, banging a fist on the counter. The poor airport worker on the other side took a step back and held up his hand. “Honestly ma’am, I have no idea. We can get you set up for another flight tomorrow-“

He froze as her eyes widened and her arms flung into the air. “Tomorrow? Are you kidding me? I was supposed to be at conference room B by 2pm today!” Realizing this man who was looking for assistance, terrified, was going to be of no help, Y/N just walked away.

She left the airport on foot, in search of a café to grab some lunch while she made some phone calls to ensure no one thought she was just ditching back in DC.

Her nose was in her phone, she may have been checking comments on her latest blog post, when her hand came into contact with the cool wood of the door.

Y/N clicked her screen off and pocketed the phone as she slowly looked up, sucking in breath when she realized where she was.

The pretty cursive letters on the door shimmered in the sunlight. “The Soulmates Club.” With a groan she pushed the door open, mumbling under her breath. “You have to be f-ing kidding me.”

“My lady.” He swiveled around on his bar stool, almost falling but managing to catch himself. He was a superhero after all. “I do hope you decide to stop writing such hurtful things about me on the… web thingy.”

All the doubt, all the fight she wanted to put up, was gone as soon as she walked into The Club. There was no denying it. Her entire being had changed, and it all made sense.

“Only if you get a smaller hammer to swing around.” She teased, sliding onto the stool next to him. They both started to lean forward, eyes falling shut.

If you would have told Y/N that one day she would be kissing that Horse God of Assgaurd, she would have probably laughed before hitting you with a normal sized hammer.

[My husband said they went right to kissing too quickly. But they are soulmates, its 3am. Just go with it. Lol]

Tags: @his-paradox @tammyjewel @capsheadquaters