#on principle my plan is to never buy anything from them again if it kills me

[slavabogu]

this is too damaged to be given as a gift right. I know im unreasonably dramatic at all times but isnt this not ok for an expensive big deal type gift.please unbiased opinions only the rest of the watch is spotless more or less

[ikemenomegas]

In that one piece you wrote for gojo, the nightmare one, why did the reader have their bond mark removed? I had a bit of a hard time understanding it since english isnt my first language

No worries! I also probably didn't do a very good job explaining the "why" since I was a little focused on the "how". I'm sorry but the explanation ended up a bit long. Since it has to do with reader's emotional state, as well as the logistics of post-shibuya.

Warning for manga (and what will be season 2) spoilers ahead.

Gojo isn't a "mastermind" type like a few of the other mentor-trope characters or Getou, but he does have a few backup plans in place.

Like his contingency to make Megumi the head of the Zen'in clan, the only position in the family where he will be safe, should Gojo Satoru be incapacitated.

Removing the bond mark was his contingency for his partner. Gojo can't make his partner the head of a clan, he can't make them so indispensable that they are safe from being associated with him (also it says something about him that he thinks standing at the peak of a power structure is what makes someone untouchable). They're from a non-sorcerer family, and even as a first degree sorcerer, they can't rely upon allies from the Gojo clan or another family if he's gone.

The thing he came up with is terrible. There's a reason that Shoko wasn't sure the reader would go through with it. A sorcerer bond mark in this world is like a seal - it anchors the other evidence (such as a marriage certificate or the entry of a partner in a family tree) of a bond against tampering. A bond mark is difficult to destroy because it was invented as a way to keep powerful bonds from being broken by other people.

Gojo's instructions in the piece of paper the reader burned were to remove their bond mark if he were ever implicated/incapacitated (knowing they would also use their judgement about the severity of the situation). This would require Shoko's help since she is one of the few who can use reverse cursed energy on another person.

The reader character was not sure they would follow this instruction, and then the higher-ups placed a kill order on Principle Yaga, one of Gojo's closest allies, and someone helping guard the school from the elders' interference. The reader, as Gojo's partner, is even closer than an ally.

That's why they're told to stay at the school, so they could be watched.

They were still considering holding off on removing the mark (because of sentimentality) until they had this weird dream about Satoru effectively giving birth to a curse/a baby/having a miscarriage (or all three at once since this was a dream) and his unconscious body being manipulated by people who are going to make him do it again. The last part of the dream was that the reader knew he was healing and that whatever was happening to him wouldn't leave a mark on him while they woke up and had to remember this.

Having that dream helped decide to follow the plan because:

1. After the dream, it hits the reader that Satoru is sort of helpless, but they aren't and if they can do anything, then they have a duty to keep moving forward. They're going to take the out that Satoru left them and hope things turn out okay.

2. Destroying the mark is going to literally destroy the physical evidence that they were romantic partners, meaning that the elders are not going to be able to use that close connection to put an execution order down on the reader's head. (The name on the family tree, off screen, is physically burning away, the marriage certificate ink is going to fade). Since the higher-ups declared Satoru a fugitive and a traitor, said that anyone who helped release him was slated for execution, they're doing everything they can do buy time and put up a smoke screen.

3. They're grieving. Nanami is dead, Ijichi almost died, Getou is back but still dead, a bunch of students are incredibly injured. Part of this choice is them going "if he doesn't want me fine, never knew why he inflicted himself upon me anyways, best to get rid of the evidence of my own feelings" because sorcerer's have super healthy responses to grief 🙄.

Part of it is direct response to the dream, which includes numb sort of confusion of "being a witness to this and doing nothing is horrific for me" and "i don't know if people are going to do something to Satoru, but I am going to do what I can to try and stop it/this has metaphorically been happening all his life" and "nothing leaves a mark on him but the rest of us have to suffer" which is straight up not true, but again grief and anger.

It's a terrible choice to make because Gojo's situation is supposedly temporary, but the reader's choice is not*. It's also in the world of an alpha/omega pair a truly terrible thing to ask an alpha to abandon their omega. The reader character doesn't know if Satoru is going to want them back after this either, but they also decide after it's done that it doesn't matter. They'll burn the world themselves if that's what it takes to save the students.

*(that's what they think. I have an appropriately dramatic shonen style solution to this depending on what happens in the manga, but we'll wait on that)

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[rcksmith]

The Agreement part.2 — Kaz Brekker

Resume/Masterlist

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings of series: Convenience/arranged marriage, swearing, mention of fight, mention of death, mention of desire, fluff, sensual, mention of post-traumatic stress.

Warnings of chapter: swearing.

Word count: 4k

A/N: I hope you guys like.💖

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are closet. Love you ❤️

— — — —

“What?!” Your exclamation came out louder than intended, and perhaps sharper than expected.

The salty sea breeze came through the window once more. The smell of salt and ocean invaded the room and for a second it felt like being in a ship's cabin at sea.

Kaz looked at you as if you were some child. Or someone deaf. But if he was swimming in acidic thoughts, he didn't say them.

"Think carefully." His voice was firm and explicit, the ones men use to convince women of something. “You want freedom, don't you? Live your life without having to fulfill a man's whims or your father's expectations. You wants to be able to snow on a ship without having a date to go back and make your own destiny. You want just needing to care what new adventure knocks on your door and what promise of wonders life awaits. It is not?"

How did he figure it out so well in such a short time? Was he too shrewd or were you too transparent?

You nodded, unable to say anything. Perhaps out of perplexity at how Kaz read you so easily. Or maybe the way he looked like an overpoweringly beautiful fallen angel in the moonlight.

“And the only way to do that is to get married.”

You frowned. “As I recall, Brekker, I came here just so I wouldn't have to get married.”

“And it's a stupid plan.” God, you wanted to kill him. “You asked me to have the Dregs take you to the harbor without your father's spies noticing. But it turns out your father's spies already know you're here.”

Your breath was lost somewhere between lungs and nose.

“Since you arrived, the noise from the Crow Club downstairs has become less shrill. And this is not typical criminal behavior. Either they have adopted good manners or someone they know they should fear has joined the Club.” Kaz sat more relaxed in the armchair behind his desk, his dark blue eyes locked on you. “I would bet on the second option.”

“So I came here for nothing?” You were starting to get angry at his beating around the bush. Because you knew it was manipulation. Brekker was laying the groundwork and you understood that.

“I did not say that. Turns out you can never get rid of your father. Not when he's a man with the purchasing power able to buy an entire country. There will always be someone who will recognize you, someone who will find you. And for the right price, the whole world is capable of being bribed. You would run away only to be chased by other spies, other people wanting the reward your father will give to whoever brings you back home.”

Very early on, you realized that Kaz Brekker was capable of crushing dreams as easily as crushing an insect. His destructive power was colossal and you saw all of your desires floating under his palm. Waiting just for him to brutally clench his fist and crush them.

But that's not what he did.

“You'll only get what you want if you follow his orders.” The breeze came through the window once more, ruffling her charcoal hair. “But if you can't defeat your enemies, change the rules of the game.”

“And is that where marriage to you comes in?”

“See it.” His body leaned very gently across the table towards you, it was a millimeter and ridiculous gesture, but it felt like him standing a breath away from you. “What you need is to get married. But marrying someone who doesn't give a damn about what you're going to do, and don’t have expectations of you. Someone who is not interested in home life, family life or Any other things you can offer other than money.”

Any other things you can offer. The night breeze this time was accompanied by an impure, almost obscene scene of the fallen angel in front of you on a bed of black duvets and caustic weather. A moment when the ends of his black hair brushed your forehead and your nose, moving back and forth as followed the rhythm of his hips and…

The sea breeze was gone, taking the obscene image with it and bringing back your common sense. For a second you wondered where that came from! You hadn't been in his presence for more than two hours and the entire compilation of what it was like Kaz Brekker, so far, had frightened you and attracted you in an absurdly dangerous way.

"And are that you came, I suppose." You hoped your voice couldn't give away your impure thoughts from seconds ago. “Do you want us to form an alliance where you receive my dowry and in return I am free from my father's demands and can do as I please with my freedom?"

“Alliance is a very strong term for what we are doing here.” He was succinct, “I would tell you to look at this as a business transaction. A marriage document is still just a piece of paper. And nothing else. Don't get carried away by sentimentalism. Things only have feelings if you want them to.”

Kaz was right, you knew that. For all your belief in true love and the many books romance novels you devoured, you still understood that a marriage could very well be seen as a business translation. It are a sad, cold way to see something so beautiful, but it still true.

“I have no interest in anything other than your dowry and you have no interest other than freedom. So what I'm proposing is something very sensible and objective. When we get married, your father will set you free, and you won't have any husband to please or any other crap. I don't want and don't expect anything from you, I don't care if you're sailing to Ravka or venturing on The Fold.”

“Do you want the money out of greed or despair?”

Kaz took a second to get a better look at you after that sneaky question. You had asked the correct question amid so many banalities and he realized that you were more cunning than you looked.

If he wanted to know your secrets, you also wanted to know his.

“A bit of both.” He was sincere.

“And what do you intend to do with my father's industries? Because you would win them too. And any misdirection could end up reducing my father's empire to nothing, and I don't want him to see the thing he loves most in ruins.”

Brekker heard the feelings in your voice. There was a hidden pang of hurt, but a lot of determination and honesty. You loved your father and understood him, even if you didn't agree with his principles. You had a fair and upright nature and were able to move mountains to get things done the way you thought was right. That was a red flag for Kaz. You were a good person. And he not.

He could never promise you things that go back to a good guy. But he could promise you honesty and justice. Kaz Brekker would never take something from someone the way it was taken from him so many years ago. He was a monster. But never in the same category as Pekka.

“I have no interest in having an empire doomed to fail.” His eyes were serious. “My motivation has always been greed. Why would I sink the company that is capable of making me such a rich man?”

He would have to be an idiot to let such a lucrative business go. And Kaz Brekker was anything but an idiot.

“Would you let me do anything I want?”

“I have no interest in what you don't or do.”

You hesitated for a second, as if remembering another detail. “My father doesn't believe in divorce, and even if he did, I would be pressured to remarry. Do you understand that we couldn't divorce?”

“I have no desire to marry again. And you might as well get other men you want without making a fuss, without your father finding out.” Always rational and objective. Without any inclination to the heart's desires. “There is no room in this world for feelings. Much less in this agreement. If you fall in love with someone you will have to be content with just relating to them, not getting married. And it seems like a small price to pay for so many benefits.”

It was the perfect plan. Did you know that. It was rational, objective and cunning. Something advantageous for both without costing too much. But why did you feel that something could go very wrong? You were a romantic person and you knew you could see things where they didn't exist. The truth was, you would have to leave your heart completely out of the picture.

Just a business transaction.

Brekker seemed to see a hint of hesitation in your eyes.

“It's very simple, Ms. Y/L/N.” That voice that gave you goose bumps hovered in front of you. “You marry me and you still have your freedom, because I don't give a damn about what you do after.”

“20 million from Kruges. Rich.” his eyes gleamed with a deep glow.

“And how do I know this isn't a trick?”

“I don't promise lies.” His firm face was serious “I won't give you happiness, Y/n. Much less love. Love doesn't exist in Kerch. But I will give you freedom, independence, a comfortable life that you are accustomed. And it seems to be much more than you have now.”

You knew you could be making a deal with the devil. Selling your soul to that man with the face of a fallen angel and the aura of Lucifer. But what choice did you have?

You couldn't go back if you sealed that deal. That man would be bound whit you, even by a piece of paper, for a lifetime. Was it worth the price? You didn't care for your father's press to want to be in the management and you had a lot more money than twenty million Kruges. What would you be missing? Your chance to marry one day whit someone you came to love? But if you came home without someone one day from now your father would marry you to a gargoyle. And the way out to flee no longer seemed a viable option.

Yes, it was worth it.

Seeming to see from the glint in your eyes that you've made a decision, Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, reached out a leather-gloved hand toward you. His eyes sparkled with a mysterious spark, the scent of male cologne with a hint of danger lurking around the room. And for a moment, you felt a shiver go up your spine and the feeling that your life had just begun.

“Agree to marry me?” He said.

The feeling was that you were about to embark on the greatest adventure of your life. You didn't know what that little stunt with Kaz Brekker awaited you. But you would find out.

“Yes.” You took his hand in a firm, intense handshake that held a million secrets.

A satisfied, victorious smile came to his lips. And whenever Kaz gave him that expression, it felt like seeing the fallen angel that was the reason so many humans sinned. The clouds in the sky shifted, moving out of the moon's path and making the distilled rays of light shimmer more brightly. His black hair and white skin were graced with those bundles, and for a second his beauty was overwhelming.

You held your breath.

Brekker continued to say something, but you couldn't pay attention. Your heart began to race, the moonlight following in his footsteps as Kaz got up from his chair and went to fetch some papers from across the room. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His body was taller and thinner than you deduced when he was sitting down. Kaz had long, slender legs beneath black straight-cut pants, his chest was broad and his waist was narrow. For a second, you felt like running your hand over the contours of his body.

You shifted your attention forward abruptly. Focusing eyes on something else.

That was the curse of handsome men. They fooled women and made them daydream. With his underworld god beauty and mysterious aura with a touch of danger, Kaz Brekker was overwhelmingly attractive. And your blood reacted to that. Any woman would have reacted the same way.

“And we'll have to leave tomorrow morning…” he sat opposite you again.

“Sorry, what?”

You turned your attention to his words, not remembering half of what he said seconds ago. Kaz looked at you intently this time, squinting his eyes millimetrically, as if he was trying to guess which paths your mind had wandered in for the past two minutes.

“Your deadline is the day after tomorrow, isn't it?”

"Yes." You got back to the core of the problem once more. “The trip to my house takes a few hours. Half a day if it's raining.”

Kaz had his eyes on the papers in his hands, maybe they were maps or documents, but you didn't feel like craning your neck to see what it was. Leaning over to view the papers meant getting closer to Brekker, and two hours in his presence was enough for you to understand that nothing good would happen if you got any closer. Or maybe you didn't trust your own feelings and emotions.

“This will have to be done very discreetly.” He didn't look up from his papers. “If any rumors about our deal reach the wrong people, your father will hear about our plan. And that meant you will being forced to marry someone else, and me without my money. Does anyone know you're here because you planned to run away?”

You shook your head. “No. I didn't get to tell my friends. But now that the plan is different, I intend to tell a friend that…”

“You can't tell anyone.” Kaz lifted ocean blue eyes to you in an electrifying look that made you shiver.

“And what is supposed to say to my friends?” You felt a pang of indignation.

“That we are in love.”

This time, your breath was gone. The phrase was like pouring gasoline on an old, flammable woodpile. And you were afraid of what might be the match that would set off a fire.

Kaz noticed your reaction and was amused by it. “Just say some nonsense about falling in love with a criminal. It wouldn't be the first time a rich little girl has fallen in love with the bad guy, and I guarantee it won't be the last.”

“And you won't tell anyone about the truth too?” You wanted to change the focus you.

“I don't have to answer to anyone.”

This time you gave a smug smile and crossed your arms in an insolent gesture. “So everyone will think the infamous Kaz Brekker, Dirty Handes and Ketterdam's most dangerous gangster is in love with a rich little girl?”

Kaz narrowed his eyes at your teasing.

“It won't be the first time that the man with a bad temper and dangerous soul falls in love with the little girl. And I'm sure it won't be the last.” You said.

You were provocative, witty and stubborn. You would always hit at the same height and loved to show people that could very well play their game. Brekker unraveled this perfectly. You weren't the kind of woman who would be peaceful, serene, and calm. You wouldn't be like Inej. You would not take his orders and his taunts in silent, contained rage. You were intense. And that was a danger.

Why did he get the feeling you were so much more than he imagined?

“Let's go to your house tomorrow morning. Nine in the morning.” He changed the subject. “I'll go with you and we'll get married.”

"My father must be preparing everything by now." You sighed. “He takes his promises very seriously and I have no doubt that, when I returns, the ceremony scene will be set in the party garden.”

Partly you were relieved about it now. Planning a ceremony are intense and personal. You never really thought about getting married, but you always imagined that if one day it happened it would be the man of your dreams. And you didn't know if you would want to organize a fake wedding. There were certain things that were inevitable to keep the heart from breaking.

“Better yet, the faster the better.”

The two of you discussed some more details of the plan in the next few hours. It was agreed that Kaz would pick you up at nine from your hotel tomorrow, in an elegant hired carriage (which you obviously would be paying for) and the two of you would go to your house in Kerch. For all intents and for all people, the truth would be that the two of you were in love. It was such a typical cliché that it wouldn't be the least bit hard to believe.

And after a while, you two could already show yourself to the world as a couple who barely saw each other. Rich society was full of them: marriage with coldness and distance, where the man has his bets and lovers and the woman her travels and her jewelry. Your father would surely understand and leave you alone. After all, he had gotten a son-in-law to inherit his empire. A young son-in-law with blood for business who would make your father extremely satisfied. However, now the two of you had to look like a couple in love. And the reality of the situation was a secret that only the two of you would take with you to the tomb.

But, that night it was difficult for you to sleep. Anxiety, restlessness and fear gnawed at you like cunning mice, rolling you from side to side in bed, whispering in your ears millions of futures where everything could go wrong. Where not even Kaz Brekker's plans could free you from the clutches of one of your father's suitors.

When the clock struck seven in the morning, you jumped out of bed with unsettling, restless energy. You didn't like feeling helpless and waiting for Brekker to show up was exactly the definition of a princess in trouble. You had to do something.

- -

“What do you mean to get married?!” Jesper choked on his breakfast, and Nina nearly spit out all her orange juice.

Kaz rolled his eyes and continued sorting through the documents on the large round table. He was going to be gone for a few days at most and needed the people he trusted most to take care of business while he was gone. There were a lot of robberies to do and Kaz spent the night crafting and modifying plans for options where he wasn't involved. He had made a list of what needed to be checked at ports and what needed to be resupplied at Crow clube.

The plan was to marry you when they arrived in Kerch and return to Crow Club the next day. Kaz knew he would have to bring you, the two of you would have to stay together until your dowry was delivered to him. After that you could go on any adventure you wanted.

But dealing with the Crows was being more exasperating than Kaz could have expected.

"I didn't even know you had a girlfriend!" Wylan was in shock.

"Nobody knew!" Nina and Inej had their chins on the floor. Matthias was the only one who didn't seem to care so much.

"I didn't know the affairs of my private life were your business." Kaz didn't look up from the papers he kept in folders for the stupid ones.

"But you never said anything." Inej said.

"It was the intention."

"It's with Y/n, isn't it?" Jesper had bright eyes and a gleeful gambling smile stretched across his lips.

Kaz looked up at the boy with chocolate creamy skin, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“She spent hours in yours office last night.”

"Oh my Santis!" Inej, Nina and Wylan exclaimed at once, eyes wide.

"The daughter of the richest man in Kerch." Wylan said.

"YOUR DOG!" Jesper clapped Kaz on the shoulder with an open palm, a loud laugh echoing and joy filling his voice.

Kaz suppressed the urge to look at the spot where Jesper had touched him. It had been years since he'd gotten over the most brutal aversion to touch, when the mere thought of getting close to someone made him tingle and dizzy with imminent fainting. At 28 years old, Kaz Brekker had proven to be greater than the demons and weaknesses that haunted him, wanting to see his downfall. A man who wanted to defeat Pekka could have no weaknesses. And he prided himself on almost have none of them.

However, offhand gestures made him look at the spot where he had been touched. The sensation brought was not unbearable or nauseating, but strange. And when the situation was skin to skin in a touch that caught him off guard, the feeling was unpleasant. Like a splinter under the skin.

It was easier with people Kaz felt comfortable with, but it wasn't something he cared about. He forced himself to overcome the most brutal aversion just to be a man without weaknesses, no chance of being defeated in a torture, no chance of being defeated by a faint. No for to touch someon.

“I thought you didn't know her in person when I warned you yesterday.” Inej tried to contain her little smile.

“It was the intention. You guys forgot the definition of secret…”

"Boss." One of the employees had entered that exclusive room. "There's someone here wanting to talk to you, Sir." He looked apprehensive.

Kaz frowned. The crow club had no movement at eight in the morning.

"Who is?"

"I think…"

"Will you please let me through!" The female voice sounded outside the room.

Jesper and the rest of the gang were wide-eyed, mouths opening in amusement and bewilderment. Kaz was catatonic. What the fucking hell were you doing there?!

"What do you mean I can't talk to your boss?!" And you continued. “I spoke to him yesterday...Don't give me these arguments, my dad tells his employees to tell people exactly that...I swear if you touch out about me again I will...”

"Fucking hell!" Kaz came out from behind the counter, crossing the living room and opening the door.

He came face to with that scene. A short girl who argued with a bouncer who was triple her height and size. Kaz knew the man was arrogant and macho, and had probably nudged your temper. He would have been amused by the scene if he wasn't abgry that you didn't follow his explicit rules.

“Ray.” Kaz glanced at the bouncer, a steady gaze that made the brute immediately back away from you.

You even gave the man an angry look before heading towards Kaz.

"What are you doing here?!" He whispered angrily.

"I couldn't wait." You wiggled your fingers, a tic of anxiety. “I could barely sleep. It was lucky I didn't show up at six in the morning.”

“That's not excuses. We have a schedule!"

“But I couldn't wait!" You whispered too. “It's visseral. I can't just sit there and wait!”

What an insufferable creature!

"Well, you'll have to learn because…!"

"What are you two whispering back there? “ Jesper's voice interrupted the discussion in whispers.

The two of you turned to the troupe standing in the doorway of the Crow room. Playful, mischievous smiles were plastered across their faces, and you felt your cheeks blush. Kaz and you looked at each other, and in that second of silent complicity, the two of you finally stepped into the roles of partners in crime.

Tagged: @aleksanderwh0r3 @thedelusionreaderbitch @hi-there-x @mell-bell @glowingatdawn @subjecta13-thefangirl @itsnotquimey @thatchampagnebitch @lamoursansfin @lostysworld @s3xymoonman @is-it-really-a-secret

[nobodyfamousposts]

BURN THE WITCH!   Part 7

Trigger warning for attempted burning, attempted murder due to the aforementioned burning, and talk of stalking.

______________________________

The old pictures of witch burnings and those who conduct them were far from imposing figures. Some nowadays would insist it amounted to people in funny hats, and had difficulty taking them seriously. They certainly didn’t seem scary.

Similarly, Rose Lavillant was far from an imposing figure. She stood shorter than almost everyone in the class and didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was more likely to break down in tears before she would so much as raise her voice at anyone, regardless of the reason. She was one whom the word “scary” didn’t even seem to be a word in the dictionary for.

But seeing Rose standing there in full Witch Hunting regalia was quite possibly one of the most terrifying things Lila had ever seen.

“Lila Rossi! Welcome to the party!”

Lila drew back—or she tried to, at least, only to end up bumping into Chat. The hero promptly grabbed hold of her wrists, effectively keeping her in place and cutting off any avenue of escape as Witch Hunter continued to approach.

“Chat Noir!” Lila hissed. “You’re supposed to be a hero! So do the ‘hero thing’ and either get me out of here or let me go!”

“So you can try to get Ladybug killed again?” He sneered, looking more disgusted and angry than she’d ever seen him. “Not a chance.”

She gaped.

“You can’t be serious!” He couldn’t be! That buffoon was never serious!

Except the way he was glaring at her looked…very serious indeed.

“You’ve evaded consequences long enough, Lila. And like your lies, these things build up over time.”

“Right you are, Chat Noir!” Witch Hunter exclaimed gleefully as she came to a stop only a couple feet away.

“And eventually, they build up so much that there’s really only one result.” Witch Hunter continued, smirking at Lila.

“…You end up on top?” Lila asked hopefully.

That got a bitter laugh.

“You only win so long, Lila. Then people have enough. And aaaall the people you trampled over on your way up will be there to drag you down.” Witch hunter almost seemed to twirl her closed scroll. “Down, down, down…until your final, well deserved end.” She finished, stepping aside and directing Lila’s attention to the pyre that was waiting for her.

“Tie her up!”

_____________________

Well, the one good thing about finally being alone was that she was able to transform in peace. Despite Tikki’s protests. Which sounded like whining more than anything.

The petty, childish part of her wanted to hold that over Tikki once things returned to normal. Moral Tikki, Kwami of Creation, steadfast voice of goodness and order, whining like a child not getting an extra cookie.

Hey, she’d have to take whatever humor she could get at this point before she would be forced to charge yet again into the insanity.

Since Lila was with Chat Noir and possibly safe for now (though with Lila involved, anything could have happened in the span of a few minutes), Marinette decided to try and locate the akuma. If she could find out where it was, she could plan.

She moved to the rooftops for a better view. There was no smoke yet—always a good sign. And the streets around her were still mostly devoid of people. But she could hear some commotion from a distance away. Following it, she noticed that it was growing louder the closer she got to the Eiffel Tower.

As were lights.

And party streamers.

And people. Whom were acting like they were simply going to a festival.

That was odd. 

If the Tower was being used as a safe area, then why were people setting up this way? This wasn’t safe, it was extravagant and frivolous. It was bound to get the akuma’s attention.

There were kiosks, tents, a pyre, carnival games, food stands—back up, what was that?

…

Sure enough, looking back, she noticed a central area of the festivities specifically arranged in a rather distressing manner to create what was unmistakably a pyre reminiscent of what was used during historical witch burnings.

At least now she knew where Rose probably was. And where they intended to take Lila to.

“So this is where they’re going to try and burn Lila?”

Wait...

Chat had told her to go to the Tower. He’d said it was where everyone would be.

She groaned as realization hit her.

“He’s affected too.”

Because of course he is!

Why else would he direct Marinette there? He probably wanted her to make it to the “show”. He had been trying to be helpful so Marinette wouldn’t miss out. And he had helped…just not the way he probably intended.

Because now Ladybug knew just what her obstacles would be. She would have to deal with Witch Hunter and finding her akuma—as well as the crowds including her own partner that would no doubt not take kindly to her interference—all while trying to protect Lila. The girl who hated Ladybug so much that she would willingly work with a supervillain regularly attacking the city just to ensure that Ladybug is destroyed regardless of whose hands it happens by or what would happen afterwards.

Even if it was in Lila’s own interests and meant the difference between her own life and death, Ladybug couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t do something to sabotage any efforts to save her if it meant that Lila could take Ladybug down as well. So she couldn’t even count on Lila in this instance to simply stay out of the way.

Chat was affected. Master Fu was affected. Most of Paris was affected. Her own kwami was affected. It was down to her.

She was alone.

“Ladybug.”

Well...not completely alone.

At her side, Longg looked up to her.

“Whatever you decide to do, I will aid you.” He promised her.

That…

That really helped to hear. It was nice to be supported in a way that DIDN’T involve allowing murder. Just having one person backing her to do what she knew she should really helped.

She smiled in relief.

“Thank you, Longg.”

_____________________

It was a rather lovely gathering, all things considered. People simply going about festivities without a care, looking at food, playing games, buying souvenirs. The Mayor gave a speech. It was a nice speech, even. Yes, everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun and just a grand old time this beautiful sunny day.

Except for Lila, who was glaring pettily from the pole she was now tied to.

She was rather vexed about the entire matter. Possibly because she couldn’t join them. But more likely because the festival in question was solely dedicated to her humiliation and theoretical demise. Not that they’d follow through with it, of course, because certainly Hawk Moth wouldn’t let Rose actually hurt her, but still! It was the principle of the thing!

She had wanted to be the center of attention, but not like THIS!

“Enjoying yourself, Lila?” Witch Hunter asked sweetly as she secured the final knot.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun.” Lila growled with a glare at the smug akuma. “But don’t you have a job to do?”

Witch Hunter grinned. “I’m already doing it!”

“No!” She shouted, stomping her foot—or at least as much as the ropes would let her. “Your job is to take the Miraculous! Remember? Ladybug and Chat Noir? The heroes? Your enemies?”

The akuma shrugged in response. “Yeah, but who knows where they are or how much time it would take to find them?”

“He’s right there!” Lila exclaimed angrily, nodding her head in the direction of Chat, who was indeed only twenty feet away. “He’s not even doing anything useful!”

Chat Noir, for his part, was cheerfully engaging with a group of children. Unconcerned with Lila now that she was caught, he was instead focused on using his claws to whittle a number of sticks to fine points, much to the awe of his juvenile audience. 

"Marshmallow, marshmallow! How fluffy you could be! So near a flame, let's see how toasted you could be!"

Lila watched the scene in initial confusion until he started poking a large marshmallow on the end of each stick, much to the glee of the children and some sickening realization for Lila.

“Here you go!” He said as he cheerfully handed each stick to one of the kids.

“Yay!”

“Thank you!”

“Mallow!”

“Can I eat it now?” One asked, eyeing the puffy treat hungrily.

“If you do, you won’t be able to toast it.” Chat replied. “We still have to get the fire going. It won’t be long now.” And here he gave a side-eyed smirk to Lila.

…Yep. Realization and dread was setting in.

“You can’t be serious! You’re actually going to burn me?” She demanded of the akuma.

“Well, yeah, that’s the plan.” Witch Hunter responded as she went to grab two containers of lighter fluid. “I haven’t made it a secret, you know.”

“But you can’t!” Lila shouted, horrified.

“Sure, I can! There’s plenty of wood to keep the fire well fed. Plus my torch is magical, so—”

“Hawk Moth wouldn’t allow it! You said it yourself, I’ve been helping him! So that makes us on the same side!”

“Were you on my side when you stole from me? When you lied to me? Used me?” Witch Hunter questioned with a look of disgust. “Tell me, Lila, when did this supposed camaraderie between us suddenly start to matter to you?”

Lila scoffed. “I got you power, didn’t I? Now look at you! All of Paris is under your sway! Even the heroes are willing to follow you into whatever silly good acts you’re interested in. You could just tell them to hand you the Miraculous and they probably would! With that, you could have the power to do any of the goody-goody things you want.”

“I DIDN’T WANT POWER!” Witch Hunter shouted. “I WANTED A FRIEND!”

“And we were friends.” Lila replied, unimpressed. “As you were helping me, adoring me, doing so many favors on my behalf…” She smiled. “That’s just what ‘friends’ do.”

It’s what they were supposed to do.

After all, a “friend” was just a label for people who could do things for you.

And wasn’t she a wonderful person for letting them? For allowing them to be useful?

It was just the way the world worked.

Whose fault was it really if Rose didn’t like her place in it after all?

Witch Hunter looked at Lila in disgust. As did Chat Noir and a number of those nearby. 

“So you just use people? That’s what a friend is to you? Someone to use?”

Lila shrugged. “Everyone uses someone. Even Hawk Moth is using you for the Miraculous.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which are supposed to be your goal”

Of course. Because let’s not forget who was really in charge here. Not the pitiful little akuma in front of her, but the man behind the mask—so to speak.

Lila had done her part. More than done her part by this point given how far this akuma had gotten compared to any other before. He certainly wouldn’t have made an akuma this powerful without her help.

“So Hawk Moth!” Lila hissed. “Hurry up and order your akuma to do its job!”

Witch Hunter appeared to be seething before the glowing mask formed, indicating Hawk Moth communicating to his minion. Good. She was learning her place then. Likely being told to focus on finding Ladybug and to leave Lila be. She finally felt herself relax in relief.

Of course, she wouldn’t mind playing the damsel in distress. Well, she would mind actually, since it would leave her tied to the pole to keep up appearances, but if it meant drawing in and finally crushing Ladybug once and for all, it would be a small price to pay.

There was a long silence. Lila waited, feeling smug. Her confidence only grew when the akuma regained focus and turned to her.

“Ah yes.” Witch Hunter drawled with a dark smile. “Hawk Moth has a message for you.”

A message? Lila frowned. His message should be to his akuma, ordering his minion to let her go! What could he want to say to her?

“Hawk Moth thanks you for your assistance.”

With a smirk, Witch Hunter leaned forward so she was eye to eye with Lila.

“But your services are no longer necessary.”

Lila froze in shock.

“What?”

She tsked at the other girl. “You have a talent for manipulation, sure. But you waste it on big gambles that ultimately have little payoff even if they do work out in your favor. You lack subtlety and you try to reach too far. All too soon, you’ve overreached and now look at you.”

Witch Hunter spoke, and with her candid way of speaking and impassive stare, it was difficult to tell if it was Witch Hunter or Hawk Moth himself speaking. She had a feeling though…the strange sense that she was hearing Hawk Moth’s words as if from him directly.

“Your true nature has been revealed. The heroes have already long since known not to trust you, and now that the entirety of Paris is aware of your actions as well, your ability to influence and manipulate…your one worthwhile trait…is worthless.”

Lila gaped, uncomprehending. Because this…he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying, was he?

“What did you expect would happen once you were caught? Nobody will trust you now. Everyone knows what you’ve done. What you intended to do. Who will fall for your lies now? And even Hawk Moth isn’t about to go out of his way to help someone who has fallen so far.”

“You can’t do this!” Lila shouted. “We are partners! You need me!”

“It would appear that you have overestimated your value and the nature of this relationship.” Witch Hunter replied, sounding far too old to simply be the akuma speaking. “A partnership requires equal footing, and you appear to have lost yours. Over some extra play money, no less.”

He/she sighed. “And your reveal didn’t even generate enough emotional turmoil for another mass akumatization. Though I suppose you deserve credit for this masterwork of an akuma. But between the two of you…well, it is no contest. And I am not about to risk one tool to try and save another that no longer functions.”

Witch Hunter giggled at Lila’s dumbfounded expression.

She leaned in close, speaking in barely a whisper.

“Don’t look so shocked, Lila? A tool is only useful as long as it can be used. But I’m sure you already know all about that.”

She sneered.

“Friend.”

Hearing that word, said in that way, being used against her for once made her go cold. As her label for “people who were useful to her” was turned around on her, she got a feeling for the first time just what her former “friends” had probably felt.

It was the use of that word which really made the situation hit home. At this moment she realized that this was real. This was happening. And unlike any other situation—whether before, after, or during the akuma attacks—this was one time when her charm would not be able to get her out of it.

The akuma didn’t just want to get rid of her as an obstacle like Oni-chan had. She flat out wanted Lila burned.

The entire city was backing her. Her classmates. Their families. And Chat Noir—one of the city’s heroes had helped to trap her.

Hawk Moth was not going to risk losing such a powerful akuma simply to protect one girl. Especially not one he no longer saw a use in.

This was it.

She was really going to die here.

And this time, no amount of lies, promises, or words would save her.

It was only once Witch Hunter put her torch to the pyre and the sounds and smell of the first bits of wood starting to catch aflame that Lila snapped out of it. Only to be greeted with the cheers of the crowd, all of whom were watching her execution with eager eyes. many were holding up their phones to record the moment for history. And one particularly brazen citizen had chosen to get a head start on the marshmallow roasting and held their treat on a stick over the flames that were starting to catch on the wood around her and creeping ever inward.

“Don’t worry, Lila! The smoke inhalation will kill you before the flames do.” Witch Hunter said with a smile. “That’s not to say you won’t be burned or suffer pain first, of course. But still, small mercies, I guess?”

Lila opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t speak.

There were no words she could say.

So she simply screamed instead.

Loudly.

Senselessly.

Begging without words for something—anything to help her.

And at that moment, as if by a miracle, it began to rain.

___________________________

By all appearances, it wasn’t a natural rainfall—given the clear skies with nary a cloud in sight. Or the sudden wall of water that washed through the area and took out all torches. Though it could be argued that Longg was the original source of storms and weather to begin with, and thus any rain caused by himself or his power were indeed natural.

But that’s just semantics.

The point was that it WAS raining. On a cloudless day. Conveniently falling solely within the single area around the base of the Eiffel Tower that made up the whole of this “Witch Burning Festival”.

And most importantly, on the pyre that Lila herself was tied to, getting her wet and dousing the flames that threatened to engulf her.

A number among the mob responded as many people do in a flash downpour and immediately sought shelter from the sudden and inexplicable rainstorm. Chat, not being one for water, hissed and bounded away somewhere higher up and out of the splash zone. Alya, ever the reporter, dashed to a barrier to protect herself from the worst of the wave and continued to film the scene, grateful that her phone had a water-proof casing so as to not be damaged.

Witch Hunter, however, stood her ground. After her initial confusion at the unexpected storm, she realized quickly enough what had to be the cause and glared at the sudden accumulating mass of water with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “Ladybug!” She bit out with all the savagery of someone who had just literally had someone rain on their parade.

Because who else could it be?

___________________________

“You know the plan?” She asked her companion a few minutes previously.

“Yes. It should work. The water power will last until you fully reform, and even then you will not lose my power until you have used all three of the elemental abilities.”

Good to know. It seemed rather unfair given that she and Chat could only use one ability one time before their timers started, but for now, she would take it.

“Okay, then I can just wash out the square, douse the fire and any fire-causing sources, and dampen the wood enough that it can’t be lit again. Then focus on Witch Hunter.” She started pacing as she thought.

Longg nodded. “From what you have said, it seems Witch Hunter lacks much else in the way of offensive abilities. The other two elements may be useful, but shouldn’t be necessary.”

That was good to know. Longg was apparently quite the strategist, it seemed. It helped her to relax knowing she had someone on her side to work with.

A pause.

But just in case…

“You’re not going to advocate for her murder, are you?” She asked warily.

Better to make sure, after all.

The kwami tilted his head in curiosity.

“I do not know this Lila Rossi or what would warrant her to be set on fire. We couldn’t hear anything when we were within the box.” He assured her.

Oh. Well, that was a relief.

“But I can encourage you if you want me to.”

“No, thank you!”

___________________________

Lila spluttered as the wall of water splashed her. It was cold. It was wet. And while it did save her from the fire, it just put her back in the state of being drenched after she had already mostly dried off from an hour before.

The water coalesced into a singular form and rapidly regained color and flesh to reveal Dragonbug. She appeared tense and much like Witch Hunter, ready for a fight.

“M’lady! You made it!” Chat cheered before frowning, a bit put off. “Though we could have done without the water show…”

“My marshmallow...” One particularly unhappy civilian mourned.

“Ladybug!” Lila shrieked. Though it was hard to tell if she was actually glad to see her or not. “You did that on purpose!”

Not glad to see her then.

Regardless, Ladybug stayed silent, not denying it.

Okay, it was petty of her. But come on, after everything she had done today, she’d earned this.

“Why are you protecting her?” Witch Hunter shouted, waving her now doused torch in anger. “Do you even know what she’s done?”

“That doesn’t mean she should be lit on fire!” Ladybug countered.

“Sure, it does!” Chat Noir exclaimed from his position. “Like the old rhyme: Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“That’s right!” Came a shout.

“Burn the witch!” Came another.

“AVENGE MY MARSHMALLOW!”

Ladybug groaned. Right, right. You couldn’t argue with an angry mob. It was a waste of time and only made them angrier.

“Chat!” She groaned. “You’re a hero! This isn’t what heroes do!”

But he remained firm. “Ladybug, I don’t want to fight you. But Lila is only getting what’s coming to her. She’s helped Hawk Moth. She’s hurt my friends. She tried to get you killed!”

He clenched his fists in anger.

She started in surprise. She knew these things, yes. But she hadn’t realized just how much her partner had been affected as well.

It was no wonder he fell to Witch Hunter.

“She fooled me, too.” He growled, bitter in his admission. “I trusted her so many times and only got burned. Even when you warned me, I didn’t listen and people only got hurt because of it. And still I gave her second chance after second chance and I’m tired of it!”

Even under the effects of Witch Hunter’s influence, she could hear the raw hurt and anger. As kind and trusting as Chat could be, he had negative feelings as well—she knew that better than anyone. He hid them, but they were there.

And right now…

She could tell that this was really how he felt.

“Chat…” She started.

“I won’t fight you, my lady.” He told her, backing away. “I just want to see justice done and the removal of a threat.”

Well, she supposed that was the best she could hope for.

“Shouldn’t you be untying me now?” Lila demanded in annoyance as she wiggled at her post.

Unfortunately, Lila had chosen a rather inopportune time to remind everyone she was still there.

If the situation were different and Lila was almost literally ANYONE ELSE, Ladybug may have considered it. But the fire was stopped and Lila was safe, if only for the moment. Attempting to directly rescue the girl would only leave herself vulnerable to the akuma and open to further sabotage from Lila.

She had to focus and deal with the akuma now.

“Rose, this isn’t like you!” It was fruitless and she knew it, but she still had to try to get her friend to see reason.

But it was clear the girl was too angry and the akuma was having none of it.

“She doesn’t deserve protection!” Witch Hunter snapped, holding out her scroll and letting it unfurl.

Realizing what she was about to do, Ladybug charged.

“Lila stole the book from Mr. Agreste and nearly caused Adrien to be taken out of school!”

She knew that, she thought as she ducked a punch.

“Lila was hiding in Paris for months while pretending to have been traveling around the world!”

She knew that as well. Another punch dodged.

“Lila helped Hawk Moth as Volpina on Heroes Day!”

And that. She tried to make a grab for the scroll but missed.

“She manipulated her way into Adrien Agreste’s house!”

That too. She jumped back several feet when the akuma made a counterattack.

“She framed Marinette and got her expelled!”

She was Marinette and she knew that.

At this point, even with the reminders of all of Lila’s past misdeeds being brought up, Ladybug couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. She wasn’t even surprised at any of the claims.

Was there really anything Lila had done that she didn’t already know about? Or that she didn’t already believe Lila to be capable of?

“C’mon, Ladybug!” Chat called out to her imploringly. “You already know how bad Lila is. Can’t we just get rid of her and save Paris the trouble?”

“It’s only justice!” Witch Hunter shouted, pointing to Lila.

Lila, for her part, tried to shrink back as far as the pole and her bindings would allow.

“That’s not justice, Rose. That’s just revenge.” Ladybug replied, in perhaps the first true bit of feeling she’s had since this battle started. “If we let someone suffer just because we didn’t like them, could we really be called heroes?”

“SHE HURT ME!” Witch Hunter shrieked. “She LIED to me! She TRICKED me! SHE USED ME!”

“That makes her a monster. But you’re not one, Rose!”

“Hey!” Lila shouted, indignant. “I’M the victim, here!”

Witch Hunter spun on Lila in a rage. “I have your crimes right here, Lila Rossi! You’re the furthest thing from a victim and any court would agree with me.” She smirked, shaking her scroll. “That’s why MY court is the only one that matters right now! And you’ll see that soon enough!”

She spun back to Ladybug with a dark gleam in her eyes before she looked down to the scroll and began reading again. Much more quickly this time.

“Lila tried to sacrifice Marinette as a distraction to save herself! Lila lied to Chris about inventing Freestyle Crash! Lila made a deal with Oni-chan to get her to try and kill Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes widened.

She hadn’t known about that. It didn’t surprise her that Lila would do that, but it was something she hadn’t known.

Okay, she had to take out that scroll before Witch Hunter could find something that WOULD upset her.

“LUCKY CHARM!”

In a swirl of magic, an item formed and dropped into her hands.

“Lighter fluid?” She gaped.

‘Dammit, Tikki!’

“Looks like even the Lucky Charm agrees, m’lady!” Chat called to her, being absolutely NO help whatsoever!

Ladybug felt her eye twitch.

Though at least he wasn’t trying to fight her either, which was a nice change of pace from the other times he’d been put under an akuma’s influence. But still!

“Lila has been acting as a spy for Gabriel Agreste! She’s been using this connection to try and gain influence over Adrien!”

FOCUS!

Ladybug looked around for anything the Lucky Charm could be used with. Because there had to be SOMETHING she could use it for.

Something that DIDN’T involve lighting Lila on fire!

“She’s kept the school from reaching her mother about her absences!”

Think!

“She’s lied to her mother about the school being closed!”

Think!

“She’s lied to her mother about akuma attacks! She claimed that Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to deal with them and let them run wild for months!”

She felt a flare of indignation at the lie regarding her capability, but forced herself to squash it quickly with the memory of how Lila had tried to disparage her superhero self to Adrien previously. If she could put down a hero she was supposedly “friends” with to a cute boy to make herself look better, it stood to reason she would insult Ladybug in other ways to other unsuspecting people. So no, Ladybug couldn’t be outraged.

Chat, however, was. “Hey!” He snapped, sending Lila a glare. Lila for her part merely looked away with a dark mutter.

Witch Hunter continued. “She’s lied about being Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend!”

Ladybug’s vision seemed to narrow down on Witch Hunter’s scroll.

…..it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“She was willingly akumatized! TWICE!”

Screw it.

“She’s a liar! She’s evil! She’s horrible!” Witch Hunter shouted, growing only more frustrated angry. “SO WHY DO YOU KEEP PROTECTING HER?!

Good question. There’s no single clear answer, but it was a good question.

And in the midst of Rose’s growing fury, she was caught up in her own feelings that she had stopped really paying attention to her surroundings.

Taking advantage of the akuma’s distraction, Ladybug threw out her yoyo, wrapping it around her.

“Hey!” Witch Hunter cried out as her arms were pulled towards her body in an awkward angle that left the scroll in easy grabbing range.

Ladybug lunged and within seconds, had grabbed her arm that held the scroll with one hand and pulled the scroll from her grip with the other. She didn’t want to risk splashing Rose, after all. With Witch Hunter tied up and unable to stop her, she poured the lighter fluid on the scroll. And then—

“Lightning Dragon!”

It was only her hand that was covered with electricity. She didn’t need too much power. Just enough to create a few sparks. And when those sparks hit the scroll where the fluid had soaked through…

It only took a couple of seconds

“NO!” The akuma shouted as the scroll caught aflame.

And as the scroll started to burn, a black butterfly escaped.

Ladybug didn’t even bother with her normal catchphrase as she simply caught and purified the akuma. After everything that had happened, she just wanted this day to be OVER.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the butterfly was released—now pure white—and Witch Hunter changed back into a confused Rose.

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The flash of light and loveliness of ladybugs brought with them a sense of relief to Marinette. All signs of the festival were cleaned away. What few people remained were looking around in confusion, as if unaware of what they had just previously been attempting to do. The stand and pyre Lila had been trapped on vanished. Lila herself was sent sprawling to the ground with a loud “oof!” in an act that may have been just a little petty on the part of the Cure.

Not that Ladybug was going to complain.

The Cure seemed to finish with Ladybug herself, which hopefully meant that Tikki would be back to normal once she detransformed. Though she wasn’t in a position to check just yet. She had a few other things to attend to first.

One of which being the liar herself.

Now free of her bindings and no longer under attack from an akuma or angry mob, Lila seemed much more confident—if not still somewhat shaken. She took to brushing herself off and trying to straighten her still damp and disorderly hair.

Lila sniffed and glared at the heroine.

“Here to lecture me again?”

She wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

There was so much she wanted to say to the lying little witch. And after the day she had, she really wanted nothing more than to just full on RANT at her. As Marinette or Ladybug. Or both. She probably had two or three more good rants in her before Hawk Moth could scrounge up another akuma to target her. She could air some of those well-warranted grievances.

Except…

“No.”

Lila raised an eyebrow at that. “What?”

"No. I'm not going to lecture you. It'd simply be a waste of time at this point. Because if after everything that's happened today none of that has gotten through to you, then there's clearly nothing I could say that would."

She blinked. “So…you’re giving up?”

Ladybug leaned over Lila, looking…much more fearsome than the other girl had ever seen her. More than she had ever appeared to anyone.

“Let’s make something clear, Lila. I know you are a horrible person. I am fully aware that there are no lows you wouldn’t sink to. I know you’ve worked with Hawk Moth of your own free will and the only reason I’m not going to police and having you escorted from the city is simply that I don’t yet have proof you wouldn’t lie your way around and quite frankly, I trust you less out of my sight.”

Lila backed away.

“What…what are you saying?”

The hero clapped her hands together, looking eerily cheerful. “I’m saying that you and I are going to be spending much more time together! I will be watching you every day of your stay here in Paris. I know you’re connected to Hawk Moth, after all, so that’s all the more reason to keep you around.” Ladybug smiled. “Just think about it. I’m going to be aware of you at all times. When an akuma shows up, you’ll be the first person I’m looking for. If anything goes wrong, you will be the one I’ll know to be in the middle of it. Where you go, who you interact with, anything you do…I’m going to be right there.”

Ladybug’s grin was practically feral.

“You, Lila Rossi, are going to be my new. Special. Friend.”

Lila blanched, her eyes wide. “Y-you can’t do that! That’s stalking! I’ll—I’ll tell everyone you’re harassing me!”

Ladybug laughed. “Oh, Lila…”

She leaned forward and wrapped an arm around the liar’s shoulders.

“You said it yourself in your interview, remember? As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m only spending time with my best friend.” She said, poking Lila in the cheek as she reminded her of her own words.

Lila paled.

With her arm still around Lila to keep her from trying to pull away, Ladybug shrugged and gestured with the other arm. “And sure, you could admit to everyone that our friendship was a lie. But that would require you to admit that you DID lie. And which of those stories sound more realistic, do you think? That teen model Lila Rossi is being stalked by a superhero after she lied about being that hero’s best friend? Or that Ladybug is keeping a protective watch over a civilian who was foolish enough to claim a connection to her so that said civilian doesn’t herself get killed by a supervillain?”

She gave Lila a deadpan stare.

“After all, given what happened today, it doesn’t look like you’re Hawk Moth’s favorite accomplice anymore. There’s no telling how much you know…or what he could do to make sure you can’t reveal how much you know.”

Ladybug tried not to take satisfaction in the fact that Lila was starting to tremble.

“But I guess that’s what happens when you work with criminals for petty reasons.” She shrugged before smiling broadly. “That’s why it’s such a good thing that I will be going well out of my way to protect you. From anything. Ever.”

“But—”

She continued to gush. “And if that protection involves hunting you down during every akuma attack—or anything that I even suspect could become an akuma attack to get you out of the way…well, I'm just making sure my DEAR FRIEND Lila is safe. Sure, I tend to be in a rush, so I might be a little rough when I find a good hiding place for you...."

Ladybug tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“How do you feel about closets? Lockers? The sewer? Maybe another dip in the Seine since you seemed to handle it so well this time? Just to make really sure?”

Lila’s look of sheer disgust was all the answer she needed.

“Whether it’s an akuma attack or a squirrel, I promise to keep you safe. Day and night. Anywhere you go. For as long as this threat to you persists.” She swore, admiring Lila’s expression of growing anger.

“How about it, ‘Bestie’?” She finished with a giggle, drawing Lila even closer to her and tapping Lila’s nose. Perhaps she was enjoying this too much?

Still, this finally seemed to be enough for Lila as she slapped Ladybug’s hand away and shoved out of her grip.

“You don’t scare me!” She shouted this, but her voice quivered and her hands were shaking. “I’ll tell everyone! I’ll turn everyone against you! I’ll make you sorry!”

“There are so many reasons that would be a bad idea, the least of which being that you’ll open yourself up to an attack by Hawk Moth. But well, if you want to try it anyway, by all means go ahead!” Ladybug chirped. “I mean, really…”

Her eyes narrowed as she gave a rather evil smile.

“Who’ll even believe you?”

Lila gave a rather high pitched screech before storming off.

Ladybug smiled brightly as she waved. “Ciao! See you later, Lila!” She kept it up for a few more seconds until Lila was well out of earshot, at which point she immediately dropped the facade and glowered at the girl’s retreating back. “And it’ll be all too soon.”

“Ladybug?”

Oh right! She forgot for a moment there were still others.

She turned to see a worried-looking Chat.

“Did we…?”

She shook her head and he seemed to slump in relief.

“Oh. Good. That’s…that’s good.”

Yeah. She didn’t want to consider how Chat or anyone else would react if they learned they had killed someone.

A sniffle drew the attention of both to a particularly upset Rose. She appeared to be a mix of sad and horrified. Tears were spilling and she appeared a mess.

“I’m…so sorry!” She sobbed, rubbing at her eyes helplessly.

“It’s not your fault, Rose.” Ladybug rested a hand on her shoulder. “You were upset and you had every right to be.”

But Rose shook her head insistently. “No! If I hadn’t believed her…if I had just checked with Prince Ali first, none of this would have happened! And now…” She gave a sob. “Ali hates me! And so many people were lied to! They’ll be disappointed and their money was stolen and it’s all my fault!”

“You didn’t know.” Chat told her. “You thought you were doing the right thing.”

Rose sniffed. “But what seemed like the right thing really wasn’t.”

Something about that made Chat wince. “Yeah…”

“You can’t change what happened, but you can take steps from here.” Ladybug told her. She drew back from Rose and tapped her chin, thinking for a moment.

An idea struck and she snapped her fingers. “Since this was for a charity, didn’t you keep a ledger of the funds you received?”

Chat brightened. “Hey, yeah! You can use that log to note how much was stolen and take it to the proper authorities. That way, you can try to get the funds back.”

Rose seemed to calm as she considered the idea. She sniffed and wiped away a few tears.

“It’s worth a try. Thank you.” She gave a weak smile. “It doesn’t fix everything, but it’s at least an option.”

“You’re a wonderful person, Rose. Don’t let this change that.”

Rose smiled back at her. And for a moment, it truly felt like everything would be all right.

Then her earring gave a final beep and her transformation gave out.

Rose squeaked in shock and covered her eyes. Chat, for his part, spun around in an attempt not to see. It was heartwarming that they were so considerate of Ladybug’s privacy. Even Tikki gave a little gasp once she was free and flew to hide behind her. Fortunately, to her relief as she patted herself down in a panic, it was only her Ladybug transformation that had given out. The Dragon Miraculous was still very much activated and in effect.

“I’m okay. Sorry to worry you.”

Chat took a glance over his shoulder and gave a smile. “Perhaps we should cat-ch up another time.”

Talking was indeed not a free action. And while she had dealt with the akuma fairly quickly, she had spent a little too much time dealing with Lila.

….still worth it, though.

“Bug out!” She called as she took off.

_____________________

The Dragon Miraculous was different than what she was used to. The Ladybug Miraculous in combination with it had mitigated some of the differences, but they were still there. And now it was even more pronounced with her other transformation gone. It felt heavier. Her movements seemed more forceful. And there was an undercurrent of some feeling reminiscent of static that seemed to cling to her. Plus, she was without her yoyo, so traveling took a bit longer.

Once she had made it back to the bakery and was sure she was out of sight of everyone, she hopped over to her balcony and back into the safety of her room.

She waited for a minute, listening carefully to make sure no one would catch her. Then she sighed in relief and detransformed, leaving just Marinette with two kwamis in her room.

“Thank you, Longg.”

The Dragon gave a simple bow. “It was my honor.”

“I’ll make sure to return you to Master Fu later.” She promised him as she took off the choker and put it back in his box.

“Then until we meet again…” He said in farewell before disappearing.

Leaving her alone with Tikki.

Dead silence followed. Neither seemed willing to speak. What could she even say after what she did?

‘I’m sorry?’

But she wasn’t. 

‘I was wrong?’

But she had only spoken the truth.

‘I shouldn’t have done that?’

But she…she didn’t regret it.

She should regret it. She knew she should. It was mean and cruel of her and she knew she shouldn’t have let her anger get the best of her…

And yet…

She’d just wanted to air her grievances for once.

…but she’s Ladybug.

Ladybug has to be the bigger person.

Ladybug has to do the right thing.

Always.

She sighed. “Tikki—”

“I’m sorry, Marinette.”

That wasn’t expected.

“Wait—what?” She gaped.

“I’m sorry.” Tikki repeated. She was floating in front of her, but appeared so weighted down. She had never seen the ancient being look so sad.

“What’s going on, Tikki?” Marinette held her hands out in front of her, allowing Tikki a place to perch. The kwami accepted the offer and the comfort that came with it, nuzzling into Marinette’s thumb.

“I meant what I said before.” Tikki told her. Which…was an answer without actually answering anything.

“Before?”

Tikki seemed to slump in on herself. “You have every right to feel angry.”

Wait…wait…wasn’t that…?

Marinette gasped. “You remember?”

Tikki nodded, looking miserable. “It’s blurry at times. I remember being angry. I remember why. I remember some of the things I said…”

Marinette looked away, fumbling for something to say or some way to respond to that revelation. “W-well…I mean…it wasn’t really you—”

“It was.” Tikki admitted.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it—”

“I did.”

Marinette tensed.

“Please don’t tell me you still want me to light Lila on fire.”

She just couldn’t deal with anything else at this point! She just couldn’t!

Fortunately, Tikki looked horrified at that. “What?! No!”

"Maybe a teensy bit? You know, liar liar pants on fire?"

“NO!”

She sighed in relief. “Oh, good.”

Honestly, she’d had more than enough of that. It was like the world was telling her it was okay when she knew it wasn’t. And with every stunt Lila pulled and each person who tried to reassure her that Lila’s reign was over and she would finally be getting some comeuppance…

It was everything she’d been wanting to hear. Everything she had wanted to have happen. But it was all taken to such an extreme and it was only happening at all because of an akuma, so she couldn’t even feel relieved or vindicated because it didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t fair.

It was hardly simple temptation. It was like the world was trying to tell her to take what she wanted in the worst way she could and that nobody had to know. Or care.

But she would.

And while she certainly wasn’t inclined to go along with it, Marinette was just…tired by the end.

Exhausted, actually.

Not because she was tempted, but because she was just done with having to be the responsible one in the situation where everyone seemed intent on pushing her to do the wrong thing.

“Marinette?”

Tikki’s concern broke her out of her thoughts. The little kwami was looking up at her in worry, her little hands resting on Marinette’s thumb.

“I’m fine, Tikki.”

Tikki, for her part, only gave a small smile.

“I’m really proud of you for how you handled today.”

How could Tikki say that? She let her anger take over. She used the opportunity to truly let loose her feelings against Lila. And yes, she had been needlessly petty in some of her responses. She wasted time yelling at Lila as Marinette, which allowed Chat to find them and take Lila to the mob—not that they had known he was one of them at the time, but still! And then as Ladybug, she had wasted more time with Lila to the point her timer had run out and her transformation had dropped when she finally tried to comfort Rose.

Marinette winced. Those…weren’t really things to be proud of. “I yelled at Lila. Twice.”

“But you helped her more times.” Tikki countered. “Even when you didn’t have to. And Lila getting caught in the end was on her. From the sounds of it, she had multiple chances for safety and ended up losing them all because she kept trying to lie and hurt people instead.”

Well, that wasn’t untrue. How much of this could have been resolved so much faster if Lila had just stayed in the closet where Marinette put her? Or if she hadn’t tried to manipulate Luka and Anarka? Or if she hadn’t tried to betray Marinette to the mob? Or if she just didn’t lie about the charity in the first place?

Yeah, there was a lot of things that Lila had done to kind of bring misfortune upon herself.

“But it’s still my fault Lila was like this in the first place. I called her out as Ladybug the first day I met her because I was angry with her lying about being my friend to get close to people only to turn around and badmouth me to make herself look better.”

Which, looking back, probably hadn’t been that big of a deal. Surely no one would have thought less of Ladybug regardless of what Lila claimed—especially for a supposed “famous hero” like Volpina was supposed to be when she’d never even been heard of before. If anything, maybe this claim would have led a hero-fanatic like Alya to look into things and discover Lila was lying sooner?

Tikki frowned. “What Lila did wasn’t your fault!”

Marinette covered her face with her other hand. “But I embarrassed her in front of Adrien! No wonder she hates me!”

Tikki wasn’t having it though. “She embarrassed herself because she lied and was caught. And it would have been worse and more embarrassing if it had gone on longer.”

“If I had just kept my mouth shut…”

“Would it have really changed anything?” Tikki asked.

That…made her look up in surprise. “Well, she wouldn’t have a grudge against Ladybug.”

“Not calling her out then might have prevented her from considering Ladybug an enemy, but it wouldn’t have stopped her from lying and using people.” Tikki reasoned. “And it wouldn’t have stopped her from helping Hawk Moth if she thought he could give her something she wanted.”

True…Lila had agreed to work with Hawk Moth for revenge against Ladybug. But even if she hadn’t made herself a focus of Lila’s anger, sooner or later, someone was bound to call Lila out on her lies. And once Lila felt slighted, she would no doubt target them as she had Ladybug and Marinette.

She closed her eyes and took a breath as the realization really took hold.

The only one responsible for Lila’s actions was Lila. She chose to lie. She chose to do things that hurt people. And if this entire day should have taught Marinette anything, it’s that doing nothing and letting Lila continue only caused more harm in the long run.

After all, Rose hadn’t done anything but believe in Lila and try to help her. And yet she was still hurt. Even more than Marinette had been as either herself or Ladybug.

“And how long would it have taken, do you think, for Lila to covet the Miraculous for herself regardless?” Tikki asked. “You had something she didn’t. She was already using and trying to undermine Ladybug to promote herself before even meeting you. She was already pretending to have a Miraculous before she even knew what they were or what they could fully do. Do you really think that she wouldn’t have decided to work against you anyway simply because Ladybug had something she didn’t?”

“But…” Marinette seemed to struggle for a moment. Because it couldn’t just not be her fault at all. She had upset Lila and caused her to target her in the first place—on both sides of the mask. “I still could have done better. You always push me for that.”

Even if Lila was in the wrong, that didn’t make what Marinette did right.

Tikki tilted her head, looking up at her human.

“I expect the best from you because I know you’re a wonderful Ladybug. I hold you to higher standards than anyone else because I care about you so much. But sometimes…the expectation and burden can be too much. And I know I haven’t always been the most supportive of you.”

Marinette jumped at that. “What? What are you talking about? Of course you have!”

Tikki shook her head. “There were times when I’d admonish you for doing the wrong thing, but I didn’t really tell you what the right thing was because I expected you to be able to figure it out and do it on your own.” She gave a little bitter laugh. “I somehow expected you to automatically know what I wanted and blamed you when you didn’t meet my expectations…”

Oh come on. Marinette gave a little laugh. Now Tikki was just being silly. “No, you haven’t. When did you ever—”

“Like with the school picture when you tried to help Juleka? Or the lie you told on Heroes Day? What about when you were almost akumatized after being expelled? Marinette, something terrible had just happened to you and you had every right to be upset! But instead of comforting you when you needed it—especially when it seemed like everyone else was against you—all I did was lecture you for how you were feeling!” Tikki wilted at the reminder. “I disapproved, but I didn’t really help you. I didn’t really support you the way you needed.”

She looked up at Marinette, her eyes big and teary. And somehow so old.

“I forget sometimes just how young you are. And that you’re just as capable of making mistakes.”

“But Tikki, I have made some bad choices.” Marinette stammered. “I’ve been selfish and acted rashly. I’ve done things because I was angry or jealous.”

“You’re not blameless for your choices.” Tikki agreed. “But you’re also not responsible for everyone else’s. You’re not wrong for feeling upset when you’re being hurt.”

She hugged Marinette’s thumb.

“And I’m sorry for making you feel like you were.”

It was like a huge weight came crashing down.

No, rather that a weight she was carrying was finally loosened and falling from her shoulders.

It…

Was this…really the first time anyone had supported her like this?

When was the last time someone had validated her feelings?

She had been Ladybug for over a year now. In all that time, it had become ingrained in her that she had to be perfect. That she couldn’t make mistakes. That anything she did could mean the end of the world—literally, in the case of the future she narrowly avoided with Chat Blanc.

People needed her.

Paris needed her.

She couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

That was why any mistake she did make—or even the actions of others seemed to weigh so heavily on her.

She had to be Ladybug. She had to be the final line of defense in facing any akuma. She had to be incorruptible lest she risk irreparable harm. But she also had to be Marinette, who also had to be there for her friends and make them happy and be Class Rep and fix their problems and protect people from Chloe or Lila or akumas. She had to be responsible and fix her mistakes and apologize and make things up to other people regardless of what she did or what they did. But she also had to be the support for Master Fu and learn what he knew as the Guardian in case anything happened to him and…

Wow. That was a lot.

That was…that was more than she’d realized.

She started to feel her eyes well up. But she couldn’t let them free. Because that meant she was…because what if…because Hawk Moth could…?

A tap to her head drew her gaze to her kwami.

“I’ll protect you.” Tikki promised, giving a kiss to Marinette’s forehead.

“So please…be honest with me.”

It wasn’t the first time Marinette had let herself cry.

But it was the first time she truly felt safe to.

[worldwidemochiguy]

Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)

You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…

➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…

➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys) 

➵ Word Count: 4.2K

➵ Masterlist

“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?” 

Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like. 

“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”

You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.

“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”

“Um… well…” 

You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”

“You have an intruder?”

“Uh huh,”

“…Are they currently in your residence?”

“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.” 

“What items have been stolen?”

You bit your lip. 

“I know it sounds silly, but…”

“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”

“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”

“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”

“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.” 

A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”

You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”

“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”

“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?” 

There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone. 

“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.” 

He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call. 

The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube. 

it reads: 

pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)

It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway. 

You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.

 When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context. 

The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?

you’re very bad at your job

Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken. 

After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates. 

As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now. 

You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.

thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3

You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath. 

i wish you’d write back someday…

As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name. 

Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back? 

You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle. 

You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow. 

You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note. 

i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all. 

~ koo <3

You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note. 

The list went as follows:

They want to feel close to you

They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once 

They are a he 

(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)

and

     4. He calls himself Koo

When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch. 

hi koo !!!!!!!!

i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…

Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101. 

You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart. 

You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen. 

Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended. 

Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league. 

It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention. 

You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-

You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed. 

From: Unknown Number

[6:48 PM]

hi

this is koo

The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams. 

Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:

From: koo ✨

[3:24 PM]

sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be 

i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy

To: koo ✨

[3:25 PM]

but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////

You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them. 

try microwaving these :)

To: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

koo are you awake?

From: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

i am now

what’s wrong?

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i can’t sleep :////////

From: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

sweets you need to go to bed

you have an early morning class

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i knowwwwww

i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Mr Snuggles??

???

To: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

my cuddly bunny :((((

i think you took him a while ago

could i maybe have him back…?

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Shit

i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him 

[3:04 AM]

sweets im so sorry

To: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

its okay koo

From: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

no it isn’t

you’re loosing sleep because of me

fuck

i could… bring him to you?

To: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

you’d do that?

…i could see you?

From: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

no i’d leave him outside

you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left

To: koo ✨

[3:06 AM]

but kooooo :(((((

From: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

sweets 

To: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

okay :((((((((((

but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!

From: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

of course sweets <3

im gonna get going now

don’t look outside your apartment

To: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

okay

From: koo ✨

[3:34 AM]

im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you

he might have a little gift with him

You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself. 

You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow. 

It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne. 

You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles. 

Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you. 

You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus. 

You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting. 

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you. 

You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page. 

That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.  

Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes. 

Oh. Oh no. 

“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out. 

“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks. 

As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him. 

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

koo i think im in love

From: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

what

with who

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

this boy in my photography class 

he’s just so- 

[8:48 AM]

i can’t even explain it

i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried

From: koo ✨

[8:48 AM]

wait

seriously??

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat 

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

no-

cute 

but i mean

that’s who you’re in love with?

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah?

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

gray sweater

[8:50 AM]

big eyes

tall-ish

that’s him???

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU

From: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

WHAT

NO

IM NOT

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMGGGGGGG

YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS

[8:51]

okay!

are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???

no judgement

From: koo ✨

[8:51 AM]

NO

To: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???

From: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

NO

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

…are you the professor?

From: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

NO!!!!!

oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

WAIT

ARE YOU SERIOUS????

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

…you’re that excited to meet me?

To: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

OF COURSE I AM

OH MY GODDDD

WHEN?

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

now?

i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?

To: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

five minutes???

that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!

From: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me

To: koo ✨

[8:56 AM]

you

you think im

b-beautiful 

: ’ ))))))))))

From: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

…

haha see you there!! 

To: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-

You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot. 

You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-

Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like,  five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss. 

Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table. 

“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you. 

You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.

“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.

“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”

“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope,  still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it. 

“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”

“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.” 

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn. 

“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”

“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie. 

“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.

You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet. 

[mask-of-anubis]

#2 with Fabian and Amber

In which Fabian can’t catch a single break:

____________________________________________

In hindsight, Fabian really shouldn’t have put so much faith in his own abilities.

____________________________________________

- two weeks ago, at a party -

‘“Fabian,” Alfie said, high on overconfidence and sugar, “I bet you 25 pounds I can beat you in Scrabble.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “Really? 25 pounds?” Alfie nodded. It was an outrageous amount of money to bet on a game he would absolutely lose. “And if I beat you?”

“Um… you have to let Amber dye your hair!” Alfie said with a gleam in his eyes. “Any color she wants.”

Amber gasped and got the same gleam in her eyes.

On principle, Fabian wasn’t someone who took bets, or who dyed his hair, but he was feeling confident. He sat down at the table and shook Alfie’s hand.

“Okay, deal.”

___________________________________________

- now -

Fabian sighed from his seat in Amber’s vanity chair in the girls’ bathroom. “How was I supposed to know he would get a 50 point bonus at the last second?” he grumbled.

Nina, who was there for moral support, just shrugged. All week she had been reminding him that she told him it was a bad idea to make the bet, but now that the moment was actually here she looked just as nervous as he was.

Amber finished getting out all her supplies. “Don’t worry Fabian,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s gonna look great. Right Nina?”

Nina tried to wipe the terrified look off her face. “Uh-huh…” she said, extremely unhelpful.

“You’re getting less convincing by the minute,” he said.

It’s just hair dye, he said to himself. Nothing is permanent.

Plus, Amber was good at all this stuff. If Jerome was dying his hair that would be a different story. He would probably end up bald.

When all was said and done, he trusted Amber not to destroy his hair. But he was terrified of what he would look like. He didn’t always know what to do with his style, but he liked how he looked. Brown hair suited him.

He took one last look at himself in the bathroom mirror before Amber spun him around.

“Ready?” she asked, excitement evident in her voice.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“That’s the spirit!” He heard her rip open a box of hair dye. His skin prickled.

All of a sudden, Nina’s phone started ringing. Fabian perked up.

“What? Is it an emergency? Should we leave right now and not finish what we’re doing?” he asked, crossing his fingers.

Nina waved him off. “No, it’s just Gran.” He slouched back into his seat. “This might take a while. I’ll come back later.”

“Wait, I need you here for, uh, moral support?” He gestured to Amber. What he really needed was a voice of reason to stop Amber if she tried to dye his hair pink.

“You’ll be fine,” Nina said. “Amber: don’t do anything crazy. Fabian: I’ll still like you even if you look insane.” She left before either of them could protest.

“Unhelpful!” Fabian called after her.

Amber snapped on some gloves. “Let’s do this!”

____________________________________________

“All done. Ready to see?” Amber asked him two hours later.

The short answer was no. In fact, he wished he could just continue on with life never knowing what his hair looked like. Instead he said, “I guess.”

“Okay! 1 - 2 - 3!” She spun him around in the chair.

He couldn’t describe the exact feeling he felt when he turned around, but it was the closest thing he had ever felt to a heart attack.

“Oh god…”

____________________________________________

“Fabian, it’s really not that bad!” Amber exclaimed.

“Not that bad?” he yelled.

They were so loud that Patricia and Mara came to see what the noise was. When they saw him, Mara was so shocked she actually screamed. Patricia, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

“Amber, what have you done?” Mara shrieked.

The color was slowly draining from Amber’s face. “I thought it looked okay…” she said. “I mean, it’s not what I intended.”

“Amber my hair is RED!” Fabian yelled. “You’re telling me this wasn’t the plan?”

It was true. His hair was red, full-on red. And it was not his color. He ran back to the mirror to look at it again. It hurt his eyes. What had she done to him?

Now Amber sounded panicked. “Well, I only meant to lighten it and give it some, um, highlights. But I left the lightener on too long and then the highlights were weird so I had to make it all that color…”

The rest of her explanation was drowned out by Patricia’s laughter. She gripped the doorframe of the bathroom for support.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, this is practically your hair color,” Fabian said to her.

Patricia's smile dropped. “It is not!” She raced to the mirror to compare and her eyes widened. She blanched. “No, no, no, no!” Fabian rolled his eyes. “Everyone get out I’m gonna be sick.”

Nina appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on – oh my god!” She dropped her phone. They could hear her Gran talking on the other end, asking what was happening. “Amber, what is this?”

“A mistake…”

____________________________________________

Once everyone was calmer (and Patricia was no longer threatening to vomit), the girls helped Fabian sneak downstairs. The plan was to leave, go buy a bunch of beanies and hats, and return like nothing happened. Obviously, that didn’t work.

Jerome and Alfie spotted them in an instant.

“You’re kidding!” Jerome yelled. He was already laughing. He and Alfie rushed into the hall. Fabian accepted his fate. Both of them doubled over laughing. "If it isn't Ed Sheeran"

“This is the best day of my life,” Alfie laughed.

“Kill me now...” Fabian said.

“Hey, I think it looks great!" Nina said, coming to his defense. It was not convincing. Even she could tell, because a second later she said quietly, “But I love you regardless.”

Fabian needed this to be over. “Okay, you’ve all had your laughs. I’m leaving,” he grumbled.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on a second,” Alfie said. Fabian turned around. He did not like the look on Alfie's face. “I believe you owe me 25 pounds.”

“What?”

“You don’t remember?” Alfie said. “2 years ago?”

____________________________________________

- 3 years ago, at a party -

Alfie, high on sugar, shouted to all his housemates, “I will bet anyone in this room 25 pounds that I can get Fabian to dye his hair!”

Fabian walked up to him, dumbfounded at the stupidity. “Uh, okay? Sure, I’ll bet.”

___________________________________________

- now -

Fabian deadpanned. “I’ll kill you.”

[inkstaineddove]

Man as Mirror

Ships: PruAus if you wish; background PruHun and FraAus

Characters: Roderich, Gilbert; mentioned Erzsi + Francis

Summary: Arriving home early from Paris, Roderich encounters a shirtless Gilbert in his kitchen, leading them to have a conversation Roderich could've gone without.

Vienna, 1774.

Once his carriage safely rolled to a stop, Austria stepped out of it and stretched. While even he could not deny the beauty of Paris, nothing pleased the heart quite like home. Servants rushed about him, ushering in his extensive luggage. Sidestepping away from them, he gazed up at the early-morning sky and allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in. The fading purple of night, the sun shyly poking its face out through his hedges, and the birds singing their daily hymns. Truly, there was nowhere quite like home.

Feeling sufficiently uplifted, he entered the home and mindlessly made his way up the stairs. He froze once his hand hovered above the doorknob to his bedroom. He had been burned once before doing this and while, thankfully, all other parties had been asleep, the event had caused him enough mental anguish to power him through another three decades. Still, the desire to change out of his travel clothes was nigh impossible to dismiss. Leaning an ear against the door, his decision was made for him when he heard something like a moan come from Erzsébet. Changing could wait.

All remnants of his good mood dissipated as he silently grumbled to himself about their guest. While it certainly came as no surprise – Erzsébet did this every time he was out of town and, honestly, Roderich had grown to expect it – but hearing them was different. Sure, he was no fool and they made no effort to pretend but having indisputable proof of their trysts was another. Roderich was cursed to have found a spouse and enemy full of cunning. He noted that, if the two of them ever put their powers to good use, he’d have to compliment them for it. For now, while he was their target, any appreciation was out of the question.

He felt his body yearning for caffeine and knew what the next item on his agenda must be. Still lost in his thoughts, he was completely caught off guard at the sight of a bare-chested Gilbert standing over the kitchen counter. It was comical, really, watching such a brutish man delicately pour cream into two dainty mugs, mentally measuring out the right amounts. Roderich stood back and watched the whole performance in domesticity, studying the man before him as he never had before. The way his back and shoulder muscles shifted with each movement; how he never slouched even when it would be far more comfortable to; how the whole time, he never stopped humming marches to himself.

This scene felt too intimate and Roderich understood that he was not its intended audience. What he needed most from his rival now was hostility and not misguided fantasies of marital bliss. He cleared his throat and stepped into Gilbert’s line of sight. “For me? How sweet of you.” He snatched the mug closest to him and added in his usual five spoonsful of sugar. He held up a finger when he felt Gilbert gearing up to protest. “She’s still asleep. Besides, no one likes waking up to cold coffee. It sets such a tone for the day.”

They settled into a tense silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other. It was childish, Roderich understood, but failing to will the other out of his existence was better than devolving into petty insults or a physical altercation. And, if he ignored all rational thoughts, he didn’t even care. When around each other, what else were they but ancient children? There was no reason for them to speak, why invent one?

“Paris again? How many times have you been there over the last three months?” There almost appeared to be a hint of affectionate teasing in Gilbert’s words.

Roderich turned to face him and was surprised to find Gilbert already observing him with mild interest. What a strange morning, one he wished he could find some escape in by returning to bed but felt certain would provide him with no real escape. If anything, the pair would wake him up and demand he leave his own damn bed for another room, that’s how selfish they were. Against his will, he felt himself noticing the strength in Gilbert’s body, all broad shoulders and muscle, the physique of the ideal warrior. All suddenly clicked on why Roderich always found himself flat on his ass whenever they’d begin to trade blows. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that imperial power mattered little when they weren’t trying to kill each other on the battlefield. With biceps like that, his only chance to get the upper hand would be a swift kick to the groin, which even at his worst he was too principled to resort to.

He was brought back to reality when Gilbert began snapping his fingers in his face. “Jesus, has anyone ever told you how creepy that staring thing you do is? Like you were trying to undress me with your eyes.” He straightened up and shivered. “Commission a portrait, it’ll last longer.”

“Please, don’t be so crass. This,” Roderich flippantly pointed to Gilbert’s outfit, “is already enough. If I imagined you in any less, I’d be ill for at least a month.”

Gilbert smirked as he took a sip. “Funny, most people have the opposite reaction.” He leaned his hips back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how much more stalling can you do? What’s kept you in Paris so much? I don’t recall most treaties taking that much time to…hammer out.” He bit his lip, trying to suppress his snickering.

“It’s rude to talk work at breakfast.” Austria couldn’t be bothered to mask his irritation. Things such as ‘politeness’ and ‘civility’ always seemed to go to waste on Prussia. “And, if you’re fishing for what’s in our agreement, you’ll have no such luck from me. You’re wasting your time.”

“You think I give a damn about what’s on a fucking piece of paper? As if I’d be wasting my time on that. I don’t know who blabs more for the right price, your officials or France’s.” Gilbert’s demeanor was too casual. “Most of the time, we don’t have to go to those damn meetings anyways. We’re little more than decorations, the bureaucrats have everything written before they even breathe a word to us. We know that, they know that. There are always ulterior motives for our little business trips. Whenever I come here, I tell my current minder I’ll be off doing a diplomatic something-or-other in Vienna for a week, don’t wait up.  They buy it even though they know the real reason I come to this shrine of gaudy antiques.”

“Your point, Gilbert?”

“My point is that you’re no different. Sure, you tell everyone that you’re renegotiating this or that little detail and maybe your officials believe it. And you tell it to Erzsi, and she believes it since it’s easier than thinking the husband she loathes so much is just as miserable as her. And maybe you believe it too because you have to lie to yourself first to lie to everyone else. But you can’t fool me.”

The whole time he spoke, Roderich was staring down into the contents of his mug. When all was quiet between them was when he finally looked up, laughing. “You must be desperate if you’re begging to get a morsel of gossip on me from me.”

Gilbert scoffed. “I’m not fishing for gossip. If I was, I would’ve gone through your letters while you were gone. And, before you ask, I’ve never done that. Not for lack of trying, I’m just not good at picking locks.”

The vein behind Roderich’s left eye began pulsating. He rubbed his temple gingerly, wincing. “I think I prefer it when you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Why the annoying younger brother schtick?”

“Maybe I’m making up for lost time.” For added emphasis, Gilbert made sure to loudly schlurp down a sip. Roderich’s wince at such a noise caused him to snort some coffee out his nose. Wiping it away, he grinned. “Or maybe I just want you to stop thinking you’re any better than me. Get you when you’re unguarded.”

“There’s a glaring hole in your plan. You’ve forgotten that I would never allow myself to be so vulnerable around you, no matter what time of day it is.” He mockingly shook his head, tutting. “I understand that, for now, we’re officially getting along just fine, but don’t mistake that for camaraderie. The first chance either of us gets, we’ll be back to stabbing each other in the back for sport. It’s who we are.”

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Hardly. I simply know our natures too well,” Roderich sighed, growing weary at this line of conversation. “So, if this is only temporary, why should I feign tolerance towards you? Quite honestly, you’re not important enough to me for that sort of performance. Even if you were, you would see right through it. No, my energy is better spent on nobler pursuits.”

Gilbert had set his mug down, now drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I’m not asking for friendship; I’m asking for honesty.” He rolled his eyes with the temperament of a teenager. “Whatever. You got me sidetracked. It’s pointless anyways; you’re too delusional.”

“Excuse me?” That was quite the accusation from an unusual source. “At this point, you may as well come right out and say it.”

“If you insist,” Gilbert’s tone lilted up, songlike and jeering. “What you won’t admit is what I started this whole conversation with. All these trips to Paris, they’re not about work or diplomacy or any of your other shitty excuses. I know and you know that the only purpose is to blow a load in Francis’ ass and get away from your miserable life.”

Roderich set his mug down gently. There was no need for it to spill, to make a mess all over the clean marble. “For a moment, I’m going to ignore the vulgar insinuation you’ve made about my relationship with Francis.” He looked up, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. “You know nothing about my life and my contentment with it. I understand that you are a deeply unhappy and wretched creature and why shouldn’t you be? There is nothing for you to go home and boast about, no shining accomplishments of yours not bathed in the blood of an innocent people, but do not project your misery onto me. For all your crowing to the contrary, we have never been, nor will we ever be, the same.”

Gilbert scoffed. “And everything you’ve ever done, there was only glory to be found there? All the princes you absorbed into your own lands, they were willing? The Bohemians, the Hungarians, they love your rulers? Are you pretending that only Russia and I invaded Poland because I remember seeing you at the table, carving out portions for yourself.”

“I’m not so naïve to believe I haven’t picked up the sword before. And, if necessary, I would again. You’d be wise to remember that.” Roderich straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. “But I’ve achieved just as much without force as with. The home we’re currently standing is a monument to such.”

“Please. It’s a monument to other people’s power and what it can get you. We don’t impact change, we just ride the waves of it,” Gilbert sneered. “This house is a prison for all who come in it. A golden cage is still a cage, Roderich, even for the largest bird.”

Roderich sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Mixing your metaphors doesn’t make you sound wiser, I’ve told you this before.” Needing caffeine for his growing headache, he took a sip. “I assume you’re including yourself among the captives.”

“To a degree. I can leave whenever I want – as you love to point out, I do have my own house – but where would one of us be without the other two? We are the protagonists of our own tragedy.”

“I sincerely regret that old king of yours got you into theater. Next you’ll be telling me how all the world’s a stage and we are but merely players.” When Gilbert opened his mouth to comment on that, Roderich held up his hand. “That wasn’t an invitation for your Shakespearean theories!” He rubbed the bridge between his nose, his prior weariness intensifying. “Why does it matter to you so much? Why must I parade my discontent as you and Erzsébet do? If you make your life’s purpose revenge against an unjust world – there you go! I admit it’s unjust! – you are sure to become more miserable than ever before. Perhaps you should learn that before it destroys you like one of your dear tragedies.”

“It matters because you act like you’re superior to us in every way when, really, you’re no different. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” Gilbert’s voice softened with something akin to regret.

Something in his tone of voice, in his posturing, lit a fire within Roderich. His eyes hardened and he pressed his lips into a scowl. “Understanding is what you want? If it’ll get the defiling power of your pity off me, then so be it! I am better than you in every conceivable way. If I am to you but a mirror, peer close and you’ll realize it too. Where you feel trapped by the circumstances life has thrown us in, with a life that can never truly be our own, I’ve taken what you’ve failed to grasp. While you were slaughtering pagan Easterners in your little bog, I was here, accumulating wealth and power you’ve only fantasized about. I am the seat of an empire that you only have access to through Brandenburg.

“But those are meaningless things, aren’t they? Because here’s what really matters to you – the only thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen how you stare; I know that look – I’ve got what a childhood spent pining among the monks prevented you from getting. Did you ever mention it to them? How young love made that vow of celibacy torturous? How close did you come to breaking it? How many Hail Mary’s did they make you perform for every impure thought? Do you wonder what they’d think of you now, going through all this because you’re in love with your brother’s wife? Phrased just so, they would burn you at the stake again. Ah, but the hellfire is familiar, isn’t it?” Roderich glanced at the clock hanging behind Gilbert’s shoulder. “Erzsébet should be waking now. Go play domestic and bring my wife some coffee.”

Roderich forced himself away from Gilbert, who was left crestfallen with his wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had said enough, gloating would be overkill. He entered his study and locked the door. If there would be consequences for his monologue, let them come later.

The day was still new. Roderich stared out the window. Despite checking the clock, his adrenaline had made him forget the time. He approximated it was no more than nine. He began pouring himself a glass of brandy, but stopped, preferring to drink from the bottle. He gazed around the vast emptiness of the room beyond its sole occupant. He raised the bottle for a toast:

“To the prison of my own making. There is no place quite like home.”

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Three: If We Have Each Other.

~When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine. I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand. You should know I'll be there for you. I will always be there for you~

"Dude, we are in some serious jelly," I proclaimed as I paced around the small perimeter of the tree house.

"And that jam!" Isaac added from where he remained sitting at the table.

"Tight spot."

"Indeed!"

"Up a tree!" I supplied.

"Lost in the grass!" He offered. I swung around, shaking my finger at him.

"I'll tell ya what's grass, our- AAH FRACKLES!"  I had stepped on a stray nail in one of the floorboards. Hobbling my way back into my chair, I thunked my head against the table.

"But look at the bright side." Isaac leaned back in his chair. "Seeing as how our grand-theft-hairbrush is going viral and all, there is still a chance that me flipping the camera off could become a meme!" He pointed out. Slowly, I raised my head to stare at him.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Consider it, Marty! All it took was five years being dead and now I'm finally fulfilling my life-long dream! If I'd known it was this easy, I would have killed myself a long time ago and spared me all that drama and emotional damage," Isaac smirked. I shook my head, my gaze drifted back to the Vader figure and snow globe sitting side-by-side on the shelf.

"Please don't talk like that Isaac," I sighed. Isaac's face fell.

"Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking," He apologized. I nodded.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but what more could be said when you didn't want to speak?

"Hey," Isaac spoke softly, ducking his head to get me to look at him, "Even if things go sour, I'm gonna be here for you. Just like I promised. Through thick and thin, remember?"

"Through thick and thin."

Smiling weakly, I repeated our life long mantra. I took a deep breath and focused back in on the problem.

"Alright, man. We gotta figure out a game plan. That video is gonna bring every hunter and their mom up here to ice our, or my, gluteus maximus. And if they know about the minimart then they know about the hospital. So, what's our play?"

"Well, I say you use your Sweet-Talkin' thing and talk any o'those alcoholic weirdos out of it," Isaac suggested. I shook my head.

"Isaac, you know how much I hate doing that."

Although it was a tempting idea, that wasn't something I wanted to mess with. If you start playing with the dark things, the dark things start playing with you. That wasn't a concept I liked, but Isaac would never understand that.

"I'm just saying it’s an option! And an easy one at that," Isaac pushed. I glared at him.

"I'm not doing that."

"It might come to it, Marty. I'm just saying as a plan C it-"

"The answer is no! Moving on." My tone killed and buried the subject. Isaac raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine. But misinformation is still our strongest tool. We should use it. Tell anybody who asks that it was all done on a computer," He conceded.

"Alright, that's plan A. What's plan B?"  Isaac's face twisted in thought. I let him do any and all planning when it came to telling a lie because he was so much better at making it convincing than I was. Isaac was the king of spouting believable bull crap. In fact, he would have made and excellent demon. That guy could probably get an angel to sell its soul for a box of holy doughnuts. When the idea hit Isaac's brain, I could almost see a light bulb light up above his head. He leaned forward, exited.

"Okay, I got it. We make up some BS story about a gay black dude who got chopped up by the ferry or something and the hospital wouldn't help him because all the doctors were racist homophobes, and it was the 50's." He nodded at me very seriously. Like I said, Isaac was king.

"That's is the worst, most ridiculous and stupid story I have ever heard," I told him. Isaac's nodding grew more excited. "It's perfect. They'll buy every word. Just one thing though, what about the mini-mart?" I pointed out.

Isaac opened his mouth before closing it again. Then he opened it. Then he closed it. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. This happened several more times before he finally came up with something good.

"So, our gay black guy was also a nice hobo dude and after he died he started stealing crap to give to his hobo buddies." Isaac gave me a thumbs up. I nodded.

"Okay, sounds good, sounds good. How do we explain me?" I splayed my hands. Isaac huffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back again and tucking his hands behind his head.

"Well, that’s easy. The camera never even caught a glimpse of your face, so you're his anonymous theft buddy slash item distributer!" He explained. I grinned at my fantastic phantasmal co-conspirator.

"Excellent, and of course nobody knows who the thief is. Especially not, innocent little me!" I chuckled at his brilliance.

"Exactly!" Isaac smirked.

"It's perfect! Except one last thing. We're gonna need some eyes and ears in on this. Someone to alert us when someone fishy comes lurking about," I said. Isaac nodded seriously.

"You're right. But who can we trust around here?" He asked. I could feel the smile split across my face.

"I can think of only one man for this job. A man as trustworthy as he is slimy. A man scrubbed clean by his own filth. A man so wonderful, words do him no justice!" I declared dramatically. Isaac was confused for a moment before realization dawned. His face fell.

"Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I think I am." I grinned. Isaac just sighed.

"Marty, no."

"Marty, yes!"

- 45 minutes later-

"Yo! Danny, my man! How's life?" I called out. Dan-the-Dope-Man looked up from...whatever it was he was doing outside Copper Harbor's one and only pharmacy. The pharmacy which he, in fact, owned. Honestly, I didn't want to know exactly what he had been doing behind the pile of cardboard boxes that were stacked up against the moldy brick. I figured it was better if I didn't. Dan smiled a grin that was missing two teeth.

"Marty! My worst customer and only friend! Life's good!" He greeted me, kicking a few of the boxes over to hide whatever suspicious activity it was that he had been up to. He winked and walked over to me, pushing his absolutely disgusting blond hair out of his face. "But, you know, business is betta'," He concluded.

I could never tell how tall Dan was, in this form especially. See, Dan-the-Dope-Man was a shapeshifter, though of course, no one else in the town knew that. That's how he was the owner of the pharmacy as well as a drug dealer. His other form, Jonathan De’ Santos, was the tall, 40-year-old, honest-looking Hawaiian man that ran the pharmacy. In this form, however, Dan was a somewhere-in-the-upper-five-foot-range Caucasian guy from Brooklyn with a thing against bathing. He said that the grungy, sewer-rat look was better for his side business. I wasn't sure how much of that I bought, but then again, who's gonna buy drugs from the guy who's supposed to make sure you don't destroy yourself with them.

"I bet it is!" I said, taking a step back when he reached me because, like I said, the guy had a thing against hygiene.

"This is a terrible, terrible idea," Isaac muttered, leaning on the wall to my left. I couldn't reply to him because although Dan knew what I was he didn't know about Isaac. So all I could do was give him a rude gesture behind my back. He saw it and stuck his tongue out at me.

"What can I do fo' ya, Marty?" Dan always pronounced my name as 'Mawty' at least in this form as it had a Brooklyn accent.

"Well, o' Danny boy, I have some rather bad news to deliver," I continued, "There might be some hunters coming to town soon."

Dan frowned; his eyes narrowed at me as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, that ain't good. Whatt'id ya do, Marty?" He asked. Sometimes Dan could be like my older brother, even if he didn't realize it.

"Woah, woah, woah! Who said I did anything?!" I defended. Dan just raised an eyebrow.

"You're always showin' off and ya know it," He said simply.

"He's right, you know," Isaac interjected. I wished I could tell him to shut his eidolic cake hole. It wouldn't have made much of a difference if I could, as he would still have continued talking, but the principle remained the same. Isaac was annoying. He needed to shut his mouth now and again. But I couldn't say that right now because he was a flipping ghost and ghosts are invisible. Mostly.

Ignoring Isaac, I opened my mouth to try to argue with Dan but quickly closed it again when found that I couldn't, because he was absolutely right. Now, I couldn’t admit that to him because Isaac was right here and that would be saying that he was right about something, and that was a thing I would never hear the end of.

"In regards," I started again.

"You'd just say 'regardless'," Isaac chimed in. I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him to shut up.

"Regardless," I corrected. Isaac chuckled. I really needed to get myself some iron gauntlets or something so I could give his apparitional arse an involuntary appendectomy. Or just an iron ring so I could punch him in the face.

"Regardless, it wasn't me. This time. It was some attention seeking moron with a computer. That combined with my little hospital trips and you get something fishy looking." I finally managed to finish my sentence without Isaac chiming in.

"Well then ya betta' keep ya head down, Marty. I don' wan' ya gettin hurt." A dark look crossed over Dan's usually upbeat face. "Or worse," He finished.

"I know Danny, which is why I need you to do something for me," I said. Isaac sighed and face palmed but I ignored it.

"What?" Dan asked.

"I need you to watch out for any newcomers asking weird questions. I've got a plan if any hunters get too close to us, I just need to know who and where they are," I told him.

See, the pharmacy, the mini-mart, the bar, and the barber shop all sat across from each other at a four way intersection. Thus, Dan would have an excellent view of any hunter's first two targets. The origin of the supernatural activity, in this case the mini-mart, and the bar. He would be the perfect spy. Dan looked at me strangely.

"Say, Marty, you ain't plannin' on gankin' any a' dose' suckas' now are ya?" He asked, caution evident in his voice. I sighed, shaking my head internally. This was just another downside of being what I was. Everybody thinks you're a murderer. Though I knew I was far from innocent, I had never killed anyone. At least, anyone who didn't deserve it.

"Come on, Danny. In all the time you've known me, have I ever, er, ganked anyone?" I asked him, spreading my hands as if to catch the obvious answer.

"Well, no. But people can change," Dan pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

"Dan, I'm not gonna kill anyone. There, ya happy?" I said, only mildly aggravated. Isaac decided it was time to speak up again.

"You may not. But I will. If it comes to that. I won't let anybody hurt you, Marty. Not again. Not when I can do something about it."

I knew he was saying this now so I wouldn't be able to argue with him. Then I would forget and if he did kill someone Isaac would say he'd said he would. I ground my teeth together and reminded myself that it wasn't going to come to that. I wouldn't let it.

Meanwhile, Dan thought about what I'd spoken aloud.

"Yeah okay, but if anybody comes sniffin' I'm skippin', kay?" He agreed. I nodded.

"Okay, take care of yourself, Danny."

"You too, Marty." I smiled at him and began to walk away. Isaac pushed himself off the wall and trudged behind me, complaining loudly.

"Make sure you take care of yourself too, Issac! I'd hate myself if anything happened to you, Isaac! I wouldn't be able to survive without you, Isaac! Thanks Marty, your friendship means everything to me!" He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Ugh! Why do I even bother?"

I smirked giving him the sign for 'I love you' behind my back.

"Aw shut up!"

But I knew he was smiling.

~So, I'm thankful for my sister even though sometimes we fight When high school wasn't easy, she's the reason I survived. I know she'd never leave me and I hate to see her cry. I just wanna tell her that I'm always by her side. I just wanna tell her that...

The worlds not perfect, but it’s not that bad. If we've got each other and that’s all we have I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you.

I will always be there for you.~

Lyrics from: If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

[redantsunderneath]

DC COMICS: Incoherence as Not-a-Bug-but-a-Feature (Spoilers for Batman 89-100)

Due to the emergence of the new Batman villain character Punchline, I wound up buying the last 12 issues of Batman and reading them in a single sitting. I’ve had trouble following DC comics for a while, constantly feeling that they were in trouble since back in the mid 2000s (with a glimmer of hope here and there). The act of reading DC comics has been a frustrating experience, where individual good stories and runs were laying around in the context of a lot of things that didn’t make sense while the company’s thrust felt chaotic and ideas not well blended. Every status quo change seemed hard to figure out the rules of enough to parse the context.  We’ll get into the background of this, but my reading today of this extended stretch of comics that keeps losing the plot in favor of a fever dream of what’s happening at the moment with specific characters that refuse to cohere, it became obvious that what I had been looking at as subtext or critique was actually the text. I could see the messed up trees but was missing the the forest the universe was trying to describe.

What happens in these issues (Batman current series 89-100, I missed the beginning of the first of 2 arcs) is rolling war between the major Batman villains and the heroes (plus Harley Quinn and Catwoman), which shifts into a Joker and Joker adjacent vs. all as the Joker double crosses everyone then manages to steal Bruce Wayne’s fortune.  We meet 3 new baddies – Underbroker, whose schtick is putting ill-gotten gains beyond the reach of the legal system (with an explicit line to rich globalists drawn), the Designer, who back in the day offered the four A list Batman villains plans to achieve what they most wanted, and Punchline, who is your toxic ex’s new millennial GF who really has it in for you (there is also a new good guy Clownhunter, which is a whole different thing, and a new costumed detective that predates Batman).  This doesn’t convey the chaotic nature of what is happening issue to issue, but there’s more than one Batman hallucinogenic spirit quest, dead characters ostensibly walking around, a plan revolving around the Bat’s origin story that tells some version of it several times, and a no-nonsense declaration that the Joker, as the Devil of the Batman spiritual system, cannot die.   The whole thing has the effect of convincing you there is no definitive sequence of events, only versions.

Alan Moore’s Killing Joke is not a favorite of mine, for a number of reasons.  But the ending holds up.  The Joker has done terrible things there is no antecedent for, and Batman wonders aloud if this never-ending dance they do ends in anything but both of their deaths; can they uncouple from the unhealthy duality the cycle of which simply repeats.  The Joker responds, well, with a joke about two lunatics trying to escape an asylum.  One jumps the roof to the next building, while the other is too scared to try.  The escapee offers to hold a light while the other crosses on a beam but he says no, no you’ll just cut the light while I’m half way across.  This not very funny joke nonetheless has a bunch of resonances – BM and Joker as conspiring co inmates, BM wanting to break out, a commentary about their natures (almost a reversal of the frog and scorpion story where the scorpion won’t go because he knows how this ends), but mostly it implicates BM as the one who is enabling the cycle, the reason why it won’t end.  They both laugh uproariously, and the ambiguous final panels can be read as the fundamental realization of his complicity causing BM to kill J.  A lethal joke indeed… except, next month, we see the both of them again.  In broader context, the ceaseless cycle of the diad is reaffirmed.  This has been hellaciously sticky as an idea in the Batmen universe.

My realization of what DC has been doing is pretty banal in its pieces. Marvel has “ground level” heroes while DC has a mythos, a pantheon.  Their archetypal makeup is strong, the seven JLA members lining up with the pantheon of Greek gods and the Chakras weirdly closely.  DC has big characters that are somewhat flat which they can use tell big bold individual stories that are cool the way legends and fables are cool. But these stories require bold strokes that a bit incompatible with each other. People get attached to these iterations. Meanwhile, Marvel trucks in soap operas where the characters give you an empathetic stand in and are narratively flexible. Marvel events are usually about the writer vs. the company, asking you to sympathize or deconstruct the creative impulse amid efforts to impose control or order.  DC’s events are about editorial vs. the audience, the shapers vs. the forces of the world.  It may seem obvious, given this description, that DC’s focus is on an archetypal tableau though it may be less obvious that this tableau is under extreme pressure from expectations when trying to tell ongoing tales month in, month out (or semi-monthly in some cases). The stories are constantly compared against the big stories that have gone before, and the audience’s ideas of the characters exert pressure to push them in directions that capture “the” version they believe in.  This circle is not possible to square.

DC and Marvel both have a multiverse of sorts.  DC used to tell “Elseworlds” stories which were later tucked into pocket universes.  DC invented crossing over between “realities.”  DC’s continuity is heavy baggage and they began to have “Crises” to resolve the narrative incompatibilities.  These only made things worse as you can’t get rid of the past people have a relationship with – it will come back.  Now you have to explain that away too.  Marvel just lets it lay – forget about the iffy stories, they count, sure, just no one is ever going to talk about them unless they have an angle.  Marvel continuity is all angles and amnesia. This is just easier to do with dating and rent and your ancient aunt’s medical bills than with Gods. Marvel’s multiverse is about sandboxes that you can always dump into the mainframe if they work (and never really mention the sandbox again).

There is a shift that occurred in the industry in the 2004 to 2005 era that is less remarked upon than many upheavals in comic’s history. Marvel had gone through a period of incredible new idea generation in the early 2000s after a late 90s creative cratering but had just fired the pro wrestling inflected soul of that moment (Bill Jemas).  DC was coming off of a period of trying to do moderately updated versions of what they basically been doing all along. The attitude was “yeah we’re under stress from the combined history of these characters, but we got to keep telling the stories.” Geoff Johns was one voice of DC over the 99-04 period that showed potential - he seemed to get how to find the core of characters and push them into a new in sync directions if they over the years have lost a clear identity.  But mostly he had internalized a basic schism between something mean that the audience wanted, and something good and wholesome about the characters themselves, and figured out how to mess around with this in a equilibrating fashion.

Interestingly, the ignition point of the main forces that were going to blow DC over the next decade and a half was a comic that had virtually nothing to do with any of those main forces. Brad Meltzer, a novelist, was hired to do a comic called Infinity Crisis, which sold extremely well and was, justifiably or not, recognized as an event.  At the same time, everyone also kind of hated it because the dark desires of some DC fans were pushed forward just a bit too much for comfort and for a comic with Crisis in the name it didn’t do a whole lot other than “darken” things.  Nonetheless, this lit an “event” fire at both companies.  Marvel chose a shake up the status quo for a year, then do it again, pattern and was off to the races (I have written about this, and more, here) while continuing its Randian framing of beleaguered do-gooders opposed by rule making freedom haters.

As this was playing out, Dan Didio quietly took power in DC Editorial.  His outlook was more Bloomian – he seemed to spark off of writers who exhibited anxiety of influence. He recognized Johns was the one person they had could be promoted into something of a universe architect, starting work on two key projects from which the rest would evolve. The first, was bringing back Hal Jordan as Green Lantern and diffracting the GL universe into its own symbolic system, with parts frisson-ing other parts, and almost a Magic the Gathering color scheme of ideas. The other was to build up to Infinite Crisis, which would become the model for most of their universe changing events until the present day.

The basic frame is this: DC heroes want to be good (in a sense of their inherent nature) but forces outside form a context that makes them fall.  It’s a very gnostic universe, DC.  They  examine reflections of the concepts, invent scapegoats for certain tendencies (see Superboy Prime as entitled fanboy, Dr. Manhattan as editors that try and fail to mend things, etc), make characters violate principles, rehabilitate them, then show that the world if anything is more broken than before.  This is kind of Johns’ thing and it fits Didio’s narrative as historicval tension fetish.  But then came Scott Snyder (not to be confused with Zack) who began to work on Batman in 2011.  Since then, as much as Justice League is pushed as the central title and Lex Luthor has been pimped, Batman has been the core of the universe and the Joker the core villain.

Snyder had the same continuity conflict wavelength but was significantly more meta and able to contain multitudes than Johns.  He was the first to make an explicit mystery of how there could be several Jokers around at one time (who are the same but not, he posited 3 – man, Christians!) that seems prescient given the near future coexistence of filmic Jokers that are not able to be resolved.  I believe he was the first to begin to tease out an idea – that different versions of things in comics are not a diffraction or filter effect, a using the set of things that work best for that story and leaving the rest, but are a matter of the archetypal system of the audience coming apart. From an in story perspective what appears to happen is that multiple versions of incompatible things exist in the collective unconscious of the continuing narrative, and this is something that the characters may become conscious of.  

The run I just read is written by James Tynion IV building on the above trends.  The trick seems to be going all in on the Jungian aspect (at Jung’s most religiously epiphanic).  The Designer was a progenitor and adversary to Batman’s predecessor and his intellectual approach eventually defeated the detective… broke him.  At some point in early Batman history, the Designer brought the top four Bat-baddies together and offered each, in turn, a plan to achieve what they most desired: the Riddler, a way to achieve an empire of the mind; the Penguin, power; and Catwoman, money.  They are all elated as they await the Joker to come out.  The Joker emerges with a furious Designer on his heals and promptly shoots him dead.  He explains that he didn’t like his joke in the form of a fable – the devil offered four people the path to their greatest desire: the three chose earthly things, but the Joker’s wish was to be him, to become the devil.  The story proceeds to suggest that the Joker just exists, he is present as a necessary component in the system.   You can kill him, yet he is alive.

DC has been using physics metaphors for the nature of their reality since Flash of Two Worlds in 1963.  The multiverse as a continuity concept was their idea and the holographic universe of the hypertime was a thing.  It seems like since Dan Didio took over, they’ve been heading towards a concept of broad superimposition, of measurement effect being weak, of the universe being like a quantum computer with all possibilities coexisting and the story instantiating not one reality but a path through all the possible ones.  By making Batman trip balls through quite a few issues and relive his origin from different angles, the story is one of its own instability and the heroic task that confronts our hero is attempting to actualize the world.  The Joker is the Devil in the sense of lack of fixed meaning, of relativistic chaos, of the world not making sense because it’s unmoored nature with ultimately no knowability.  Batman, in this story, functions as a postmodern knight crusading against the impossibility of epistemological grounding.

There’s more going on, sure.  One plot is, literally, defund Batman.  There is rioting, people brainwashed by being exposed to toxic ether, people paid to go to theaters even though they will die as a result, and questions about neoliberalism similar to that one Joker movie. Punchline has no personality yet (Tynion’s not the best at that) but she serves well as a generational foil for Harley – a rudderless ideological vacuum susceptible to Joker-as-idea-virus rather than an unfulfilled MD who felt alienated due to the structures of her life and was seeking escape into structureless possibility.  The Designer stuff is both continuity play (See why they changed from goofy villains to more “realistic” ones! Look how pulp heroes informed superheroes!), a comment on the nature of a longstanding narrative (strong intentions die out as Brownian motion overwhelms momentum), and a lawful evil/chaotic evil setup of the dualism of apocalypses (overdetermined authoritarian vs. center does not hold barbarism).  But the thing that ties this to the past decade and a half of DC is the sense that the reality is fluid and susceptible to change or outright s’cool incompatibility.

This is different than other flavors of meta in superhero comics.  Grant Morrison believes the archetypes are stronger than the forces that seek to bend them.  Alan Moore wants you to deconstruct your sacred cows and probably hates you personally.  Marvel might play with self-awareness, but effortlessly resolves inconsistencies after it’s finished playing.  DC, at this point, allows you to watch the waves solidfy into symbols and dissolve, and the constant confusion and lack of grounding is more of a choice then I thought this time yesterday.  The conflict theory of DC reality has been in full swing but this looks to be turning towards a kind of Zen historicism, holding contradictory things in your mind at once. Warren Ellis’ JLA/Authority book is the nearest comparable text I can think of. I need to call this, but I didn’t even talk about Death Metal, DC character multiplicity as meta-psychosis event extraordinaire.  Comics just keep getting weirder.

[atopearth]

Collar X Malice Part 2 - Okazaki Kei Route

I wonder how Okazaki's route will go, since instead of focusing on a case, Ichika  wants to broadly focus on her reason for being a police officer, namely to protect people. Anyway, other than it being sad to see Mineo rather cold after his super cute and sweet route, I also find it saddening that we have to start all over again with Kazuki and their strained relationship😭 Anyway, Yoshinari is a pretty funny guy, he's like Mineo, capable but silly lol. I guess it's convenient that Okazaki will wake up when he hears a gun taken out of its holster lol. But yeah, it was obvious that Okazaki knew who Ichika was, there's no way they could have hidden that. Anyway, Okazaki saving her from a bunch of guys and then holding her hand was cute. I think he's right that even if it feels weird at first, to feel someone's warmth when you're scared really helps to kinda calm you down. Well, okay, Ichika is pretty ridiculous. Lol, like I can forgive her for trying to rush into a raging fire to help someone the first time but for her to try a second time?? I'm glad Okazaki shouted at her because that was beyond reckless. She has no protection, no plan, no idea of anything and she wants to save someone that's at the centre of a blazing fire? Even if she's panicking, that's pretty crazy. Not to mention that this was a park, she really should have focused on helping people around her who could be injured or feeling sick from the smoke etc. Anyway, Okazaki helped her come to her senses so she really should thank him for saving her life tbh. I know Ichika is inexperienced but I feel like this incident made it seem like what she lacks is common sense instead, but I'll give her the benefit of doubt since someone was burning to death in front of her, and that's difficult to accept and endure knowing there's nothing she can do.

I honestly feel terrible for Sugawara. I can't imagine how frightening it must be for her to be stalked for such a long period of time with no one to help her, and then having the guy wanting to kill her and himself, that's pretty crazy and I feel so sorry for her. I can see why she would trust anyone who saved her from this situation when the police obviously didn't. Omggg, there were two stalkers?! I can't imagine her frustration and fear to be relieved from one stalker (since they got arrested) and then end up being stalked again, like seriously that's absolutely crazy and I don't think any person could handle that. Okazaki pulling his gun out against Ichika (after finding out about her collar) was pretty dramatic. Seems like the memory erasing thing happens to everyone who gets captured? Anyway, I honestly felt so bad for Sugawara when she felt that being imprisoned as a criminal was better than going home and getting stalked again, it's just so saddening.. I think it was really cool and strong of Ichika to tell Okazaki to shoot her if he ever believes that she is causing things to go wrong in the investigations, it's like she's leaving her life in his hands knowing that he will make the "correct" decision. I've always admired Ichika's determination. I do feel bad for Okazaki though. Reporting Ichika to his superiors or not is a difficult decision, especially considering how seriously he takes his job. I think Ichika's thoughts really hit the nail on the head on why I just don't feel on board with her and Okazaki together. Like yeah, they're cute but I agree with her that it doesn't feel like Ichika exists in the depths of his heart, rather he is looking for something from or inside her hoping that she has it because of the "kind" person she is, and yeah apparently he's found it and wants to protect her and believe her, but I just can't help but feel that he's not really looking at her for her?

Okazaki's texts are so cute with the emojis lmao. It's also sweet how they share tidbits of their everyday life with each other. HAHAHA, I nearly died from laughter when Okazaki talked about how his robot vacuum "ran away" and never came home because he left his front door open😂😂 Okazaki buying Ichika flowers first thing in the morning to try and cheer her up from her lack of progress with the recent X-Day case was so sweet. Anyway, I have to agree with Mochida, it's really frustrating to be practically the complaint hotline department for the X-Day incidents but know nothing of the progress or results to properly reassure the public. Like literally, all they do is try and soothe people and their anger but have nothing to really inform them about, it's like they made this department just to have some people take the brunt of the complaints so others can work "easier". 

I didn't think that the rough looking guy that's a part of Adonis was actually a policeman before! Doesn't help that he looks pretty different from his photo that's at least 5 years ago... I feel like that's so saddening though, like one superior ruined so many young cops lives. Honestly, hearing that one of them has been in a mental asylum for years, and the other one left the country and never came back really kinda shows how traumatised they were by whatever happened with that "bad" cop guy that died. I feel so terrible for Sanjou and all those rookie cops Todoroki crushed mentally and physically with abuse. They all desired to be a policeman to protect people and all had dreams they wanted to fulfill, and they all endured because they believed in their justice and protection, but in the end the only thing they got was injustice and hatred from the people they tried to protect because of Todoroki's mistakes. Honestly, no matter how meaningful my job is, I don't think I could endure all that, so I'm not surprised Sanjou has resorted to becoming who he is. Sure, he's going against his principles back in the day by hurting people, but even though a part of him is still there, at the same time, he's definitely tired of everything. The thought of the moment he finally broke really tore me because thinking about all he endured is painful. On the other hand, it's interesting he thinks that Adonis can replace the police itself since really Adonis in other routes and kinda here is wrought with problems and people who are reckless and don't really have a clear goal aside from revenge. Unlike him, most of the people besides the leaders don't care about making society "better" because they're focused on their own pain and justice for themselves. Not that they're wrong to do that since Adonis chose them for that reason, but it's also because of that that Adonis is a mess that won't be a rebirth of a proper version of the "police".

I don't know if any sane person would really chase after Sanjou when Ichika's recklessness got Okazaki injured, and she's definitely useless in a battle without him, not to mention tending to his wounds are probably more important right now lol. I mean, it's not like I don't understand Takaeda's position and the need to quell the anger of the public with how incapable the police have been in stopping the X-Day crimes etc, but can't he at least be a bit more subtle with how dodgy he wants to be? Lol. Who parades around telling moralistic police officers like Morioka and Minegishi to just arrest all the suspects and not care about concrete evidence or solid alibis??? Like yes, these actions will totally make the public think you're great the moment anyone complains and this comes to light lol, like seriously. It's such a silly short term fix to the problem that I have no idea how he even thought it would be a good idea. Honestly, I would be pretty mad if I was Ichika and Okazaki said he wanted to die protecting her since he's looking for a meaningful way to die. Like excuse me?? I knew the whole protecting thing wasn't really about her even though he liked her to an extent, but I would be so annoyed if someone was "using" me like that. Sure, she needs someone to protect her and it's perfect since he doesn't really care about his life, but it's frustrating to think that in the end, how much does he really care since it's like he was just looking for someone that's kinda nice but at high risk of dying? Loll. It's like she as an individual was never really in the picture for him. I know he doesn't mean it maliciously but yeah... Something nice to see in this route is Kazuki reaching out and caring for Ichika himself because he was worried about her getting hurt, it was cute how he told her to take a day off because she's an underling anyway so it doesn't matter if she goes to work or not🤣 It was also nice to see them properly communicate by themselves, however I do think that the only reason this is happening so smoothly is because they want to get this part out of the way loll.

Anyway, Okazaki's inability to understand Ichika kinda pisses me off but Ichika isn't really communicating when he doesn't understand, so they're both wrong lol. However, I hate it when people apologise without understanding why they're wrong, like it's cool to apologise for hurting the other person, but it's not cool when you're going to insist on what the other person is mad about, so really, you might as well not apologise and instead try to communicate about the problem instead. Also, I feel sorry for Sasazuka and them, they're trying to solve the X-Day cases and here are Ichika and Okazaki having a lovers quarrel, I'm honestly glad they told them to get out and come back later because they're definitely useless to the investigations right now. I also don't really care for how Okazaki suddenly "realised" he likes Ichika and just straight out publicly confessed to her, because I personally don't feel it lol but other than that, I'm not fond of love confessions like these lol. I think what annoys me the most is Okazaki's flippant attitude as if nothing is wrong and it's not a big problem? Like he's handling it in his own way and I'm sure he's serious about it but the way he does it just pisses me off. I liked the way he was in the beginning but I guess when it comes to conflicts, his attitude is one of the worst to handle. Yoshinari is such a sweet guy, I don't know why but I feel like he's dodgy loll. Anyway though, sorry if I'm wrong, Yoshinari!

Anyway, hearing Okazaki's story really helped me understand him a bit better. Personally, the bit where he said rather than guilt for causing his colleague's death, he was more scared of dying the same way as his colleague in such a "meaningless" death kinda clicked with me. Maybe it sounds really derogatory and negative to myself, but for a long time, I've felt something similar to Okazaki in a sense, like I wouldn't actively look for danger like him, but if I were in a life threatening situation with my family or friends, I would hope that I'm the one who would die protecting them rather than the other way around. It's just, when you feel like your life is meaningless but others' lives have "value", it's hard to not think that you would want them to be the one to survive rather than yourself. So honestly, it's kinda funny to relate to Okazaki a bit even though he's been such a frustrating character to me lol. At least now I can see why he's so persistent on finding a meaningful way to die, because I think he's right, if I was going to die some way or another, I would want to die saving someone important to me. It was really cute how Ichika kept trying to show him that if he died, he wouldn't be able to eat such delicious food or watch the next part of a movie next year. It really makes me think hmmm, I'd really like to see the end of One Piece so that can keep me going lol. Something I find interesting in the materials/notes is that the Adonis who attacked the Prime Minister Okazaki was protecting two years ago was the original Adonis. The Adonis in the present are apparently viewed as a dummy group of that one🤔 I feel like that's a pretty important detail for the future, like is this Adonis just inspired by them or is it the real Adonis~ Anyway, I think what I found most chilling about Okazaki's story was when Tsukishima kept saying it was Okazaki's fault things went wrong as he was dying from being squashed by the rubble that should have squashed Okazaki. He probably meant it in some other way since he obviously regarded Okazaki as important enough to save him but hearing that as someone loses their life is definitely something difficult to handle, like these are their last words and they're telling me it's my fault so they're definitely right kinda sentiment.

Honestly, I've been rather meh about this whole route, especially with Okazaki's attitude etc, but after he so honestly confessed his feelings to her when they were watching the horror movie, I couldn't help but melt to his words. He was so sincere and honest about how he enjoyed those little moments such as the silly texts with her that I couldn't help but feel touched. He's a frustrating guy but I really do like him. Even though I could understand Ichika for trying to protect Okazaki by going to Adonis, it also made me really annoyed because she was doing exactly what she got so annoyed about Okazaki doing, which is not caring for his own life, so her not caring for her own life when she promised him that they would find a way to live together made me mad. I'm glad Okazaki got mad at her, but I'm also sad that he felt hurt over it. Especially when he already told her that if she died, he'd probably just die too. I mean, there was no way Okazaki wouldn't notice how weird she was anyway lol. 

I guess I have to agree with Okazaki's statement though, everyone has something that they want to protect, and whatever it is that protects their precious something, that is what their justice is. In the end, what we deem as justice is what we believe can protect the things important to us such as other people, our friends etc, and that is also why even if our views of justice can be "similar", what it means to each person will be different, which also means that if we lose what we desire to protect, then our justice becomes meaningless. Anyway, I really like Sanjou. I like how he does what he wants and I guess to an extent, I can understand his sentiments of not caring about this world and dying. Honestly, Sanjou breaks my heart. When Okazaki told Sanjou to leave with him (as Sanjou bombed the place and decided to die with the collapse) and he said Okazaki changed, it felt like Sanjou was really happy for him because they both connected and understood how it felt to want to die. I found it most saddening that Sanjou understood Okazaki's sentiments that yeah maybe he could eventually find something in the future worth living for, but the problem was that he didn't have enough hope to keep living in this crappy world searching for it, and I think that really made me want to cry. It's just so sad that he didn't have someone like Ichika telling him how much they wanted him to live🥺 I wonder why the Prime Minister's son is a part of Adonis🤔

I really thought I missed the trigger mode when Ichika seemed like she was dying lolll, TIL that you can check the backlog to see if the trigger mode was a success or fail so that makes things easier haha. I honestly think it would have been so tragic if Ichika died saving Okazaki though, I can't imagine having to shoulder the burden of two people you care about dying to save you and in hopes of you having a good life. Lmao when Ichika finally woke up in the hospital and asked Okazaki if he was angry at her and he sent her an angry face emoji😂 I nearly cried when Okazaki let out all his emotions over hating himself for not being able to protect Ichika properly, but I'm glad that he was so frank about all his feelings to her, it's really great how well he communicates with her now. It was nice to hear him think about wanting to be a grandma and grandpa together with her. The tragic love end was a bit disappointing though, I think it would have been better to see Okazaki have to kinda live a life fulfilling what Ichika wanted rather than kinda succumbing to death because he couldn't find a reason to live anymore, like it's understandable because he's said that he'd want to die if she died but yeah..

Overall, even though I quite liked Okazaki's character, I don't think I can really say the same for his route. I guess I just found 80% of it pretty boring tbh lol, like the messages and interactions between Ichika and Okazaki were nice in their own way, but at the same time, because Okazaki was "using" her as a way to die a meaningful death, I couldn't feel the "love" he had for her imo. What he saw wasn't really her but what she could offer him, and that's pretty prevalent and obvious when you read the bad endings. However, I did really enjoy the last like 10-20% of the route, probably when they finally communicated and got to understand each other lol. It was nice to see Okazaki so honest and sincere after being able to wholeheartedly believe in a future where they both live, so I liked that. For me, the highlight was definitely Sanjou though, I think his story and character really got to me, and I'm super sad we couldn't save him (or romance him) because I think I ended up liking him more than Okazaki lmao. I still like Okazaki though, but the route was definitely lacking for me, it honestly took me a while to get through because of that lol. In that sense, I guess it made Ichika and Okazaki not feel like that great of a match for me, even though they were pretty cute.

[leviathans-watching]

Sticks & Stones Chapter 5

Masterlist here for newcomers

*

Sitting down at lunch, you opened your DDD, going to your chat with Mammon. Wanting to say something but having no idea what to say, you closed it again, setting your DDD on the table roughly.

"You and Mammon?" Simeon asked, and you looked up at him in surprise. "Oh c'mon, it's written all over both of your faces. I honestly can't tell who's more broken up about it."

You laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

"What happened?"

"We're just having a fight," You sighed, and Luke perked up.

"See, if you didn't hang out with those demons in the first place you couldn't get hurt by them," He offered, and Asmo looked around indignantly.

"Those demons?"

Simeon cut over them. "How are you guys going to make up?"

"See," You picked at the food on your plate. "That's the thing. I don't know! I think I overreacted and hurt him, so I need to apologize, but a simple apology isn't going to work."

Asmo was the only other person who knew the reason you had fought, and even he looked surprised at this information.

Luke cocked his head. "Are you saying it was your fault?"

Faced with three pairs of eyes you shrugged, feeling helpless. "Well, partly. I mean, I definitely contributed and Mammon is stubborn, so I need to apologize first."

Simeon nodded, and Asmo smiled slightly, like he had been waiting for you come to that conclusion.

"Ok, so you want help figuring out how to apologize, right?" Asmo asked, and you nodded. "Well, it's Mammon. You could give him money."

Simeon scoffed. "Right, because they're just going to go up to him and say 'Sorry, here's a bag of money, now is everything good again?' Great idea."

"Well what do you have?" Asmo asked, and Simeon shrugged.

"I mean, apology gifts. You could buy or make him something."

You looked up. "Satan and I are going shopping later! I could get him something then!"

Asmo pouted. "And I wasn't invited?"

You shrugged. "I guess ask Satan."

He waved his hand. "I have plans anyway, so it doesn't matter. It's the principle of it all."

Directing the conversation back, you started brainstorming. "What do you think Mammon will like?"

They all listed a few things, before Luke studied you for a minute. "I'm sure whatever it is won't matter. Mammon will care more that you spent time and money picking it out."

You gathered your stuff as the bell rang, still trying to think of things to get him. You had some money from having the boys go jobs, so you guessed you were just going to have to window shop and see in anything struck your eye.

* * *

Satan met you by the doors to RAD and the two of you walked to the bus station among a flood of other demons who took the bus after school.

"What do you need to get?" You asked, taking a seat after you had payed.

"A new bookshop opened in the mall I'm interested in checking out, and I just want to wander as well. What about you?" The bus rumbled forward, and you stuck your fare card in your pocket.

"I just want to see if anything strikes me."

The ride wasn't that long, and luckily you didn't have to transfer, so you were at the mall pretty quickly.

It wasn't that different than human world malls, you could just buy weirder things, like curses, or human souls, so you stuck close to Satan as you walked through.

There was indeed a new bookstore that hadn't been there before, so the two of you walked inside, Satan's shoulders loosening immediately.

You stayed behind him, watching as he perused the shelves for a while, not interested in picking anything out for yourself.

While he checked out, you watched the demons mill about outside, trying to come up with something to get Mammon.

"Ready?" Satan stood next to you, bags in hand.

"Yeah, where to next?"

"Want to get something from the food court?"

The two of you made your way to the food court, and seeing a Hell's Kitchen place, ordered from there. Sitting with your food, the two of you talked easily, him listening as you described parts if the human realm he was interested with.

Talking from a table near you made you stop as you realized what the demons sitting there were saying.

"Isn't that Satan, Avatar of Wrath? What's he still doing with that human. You'd think he's be relieved of babysitting duty by now."

Gritting your teeth, you rolled your eyes, trying not to let it affect you. Satan coolly sipped his drink, making a go on motion with his hand for you to continue explaining whatever it was you were talking about, but you couldn't as the snide comments and whispers got nastier.

Seriously, was this some dumb high school movie?

You were pissed. Why were they bothering you when you were just trying to hang out with your friend?

Remembering Satan's words from breakfast, you didn't just want to sit there, but Satan's hand on your arm stopped you.

"MC, they're not worth it. We can't have a human getting in trouble, now, can we?" You sighed, following Satan as he stood.

As you walked past their table, you watched as Satan stopped, flipping into his demon form.

You hadn't expected that, after all, who had just told you to leave it alone?

You watched as he dumped the rest of his drink on their food, hitting them with the deadliest look, only enhanced by the aura his horns and tail provided.

"If I ever catch you talking about MC or I again I'll smite you," He warned, and they nodded, eyes wide.

Satisfied, Satan walked away.

"I thought you said to leave it," You hissed, and he chuckled.

"I said a human exchange student couldn't risk getting in trouble. There'll be no consequences for me, however." Satan turned to you, cold smile fading into a more sincere look.

"You know none of that was true, what they were saying back there?"

You nudged him. "Yeah. I can fight my own battles though."

Satan shrugged. "I know. Just let me do that for you."

* * *

You fidgeted with the bag you held in your hands, trying to talk yourself into knocking on Mammon's door. You had finally picked out some instant noodles, Hell sauce flavor, and a pair of movie tickets you knew he wanted to see.

It wasn't the most expensive gift, but you had put thought into it, so he's like it, right?

Steeling yourself, you knocked on his door, listening for a response.

"Go 'way," sounded through the door, and you sighed, knocking again.

"Mammon, it's MC."

You waited a minute, before knocking again. Usually you'd just bust into his room, but this situation was more delicate and you didn't want to be so pushy.

"Can you open the door please?" You tried again, and he finally slid his door open, looking at you.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, Mammon stepped aside, letting you in his room. Now, it wasn't usually neat, but it looked worse for wear, with clothes scattered across his floor and his stuff all out of place.

You hesitantly offered him the bag in your arms, and he just stared at it for a moment before ignoring it and pulling you into a hug. You returned it eagerly, snaking your arms around his waist and dropping his gift.

"I'm sorry, MC," He squeezed you tighter for a moment, then broke the hug. "I shoulda never told my brothers and broken your trust."

"I'm sorry too. I overreacted. I know you never meant to hurt me." You kicked some of his stuff aside and dropped to the floor, patting a spot beside you. "You were just worried."

He sat next to you, back against his ridiculously extravagant bed, and shrugged. "Still, I was outta place. It was stupid of me."

You poked his cheek. "Not stupid, caring. And I'm glad you said something. Everyone's been really great about it."

Mammon growled. "Better not be. The only person who should be helping you is me!"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Of course, I meant to say, 'Oh Mammon, please do something! They're being so mean and trying to tell me self worth and stuff and it's so embarrassing!'" You adopted a falsetto and tried to make it sound as dramatic as possible.

Mammon shoved at you, but his shoulder stayed up against yours after. "Stop it." You peeked at him, and he was blushing slightly, which was kinda cute.

Remembering you did spend money on him, you reached over and grabbed the bag, throwing it in his lap.

"What is it?" He asked, and you motioned him to open it.

"Aw, MC, you're the best! I've been wanting to see this movie! These tickets are for Sunday, right?"

You nodded, wondering if he was free. "Yeah, I was thinking we could go together?"

"For sure!" He paused. "Was this your plan? To butter me up with food and a movie ticket so I wouldn't be mad at ya?"

You shrugged, trying to contain your grin. "Worked, didn't it?"

He sighed, looking at you. "Barely."

But you both knew how glad you were you had made up. It had been killing the both of you not to have your best friend, and now that you were even talking again, it was like a weight had been lifted.

That's at least how it felt for you, and looking around at the state of Mammon's room you assumed the same for him.

Letting your head fall on his shoulder you smiled, listening to him chatter away about all the things you missed.

Tags: @nimeryaa @crispyarttravelhumanoid

Chapter 1

Chapter 6

Masterlist

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

I Didn’t Mistake Your Finger for the Moon, I Just Chose to Look at You Instead

Tim Drake x Reader Oneshot

The title comes from zen buddhism (maybe chinese? i’m sorry I don’t know), the idea is I am pointing my finger at the moon to show you the moon don’t look at my pointed finger, look where I’m pointing.

Heavily inspired by the play Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune

***

You can’t believe it’s only 8:30pm, just two hours into the night and you’re already bored out of your skull. Around you, the huge ballroom swirls with sparkling socialites keeping themselves busy by incessantly talking shit and guzzling Bruce Wayne’s alcohol. Everybody has their lips to someone’s ear and a glass in their hand, except for you, which is quite stupid on your part. But that’s why you’re at the bar. 

Behind you, the positively charming laughs of the Wayne Gala’s guests dot the conversations that spill out through the room in concentric circles, rippling over each other in waves that ebb and flow right up until they reach you. Then they stop short, leaving you alone and trying to order a drink from a bartender who seems to be too busy to chat you up out of pity.

Not that you’d do anything with her, obviously. But still. Some attention would be nice.

Christ, you were so shit at knowing what to do with yourself at these parties. You’d think you’d have them figured out by now, but no such luck. Your funeral.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?”

You turn to face the speaker and your eyes fall on Dick Grayson, dressed gorgeous in a sharp suit complete with a dark blue bow tie. He looks incredible, but then again, he usually does. And miracle of miracles, the folks around you are now eyeing you up, trying to figure out if it’s worth skydiving into your conversation to get in a word with Bruce Wayne’s heir. Dick does that to people, has the sort of happy, positive demeanor that makes folks want desperately to talk to him, to be part of his group. You’ll probably never get used to it. Or to how beautiful he is.

“Yeah.” Yeah, you know where Tim is. You resist the urge to point across the ballroom, motioning with your chin instead. “He’s over there, schmoozing with some LexCorp folks.”

“Schmoozing? With LexCorp?” Dick’s face takes on a slightly disgusted hue in the light of the chandeliers.

You shrug. “Schmoozing, making thinly veiled threats, planting the seeds for some light corporate espionage, but not the sort anyone can prove. You know Tim.”

Dick chuckles at that. “I guess I do.” He takes a step away from you, then doubles back. “Are you all right, over here? You look a bit...”

“You can say lonely, Dick, it’s okay,” you say with a bit of bite, too many teeth in your voice, but he’s not wrong. “I’m fine, you don’t need to babysit me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Jeez, y/n, I didn’t mean--”

You cut him off. “No, it’s fine Dick, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and try to take deep breaths. Starting a fight with your boyfriend’s oldest brother is not exactly on your to-do list for the evening. “I am a bit lonely, but it’s cool, I get Tim back in...” you check your watch, a cheap analogue that clashes something awful with your cheesed-up attire. “Eight in a half minutes. Then he’s mine for at least an hour.”

Dick quirks his lips in a half-smile. “You guys time how long he spends doing W.E. business at these galas? That’s--”

“Adorable? Or just anal?” Try as you might, you can’t keep the cynicism from spreading thick over your tone.

“I was actually going to say very Tim,” he says back warmly. You grin at him, bad mood abandoning you for the moment. “It was his idea. Wouldn’t be much of a date if we didn’t spend any time together.”

Dick laughs again. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Across the room, Tim turns away from the circle of business harpies and shoots you an apologetic smile. Dick must’ve clocked it as well. “Maybe Tim’ll turn knight-in-shining-armor and rescue you,” he suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “I doubt it. As much as I don’t like it, the business stuff needs to get done.”

Dick eyes Tim’s back. “Yeah, something tells me you’d be the one doing the rescuing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I hate to be rude, but I gotta skip out on you.” Dick’s down-to-earth manner of speaking always surprises you, especially because he manages to get away with it at these swanky events. When you do it everyone seems to look at you sideways. “Need to go find Damian,” Dick explains further. “If he’s not antagonizing your boyfriend, he may be up to something worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

He sighs. “Yeah, wish me luck.” And then Dick makes his exit, leaving you with seven and a half minutes to wallow before Tim comes back.

You chide yourself a bit, picking up the Gin and Tonic that the bartender had just placed in front of you. Were you seriously going to wallow in self pity at a gala half of Gotham would kill to attend? With Tim Drake as your date? Hundreds of girls and quite a few boys probably daydream about being in your place, especially after he made the Forbes Thirty under Thirty list last month. Still, his spot on the list doesn’t change the fact that exactly no one at this party, striking Dick and the bartender, has said a single word to you.

You stifle a sigh. It isn’t your fault Gotham’s socialites always prove to be uninterested in Timothy Drake’s thoroughly middle-class girlfriend. They had found you just fascinating when the relationship was new and Tim’s move of dating so far below his class had actually made headlines. But, six months later, your novelty had worn clean off. God, you wished you had someone to talk to. You were feeling so small.

Swallowing a sip of G&T, you think back to your first gala at the Manor. The glitter and glamour of the evening had left you breathless, whereas now it’s making you sick. Some parts of the evening never seem to go stale, though. You still love playing dress up in gorgeous clothes and parading around with your boyfriend, who was also dressed up in gorgeous clothes. Tim usually bought your dresses for these events, since there was no way on the planet you could afford them. You’d gotten used to Tim being stupid rich early in your relationship, and it doesn’t bother you that you can never match him in the money department. 

Occasionally, Tim likes to spoil you, although neither of you are too keen on outrageous gifts that are ultimately useless. He tends to avoid getting you things that are overpriced and unnecessary. (Cheap and unnecessary is where you operate. The two of you are currently having a competition over who could get the other the smallest, most useless gift for under two dollars. Your last gift to him had been a yellow plastic shovel that fits in the palm of your hand)

Tim doesn’t like buying expensive, frivolous things on principle, and you don’t like receiving them, also on principle. But if you’re going to attend these galas, you need an expensive dress point-blank, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And you want to attend, you want to be Tim’s girlfriend, public appearances and all. So Tim just has to buy you the dresses, which you secretly love because they’re gorgeous, and you have to accept them, because you can’t attend the gala without them. It’s a neat way for Tim to give you something expensive and make sure you’ll have a need for it. Plus, you know he loves seeing you wear the clothes he’s bought you.

Tonight, however, you’re not wearing one of Tim’s Vera Wang’s or Alexander McQueen’s. You’ve opted instead on something you’d bought yourself, a bridesmaid’s dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding earlier this year. It just about fits in with everyone else’s attire, and besides, the dress was expensive. You wanted to wear it at least twice. A great plan, except it isn’t as beautiful as some of the other dresses in the room tonight. You’ve recognized more than one from a runway fashion account you follow on Instagram. Nice as your dress may be, it can’t compare with any of those, and every time you see an exceptionally beautiful gown you wonder what you were thinking, wearing a dress like this.

The negative buzzing in your ears dissipates as you catch Tim’s eye again. He’s got the same stupid look on his face he’d worn when he picked you up this evening. Like he’d been punched but he didn’t exactly mind.

“Are you sure you’re my date for tonight?” he’d whispered, after doing a cartoonish double-take at the door of your apartment, because he really is a good boyfriend. “I’m not sure other people will believe it.”

“Of course they will,” you’d scoffed, cheeks glowing at the compliment. “We look good together. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

He’d look down at his own clothes with a worried expression. “Really?” Following your advice and urging, Tim had stepped out of his comfort zone tonight and was sporting a patterned tux. It’s a dark blue checked with thin black stripes, waistcoat and bow-tie to match. “I think I look like Al Capone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look very dapper.” You had taken his hand, then, smiling up at him and leading him out of your apartment. “Charming, even.”

“If Jason’s there he’ll make fun of me. Damian definitely will.”

“They were going to do that anyway. And besides, who cares? I think you look great.”

“I guess you’re the only one that matters.”

“Damn straight.”

He really does look incredible tonight, you think to yourself as you check him out from your position at the bar. Nothing short of beautiful, with the long lines of the tux sitting pretty on his sinuous, willowy limbs and gorgeous frame. His shoulders are holding strong under the fine material of his jacket, and presiding over everything are his sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes. Which, you note in satisfaction, are now fixed on you as Tim extricates himself from the suits and makes his way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, plopping down next to you and casually hooking a foot around your ankle.

“Nope,” you smile happily, thrilled to be spending time with him again. “I was saving it for you, and as you can see, I had to really fight to keep it free.” You motion around yourself to the people ignoring you. 

Tim winces. “I’m sorry, y/n, if I could do anything--”

“Stop, stop,” you wave him silent. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“I don’t like that you end up spending so much time alone at these things,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “If you even think I’m going to let you come to this thing by yourself,” you say, shaking your head. “Some of the other ones, maybe, but if I don’t make an appearance at The Wayne Gala, capital T, W, and G, the public will think I’m out of the picture.”

“Defending your territory, huh?” Tim grins sidelong at you. “Keeping the society pages off my back, more like.” You shift in your seat, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe I am defending my territory, hmm?” You give him an obvious once over, let lust show in your gaze. “Maybe you’re too pretty to let out of my sight.”

He flushes, color overrunning his cheeks and spilling down his neck and making him look even more edible. You let out a breath. “God, Tim, I could just...” you lean over, easily catching his lips with yours. Holding him there for a just a second, you run your tongue quick over his bottom lip and then pull back, spending a few moments just looking at him, with him looking back. 

You wait for some of the sparkling energy to fade before you speak again. “It’s important to me that you know I’m here to support you as acting CEO.”

He laughs at that, spell broken. “I know sweetheart.” He turns from you to order a drink. “I’m very proud of you,” you say to his back. He rolls his eyes at you over his shoulder.

The bartender makes the drink inside of twenty seconds, because Tim Drake asked for it, and then your boyfriend spends a few more moments staring at you, taking the glass in his hand and eyeing you over the rim.

You meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?” He presses a finger to his ear. “Going off comms,” he murmurs, then surreptitiously fishes the device out of his ear and stows it in his pocket. If you hadn’t known what to look for you would swear he was just running his fingers through his hair and then brushing some lint off of his suit.

“If I’m honest, I’ve spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about eating you out.”

...what?

It takes a moment for his words to connect to your brain. Then--

“Tim!” you squawk, eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard you. “You can’t just say that to me in public!”

His eyes meet yours, he looks unimpressed. Tim never has any patience for your prudishness whenever he brings up sex with other people around. “What can I say? The LexCorp people were boring,” and now he’s the one looking you over, eyes slowly working up and down your form. You shiver under his attention. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing, y/n, I think it would look great bunched up around your hips.”

God, confidence is such an irresistible look on him. Despite your better judgment, you decide to play along. Leaning closer, you let one hand ghost over his crotch, cupping him for half a moment as you say “and how do you think the dress will look on your bedroom floor?”

He gasps when you touch him, then smiles brilliantly, eyes shining. You really, really shouldn’t be encouraging him, but you can’t help it. You love him like this, you love the unrelenting force of his desire. You love how much he wants you. 

With Tim, you’ve found that once the idea of sex gets into his head and he sees that you’re game, he’s like a dog with a bone, gnawing and gnawing at you. There’s no stopping him in pursuit to get you into his bed, or car, or the nearest supply closet. And you always find yourself indulging him, because the sex is usually good, but the man himself is even better. You delight in seeing Tim aroused, because as soon as that switch is flipped, the self-control that Tim rigidly keeps in place disappears, and he becomes hypnotically impulsive with his emotions. It took some time for him to get the barriers down, for him to let loose around you, but now he allows himself to be everything all at once. An aroused Tim is playful, awkward, confident, shy, ridiculous, and enthusiastic. You never know what you’re going to get with him, and sometimes he flits from one affect to the other between moments, leaving you breathless.

And you’re more than happy to provide an arena for Tim to let loose, because the only time your boyfriend allows himself to be anything less than perfect is when he’s in your arms. Control rules Tim’s life in the form of some probably unhealthy idolatrous god. As he’s explained to you several times, yes, he actually does need to be this tightly wound, because if he makes a mistake he’ll lose clout at WE. Or he’ll be too slow at night. People will die (he will die.) Insert answer here. 

Which is all true, but it doesn’t mean Tim can’t take a fucking break once in a while. And that’s where you come in. Your boyfriend spends his whole life striving for perfection and punishing himself when he doesn’t reach it, but when he’s with you, he can be anything he wants. 

And one of the wonderful things about sleeping with Tim is so often you get to see everything he wants. Once he’s finally lost control, once you’ve convinced him to put the walls down, he’s like a kid in a candy store. He can do anything, and so he usually does everything.

“Christ,” he breathes in your ear, head still in your fleeting touch, one arm coming to rest on your back. “I think you’ve given me a semi.”

“That,” you say in a sing-song voice, absolutely delighted, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You turn and pretend to walk away, but Tim catches hold of your arm, reeling you back towards him. “You can’t leave now, y/n,” he pleads, eyes dancing. “People are going to look at my crotch and see I’ve got a hard-on, and I can’t endure Cass making fun of me again. C’mon, y/n,” he pouts at you. “I’m your damsel in distress. Save me from the bullies. Dance with me so no one will see.”

You roll your eyes, but come to stand in front of him nonetheless, letting him lead you to the center for the room with his hands on your waist. This isn’t the first time a gala has bored Tim to sexual frustration. “People will still be able to see your crotch,” you argue. “We’ll just dance really, really close together.” As if to prove his point, he suddenly jerks your hips to his, and you all but fall against him. “The song is too fast for this kind of slow-dancing,” you say into his neck, false protests muffled by his suit.

He leans back to make eye contact with you as the two of you start swaying. “That doesn’t matter. We’re young lovers, y/n,” he reminds you seriously. “They’ll forgive us.”

“Young lovers, hmm?” You’re struck again by his confidence tonight, how alluring it is. It’s rare that he’s this sure of himself, but he wears it so well when he is.

“That’s right.” The two of you are silent for a moment, and you contemplate leaning your head against his chest. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, y/n,” Tim says quietly, all joking gone from his tone.

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you.” And then, because you’re immature, too, and because Tim isn’t the only one who can flash his sex drive in public, you impulsively say “I bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

This is probably a mistake, but what the hell. You want your boyfriend just as much as he wants you, maybe more.

Tim doesn’t even wait two full seconds before responding. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I bet I can.” You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on the uptake, your mistake for thinking his boredom hadn’t already driven him to tackle this particular problem.

“It’s warm enough out that you’re not wearing any tights or pantyhose, so the suspender sets are out.”

“The suspender sets are out,” you repeat solemnly, already excited by this new game you’re playing. “Well, hang on, maybe I just wore a set without the suspenders.”

Tim is quick to shake his head. “No, you hate doing that, you’d rather just wear separate set altogether. It’s a set without the suspenders.”

You let out a low whistle. “Got me pegged there, detective.” You see an opportunity, and waggle your eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have you pegged, later.”

He falters in the slow waltz he’s leading you through. “Really not helping with the semi here, y/n” he complains, and he’s right, you can feel it pressing lightly against you. You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go back to you guessing what lingerie I’m wearing.”

He nods, only half joking. Tim loves a puzzle. “Thank you. So none of the suspenders.”

“So none of the suspenders,” you repeat again, and offer him a winning smile when he glares at you over it.

Explanatory monologue in full swing, he says “You normally like to match your dress, but this one’s black, which isn’t very helpful.” All of a sudden his attention shifts and comes to rest on your face. “Are you going to tell me if I get it right, or will I just have to wait and see?”

“What would make it better for you, baby?” you ask, voice sultry as you slide your hips against his.

“I have absolutely no idea. Is it the red one?” 

“Nope!”

“Damn. I love the red one.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

He pouts at you, but quickly perks up again. “Here, hang on, I’m going to risk exposing my erection so I can get a better view of your back,” and suddenly you’re spinning, once, twice, three times, before Tim pulls you back to his chest and dips you as the song ends. You’re panting a bit in surprise, and from your position suspended in his strong arms, you can feel one of his hands pawing around at your hip, smoothing over the fabric of your dress.

He pulls you upright as another song begins, a grimace on his handsome face. You reach up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. “That was inconclusive,” he mutters.

You glance over his shoulder. “I think Bruce definitely got a good look at what’s going on down south.” Your boyfriend’s father is looking rather pointedly at the ground, a pained look on his face.

“I could barely see the lines of the set through your dress,” Tim complains, and then adds “Bruce’ll get over it. Or he won’t. Whatever,” he says dismissively. “Last week I walked in on Selina blowing him under his desk, so now we’re even. What’s way more important is that I couldn’t see anything, why couldn’t I see anything?”

“Aww, poor baby,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, before brightening a bit. “I mean, it wasn’t a total loss. I did get a great view of your ass. It still looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks for the update.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t see the lines, but I did get a good feel of your underwear at your hip.” He plants his tongue between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as you sway delicately to the new song. “I didn’t feel a strap, so I can rule out some of the thongs.” You hum in agreement, arms coming up to wrap securely around his torso in an extended embrace. “It isn’t either of the black ones, or the nice blue one, is it?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

“Hn.” He shifts his arms, and you feel his slight hand flitting about at your hip again. He soon gives up, discouraged. “The material of your dress is too thick, I can’t feel anything through it.”

You decide to throw him a bone. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m actually wearing another color besides black, and the set matches it.”

Tim frowns, stepping back from you for a moment to look down at your feet. “Your shoes are black too, what are you talking about?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ruin it for you?”

“No, let me think,” Tim says, and goes silent, eyes shut. You study him as the actual detective comes out to play. His eyes snap open again, and you clock his gaze going for your throat and ears. No necklace, but you are wearing gold earrings. Tim ignores them and takes your hand in his, examining your rings. He knows you too well to ask whether the set is gold or silver, that isn’t your style. He’s getting much closer with the rings though, and then his sharp exhale is ghosting through your fingers and his eyes are meeting yours again. You give him a proud smile.

“Good solve, Timmy.” He kisses the pad of your index finger. “Nail polish, y/n?”

“Nail polish,” you confirm.

“Why?”

You pretend to think it over, letting your eyes go wide. “Well, I just thought it would look nice, you know? My hand right over the panties, maybe even inside them, if you wanted me to do any of the work on my own.”

His eyes just about bug out of his head at that, and then he shakes his smile back and forth, impressed. Your answering grin is knife sharp. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you, y/n? What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck. “That’s sort of the point. We can get out of here right now.”

“You know I would love, love, to do that,” Tim says, running his hands down your back, “but there’s supposedly a deal going down at 9:30 that I kind of need to be there for.”

“Well, then,” you murmur, “you’ll just have to suffer for another twenty minutes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says drily. The two of you sway in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “Hold on, y/n, something just occurred to me.”

“Yes, Tim?”

“Your nail polish is purple, but you don’t own any sets that color. What gives?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He looks at you for a few moments before his face smooths out again. “You really have it in for me tonight, don’t you? It’s a new set?”

“It’s a new set,” you confirm.

“And I bet you look just stellar in purple,” he says to himself, a desperate edge to his voice. 

“You know very well I look good in everything.” You glance downwards. “How are you doing there, Timmy?”

“Fuck off,” he says happily. “Is it lace?”

“Tim, sweetheart, of course it’s lace.”

Your boyfriend groans, then freezes in place. You look at him questioningly. “I’m running a cost/benefit analysis on me skipping out on this deal.”

“Give it to Tam,” you suggest.

“Give it to Tam,” he agrees. “Yeah, alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You let out a delighted laugh, following him in the direction of his old bedroom in the manor. Behind you, you dimly hear the orchestra finish their song. There are a few moments of silence while you make your way to the exit, and then you hear a few forlorn notes on the piano that have you turning around and calling out “Tim!”

“Whoa, y/n, where are you--”

“Tim! Tim it’s Claire de Lune, they’re playing Claire de Lune, we have to stay!” You drag him back to the dance floor.

“But,” he tries to argue, “but y/n, we were going to--”

“Tim.” You stand your ground. “It’s Claire de Lune. Please?”

He mumbles under his breath but takes you back into his arms regardless, like the good boyfriend that he is. You adore the Claire de Lune, and he’s probably reasoned to himself that no amount of arguing or pleading could tear you from the melody spinning lazily through the room.

He’s still going to complain about it, though. “Claire de Lune, huh? I can’t believe I lived to see Twilight cock-blocking me again.”

You poke him in the side. “Some of us first heard Debussy at the Gotham Philharmonic and some of us read about him in Stephanie Meyers’ blockbuster paranormal romance and googled Claire de Lune on the family computer in their Dad’s office, okay? The important thing is we’re both here, and we can both appreciate it, so shut up.”

Tim shuts up. You smile at him, and let your eyes fall closed. The slow melody envelops you like mist and settles on your skin, resting easy in your inner ear. A small part of you anticipates the notes before the pianist actually plays them, and you find yourself nodding when they finally escape from her fingers. Her performance is perfect, she isn’t messing around trying to improve Debussy’s masterwork, just picking her way through it, measure by measure. You take deep, even breaths as a sense of calm permeates your system. Eyes still closed, you let the music relax you, content to wade dreamily in its cool comfort. 

After about a minute, Tim clears his throat. “Y/n,” he says gently, “look.” You open your eyes and follow Tim’s pointed finger to one of the floor-length windows, gasping out loud when you see the stunning full moon. It sits in an overcast sky, fog and smog and clouds pressing against it like an embrace. The thin ropey clouds that drift across its slouched figure are reflecting its yellow light and giving it a warm, pearly corona, a halo. You stare at it openly for a few seconds, admiring the bone moon in its sky armchair.

Your attention drifts back to Tim’s finger, arm still hanging loosely in front of you, and then to the man himself. The ballroom lights are low enough that you can imagine the moonlight reflecting off of Tim, too, that he too is catching some of its cotton shine on his face. You’re awfully lucky to be with someone who takes the time to point out a particular moon among of a string of nights with particular moons, and you tell him so. Tim’s smile is quiet, but he presses his forehead to yours, where it stays for the rest of the song.

When it ends Tim leans back to smile at you again. You smile back, feeling filled up with the moon and the music and him. Catching his hand in your own, you start in the direction of the grand staircase that leads up to his old bedroom. Tim stops you by pulling on your arm lightly, before turning and walking towards the doors that will take you outside.

You look at him quizzically. “Can we go to your apartment?” he murmurs. “We’ve been in my world this whole night, now I want to be in yours.”

You smile softly before leaning up to kiss him, quick and light. He squeezes your hand as he leads you through the room, and then suddenly you’re outside, breathing cool, almost autumn air while you wait for Tim to get a car sorted out. You turn your eyes upward to meet the moon again, the ghost of Claire de Lune still drifting through your head.

Tim breaks your reverie by calling your name, and you follow him into the back of a car. After directing the driver to your apartment, Tim hands you an earbud. You put it in your left ear while Tim puts the other in his right, and together you listen to Claire de Lune again as the car makes it’s way through a Gotham that’s soft and shiny with moonlight. Three repetitions of Debussy later you’re standing in front of your apartment, Tim wrapping his arms around you as you fiddle with your keys, unlock your door, and lead him to your bedroom.

Later, after you’re spent twice over and Tim has made good on his fantasy of opening you up with his mouth, Tim shifts in the bed and slides himself around you, lips at your ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You sigh happily. “Mmm.”

“I asked the orchestra to play Clair de Lune.”

You raise yourself up on your elbows at that, leaning over him with a meaningful look into his starry eyes. You’re sure there are stars in yours, too. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You lie back down. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Mmm.”

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (3/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640495394492710912/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-23

Chapter 6 (3/3) - Gifts

Words: 3k

Molly was probably able to hide all those bad feelings from the other people in camp, but she couldn’t hide them from Emily: she was good with emotions, and in reading poetry. However, she had talked too much, again, and she felt mortified for how Molly had treated her. Walking around with the weight of regret on her chest, she ended up in front of her tent where Mary-Beth was still reading and Tilly was washing some clothes.

“Hello, girls. Do you need help, Tilly?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

“Is it still that book? The one with the man who wants to visit the moon?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Ah-ah” she affirmed. 

Emily had soon found out that her books were boring and foolish, but she tried not to point it out to avoid insulting Mary-Beth. Besides, she had only three and she kept reading them again and again.

“How did the job go?” she asked to Emily.

“Good, I’ve made some money, so now I can buy you some other book. Something more interesting.”

“This one is not so bad. You have never wondered what goes on, on the moon?” “What should go on, on the moon? It’s a big cold rock.”

Mary-Beth widened her eyes.

“How do you know? You’ve been there?”

“No, of course not, but other people have.”

“You mean there’s folks living up there?”

Emily laughed, but then she saw Mary-Beth’s half hurt half curious face and decided to explain to her what apparently she didn’t know, that the moon couldn’t be colonized because there was no air and that men could only go up there with spaceships and space suits that allowed them to breathe.

“I’ve never heard of any of that” said Tilly.

“That’s because you have to wait until 1969 for that to happen.”

“So much time? We’ll probably never see that” replied a disconsolate Mary-Beth.

“But I can tell you everything about that, so it’s like you’ve lived that” Emily tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” asked Karen walking closer.

“The moon!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.

“Puff, again with your stupid fantasies?”

“It’s not a fantasy. Emily says we will walk on the moon one day.”

“Is that so? And how you expect to reach it? Riding a winged unicorn?”

Emily summoned all her patience and started explaining how Armstrong had been the first man to ever walk on the moon, how space rockets worked - without going into details that even she didn’t know, of course - and especially what gravity was, a new bizarre concept for the three girls.

“How the hell can you know all these things?” asked Karen who in spite of herself had started to get interested in what she was saying. 

“I learned them, at school.”

“Are girls allowed to learn these things at school?” asked Tilly.

“Of course. We learn everything.”

“That sounds great. Can you bring me with you when you go back? The future looks so much better than now” said Mary-Beth.

Emily giggled but almost immediately she turned serious. 

“If I’ll ever go back.”

...

The next morning Emily had an insistent itch on her head, and she perfectly knew the reason for that: a week, a week without a shower, a week without touching water. As she walked across the camp to reach Mr. Pearson’s kitchen and take some biscuits, scratching her head vigorously, she wondered how could those people live without washing everyday. It was humanly impossible. 

“Morning, Miss Emily!” thundered Pearson with his big scratchy voice. Emily was getting used to it, he was a sort of morning alarm clock for her.

“Morning.”

“Some big plan for today?”

“Yes, washing” she murmured.

“Aah nothing better than a good bath.”

She couldn’t but agree, the only problem was: who she might have asked for a ride in town? Taking a couple of biscuits and with that question buzzing in her head she started walking around camp. Charles was her first choice, he was the one she trusted most there, so she went looking for him. Only after a couple of minutes of empty roaming she learned that he was out hunting, so her choice moved on Lenny.

“I’m on guard duty. I can’t leave my place.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”

Javier? He was still asleep. He had had the guard turn that night. Uncle? He found an excuse not to lift his ass from the piece of shadow under which he was seated, drinking from his bottle. Dutch? Never. Bill? Emily wanted to bath in water, not in blood. In the end, she thought about Hosea. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him, but she had no other choice, that was becoming a matter of life or death and she couldn’t delay it anymore.

“Morning, my dear” the man said when she reached him.

“Morning, Hosea” she murmured and left a slight kiss on his cheek, a habit she had taken in those days and to which Hosea still hadn’t become accustomed. 

“How are you?” he asked a little embarrassed.

“Fine. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“I…” “Gentlemen, I’m going to Valentine for a little business.”

Emily turned around when she recognized Mr. Strauss’ voice and she fixed her eyes on the little man with the tiny glasses, walking quickly with his back bent and his ledger tightened to his chest.

She hadn’t even taken him in consideration, but after all, she didn’t mind with whom she was riding, she just needed someone who brought her to town and then back to camp. She turned again to look at Hosea and said a hasted “never mind” before she ran to Mr. Strauss.

“Good Morning, Mr. Strauss.”

“Morning, Miss Richardson.”

“You said you’re going to town. Do you mind taking me with you?”

“No, if you can keep the pace.”

“The pace? Y-you don’t… I thought you were taking a horse.” “I don’t ride horses, Miss, I walk. If that is a problem for you, you can go with someone else.”

“N-no no, it’s not a problem. I can walk.” “Good. Keep up the pace.” Without a wagon nor a horse, the little path that leaded out of the wood and on the main road seemed endless. Besides, Emily couldn’t fill the time with words because, let’s be honest, what kind of conversation could she have with Strauss? And only when they emerged from the trees she found the courage to ask him something.

“So, why don’t you ride horses?” 

“I don’t like them.”

Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had just found something in common with the person she thought to be the most different from her. 

“Oh, well, you know, I don’t like horses, either. I can’t understand why they find them so interesting.”

“They’re easy and fast transportation.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell as they kept walking. Mr. Strauss had spoken the truth, he really had a fast pace, he almost ran with those short and skinny legs and Emily found it really difficult to keep up. For a second she wondered what was he going to do in town, but then she glanced at that ledger he tightened to his chest like a new born and realized that probably he was going there for some debts.

“Are you going to Valentine to recollect some money?”

“Lending.” “To whom?”

“I reckon you’re asking just to make conversation, but if you don’t mind I’d rather keep the names of my clients for myself.”

“Alright” Emily whispered and lowered her head. She was starting to regret her choice. Hosea would nave been a far better conversation partner.

“I know what you all think of me” said Mr. Strauss suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You think that what I do is disgusting, but if you think about it, compared to what other people do, my job is not so terrible. After all I don’t kill, I don’t steal, I don’t do anything which is not inside the limits of the law.”

Emily kept looking at him with wide eyes asking herself where all that was coming from. She had never questioned his “profession”, she had never spoken about it, nor expressed a judgement to his person. How could she express a judgement on a money lender in a camp of criminals? And, how could the others in camp express a judgement on him? After all, Mr. Strauss was right, they were thieves and murderers, and if they really despised him for the usury, they were a bunch of hypocrites. 

“I don’t think you do anything wrong Mr. Strauss. You lend people money and then ask it back with interests. You’re like a private bank.”

“I’m glad you are such an open minded type, Miss.”

“Who knows, maybe with your job you also help some people. If someone is in extreme need of money and you lend them some, you might save their lives.”

Mr. Strauss looked at her for a moment, a second really, before he fixed his eyes again on the road.

“I don’t understand you, Miss. You look perfectly sane but at the same time you insist on that deluded story of the time travel.”

Emily huffed. It was time to try and convince him too. And she tried, for all the way to Valentine she tried convincing Strauss that she wasn’t crazy, but she couldn’t. That man was so firm and attached to his principles that she had to give up. 

They parted when they reached town, with the promise to meet again in front of the general store when they had finished to do what they had to do. Strauss walked down the main road while Emily aimed for the Hotel. Mary-Beth had told her she had to go there for a bath. She climbed the four steps of the porch and walked inside.

“Morning, Miss. How can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I’m here for a bath” she said with insecurity. 

“I’ll have it arranged for you” he said and walked down the corridor to his right. 

Emily took the opportunity to look around: the room was rather basic with no paintings on the walls nor carpets on the floor. After all, in a town like that, what kind of luxury could they have?

“They’re warming the water, Miss. If you want to sit down while you wait” said the man coming back from the corridor and pointing to a chair.

Emily sat on the green worn out cushion and waited patiently for the water to be warmed and in the mean time she wondered how they were doing it. Maybe making it boil on the fire before pouring it inside the bathtub, just like she had seen many times in the movies?

It was exactly what they were doing and she found it out only when they let her inside the candle lit room with no windows. The average large bathtub was in the centre, a sort of basin with a mirror stood right beside the door while on the back of the room there was a partition panel for clothes changing. On a little table beside the tub there was a big bar of creamy soap and a brownish sponge, which she was sure she wasn’t going to touch. 

Emily looked around her carefully and then fixed her eyes on the piping hot water. For her all that was awful: wash in a copper bathtub, with a piece of soap that God knows how many people had touched, no towels, no carpets. But she had to do it or she was sure that in a couple of days she would have got fleas. 

Slowly and unsurely she undressed herself and dipped in the water. The lack of other kinds of soaps made her understand that in 1899 people made no distinction between shampoo and body soap, so she took the bar on the table and melted it in the water and, in the end, the general feeling wasn’t as bad as she expected. 

She made sure to wash her hair carefully, who knew when she had had the chance to wash them again, but she tried not to spend too much time just in case Strauss had got bored of waiting for her and had chosen to go away and leave her there. But when she finished, dressed up again in a hurry, quickly gave a look at herself in the mirror, ran outside the room, paid the man his twenty-five cents and walked out of the Hotel, she didn’t find him waiting out of the general store, and that meant he wasn’t done yet. She decided to cross the street and enter the store to have a look and maybe find something interesting. Now that she had her money, she could buy anything she wanted.

“Hello there. Nice to see you again, Miss” said the owner when he recognized her.

“And you too, Mister. Do you have any books?”

“On the top shelf, up there” he said pointing a finger to the corner of the room.

He really hadn’t a big selection of books and most of them were unknown for Emily, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

“I’ll take this” she said leaving the little red book on the counter together with a couple of chocolate bars.

“Tess of the d’Ubervilles. What is this? Some kind of silly romantic novel?”

“No, it’s the story of a fallen woman who commits murder and in the end she’s hanged” she replied with a little annoyance. Did she look like someone who liked silly romantic novels?

“Well, not exactly the kind of reading for a lady” he laughed.

“But it perfectly represents the patriarchal repression that 19th century society had on women and the wrongs of a hierarchical mindset.” The man’s eyes widened and an imperceptible “oh” left his lips, but he hadn’t understood a word she had said.

“I-is that all?” he asked pointing at her purchases. 

“Yes.” 

She paid for the book and the chocolate and left the store. Right when she stepped outside she saw Mr. Strauss walking down the muddy street with a man following him and gesturing widely with his arms. Emily left the porch and reached the two of them, being careful not to walk too closer: the last thing she wanted was to stick her nose in Strauss’ affairs, but the two of them were talking so loudly she could perfectly hear them even if she had waited on the other side of the street.

“I have already told you Mr. Downes: you have a week.”

“B-but Mr. Strauss I have a family, I’m about to lose my house a-and…”

The man stopped to cough, bending on his knees and grasping Strauss’ arm who withdrew with a disgusted face. 

“P-please, Mr. Strauss. I need some more time. Kindness… kindness will always be repaid. Be kind to me, please.” Strauss tightened his ledger to his chest and looked at the man with no trace of mercy on his face.

“You have one week” he repeated before he walked away. 

With a sorry glance at the poor man, Emily reached Strauss and the two of them took the road back to camp. 

“These cheap do-gooders are the worst. They believe that because they are benevolent with their neighbor everything is due to them. I have rules in my job, I expect everybody to follow them, with no exceptions.”

“Aren’t people who do good usually selfless?” asked Emily.

“I don’t get involved in matters of good and evil. That is a job for priests. All I care about is feed the mouths in camp, and the only thing I’m good at are numbers.”

Emily thought that he was a little harsh and insensible, but she couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the goal the problem, but the means. 

“You could try and… give him some more time. He looked kind of desperate.”

“I can’t delay a payment. If something happens and we are forced to flee, I won’t be able to recollect the money. And two weeks are more than an appropriate amount of time to collect thirty-four dollars.”

Just like it had happened with Javier and Dutch, Emily couldn’t find anything to reply. That man had his way of doing things, all the reasons to do so and no intention to change his mind, which meant that argue with him was impossible. 

The road back was made of scattered questions and long silences, but Emily didn’t mind too much. She was clean, she was smelling of soap, she had brought chocolate and she was in a great mood. Now, following Strauss’ fast pace wasn’t a problem anymore, on the contrary, it was Strauss turn to follow the girl, who was almost running. 

“Alright, thank you for bringing me with you Mr. Strauss” she said when they got to camp.

“No trouble.”

Emily ran to her tent where Mary-Beth was reading, as always. Anyway, Emily was surprised to find Tilly reading too. Not that Tilly didn’t like reading, but she preferred to avoid Mary-Beth’s silly stories.

“You can put down that thing, my friend. I bought you this” said Emily showing her the new book.

“What is it about?” asked a surprised Mary-Beth taking the book and reading the title.

“Just read it. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but it will make you understand some things. And there is a love story in the middle.”

“Have you read it?” 

“A long time ago.”

“What do you mean ‘a little different’?” asked Tilly.

“It’s a little… dark sometimes.”

“Good, I like dark things. Can I read it too?”

“Sure, you can all read it. I reckon Karen will also like it” replied Emily opening one of the chocolate bars to take a piece.

“Karen doesn’t like romantic stories” said Mary-Beth.

“Who said it’s a romantic story? Chocolate?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some” replied Tilly stretching out a hand.

“You said there is a love story in the middle” stated Mary-Beth frowning.

“Ah-ah.”

“How… how can love not be romantic?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

[grumpygreenwitch]

Summer Gardening.

So it’s been a while, and for that I apologize to the... 200+ people who follow me. I’m sure y’all are here for the cat pics and the nekked men, but TOO BAD. Today you get to suffer through pics of my green children. Also, I do share seed. My seed list link will be up later in the year. To begin with, the summer flowers are out en force:

Echinacea Purpurea, the original echinacea. I do save yearly seed from these guys, although it’s an incredibly pointy, stabby and bleed-y job. 

Mountain Phlox. Unfortunately, all of it around the house is afflicted with powdery mildew, so I will not share seed. But it’s still pretty to look at, and the clearwings (hummingbird moths) love it. Not pictured is the white variant, who grows on the other side of the house. Look, it was hot and I was already melting.

Peppermint Balsam. This thing is basically indestructible, for an annual. It will reseed freely (to truly Lovecraftian levels) and blooms continuously from late spring until mid-fall, when the seed-pods set. There is a dormant genetic in it for double flowers, but when it pops up it’s always been sterile. It just pops up occasionally from the peppermint seed.

I may give the roommate hell over the hostas (I hate them. They’re so useful to protect toads and control weeds, but I hate them), but they do put out pretty flowers. There are several variants around the house - white-edged, blue and green, but hostas in general are very, very hard to start from seed. I will save it on request, only. We were also incredibly lucky to have a Moth Mullein sprout in our porch bed, along with some Variegated Solomon’s Seal.The SS doesn’t put out seeds, and I don’t have enough to share bulbs (yet), but the mullein has been exceptionally generous with seed pods, and it repels bugs. It repels ROACHES. It’s going everywhere. And I may be convinced to part with some seed.

Onward!

A view from a hill. Can you see the garden? That’s OK, I can’t either. Those are peach trees, on the side of the orchard closest to the house. Unfortunately a freak storm during early spring killed all the blossoms. Also, don’t mistake ‘orchard’ for ‘organized’. There’s a pear, some apples, a plum, some nectarines? And front and center are two walnuts. I’ll probably be plunking my laurel there to see if it survives winter. And someday when I have a job and money again, I would like to drop a few Chicago Hardy figs, and maybe a kiwi trellis.

This is the big garden (and fortunately not my responsibility, or I would cry). The guys are ‘handling’ it. The weeds say otherwise.

The jasmine tree and the roommate’s garden. Because of a bad back injury that refuses to heal, I’ve been helping them on and off with it. And if you thought jasmine was supposed to stay a delightful little bush, AHAHAHAHAH. Yes, that’s a light-post next to it. For size comparison.

MY CHILDREN. Please ignore the dead soccer ball. That’d be a dog toy.

Lemon balm, amaranth, and a new bed that I’ll be finishing off during fall, for use next year. The lemon balm is a permanent row - it will overwinter just fine, and it will even keep growing through the mildest part of December. Mine didn’t die back until a few solid days of sleet in January. Unfortunately the weed fabric under the amaranth turned out to be an old roll, and fell apart on me (no big, the whole point is for it to fall apart eventually), so the weeds have kinda eaten it alive.

Unfortunately, both cucumber beetles and blister beetles love the amaranth. Fortunately, it does not seem to give a damn. It’s an incredibly resilient plant, not minding weeds, bugs, flood or drought. We’ll see what the grain actually tastes like, but so far it’s looking like a good candidate for continuous growing.

The lemon balm is lemon-balming. Planted on a lark, it’s proven to be a fantastic wind-breaker - because it grows so early and so quick, it keeps the colder winds that come down through the hollow from my more fragile seedlings, like the lettuce, dill and cilantro. You can see here where the spent flower-heads are dying but there’s new growth underneath; I really have to get in there and behead it. It makes nice hot tea, meh cold tea, and hanging fresh bunches of it around the balcony keeps the skeeters off. It also seems to be a decoy for cabbage moths.

Canary Zinnia. The seed was sent to me as a gift with one of my seed orders, and this is my first year growing it. -If- I can save some, I’ll definitely be sharing and growing again. It’s a lovely plant, very sturdy, and the bees love it.

Dwarf Castor Oil. I don’t think there’s anything dwarf about it, but then I’m a short green witch myself, so maybe it’s all about perspective. Don’t let the pods lie to you, until they dry the spikes are relatively soft. However, it being castor oil, I don’t recommend it to anyone with ducks, chickens, goats, or anything that might accidentally try talking a nibble or pecking at the beans. I do, however, recommend them from jewelry if you know how to pierce things and so on. They are a gorgeous tiger-stripe pattern.

Say hello to the chard! Say goodbye to the chard! Nothing else, absolutely nothing else since the limas, has given me so much trouble. The deer love getting into my chard bed and destroying it (ergo all the forks). And once I managed to chase those off, the blister beetles showed up in force. This will be the last year I grow it - we just don’t eat enough of it to make it worth my while, and it only occasionally sold at the Farmers’ Market.

Red lettuce - Merlot and Lollo Vino, a combination of bought and saved seed. I planted a red romaine of some sort, too, but unsurprisingly it bolted in the heat. The darker reds of my favorites, though, keep bugs off them, keep deer from noticing them, and keep them from bolting. It’s just now threatening to, and at this point its kind of allowed. I need more seed for next year. Seed for this will likely be shared by the teaspoon-ful.

Calendula! I searched for a long time to find the plain ol’ calendula officinalis ancestor, rather than a cultivar where I would have no way of knowing if the medicinal principles would have been sacrificed for looks. It’s supposed to work well as poor man’s saffron (color, no taste), and I’m going to be soaking the heck outta my feet on it during winter. The plant is... not pretty. It gets leggy and the leaves get grotty very quickly. But it’s very sturdy and as long as you cut the flowerheads off as fast as you can, it’ll keep blooming until well into winter. I usually leave it to go to seed around late September.

Green cilantro seeds. You pick ‘em when they’re brown, but before they drop off the plant. Or you pick ‘em when they’re brown-ing, and put them in a paper bag so they’ll finish ripening there and you don’t end up with fifty wild cilantro plants in your garden >_> Most of the row is already gone, and I’ll be putting in a late dill crop in its place. No such thing as too  much dill!

Don’t let lemongrass lie to you. Unless you tie it up, it will not grow up neat and tidy, as most grass does. Instead it will sprawl like a dramatic wilting Elizabethan lady and do its best to end up under your feet so you’ll feel bad about it. I just tie it up with a half-blade of grass; it dries up and withers away before it can hurt the plant.

I ordered pennyroyal seed because... Well, because it’s something one should have on hand, considering the way the world is going. What I got was Creeping Pennyroyal, which doesn’t care if you step on it (mint family), smells absolutely delightful, and has the most adorable, tiny purple flowers. I plan on harvesting, drying and sprinkling it everywhere in the crawlspace under the house. Making war on cave crickets, wood roaches, and other such sundries, me.

The thyme and Spicy Oregano took a beating in the heat, but they’re slowly bouncing back. The bed behind them is more pennyroyal, desperately in need of weeding, but there’s only one of me, y’know.

SIGH. Just. You absolute, ill-mannered monster of a creature. That would be horseradish, gloriously happy to be alive, as horseradish should be. Also, NOT IN ITS BASKET. Because never mind the rules, I guess.

I don’t even know how I’m gonna dig that up come winter. With some construction equipment, I GUESS. 

Decorative gourd! It’s the only one producing so far, but being the seed was 10+ years old, I’m very pleased.

And an apple gourd (I think?), from a mixture of drying gourds that was only slightly less ancient. Snake, apple and birdhouse gourds. There’s a bunch of them competing in the basket at this point, we’ll see what we will see.

And this, I think, is a great use of a dead canopy frame (the dogs ate the canopy. No, I’m not making it up.) I hope to coax the gourds to grow me a lil’ roof so I can sit in shade, surrounded by pennyroyal anti-skeeter barriers, eating my maters.

My Peter Peppers (nrehehehehe) aren’t producing yet - it takes them a while. But my Chinese 5-Color are getting started. It’s a lovely pepper, both edible and ornamental, with (so I’m told) about four times the heat of a Jalapeno. They’re tiny, with deep purple undertones to the plant. They’ll go purple-white-yellow-orange-red.

The bullhorns, on the other hand, are fairly sizable SWEET peppers on very tiny plants, and I honestly suggest staking them while they’re young so they grow a sturdy trunk, else you might end up with all of them growing at a slant.They’re just now beginning to turn colors. Keeping in mind I’m virulently allergic to peppers (less so sweet than hot, but allergic to all of them), the roommate loves ‘em.

It’s a small pepper bed - mainly to refresh my seed on the hots, and to grow sweets for the roommate. Pardon the nekked bed, the autumn lettuce hasn’t sprouted yet. And yes, that’s a mixed basil/dill bed next to it. My basil grew in patchy holes (NEVER buying from those seed people again), so I filled the holes with dill. Unfortunately, dill seed heads are so fine that they’re hard to photograph well.

The tomato row. After arguing with them for this long, I went the extra mile. Every plant has a metal stake. There’s also a double line growing at the top supporting the stakes so they don’t fall over. And they still fell over. Because why not, you unruly children, why not.

Green, white, pink and brown cherry tomatoes. Delicious!

Two kinds of cucumbers, some of the only decent shots of the dill seed-heads, and a special guest hiding in the shade. I usually plant dill as soon as the cucumber sprouts, to keep cucumber beetles off it. Otherwise I’d have no cucumbers and a lot of fat beetles.

The Muncher is a small cucumber, somewhat delicate. It’s very sensitive to temperature changes, and it’s candy to cucumber beetles - basically, it’s impossible to grow it without a heavy curtain of dill, or a heavy duty decoy. This year I got lucky enough to have both. It’s also delicious pickled, keeping its crunch and getting a good ooomph in flavor.

The Japanese Long is, as the name implies, long. It’s also incredibly bitey, and absolutely scrumptious. It’s sweet! And unlike the average cucumber, it does not go metallic when salted.

And now for the SPECIAL CHILD OF MY HEART. Seriously. I have been lusting after Blue Tea Peas since I first saw them offered, and every single time they’d be sold out pretty much the day of. This year I finally got some and... remember me mentioning that freak freeze that killed the peach blossoms? Yeah. Guess what it also killed. But two plants soldiered on. I have them heavily shielded by the cucumbers, dill and chamomile, and really I have no words for the blue. Pics don’t do it justice. I won’t have the tea this year, I’m saving as much seed as I can, but I am so pleased to have it at all!

 Last, but not least, and it’s a poor shot of it, the chamomile. I cannot drink chamomile to sleep - it does put me to sleep, but it also gives me bad dreams. I plan on using it as a skin wash for all the bug bites, along with the calendula, and to give me some respite from dry skin during winter.

Stay green! See you in fall! Now back to our normal schedule of frogs, cats and nekked men!

[edrodgg]

My Candy Love - Love Life | Episode 4 Guide | Priya

Outfits:

The first is for Nath.    

The second is for Castiel / Hyun.  

The third is for Rayan / Priya

~ Translated content, so wording may be slightly different in My Candy Love.

Negative answers ( - )

Positive answers ( + )

Neutral answers ( / )

PA: 1600 (approx,with Agatha)

Morgan: Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for parties lately. How did you think he was?

The truth is that it didn't seem to be there to fire rockets either. ( / )

I have not noticed anything in particular. ( - )

He seemed ... in the mood for a party. ( / )

Morgan: I'm afraid he's cheating on me.

Stop imagining things… Alex isn't like that! ( -10 with Morgan / +10 with Alexy )

Oh my gosh ... It's true that ... When I think of our last conversation ... ( +10 with Morgan / -10 with Alexy )

Nina: And, anyway, it's not that. I just need to think a little.

Very well, I do not insist. You know I'm here if you need to talk. ( + )

Are you sure you don't want to tell me about it? Sometimes it can help ... And it's not your style to walk around with mysteries. ( - )

Dan: Mmm ... I guess your financial problems are not solved, right?

Excuse me, but I don't see why you should be interested. ( / )

You're right. Things have not changed in fifteen days. I'm still between the sword and the wall. ( + )

Dan: Tell me, how much are your monthly losses currently?

That is not your business! ( - )

Currently, I lose a little more than $ 5,000 a month. You see why it is a problem. ( + )

Yael: A beauty like you, surely it could have had an effect on her ... In any case, she hasn't said anything to me.

But ... maybe it keeps well, but it's a little older for me! No? ( - )

But I have a partner and I'm happy! And that is enough for me! ( / )

If you answer the first

Yael: Oh yeah? In what sense?

It is very frowned on socially. I don't think I could bear the gaze of the people ...  ( - )

Well, if I go out with someone, I want to enjoy that person as long as possible. ( + )

Dude(?: But!? Seb ...! Returns! Did I say something wrong?

Her name is Yael. ( / )

But what are you talking about? ( / )

Priya:

Do you also think it was to hit on me? We wondered, with Yael ... ( - )

With Yael, we wondered if he was not trying to buy me paintings at bargain prices.  ( + )

Alexy: You will recognize that the coincidence is strange ...

But what did you want me to say to him? Every time we have tried to speak, you have closed yourself.  ( - )

I just told him that lately you are quite distant. He has evoked the idea that you could be cheating on him ... ( + )

Alexy: Lately, I can't see the apartment even in painting! While it should be our love nest ...

The truth is, I understand you, Alex. It is difficult for everyone ...  ( - )

I've been so busy that I haven't even realized you were feeling so bad ... ( + )

Alexy: But anyway, I promise I will stay calm tonight. It is rather to kill time ...

Alex ... if you need me, call me, okay? ( / )

You can also come to my house, if you want. ( + )

Life has a strange humor, sometimes ... But the wheel turns, Alex ... ( / )

Chani: Also, it seems to me a way of acting a little perverse. Art must be, above all, something we do for ourselves, don't you think?

This ... I think it depends on the level of the artist. In some cases, the world does not have to know ...  ( - )

I agree. All great artists have created, without caring what other people thought. ( + )

No. I think it is part of the artistic work to show and know how to fit the criticism ...  ( / )

Chani:

Yes, it's not bad at all. The technique is really irreproachable. ( - )

Mmm ... I don't know, Chani. There is something that does not fit me…  ( + )

Alexy: Starting with me! I'm sorry! I have destroyed everything.

It may just be a passing crisis.  ( + with Rosa)

And if so...? You're still young and Morgan too. It better happen now. ( - with Rosa)

Alexy: What do you think, Eberhard? Do you think I have to go see Morgan and confess everything to him?

Yes, I am afraid it is the only solution. Rosa is right. ( + with Rosa)

No, I think you should keep the secret ... and stop fooling around!  ( - with Rosa / + with Alexy )

Yael: This is life. That won't stop me from trying again ... and disappointing me again, of course.

They are still your family whether they like it or not! ( + )

And don't you ever think that if they don't accept you, it's worse for them? ( - )

Yael: But in this case, the circumstances were a little different.

The important thing is that you usually have everything under control! Long ago you made your transition?  ( - )

I hope these kinds of things don't happen to you too often. It must be exhausting ...  ( + )

Yael: And it seems your case is going well enough without me.

You are strong most of the time, but you must do it for those people who are not so strong!  ( / )

I suppose your testimony may be anonymous. If not, Priya will understand. ( / )

Dan: And I have reason to believe there may be a little champagne. So what does it tell me? Accept the invitation?

Mmm ... well, I guess a meal doesn't commit me to anything.  ( / )

Listen, Dan. I like you ... But I have a partner, you know. And I'm very happy. ( / )

Agatha is in the park, before meet Dan. :) PA: 70 ;v;

Dan:

Why not? After all, it's not like these kinds of occasions show up every day.  ( + )

I don't know if it's a good idea ... ( - )

Sorry, but I never drink at noon. It's a matter of principles. ( + )

Priya:

I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to surprise you by going out of the blue.   ( + )

I understand ... You have work, I know what it is!  ( / )

I did not plan to stay all afternoon, neither do you worry.  ( - )