#but that makes my ears bleed when computer-lady reads it back to me in her strangely aggressive monotone

[childotkw]

Me whenever my computer reads back a sentence in my WIP that makes absolutely no sense, and realising that yes, I did write that in the first place:

#personal #writing #guys #gUYS #'read aloud' in microsoft word has legit saved my life #i am still astounded by some of the stuff my eyes don't pick up when im reading my own stuff #but that makes my ears bleed when computer-lady reads it back to me in her strangely aggressive monotone

[lokifantasies]

Daughter of Mischief PART 1 (Loki/Jade/Reader)

Jade is in a lot of trouble, and now she must face the consequences.

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

Jade is Loki's daughter. She is the child of the God of Mischief, and if either one of you thought you'd avoid a troublemaker, you were very wrong.

Again: Jade is Loki's daughter.

At around one o'clock, you and Loki get a phone call from the twelve-year-old's school. On the other line is the principal, and he refuses to discuss the incident – as he keeps referring to it as – over the phone. Neither you nor Loki knows what's going on, but the fact that both of you are summoned to Jade's middle school is enough to get the blood boiling.

"Okay, Thor said he'd pick up Ivy and Emmy," Loki announces as he climbs into the passenger seat of your SUV.

You hum in response – your anxiety starting to rise as you back out of the driveway. Loki tries to calm you down during the drive, but he knows there's no point – you're going to be anxious until you find out what's going on. After the thirty-minute drive is over, the two of you get out of the SUV and quickly make your way to the front office.

An Hour Earlier

Jade was eating lunch with her friends, and they were all talking about the normal things pre-teens talk about. One of Jade's closest friends, Ashely, asked what it was like to have Loki as a father. All the kids at her table were jealous, and then Gavin, another one of Jade's friends, made a giant mistake.

He dared the daughter of the God of Mischief to pull a prank.

Jade accepted the dare, and when her class went back to the classroom, she stealthily made her way to her teacher's desk – looking for the coffee cup that Ms. Peterson always drank out of. The mischievous grin on Jade's face was a carbon copy of the one her father gives when he's up to something. Jade quickly looked around and grabbed a handful of items from the little organizer on the desk – running back to her seat after she had put whatever it was she grabbed in the cup. Ten minutes later, Jade's teacher took a sip of her coffee, and she let out a scream when she felt the thumbtacks stab her mouth – causing her to bleed everywhere.

Present

"I'm afraid Jade will be expelled for her actions, and she'll need to be placed into a different school," Principal Booker breaks the news to you and Loki as Jade sits in the corner of the office – trying to hide her face and look tough at the same time. "Ms. Peterson won't be pressing charges, so I would consider yourself lucky, young lady," he says toward Jade.

"Thank you for contacting us," you shake the principal's hand before standing up and walking towards your daughter – Loki following close behind. "Jade...get up." Jade looks up to see you and Loki glaring down at her, and she quickly shoots up from the chair and storms out of the office – forgetting to grab her backpack. Loki shoots the principal a warm smirk and picks up Jade's purple bag – throwing it over his shoulder. "Don't try to run from me!" you yell out as Jade tries to avoid getting into the car.

Loki hands over the backpack and easily catches up with the twelve-year-old. "Go," he angrily demands through his clenched jaw. "Get in the fucking car, Jade." Jade crosses her arms and storms past her father – jerking the door open and slamming it closed. Before she can get out again, you and Loki get in the car and head home – letting the tension grow to throw Jade off a bit. Feeling brave, Jade takes her phone out and begins to text her friends, but unfortunately for her, Loki catches it. "Nuh-uh," he scolds her, reaching his hand back to grab the phone from her hands. "Get used to life without this," he says – holding her phone up for her to see one last time.

"That's not fair!" Jade exclaims as she tries to reach for her phone, but Loki easily conceals it from her – a sly smirk on his face. "Okay, look, I'm sorry," Jade half-assedly apologizes. "Now, give me my phone back."

Loki turns in his seat to see what his ears are hearing. "I'm not giving it to you...you're gonna have to try better than that."

Jade's face was red, but you and Loki both knew that she was trying not to cry – covering her real feelings with anger. "This is stupid," she mumbles under her breath.

You and Loki quit responding to her – letting her just sit in the silence. Finally, you arrive back home, and Jade flees from the car and goes into the house – slamming the door behind her. Loki carries in her backpack, and the two of you calmly walk inside. By the time the two of you are inside, Jade has gone to her room, locked her door, and turned her music all the way up – a pathetic attempt, really. Without much force, Loki breaks her door open and turns her computer off with a snap of his fingers before taking it and concealing it as well.

"Stop!" Jade screams at her father and tries to push both of you out of her room. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Loki roughly grabs his daughter's chin and forces her to see his rage-filled eyes. "You will not talk to your mother and me like that."

"Fuck...you," Jade hisses through her gritted teeth – taking Loki's words as a challenge.

Loki lets go of her chin, and you go to sit down on the twelve-year-old's bed. "Jade, please talk to us," you beg her, but Jade just stands in front of her dad with her arms crossed. "What's going on?"

Jade shrugs her shoulders. "I dunno," she mumbles. "Nothing."

Loki gave her a look of disbelief. "Don't lie to us," he warns. "You're already in enough trouble."

"Why?" Jade scoffs. "Why am I even in trouble?"

You look towards her with a confused expression. "Jade, you put thumbtacks in your teacher's drink and cut her mouth up."

Jade doesn't even try to hide the small giggle that escapes her lips – looking up to Loki and being disappointed when she realizes he's not laughing.

"Y/N," Loki gets your attention. "I think I can handle this one."

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

@radicallyred @holdmytesseract @vicmc624 @mm2305 @nms224 @clockblobber @lokifangirl2004

#loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki x jade #loki x you #jade is rebellious #teenage jade #jade is a daddy's girl #jade lokisdottir #loki reader jade #mischievous teenager #mischievous life #god of mischief #send requests #requests open

[starfleetbotanist]

Physician, Heal Thyself (But Not Always)

🌹

It had been stupid, even he would admit that. Academy students were typically supposed to avoid bar fights. But Cupcake had been talking smack, and he'd had a few too many, so he had allowed the inevitable to happen. What he hadn't expected was for six other cadets to decide to use him as a punching bag. More surprising, though, was Bones.

He'd vaguely heard Bones trying to reason with his assailants before the roar in his ears drowned him out, but a fist to the stomach is a much more pressing matter than a pacifist doctor trying to tell you logic you don't want to hear, so he'd more or less written him off. That is, until he saw a cadet fall at his feet and turned to see his friend wading- and punching- through the crowd towards him.

He leapt at one of Cupcakes cronies as he landed a solid punch to Bones' face, causing the man to stumble back, a protectiveness he hadn't felt since Tarsus rising in him. But Bones regained his footing and gave as good as he'd gotten, before finally reaching Jim. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him from the bar, much like a mama cat with her errant kitten.

He stared at him, stunned, the entire way back to their room, Bones loudly scolding him about safety and rules the whole way, wiping blood from his now evidently broken nose. A sick feeling overcame him. What happened now? Was Bones going to leave, like Sam had?

He found himself dumped on the couch in an ungraceful heap as Bones' angry footsteps carried him to the bathroom and back. He sat on the coffee table, and Jim was relieved to see his medkit resting on his knee. He was (mostly) a model patient as Bones scrubbed at his cuts with antiseptic before using the portable dermal regen.

"You've got too damn good a brain, Jim, to go and get it knocked around by fools like that, y'hear me?"

He blinked. No, he hadn't heard him. Upon realizing that, Bones rolled his eyes before reaching over and lightly slapping his head- a move too gentle to actually hurt, and which he immediately followed with an affectionate ruffle of Jim's hair.

"This, your brain. Use it."

With that, he got up and headed back to the bathroom. Jim followed on his heels.

"That's it? You're not... More angry?"

"Jim, I knew when I signed up to be your friend there'd be risks. If a bar fight's the most danger we get in together I'd be surprised."

"But you got hurt!"

"Yeah, and you owe me for that."

He stopped in front of the mirror, opening his case again and finding the regen and a hypo. He reached up and, with a grunt, popped his nose back into place. He swore as he turned the hypo on himself, eyes watering.

"Scratch that, you really owe me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Jim replied. He meant it. He hated seeing Bones hurt.

"Just-- use your head next time. Okay?"

"Yeah-- yeah, okay, Bones. I promise."

"Good." He washed the blood on his face and hands before turning back to face him. "Then we can forget about it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Okay. Thanks, Bones."

"Anytime, kid."

🌹

Nyota held her wrist to her chest, waiting in the academy clinic. She had hurt it in combat class that day, but thankfully not too badly. The clinic was understaffed that day, and she had told Christine she was fine waiting. It was just her and two other cadets in the waiting room, after all. Not everyone was quite so patient, though.

One of the others, a command cadet, was complaining loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, and bouncing his leg in agitation.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked when Christine opened the door to call another patient back.

"Doctor McCoy or Doctor M'Benga will be able to see you soon, sir," she answered. "We will get to you as soon as we can."

Nyota prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw from the other cadet was not encouraging. He jumped up to his feet, crossing over to Christine with surprising speed.

"You can't just come back here!" She said, positioning herself between the cadet and the door.

"Watch me!" He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.

Nyota rose, but she didn't need to interfere. Just as he was stepping into the hallway, he ran face first into Doctor McCoy, summoned by Christine's shout.

"Didn't you hear the lady? She said you ain't gettin' in here!" He snapped, though Nyota could see him running a clinical eye over the cadet. "Easy now. Looks like you're in withdrawal. How many stims have you taken?"

"None of your business!" The man snapped, and before anyone could stop him, caught McCoy on the side of the head with a right cross.

Christine leapt in, then, getting him into a safe hold and grabbing his arm to pin behind him as McCoy called for M'Benga to bring a sedative.

"Dammit," he swore as the other doctor handed him the hypo. "Sucker punches harder than he looks."

Once he was sedated, security called, and a treatment plan discussed for the over-use of stims to get him through the command courses, the cadet was taken to Starfleet Medical for a proper detox.

"You okay, Chris?" McCoy asked. Nyota had come to Christine's side as the cadet was taken away. The two had been friends since their first year.

"Just fine," she promised. "Didn't even fall. What about you?"

"I'll be fine," he shrugged. "Happens sometimes. Nothin' the regen can't fix."

"You might want to get on that before it swells too much, Len" M'Benga said. "I can finish up here."

"It'll hold," McCoy insisted. "But you can take that patient we just called back. C'mon, Ny, I only need one eye to see the swelling in that wrist."

"Only if you fix your eye, too," she threatened, following him back to one of the rooms.

"Wrist first," he said, taking out his tricorder. She answered his questions, let him strap the regen unit to her, and stared him into submission until he began treating himself while they waited.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked once they had both finished.

"Ain't that my line? Any residual pain?"

"None, thank you. Now answer me."

"I'm okay," he promised. "Not my first rodeo with someone hyped up on stims, and it won't be my last."

"Can't say I envy you."

"Yeah, well, it happens. Now, you be careful in that combat class, okay? Stretch right, and be careful which moves you use on which partners."

"I will. Thanks, Len."

"Sure, Ny."

🌹

"Scotty."

He looked up from the manual he was reading at the sound from the bathroom door.

"Ah, Doc! What can I do for you?"

"You can take a break from straining your eyes and come have some coffee."

He laughed, lowering the PADD he was reading from.

"Aye, that sounds good. What're you doin' up so early?"

He followed him into his room, where he could smell fresh coffee brewing. Like many things, McCoy seemed to prefer real coffee, and while Scotty tended to be more of a tea man, he never turned down real foods or drinks.

"Haven't been to bed yet- don't tell Jim or Spock."

He poured them both a cup, handing Scotty one of them and motioning to the sugar and creamer he'd set out.

"Aren't you the one always telling the crew the importance of a good sleep schedule?"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm askin' you not to tell on me," he grinned.

"Can you not sleep?"

"No, not really. I've been goin' over that last accident in Engineering. I've written up a few training proposals, and wanted you to read through them and tell me which you think'll work best before I submit them."

"Have you been working on this all day?"

"Since my shift ended, yeah."

Scotty saw him take two tiny pills from a bottle on his desk and take them before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, headache. Ibuprofen. Been at this a little too long, I think."

"Why push yourself like this, then?"

He scanned the proposals, an interdisciplinary first aid course specific to Engineering and the various injuries and accidents that could happen, a triage proposal to better prepare medical staff for what to expect when an accident is called in, and new safety guidelines and equipment inspection schedules.

"Well, every second counts, you know that. The sooner we get this smoothed out, the better. It could be life or death, and I'm not about to play games there."

"You never do," Scotty grinned, picking up a stylus and making a few notes. "I like this so far. I hope you made a lot of coffee, because I have a few ideas, too."

"I hoped you would," McCoy grinned, and the two sat down to begin work.

🌹

"You called me, Doc?"

"Mr Sulu, perfect timing!"

Doctor McCoy was standing by a selection of plants, studying them intensely.

"The botany department sent these up. They're medicinal. But the labels got mixed up, and we don't really know what's what."

"That's unusual," Sulu grinned, looking down at the selection. "She's usually more organized when making deliveries."

He began to catalogue the plants, calling to mind their uses.

"Fever few, plantain... Several of these are for stopping bleeding."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping for. We're training our medics to learn other ways to heal in the field."

"Good idea," Sulu nodded, fixing the lables.

"Thank you for the help," McCoy grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Lyle brought another plant, but I'm not sure what it does. It was bigger than the others, so I set it in the office. Little bastard scratched me, too."

Sulu laughed, plucking a plantain leaf and handing it to him.

"Chew on that for a minute and put it on the cut, that will help."

He heard McCoy's thanks as he went into the office. He gasped. On the desk was a rare Andorian Passionflower- spiked where its Earth counterpart was not, and blue instead of purple. In place of a label there was a note, and he recognized the handwriting.

"Ben?"

"Surprise," McCoy said, stepping in. He had the chewed leaf against his finger. "We were asked not to tell you anything."

He opened the envelope. It was handwritten anniversary card. He smiled, warmth filling him.

"Happy anniversary, you two," McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's minutes on my computer for subspace communication. He's waiting for you to call."

"Thanks, Doc," he answered, wiping sudden tears from his eyes.

McCoy patted his back again before leaving him to his call.

🌹

"Doctor?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you do it?"

McCoy looked at Chekov, who was eyeing wound on his arm with deep concern.

"Reflex," he lied, finishing ripping his uniform shirt into bandages. He turned his eyes away, focusing on tying off and tending the wound until the ion storm ended and they could contact the Enterprise.

"Captain Kirk is right. You are a terrible liar, sir."

He snorted, tying off his makeshift sling. He'd taken a rather severe cut from a spear from one of the inhabitants of this supposedly uninhabited planet. The spear had been aimed at Chekov, but he had managed to push the kid out of the way just in time.

"Captain Kirk can mind his own business."

"Doctor..."

McCoy sighed, leaning back against the cave wall. Chekov joined him, still looking at him with wide-eyed worry.

"You remind me of Joanna."

"Huh?"

"I did it because you remind me of Joanna."

"Who is Joanna?"

"My daughter. My whole world. I don't get to see her often, but she's my pride and joy."

"And I remind you of her?"

"Yeah. Can't explain it. It's probably because you're so young, or some misplaced guilt about not being there to protect JoJo that makes me want to look out for you instead that the psychologist really doesn't wanna think too much about."

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

"That, and I'm a doctor, and your senior officer. Not gonna let you get hurt if I can help it."

Running for their lives had worn him out, it seems. Chekov studied him for a moment before placing his head on his shoulder.

"You are very much the papa I always wanted. My grandmother, she told me stories about him. He was a good man. If he was... If I had known him longer, I would have liked for him to be like you, Doctor."

He felt a strong hand ruffle his hair.

"Get some rest, kid. I'll keep watch."

Chekov smiled, allowing his own eyes to close. He fell asleep wondering if McCoy would laugh or be angry that he had become, as the captain said, a "mama bear."

🌹

Spock stood beside Captain Kirk's hospital bed, arms folded behind his back. He had come to check on the progress of McCoy's serum on their friend. But, also, he was here to check on McCoy. Nyota had expressed worry over him that morning after visiting.

"You want a seat, Spock?"

He turned as the doctor entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.

"No, thank you, Doctor."

McCoy set the coffee aside, moving to the bed to compare the data on the PADD to the biobed readings. As Spock watched him, he began to really notice the state the doctor was in. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in dark circles, his hair sticking at odd angles, as though he had run his fingers through it many times. He hadn't shaved, and was looking rather gaunt.

"When did you last sleep, Leonard?"

"Does it matter, Spock?"

"I think it would matter to the captain. And... I admit to a concern, as well."

"May miracles never cease," McCoy muttered, and they both knew what miracle he was praying for.

"Doctor, you must rest. The captain's status is unlikely to change in the time it would take for you to eat and sleep."

"I can't, Spock. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Because he needs me."

"He needs all of you, Leonard. Not a shell of yourself."

McCoy's shoulders sagged at that.

"I don't want to leave him," he admitted. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."

"You do not have to leave him. You could bring a cot into this room, perhaps. Shower in the en suite, and eat the meals Nyota has been bringing you."

"When I try to sleep, Spock, all I can see is him in that chamber. In that damn body bag in my medbay. It... It hurts, Spock. In a very human way, it hurts. It- this grief, it's like a wound, Spock."

"As you so often tell me, Leonard, you are a doctor. You treat wounds, better than most. You are healing the captain. The best way to heal that grief is to continue to do so. But if you damage yourself with overwork, you will not be able to care for him to the best of your abilities."

McCoy was silent for a moment before nodding.

"You're right... Thank you, Spock."

"It is... My pleasure, Leonard."

When he visited again that night, he found McCoy asleep on a cot not far from Kirk's bed, PADD still in hand. He had showered and shaved. The plate Nyota had sent him was now empty, and someone, presumably nurse Chapel, had covered him with the knitted blanket that he usually kept on the couch in his office.

Spock allowed himself to feel relieved, and quietly retreated, turning down the lights as he did so. The next morning, Kirk woke up.

🌹

"He may be a little disoriented when he wakes up," M'Benga told the assembled officers. "It was touch and go there, and we nearly lost him a few times. But I do believe he will make a full recovery."

"You are sure?" Chekov asked, his face pale. Sulu had his hand on his back for support.

"Yes. He is stable. Now all he needs is rest."

"Thank you," Kirk spoke up, gripping one of McCoy's hands from his place beside his bed. "Bones couldn't have been in better hands."

"You remind him of that when he wakes up," M'Benga laughed quietly, his calm manner helping ease the tension in the crowd. "You can talk to him now, too. Even if he doesn't hear you, it'll help him to have friendly voices around."

Scotty coughed to hide a relieved sniffle, and patted Kirk's shoulder amiably.

"Why don't you start, Captain?"

Kirk nodded, thinking.

"Bones, you know we all love you, right? So you've gotta come back to us. It's not the same without you here yelling at me."

"Indeed, Doctor. Your colorful metaphors are... Missed." Spock looked down the line of visitors expectantly.

"Da, and you promised to let us talk to Joanna next time she called you!" Chekov watched the sleeping man eagerly.

"Yeah, she and Demora are going to space camp together," Sulu pitched in. "If you don't wake up soon, who's gonna tell them how dangerous it is?"

Nyota laughed at that, and everyone (save Spock) grinned.

"Aye, Len. And you're gonna have to be the one to tell Jaylah what happened, you know," Scotty said. "Otherwise the lassie's likely to steal a ship and come all the way from Earth to make sure you aren't still hurt."

"What about you, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "You know how he likes to hear you sing. Why don't you sing one of his favorites."

"Good idea," she nodded, thinking. "I know just the one."

Soon the medbay was filled with her soft, comforting voice.

"I'll keep you safe..."

🌹 This was a long one! Thank you for reading! This was based on a prompt by @hlabounty96 ! I hope you enjoyed! 🌹

#leonard mccoy #james t kirk #jim kirk #spock #nyota uhura #scotty star trek #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #star trek aos #star trek #my writing

[dearest-kibble]

yan kenma who has you locked up in his apartment- it’s been some time and you’ve given up escaping but you know he live-streams so you kind of start living small clues that you’re there in hope someone will figure it out? but instead of a viewer kenma finds out; and instead of stopping you he just decides to taunt you and play along to the point his viewers make it an inside joke- the emotional rollercoaster that would be? he wouldn’t have to punish you- the crushing despair is enough alone

This is so deliciously fucked up I love it,,, thank you anon, Kenma hits so different. I love him thank you so so so much. i am working on so much,,, thank you for being patient with all my uhhh lateness? this kinda became something a little different than the prompt but hopefully thats good?

Kenma Kozume x Fem reader

tw: Typical yandere-ness, humiliation? Sexism? Mentioned stalking, (If im missing anything please let me know my brain isn’t functioning rn)

You’re sitting on his lap, camera angled so that no one’s view is obstructed by your body, but so that all his views can clearly see you. You’ve been here so long, any hope of leaving, ironically, has left you. But, the thought crept slowly, surely, deeply into your brain and hasn’t left. You turn around on Kenma’s lap, straddling him and you’re sure the live chat is going a little crazy at the thought of Kodzuken having someone in his lap while he streams and he’s probably going to tell you to get off soon, but you’ve got the chat’s attention, and you are going to work with it. You tap Kenma’s cheeks, slight squish on them and you know he hates that it’s on camera all the same, you drum three fingers on his cheek, smiling at him for the camera as your fingertips meet his clammy skin. He doesn’t tell you to stop so across his cheek you swipe your thumb three times as tenderly as possible. As you stand from his lap, you pat his cheeks, three times delicately. You look into his eyes, still as calculating as when you met him, a deceptively warm amber with the tiniest hint of frustration (and somewhere inside, you know it’s probably with you but you can’t care.)

“I’m gonna sit on the couch, ‘kay?” You call softly, hoping you were subtle enough with your plea.

“Oh, okay,” And you think you’re free before he calls a “Wait! Come back for a little.” You’re even halfway to the couch before the words rope you back in. He beckons you to lean down, and whispers into your ear. “I noticed you trying to sign to get out. Morse code isn’t as subtle as you think, you might as well just ask them to get you out,” You chance a quick look towards chat.

“Was that morse code?”

“Holy shit! Yeah, I think that was SOS.”

“You think they actually need to get out or it’s one of those ‘my bfs terrible’ jokes?”

“You see the way they were straddling? Def not a hate my bf sorta thing.”

“See?” He’s still whispering into your ear, game forgotten in lieu of what might be called humiliation.  “They won’t believe you because you want to be here. Regardless of what you say, you would’ve left already if you didn’t.” He smiles at you and affectionately pats your head. Like he’d pet a cat. The idea is still in your mind, though perhaps a little shallower. You glance at the chat once more, someone is still talking about it, but Kenma pushes you away with a “I’ll get you when I’m done, okay?” You end your night on the couch with Kenma. He smiles at you and puts your legs on his lap.

The next livestream is two days after the last one. You have something planned once more, hopefully more effective.

“I’m playing minecraft today, I could set up your computer, and we could play together?” His small smile is back. And though a kind gesture, all you can think about is how easily you could make a point.

“Okay!” The earlier plan is immediately forgotten, and thoughts of what you could do in a game, fills your mind. “Will I have a mic?”

“No, I can’t have you telling them can I?” And it clicks, because of course he’d taunt you. But it’s like your brain grew claws that cannot lose their hold.

“Will I have a camera?” And you know the answer, but Kenma might still surprise you. You’ve already had one shock tonight, maybe you’ll get another.

“No. Sorry. You have chat though.” He pats your head again, ruffling your hair. “I’ve already got you set up, c’mon.” He tugs at your hand, pulling gently.

“Thanks Kenma.” He’s put another computer across from his desk on a much smaller table made for playing cards.

“You’re all set up.”

“Yeah.” He clicks the mouse a few times, waves at the camera to his right. “Can everybody hear me?” He waits a few seconds for chat’s response. “Chat is saying yes, so let’s get right in?” He smiles sheepishly to his camera.

“Hi everyone, I’ m Kodzuken and today we are,” He pauses to look at you with honeyed amber eyes. “Playing Minecraft with my partner.” He nods in your direction. You just open the minecraft tab, the only shortcut that seems to be on the computer.

“It’s a LAN server, click that, okay?” So you click it and say nothing. You start to go through the motions of chopping a tree, making sticks, making a crafting table. Kennma is narrating what he does, and you’re not even sure where he is in game until you're knocked back and turn your mouse to look at him.

“Yeah, I know - she should be relying on me.” He’s responding to something in chat, he’s gotta be. You type a quick,

“What’re they saying?”

“Oh, that my girlfriend shouldn’t be so independent, you rely on me - I'm your boyfriend.” Kenma says it so casually, so acerbically that you immediately take off sprinting from the forest in game.  

“She has these bouts - you saw them last stream - where she likes to try and ‘get away’.” Kenma laughs softly; little glockenspiel notes falling from his mouth. “It’s a really cute joke honestly! Anyway, I’ll put my minecraft bed next to hers later, right now...” You stop paying attention and start planning how you’d try to get your point across more clearly. You could make signs, say “Get me out!” Like Kenma suggested.

“Hey! He looks over the screen at you, piercing eyes staring right through you. “Don’t go off on your own, we’re staying together alright?”

“No.” He’ll have to deal with chatting, possibly hearing you by himself. And you continue through the coded forest. It goes pretty smoothly, though you’re sure Kenma is trying to find you, you’ve already created a mine for yourself, and made a little sign with instructions that reads: “Get me out!”

“Her voice is quite cute, isn’t it? I’ll get to hear it for the rest of my life.” He continues humming out yes’s and no’s to his audience that sit captivated in a land of blocks and pixels.

“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom, is it alright if my girlfriend takes over for me?” He stands, and waves you over into his chair that’s been made for gaming and padded with red accents. He watches you with his cat-like eyes as you sit down and pats your head. “I’ll be right back Kitty, behave.” And you hear his soft footsteps get farther away and the creak of the door twice before you finally look at chat.

Woa, Kudzu got lucky huh?

“Please,” You don’t sound nearly as someone might think you would. You’ve been here too long. “Get me out of here?”

Sure sweetheart, just come over to my place first.

“Just - get me away from him please!”

Girls are so whiny huh?

Hey man, its funny at least amiright?

“It’s not a joke -”

She’s really committed to this bit huh

Damn iim staartin to feel bad for ken

Me to :(

“I’ve been here for year and I don’t want to-”

Wow. what an ungrateful bitch.

Ikr? She’s got a bf and everything and she wants to get out?

“No- it’s not like that - he stalked me for months I-” And the familiar desperation you thought hoped beyond all hope that you had lost bleeds back into your voice all repression surfaces like the tide in your eyes.

Oh fuxxx we made her cry.

relax bet she’s just on her period or smth

“I am not!” A bubble of snot pops from your nose and mucus drips uncomfortably to your lips. “I just-”

What could you want that you don’t have.

“My house! My job! My friends!” And your voice breaks

She wants to go back to a job?

Crazy lady huh.

She wants friends when all she really needs is a man? smh.

“Kitten, what-”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” It’s an outburst that you’ll regret later, for one reason or another. But for now it’s a small comfort to speak your mind. With your voice wavering and congested, you choke out a “Let me go home.” Kenma’s eyebrows furrow but his eyes are still the calculating, cold amber they always are.

“Shh shh, it’s okay.” Instead of the quick pats he’s so fond of, he strokes your hair and massages the nape of your neck like he’s picking up a kitten who's gotten into a fight. “I’m going to cut the stream, okay?”

Who’d want to leave Ken, he’s cutting the stream short to help his gf.

…….yeah

I feel bad.

“You should. Please don’t make her cry.” A few clicks later and the stream cuts. “Do you want me to upload that one?” To get your message out? You’d do anything.

“Yes please…” Someone will have to see it. How miserable you are.

“Then it’ll go up, okay?” He pats your back twice, and he stands again to sit at the computer. Out of the blue he speaks again. “They’re right.” No no no no no. “I’m lucky, i’m so glad you're here with me and that you won’t leave.”

“I will get out!” The proof of your white hot anger is breaking the dam built in your throat.

“Where will you go? Your friends don’t know where you’ve gone, they won’t be happy with you coming back unannounced.”

“My parents-”

“You can rely on me, you don’t need anyone else.”

“But I-”

“Shhh kitty, you’re overreacting let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a stressful day.” And so he walks you back to the room you share that's covered in pictures, and he tucks you under the covers and dries your tears with a blanket. He whispers words to you, faint little nothings about games he’s going to play that you’ll enjoy watching and little bits of trivia about what “Kuroo” is up to. Eventually you fall asleep, with his hand in your hair and a chair pulled up close so he can stare. You both know it but no one will admit, some part of him will always enjoy how you lose hope so quickly.

--

once again! This should not’ve taken so long,,,, and it kinda deviates from request but! there we are! also,,,, you can’t tell me that like,,,,,,, kenma hasn’t been at least exposed to incels and or like,,,, really sexist guys he streams on twitch or youtube or something so- also thank you anon,,, i really like this one

#yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #hq kenma #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #tw sexism

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 6: End of the Rope

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

Claire was supposed to be looking at charts on the computer in front of her, and she would, of course, right after she finished checking her phone for any messages from Mrs. Lickett.

“Beauchamp!”

Fuck.

“That’s the third time I’ve caught you on your phone. You trying to get fired on your first day?” 

Her supervisor, Doctor Moore, was the most Nurse Ratched type Claire had ever seen in real life: tyrannical and unforgiving. The only difference was the grating nasality of her thick Long Island accent. Claire opened her mouth to defend herself, for the third time, but Ratched cut her off.

“Plenty of other doctors have kids at home, Doctor Beauchamp. Do you see any of the rest of them with their heads buried in their phones like teenagers?”

Claire could feel the tips of her ears growing hot with rage, but she swallowed it down and answered as levelly as possible: “No, Doctor Moore.”

“Get going. Your team is waiting for you.”

Claire exhaled heavily as soon as the tight-faced woman bustled out of the room, clenching her teeth to avoid outwardly groaning.

“The Ratched already on your nerves?”

Claire practically jumped out of her skin. She turned in the swiveling chair to see a kind-faced black man about her age, perhaps a bit older, smiling at her. He was sitting at a computer as well, craning his neck around to look at her. His eyes were dark, but soft.

“Did you read my bloody mind?” Claire stammered, still slightly alarmed.

He gave a short, barking laugh. “Seems I did. Everyone calls her that. Not to her face, mind you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Claire’s eyes widened at the thought of doing so.

“I’m Joe, Joe Abernathy.” He stood and crossed the room to shake her hand.

“Claire Beauchamp,” Claire returned, taking his hand.

He chuckled as he returned his hand to his side.

“What?” Claire said, face scrunching in suspicion.

“Just thinking about you asking if I read your bloody mind,” he said, flashing his teeth in a wide grin. “I heard you were English, but to hear it is another thing.”

Claire rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her own smile as she turned back to the computer to complete her given task.

“Kids at home, huh?” His tone was sympathetic, having heard Doctor Moore’s reaming out of Claire.

“Just one,” Claire said. “I’m quite aware there are other parents here,” she continued hotly, though her anger was not directed at the man standing before her. “But I’d like to know how many of them are single parents of a daughter with special needs.”

Joe nodded in quiet understanding. “That must be tough, leaving her all day.”

Claire nodded, fighting the urge to check her phone again. “I’ve never left her alone with a babysitter this long. When I was in school I was still married, so she wasn’t ever alone for too long even though her father was a professor. After the move and the new schedules…I’m just worried.” All the while, Claire kept her eyes on the screen, scanning over charts and making mental notes. “The woman’s a marvel; I wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. I just can’t help it. She’s nonverbal, my daughter. Autism.”

“Ah.” Joe nodded. “Gotcha.”

“So I just keep waiting for a call that she’s having a meltdown and that even the all-knowing, licensed professional can’t calm her down because she can’t tell her what’s wrong.” Claire shook her head, sighing. “It’s silly, I know.”

“Nah, not at all.” Joe shrugged, keeping his tone casual, but his eyes still shone with sympathy.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload my whole life story on you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. I’ve never personally known anyone with autism, but you see it come in and out of the hospital often enough. It’s scary as hell when there’s something wrong and they can’t tell you, even the verbal ones sometimes.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry more,” he said quickly. “I’m sure everything is just fine. All I’m saying is I get why you’re worried. And Ratched sure as hell doesn’t. I’d like to tell her to kiss my ass.”

Claire chuckled through her nose, taking note of one more thing on the computer before turning to smile up at him.

“Thanks, Doctor Abernathy.”

“Please, none of that in private.” He waved her off. “Just Joe when there are no patients.”

“Alright, then.” Claire logged off the computer and gathered her things. “Thanks, Joe.”

“No problem. Good luck out there, Lady Jane.”

She paused in the doorway. “What was that?”

He grinned. “One of the other residents called you that. Said your accent sounds like you just had tea with the queen.” He held up his hands, pantomiming holding a teacup and saucer, sticking his pinky out.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire laughed, rolling her eyes as she wrenched the door open.

“Toodle-pip, my lady!” She heard him call behind her.

Christ, was she doomed to have nicknames thrown at her reminding her of her Englishness for all eternity?

Her heart warmed at the thought of that soft Scottish burr saying Sassenach, and more laughter bubbled in her chest at the thought of her newest title.

She supposed she didn’t mind.

——

Claire was dead on her feet by the time eight o’clock rolled around. She briefly glanced back at the hospital in her rear-view mirror as she pulled away, and despite how her head and feet throbbed, she was thrilled at the prospect of every day being like this one.

When she’d done her research on specialities back in the days before med school, she’d read of the unpredictability of Emergency Medicine, of never knowing what kinds of emergencies would burst through the doors at any given moment. The prospect had thrilled her then, and experiencing it first-hand now was even more thrilling. Today alone, she’d saved a man’s finger after a cooking knife incident, put a shoulder back in place, stopped a head wound from bleeding long enough to see the patient into a successful surgery, and saved a pregnant woman and the baby after trauma-induced labor from a car accident.

It was quite a heady feeling.

Despite the thrill, however, there was nothing Claire craved more than the sight of her little girl’s face, the sound of her happy humming to see that Mummy was home.

The whole day had gone by without a hitch, unless Mrs. Lickett was hiding something from her. The only updates she’d gotten were positive ones, prompted by Claire’s frantic “is everything ok??” texts.

Claire had washed up and changed out of her scrubs at the hospital so that she could spend whatever little time was left before Faith’s bedtime with her on the couch, and then she could fully shower and decompress once Faith was asleep.

Claire turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, but before she could take a single step into the living room, a little body was plastered against her legs, wrapping itself tightly around her.

“Hello, baby!” Claire cried out joyously as a buzz of humming filled her ears. “Oh, Mummy missed you so much!” She pried her daughter off her legs and scooped her into her arms, dropping her bag on the porch. Claire held her close, kissing her cheek.

Faith nuzzled her face into Claire’s, rubbing her mother’s cheeks as their foreheads rested together.

“Hello love,” Claire whispered, rocking her gently in the doorway. “I missed you, too, baby. Yes, hello.”

Claire gradually moved them into the apartment, kicking her bag inside and nudging the door shut with her knee.

“Hello, Mrs. Lickett,” Claire said, struggling to meet her eye around Faith’s pawing of her face.

The older woman was smiling warmly. “Hello, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Everything was alright today, then?”

“Sure was,” Mrs. Lickett said. “Faith was a very good girl, right Faith?”

“Is that right, lovie? Were you a good girl for Mrs. Lickett?” Claire shifted her onto one hip and bounced her, eliciting a few giggles. A glance at the telly told her that Finding Nemo was nearing its end; Mrs. Lickett had paused it upon Claire’s arrival.

“How was the first day at the hospital?” Mrs. Lickett said, gathering her things.

“It was…a lot. But good, very good.” Claire crashed on the couch with Faith, trying to settle her and failing. Faith very firmly insisted on remaining in Claire’s lap. “I did miss her very much, though. It’s been a while since I’ve been away from her for so long.” She wrapped her arms around her and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

“I understand. I could tell she missed you, too, but I kept her pretty busy.”

“I appreciate that.”

“We started some basic signs today,” Mrs. Lickett beamed. “Might be a while before it registers, but at least she knows now. The more you start using them around her, the better.”

“Right.” Claire nodded. “I’ve been watching those videos you sent me every night.”

“That’s good.”

Faith made a rather indignant noise, pointing toward the telly.

“Somebody wants to get back to her movie,” Mrs. Lickett said.

“Right.” Claire forced a smile. She wanted to stop her from leaving, to sit down at the table and spend the entire night talking about every minute of the entire day, every little accomplishment, everything Faith was learning. But she supposed if she wanted that much involvement, she’d be home with them herself instead of pursuing a career as a full-time physician.

Jesus, Beauchamp. You sound like Frank.

Shuddering at the thought, Claire adjusted Faith so she could watch Mrs. Lickett go. “I’d see you out, but I’m a bit pinned down at the moment.” She gestured with her head to Faith, sitting in her lap and locking her grip on Claire’s arms around her.

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Say goodnight, Faith,” Claire said, releasing an arm so she could wave to the woman. Faith mimicked her, waving emphatically as Mrs. Lickett shut the door behind her. The second she was gone, Faith groaned again at the telly, and Claire smiled.

“Alright, be patient.” Claire reached for the remote on the coffee table. “I’m quite eager to see if Nemo escapes to the ocean, as well.”

Claire, of course, had the movie memorized, along with the rest of the DVDs in their vast collection. Perhaps it was Faith rubbing off on her, but she didn’t think she’d ever tire of watching them over and over again, especially not if it meant she would always get to spend this time cradling her little girl.

When the movie ended about fifteen minutes later, Faith slipped out of Claire’s lap and waited expectantly by the DVD player. Normally, Faith liked to listen to the music during the ending credits, so Claire didn’t make any moves to take the disc out yet. Only when Faith grunted and started tugging on Claire’s hand did she get the message.

“No music tonight, darling?” she said, puzzled, as she removed the disc and handed the box to Faith to file away. She was buzzing with excitement. Something was up, and Claire was none the wiser. The very second the DVD was away, Faith bolted into her bedroom, leaving Claire bewildered. She’d only just started to get up when Faith returned, holding a pile of colorful paper in her hands.

“What’s this, now?” Claire’s face lit up at the sight of Faith’s toothy grin, holding up the construction paper. Claire could see they were cut into the shape of little fish, and they were plastered with glitter, pompoms, google-eyes, and marker.

“Did you make these, Faith? Did you make these little fishies?” Faith hummed loudly and jumped up and down. “Oh, they’re marvelous, darling! You’re quite the little artist!”

Claire perused every single colorful fish, and she made a note to thank Mrs. Lickett. Arts and crafts were something Claire had never been into as a child herself, and something she didn’t have the time or the creative mind to think of. It was obvious now that Faith adored creating, and Claire wanted to smack herself upside the head for not thinking of it sooner. God bless that Mrs. Lickett.

“No wonder we watched Nemo tonight, hm? Are these Nemo’s little friends, then?” Claire held up a bright pink paper fish and swam it around in the air, much to Faith’s delight. Faith joined in the little game, and though Claire knew that bedtime was rapidly approaching — for both of them — she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

After a few minutes, Claire led Faith into the kitchen so they could use magnets to put the fish on the fridge. Claire let her arrange them to her heart’s content, only leading her into the bathroom when she was satisfied.

Teeth brushed, pajamas donned, Faith tucked in, and nightlight on, Claire finally allowed herself to fully feel the exhaustion of her day. The adrenaline of seeing Faith had kept her wide awake on the drive home, and then actually being with her had chased away any thoughts of sleepiness. Now, she barely had the energy to prepare a shower, and she very well almost crashed into bed, fully dressed. It was sheer willpower that finally got her back into the bathroom. This reminded her that tomorrow was bath night for Faith, and she sent up a brief prayer that she would cooperate for Mrs. Lickett. She’d considered waiting until she got home and just taking her into the shower with her, but that would have interrupted the movie, and God forbid that should happen. But if she’d waited until the movie was over, it would have been too late, and the routine would be disrupted. No, it had to be Mrs. Lickett.

Washed and dressed for bed, Claire was wide awake, despite how weariness was etched into every muscle and bone in her body. She could not stop thinking about all of the silly little things that could go wrong while she was occupied at the hospital, of all the possible triggers for a meltdown that she would not be able to stop. No matter how well today had gone, no matter how wonderful Mrs. Lickett was, she’d never stop worrying. Maybe not never, but it would certainly be a long time. At some point in her fevered, internal ramblings, Claire teetered into oblivion, grateful for whatever sleep she was lucky enough to get before her alarm screamed again.

——

Claire drove home the following Friday, her knuckles white on the steering wheel and her vision blurred with tears. She’d been so damn grateful to clock out at four o’clock, and she’d barely made it out of the locker room without falling apart in front of Joe.

She lost a patient for the first time today. Paul Castano, forty-seven, much too young for the heart attack that killed him.

Claire had been beside herself, and Joe had soothed her, told her there was nothing she could have done.

“Go home and hug your daughter, Lady Jane,” he’d said. “Enjoy the horses. You need it as much as she does right now.”

And, Christ, did she.

Claire hugged Faith just a little too hard for the slightest bit too long when she got home after nearly bursting into tears at Faith’s joy to see her. Faith did not tolerate being held as such for very long, and she squirmed out of Claire’s grasp. Today, not only was Faith happy to see her mother, she was excited: she knew it was horse therapy day.

Seeing Faith so happy to see her and so excited to get to the stables was a welcome distraction from the anguish Claire was feeling. The drive over to the stables was calming as well, though Claire was now paranoid about the change in appointment times. Toni hadn’t called her at all, so she had no reason to believe that the switch hadn’t gone over well. She supposed after the day she’d had, she’d be prone to overthinking just about anything.

Upon arrival, she calmed considerably at seeing Faith’s exuberance, and even laughed when she began tugging on her hand, willing them to get inside faster.

Leave it to you to get me laughing on the worst of days, Faith.

The door to the visitor’s center opened, and Faith began humming loudly.

“There they are, the Beauchamp girls!” Toni greeted warmly.

“Hello, Toni. Say hello to Miss Toni, Faith.”

“Hello, Faith!” Toni called as Faith waved timidly.

Erica was standing by the counter, and she crouched down to greet Faith. “Hello, Princess. I’m so happy to see you again!”

Faith smiled shyly and hid half of her little body behind her mother’s legs.

“I’m gonna take you guys out to the stable today, get her started with the hellos and leading her to the riding hall.” Erica stood up to address Claire. “Jamie will join us when we get there.”

“Alright,” Claire said, exhaling deeply. “Shall we?”

——

Joe had been right. Claire needed that hour at the stables just as much as Faith had. As they were driving home, Claire felt something resembling peace settle in her heart. Faith was humming happily, kicking her legs, waving the newest Minion Happy Meal toy in the air.

She did very well again today. She was gentle with Pippi, she didn’t protest about the helmet, she was attentive to both Erica and Jamie. Claire kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go terribly wrong, but it just never did. Not at the stables, at least.

They arrived home, Faith zipping up the stairs to the front door as usual. Claire was grateful to get to watch an entire movie with Faith tonight, to decompress, to hold her little girl and be soothed by her oblivious, youthful happiness. When they passed through the front door, Claire dumped the contents of her arms onto the couch as usual and started toward the kitchen, but Faith did not follow. 

“Faithie, come on! Don’t you want your chicken?”

Faith didn’t seem to hear her. She lifted Claire’s purse and looked underneath, and then let out a groan.

“What’s the matter darling?”

Faith made a beeline for the front door, and Claire sprinted to lock it, having forgotten to do so upon arriving home.

“No, no, no,” she quickly blocked Faith’s exit. “What are you doing, Faith? What’s wrong?”

Faith began whining and pawing at Claire, hitting her thighs.

“Do not hit, Faith.” Claire crouched down and grabbed her wrists. “What is wrong? Hm? Hungry? Tired? Pain?” She did the signs that she’d learned from the videos Mrs. Lickett had sent. “Can you sign for Mummy? What’s wrong?”

Of course, she couldn’t. It was much too soon for Faith to be carrying out conversation; she’d only just learned any signs at all.

Faith suddenly began wailing.

“Faith, baby, it’s alright, I’m here…” She wrapped her in her arms, but it only lasted for a moment. Faith clawed her way out and began pounding on the door. 

What could possibly be wrong? What was she looking for on the couch…?

Then it dawned on her.

Horsie.

She hadn’t checked to see if Faith was holding the stuffed horse before they left the stables.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright!” She stroked her head and tried cupping her cheeks. “Can you look at my eyes, Faith? Faith…it’s alright. We’ll get Horsie back next week. He’ll be alright.”

She was inconsolable.

Claire exhaled heavily and stood up to retrieve the Happy Meal from the coffee table.

“Aren’t you hungry, darling? McDonald’s! Your favorite!” She held the box in front of Faith’s eyes. “Come on, lovie, let’s go eat.”

She reached to grab her hand, but Faith shrieked and pulled back, apparently having no intention of eating a thing until Horsie was returned. She’d be quite hungry by next Friday.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…” Claire threw the Happy Meal back on the coffee table and ran a hand through her hair.

She needs to eat dinner. I have to make this stop. There has to be something…

“Do you want to watch a movie, lovie? How about Frozen?”

Claire scrambled to get the DVD in, holding her breath until the movie started, praying that she’d be drawn to the screen and sit down to watch quietly, and then she could gradually coax her to eat on the couch.

But she just continued wailing.

Claire knew full well once a meltdown was in motion it had to run its course. And this particular meltdown would not run its course until the missing object in question was found.

But she can’t not eat, she can’t not sleep…

Claire didn’t realize she started crying until it was too late.

It was just too much. She’d held a man’s hand today while he died before her eyes, and then hugged his inconsolable wife while she came to terms with having to tell her children their father wasn’t coming home. And then Claire had come home and sought comfort in her own child, and she’d gotten a bit, but of course it didn’t last long.

She knew by the time she drove back, the stable would be closed, so she could not go and pick it up. She tried calling the stable, but no one answered. Apparently, everyone had already gone home.

Faith gave a particularly loud shriek, and Claire felt all her nerves go shot one by one. Hands trembling she scrolled through her phone for something, anything.

Jamie.

Toni had provided her the stable number, her own number, and Jamie’s number in case the main phone was busy. He’d mentioned that he and the other therapists took turns staying after closing to see to the horses. She threw up a quick prayer before clicking on his contact to start a phone call. Even if he wasn’t the one that had stayed today, perhaps he could tell her who had and give her their number?

As the line rang, she felt surges of panic go through her. Was this even appropriate? To be contacting his personal cell number for something that wasn’t really an emergency?

Faith started pounding on the front door again, screaming her head off all the while.

Claire suddenly didn’t given a fuck about what was appropriate.

——

Jamie was sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying the stir fry he’d made for himself and his usual glass of whisky. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he made a note to check his texts later, but then it kept buzzing. Somebody was calling him.

Curious, he pulled out his phone and saw a number he didn’t recognize.

“Bloody telemarketers,” was his first thought, but the area code was local. Eyes narrowing in curiosity, he swiped up to accept the call, setting his fork down.

"Hallo? Who's this?"

"Uh...hi, Jamie. It's Claire. Claire Beauchamp. From the stables.”

Jamie felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

"Oh...Oh! Uh, hello, Claire. What's uh...what's going on?"

Someone on the other end shrieked, and his stomach lurched.

"Is that Faith? Is she alright?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine. Physically, at least. She left her horse at the stable, the stuffed one. She's absolutely beside herself and she won't stop crying. Nothing is calming her down, none of her other toys, not putting on a movie or music, not even food.”

Jamie felt his chest tighten. Her voice sounded strained, and she seemed completely frazzled. The second he’d laid eyes on her at the stable today he could tell that something was wrong. It wasn’t the usual sadness he saw in her eyes, it was something different, something visceral. Whatever was happening now was certainly not helping.

“She won't eat, and I know she won't sleep either. I called you because no one was picking up at the stable and I was hoping you'd still be there but just not near the phone?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Just in the stable. Canna hear the phone," he answered without thinking. What the damned hell are ye doing, lad?

"Oh, thank Christ. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"No," he said quickly. "I'll, uh, I'll bring it to ye."

"What...?"

"Wouldna do fer ye to be drivin' wi' Faith as she is now." Though Jamie was making things up to cover the fact that he was already home, he wasn't entirely wrong. Even if he was at the stable, he wouldn't feel comfortable with Claire driving twenty minutes with a screaming bairn. "Wouldna be safe.”

"But...it's...are you sure...? You wouldn't get in trouble?"

"Nah. I'm sure other therapists have done the same fer some o' their kids." 

Keep digging, James.

"But you haven't done it before?"

"No."

"But others have?"

"Aye." Liar.

"Alright...as long as you're sure it's not inappropriate."

"Only inappropriate if we make it so, Sassenach."

Why the bloody fuck did I say that?

Claire cleared her throat. “Right. So…you’ve got my address from Faith’s file?”

“Aye.”

“So...twenty minutes? Half hour?"

"Aye. Just about."

Idiot. Bloody feckin’ idiot.

"Alright. See you soon."

"Bye, then."

Jamie hung up, threw his phone on the table and slapped an exasperated hand over his face.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What is wrong wi’ ye?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #faith fraser #jamie fraser #joe abernathy

[huilian]

Character: Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Summary:  One person's hobby can quickly be the entire family's business, especially with a family like this (aka, Cass's adventures with ballet featuring her relationship with her siblings and Steph)

***

It’s rare that Cass would willingly sit in front of a laptop for an extended period of time for something that is not a case. It’s even rarer that her schedule would coincide with Tim’s enough to allow them to be sitting in front of their laptops together. (Well, separately, but in the same room at the same time. So, close enough to being together.)

It’s only because Tim has been expecting it for a few minutes now that the sound of a laptop being slammed closed doesn’t startle him. Tim looks up to find Cass putting her head into her hands while saying, “Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This… this damned website!” Cass all but shouts. “How am I supposed to know which shoes fit me best if I haven’t worn them ever? I’m reading your website to figure that out!”

“Umm… Cass?” Tim is now confused. Very confused. “Can you backtrack a little? What shoes?”

“Ballet shoes!”

“I thought you have them already? What shoes have you been wearing to class then?” Cass has been taking dance classes for months now. She must have ballet shoes, there’s little to no chance of her doing all those classes barefooted. Tim knows that ballet requires special shoes, which is about 50% of his current knowledge about ballet.

“Not those shoes. These are the… the… the pointe shoes!”

Tim is now even more confused. “So? There you go. The shoes you’re looking for are those pointe shoes.”

“No! There’re different kinds of them!”

“Huh?”

“Different brands and models and years and… and the endless modifications!”

“Okay.” Tim raises his hands placatingly. This sounds like an information problem, which he can help with. “Can I maybe, you know, look at the website? Maybe I can help?”

Cass slides her laptop to Tim. Tim closes his own laptop, then opens Cass’. Fifteen tabs greet him from the screens of Cass’s laptop. Tim sees that this is not the only window opened, and is then greeted with another three windows, each having tabs ranging from ten to thirty. Huh. It’s usually Tim who has that problem, opening too many tabs and windows and finding himself trapped in an information hellhole before he looks up to find that he has spent the entire day reading about the probabilities of oak tree getting struck by lightning.

Thankfully, that same thing has prepared Tim for this day. He quickly skims about every other tab. About a quarter of them is measuring tips, half of them are blogs with fitting and choosing tips, some are lists of pros and cons, and the rest are catalogs.

“Are all of these for choosing pointe shoes, Cass?”

“Yes,” Cass grits out.

“I… I never knew there are so many brands of pointe shoes.”

“Exactly! How am I supposed to choose if there’s so many of them!”

Tim, armed with his years of experience of sorting through bullshit on the internet, finds the most promising blog article titled ‘How To Choose Your Pointe Shoes: Guide to Getting the Best Shoes’ and starts to read.

“It says to go for a professional fitting? Maybe we should do that.” Cass makes a sound of protest. “I can start researching, but it’ll take ages and I’m not sure I’ll get it right. I’m pretty sure that poor pointe shoes fitting causes injuries, Cass. When do you need it anyway?”

Cass mumbles something. Tim, whose attention is now partially reading the section titled ‘Shank Strength’ and wondering what on earth a shank even is, doesn’t catch it at first. Then, the connecting nerves between his ears and his brain rebooted, and Tim screeches out, “Tomorrow? Yeah, no. We’re going to a professional fitting right now.”

“Ugh.”

“Cass,” Tim says, drawing out the syllable.

“Ugh.”

“Come on.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re seriously gonna make me read all of this before tomorrow? Have some mercy, Cass,” Tim teases. But seriously, he doesn’t want to have to read all of it in the short time-frame he has. He can do it, but then he’s gonna skip dinner and forgoes sleep and rest entirely and he just got Alfred to stop hounding him to go to sleep after his latest incident . He doesn’t want to have to do it again.

“You’re gonna do it anyway.” He is, but still. It’s the thought that counts. “Fine. It can’t be worse than comparing the box length of Grishko and Bloch.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

“Do you know where?”

Tim freezes. “Shit.” Now he still has to research the fitter in Gotham, and vet the places, and do all sorts of things he was hoping to not have to do by going to a fitter. Damn it.

Cass, being the absolute horrible sister that she is, just laughed at him.

“It’s your shoes, Cass! You do it!”

“No. You read about it. It’s your project now,” Cass smiles triumphantly.

“You are the worst.”

“I am the best.”

***

Jason only comes to the Manor to return Alfred’s pans, swear to god. There’s about half a dozen of Alfred’s pans (because even though it’s Bruce’s money that bought them, they are Alfred’s pans) in his latest apartment, and it’s getting ridiculous. Maybe take a book or two from the library while he’s there, because even with all of Bruce’s fault, he still keeps the library well-stocked with Jason’s favourite books.

So how come that leads to him being dragged by Cass to the Cave?

“Cass. Cass, please,” he tries.

Cass’ response is only to drag him even faster. How a girl half his size has the strength to drag him down the Cave’s stairs, Jason doesn’t know.

“Cass.”

“You said you don’t have anything else to do today. So you can do this.”

“Well, Cass, I-”

“It’ll be fun. You only have to sit. You can even read the entire time.”

“What if-”

“Alfred agrees.”

Jason sighs. “I doubt this is what he meant when he told you to go somewhere else to practice, Cass.”

“I asked him. He agrees.”

Jason sighs again. The problem is, she did ask Alfred, and Alfred did agree. Though why Cass chose to ask Alfred for permission to use Jason as a living, human barre for her ballet practice after Alfred banished her from using the kitchen countertop is a mystery. Maybe she thinks that Jason is not going to protest if Alfred said yes?

“Why me? You can have literally anyone to be your personal barre, Cass.”

“You are the right height.”

There’s nothing to say to that, is there? What’s Jason going to do, argue that he is not the right height? He doesn’t even know how high a ballet barre should be. Besides, Cass is right. Alfred already said yes, and he even went so far as expressing his delight in seeing Jason interacting with his siblings outside of their ‘nighttime activities’. So there’s that. There’s no arguing with Alfred when he had given out his verdict like that.

They arrive at the Cave, and then Cass drags Jason towards the empty space somewhere in between the sparring mats and the computer. Then, she lets Jason’s arm go, which should be enough of an opening for Jason to escape, but Jason knows what Cass can do. She’ll just catch him and drag him back. Jason accepts his fate and stays put even when Cass leaves his side to in search of a chair. Cass finds one, then drags it over, and then says, “Sit.”

Jason, who knows that this girl can easily force him to sit, sits. Cass smiles and nods her approval. She scrolls down on her phone for a while, and then music fils the Cave via the speaker system Bruce installed. Jason allows himself a small shake of the head. It’s just like Bruce to install a speaker system and then let it go to waste by preferring to brood in silence.

Cass puts her hand on Jason’s shoulder, and starts dancing. The hand is feather-light throughout her first combination, and Jason knows enough about ballet to know that this meant Cass doesn’t particularly need a barre to do the movements.

But. Well. It’s not half bad, watching his sister dance in between reading his book. That, coupled with the knowledge that Alfred is somewhere upstairs, most definitely preparing Jason’s favorite foods, made Jason relax.

“Stop moving!” Oh. Jason relaxing meant that his shoulder is now not in the same place it was before.

Jason smiles and says, “Sorry, sorry,” surprising himself that he actually meant the apology.

***

“Cass? Are you there?” Cass had promised to teach Steph a new throw today, but she’s not in the Cave, so Steph is now up in Wayne Manor, hoping she’ll find Cass in her room. “Cass? You promised to show me that throw, remember?”

Steph hears movement from inside Cass’ room, so she opens the door, considering Cass to be well and truly notified of her presence by her hollering in the hallway, only to be greeted with the sight of Cass with surgical tape and cotton balls in her hands. Steph goes to full-alert mode immediately, because anything or anyone that can get Cass to be hurt is a huge threat.

(Steph still hasn’t forgotten about Lady Shiva.)

“Cass, are you alright?” Steph says.

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you hurt? Do I need to call Alfred? Or dr. Thompkins?”

“I’m fine, Steph,” Cass’ voice is calm, but Steph has seen her take a bullet and still talks in the same calm voice as she is using now, so that is not an accurate meter to gauge Cass’ wellbeing.

“You’re holding bandages, Cass. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Watch out for the bucket.”

“Bucket? What bucket?”

“That bucket,” Cass points to her right.

“Why do you need a bucket?” Steph pauses, then the implication of a bucket in Cass’ bedroom hits her. “Are you sick as well?”

“No, it’s for my toes.”

Toes? What? “Okay, back up. Your toes?”

“Ballet.” Oh. Oh . Now that Steph is no longer worried that Cass is going to bleed out, she realizes that Cass is not putting on the tapes, but pulling it off. Oh, again. “Can you push the bucket here?”

Steph pushes the bucket, which Steph now notices is filled with ice, towards Cass with her foot. Cass puts her feet inside, groaning all the way.

“Ballet?” Steph asks. It seems weird that something so innocent can make Cassandra Cain react this extensively. But again, Steph has long learned not to underestimate anything.

“Ballet,” Cass answers.

“Is it the pointe shoes thing? I’ve read about it somewhere. That’s why I don’t want to go into ballet,” Steph says, lifting up a towel that’s next to Cass and replacing its position.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?” Steph puts her head on Cass’ shoulders, looking up a while to check whether or not this is okay.

“Yes,” Cass says, both as an answer for Steph’s question and Steph’s unspoken question.

“Can you still teach me that throw?”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes.”

“Okay.” They sit in silence for a while, until Steph suddenly has a thought. “Is it weird that you can take bullets without flinching, but groans at this, or is it just me?”

Cass hums. “It’s a different kind of pain. Never had it before. Not prepared for it.”

“Okay, but is it weird, or is it just me?”

“It’s weird.”

“Are you ready to teach me that throw now?”

“Sure.” Cass pulls out her feet and motions for the towel. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because of this.”

Steph hands her the towel, and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

Dick is walking down the hallways of the Manor when he hears Cass swearing from inside a bathroom. Normally, that wouldn’t be a cause of alarm, but since the only reason he’s at the Manor today is because Cass has a ballet recital and everyone is going to go watch it, Dick calls out, “Cass? Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Cass’ voice replies. “Yes! No! I don’t know!”

Okay, that warrants further investigation. “Can I come in?”

Cass makes an affirmative sound, so Dick opens the door, just in time to see Cass putting on false eyelashes in a truly dangerous fashion. As in, almost putting it straight into her eyes. Yeah, something is wrong.

Of course, the false eyelashes do not stick the way it’s supposed to, because Cass is not putting it on properly. Cass swears, again, and picks up the fallen eyelashes from the sink. Dick has seen enough.

“Do you know how to put those on?” Dick says.

“No! Why do they keep falling down? I’m doing it exactly the way they told me to!”

Dick takes a look to the false eyelashes on Cass’ hands, then to Cass’ eyes. “It’s too long for your eyelids, Cass.” Dick frowns. It has been a while since he has to handle false eyelashes. “At least, I think that’s why they keep falling down.”

Cass, who has been furiously dabbing glue to the false eyelashes, looks up to him with wide eyes. “You know how to do this?”

“I mean… I guess, yeah? My mom used to put this on for performances. She would let me help, sometimes.”

“You know how to do this!”

Dick takes a look at Cass’ hopeful face, then says, “Do you want me to do it for you?”

“ Please .”

“It’s been a while since I’ve put this on on anybody. It’s not going to be perfect.”

“ I don’t care . Just put it on.”

“Okay, then. Do you have scissors?”

Cass looks at him, and scrunchs her nose as she says, “No.”

“I’ll get one. Do you want to…,” Dick searches his memory for the times he helped his mom put on false eyelashes, “...clean the glue from the eyelashes? Too much glue will make it stick less, if I’m not wrong.”

“How come too much glue makes it stick less ?”

“I think it’ll make it stiff or something. My mom always cleans the glue off before putting it on. You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Dick says, but Cass is already picking off the dried glue from the false eyelashes.

When he returns with scissors that’s suitable enough ( not the kitchen scissors, Master Dick), Cass is already sitting down on the toilet.

“Are you still sure about this? I’m not sure I can do a good job, Cass.”

“You will not be worse than me,” Cass says, which, considering she almost poked her eye out trying to put it on, Dick is inclined to (grudgingly) agree.

“Alright. Close your eyes.”

Cass obediently closes her eyes. Dick picks up the false eyelashes from the sink and starts to measure it to Cass’ eyes.

“You did this a lot,” Cass says.

“What? Make-up?”

Cass hums. “ Stage make-up.”

“Oh. I guess, yeah, back at the circus. I didn’t have to put on false eyelashes, though.” Dick dabs on the glue to the eyelashes and starts to gently place it to Cass’ eyelids. “But everything else, yeah. Can you open your eyes?”

Cass opens her eyes, and that makes it clear that one of the ends is misplaced. Dick makes a motion for her to close her eyes again.

“Can you do the rest of my make-up too?” Cass says while Dick is pulling down the misplaced end.

Dick stops, surveys the state of Cass’ face, noting the base already on and the mostly done eye make-up, then says, “You just need some blush and lipstick, and you’re done.”

“Do it anyway.”

Dick exhales out a small laugh. “Fine, little sister. Is there anything else I can do for you, oh most talented princess?”

Cass’s response is to stick out her tongue.

“Don’t do that! You’ll make it harder for the lipstick to stay on!”

Cass opens one eye (one that’s not the one Dick is working on now, thank god) and locks eyes with Dick as she proceeds to lick her entire lip. Dick should be annoyed, but he just laughs harder.

***

Damian watches his sister dance in the exercise room. Not the practice and training space down in the Cave, but in the exercise room upstairs that Father remade to be a dance floor with floor-to-ceiling mirrors after too many incidents of pointe shoes flying in the Cave. Cassandra is truly a master of her body, and watching her do this, a very different use of her body than fighting, is mesmerizing. Damian has watched Cassandra’s dancing before, of course, the entire family went out to watch Cassandra’s recital, but that was with make-up and costume and stage-lights. This, just Cassandra with her leotard and tights in the bare room, is somehow a purer and more hypnotizing version.

It has been brought to Damian’s attention that he should do more moving sketches. Damian reviewed his drawings and concluded that that suggestion has value. He has been drawing more still-life lately, and it would be well to branch out from it. So here he is, debating whether or not to ask Cassandra to allow him to sketch her in her practice.

Damian is tempted to just start drawing, but Richard had said to ask for permission before drawing anyone after Damian had just started sketching his brother’s acrobatics practice. Before Damian can decide on anything though, Cassandra notices him and beckons him over.

“Cain,” Damian greets.

Cassandra tilts her head.

Well, now or never, Damian supposes. With her body-language reading capabilities, Cassandra might already know what Damian is there to do and is simply waiting him out. “May I sketch your dancing?”

Cassandra smiles. “Of course, little brother.” And without waiting for further clarification, she simply moves backward enough to not kick Damian with her dancing and starts where she left off. Damian, perplexed but satisfied enough not to make a fuss, sits down on the wooden floor and opens his sketchbook. He has never sketched a person dancing ballet before, and this is a welcome challenge.

As if she knows what is going on, Cassandra switches her routine, moving to a slower piece with lots of holds and balances, all without losing her graceful movements. It is infinitely easier to sketch this routine, especially with Damian never drawing ballet movements before.

Damian doesn’t say anything. He has a feeling that his sister already knows his appreciation for the change. Why be redundant and say it?

It’s a surprisingly pleasant way to spend an afternoon, especially when Cassandra grows tired of watching Damian sketch and drags him into joining her in a routine. He protests at first, only to give in eventually. And if he ends the session with laughter, well, nobody has to know.

(And if he plans on giving Cassandra a painting of her dancing sometime in the future, well, nobody has to know that either.)

#dc #cassandra cain #tim drake #jason todd #stephanie brown #dick grayson #damian wayne #fic #lian writes #batmanbingo2020

[ladybug-writes-spn]

Guardian Angel

Sam turns out to be reader’s guardian angel.

Warnings: Physical abuse, Emotional abuse, Starvation, Nightmares, AnGst

Word Count: 2820

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

I’ve been locked in this attic for what feels like forever. This chain around my ankle connecting me to the radiator is really starting to hurt and chafe. The days seem to run together. It’s cold up here and it stinks. The smell of mold and dust makes me want to retch. The room is only big enough for me, this radiator, and a dilapidated wooden chair.

Sometimes, when I have the strength, I crawl to the tiny window to peer out. The house is a ways from the street. The people on the street look small from way up here, but I scream at them for help anyway. I scream until my lungs burn and I lose my voice. Nobody seems to hear me. Why can't they hear me? That’s when the tears start. I cry until I’m completely exhausted. I curl up into a ball on the cold wooden floor and wait for sleep to finally creep up on me. That’s when I heard it.

“Sam? You sure we have the right house?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Of course, Dean. This isn’t my first salt and burn.” 

The two hunters continue their sweep of the old mansion. It was once a beautiful home, now covered in cobwebs and graffiti. Sam and Dean came here to, Winchester, VA, on a hunch. A local 12-year-old kid, Dylan, was found dead in his bed after sneaking into the house with his buddies the night before. The coroner couldn’t find a cause of death. 

 According to Sam’s research, a textile tycoon, Julian Van Buren, built the mansion in 1880 for his wife, Emily. And according to every piece of information Sam came across, the man was a terrible human being. His wife died mysteriously five years after moving into the house. 

“I don’t know, Sam. Shouldn’t he be jumping from around the corner and slamming me or you against a wall by now?” Dean asked, shining his flashlight around one of the many bedrooms. 

Sam furrowed his brow, his flashlight illuminating the graffiti on the wall of the hallway. “Maybe we’re looking for the wife?”

Another fifteen minutes of careful searching turns up nothing. “Alright. Let’s just go burn everyone’s bones and be done, huh?” Dean finally declared, done with the whole ordeal already. “Yea. The family cemetery is out back under the oak.” Sam closed the drawer he was rifling through. He noticed something under the desk he hadn’t before. It was an old, yellowed photo of Julian and a girl that looked no older than 21. 

“Huh. Wonder who this could be?” he mumbled to himself. Slipping it into his jacket pocket, he followed Dean to the Impala to grab the salt and lighter fluid.

They still couldn’t hear me. I was for sure the tall one would hear me. He found the photo I placed at his foot though. The one of Uncle and I. He took it with him. Maybe he’ll hear me yet. 

Sam found himself on the ground. He was on a wooden floor of a house that looked oddly like the old mansion he and Dean were just investigating. He checked himself and found no injuries. Nothing bleeding or broken. “Where the hell am I?” he mumbled. He tried to stand, finding his legs not wanting to cooperate. Sitting back down, he waited for his vision to clear. 

He heard muffled voices down the hall from where he was. One sounded like a man and the other a young girl. 

“What did I say, child? You do not sass me, girl! And in front of my guests!” the male voice boomed. “I’m sorry, Uncle!” the young girl squeaked out through tears. Then Sam heard a thud as if a punch was thrown and someone falling to the floor. 

Slowing inching toward the doorway of the bedroom, he saw a large man looming over a girl. Looking closer, he realized it was the girl from the photo he had found. Sam gasped as the girl was staring straight at him. The man didn’t seem to notice Sam there as he turned to hunt through a desk drawer. 

Sam recognized him as Julian Van Buren. The man produced a thick leather strap from the drawer. “How many times do I need to teach you this lesson?” He paused, shooting daggers at the girl. “Now. Turn around and be still or you get twenty more lashes, girl.”

Sam felt nauseous. He wanted to leap into the room and knock the bastard’s head off of his shoulders but his limbs felt like jelly. He stood there and watched as the poor girl was whipped across her back until she bled. She turned her head, looking at Sam through watery eyes. 

“Help me. Please,” she mouthed to Sam. “Stop your noise! You did this to yourself!” The man lashed the girl with an, especially hard smack. Her scream rang in Sam’s ears and he bolted awake in his bed at the crappy motel room he was sharing with his brother. 

He was sweating profusely and tears were running down his cheeks. Trying to calm his panicked breathing, he looked around the room. Dean was still snoring in the next bed. The red neon sign from outside lighting his features. 

Staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper, his mind raced. Julian didn’t have any kids. Who was this girl? And why was she there with him? What happened to her? There were only three graves in that family plot. Julian, his wife, and Julian’s only sibling, a brother. It was like she was trying to reach out to him through a dream. 

Sam stood, grabbing his jacket off of the chair next to his bed. He took the photo out of his pocket, taking a closer look. By the light of his laptop, he studied it. The poor girl looked so sad. She wasn’t smiling. Of course, back then nobody smiled in pictures, but she looked so haunted. It felt like she was staring right into his soul. 

“Who are you?” he whispered.

Dean grunted. “Who are you talking to?

“Myself. Go back to sleep,” Sam scoffed. Dean cracked an eye open. “Alright then. Keep your secrets.”

“Dude. Have you been on a meme binge again?” Sam asked, half-smirking. His answer was a snore. 

He wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. Closing his laptop, he headed to hop into the shower. 

Sam sat on his laptop searching for anything and everything, trying to figure out who this girl was. The sun was starting to rise, the oranges and pinks creeping through the blinds next to the table. Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his back and slid his jacket over his shoulders. “Mornin, Sammy,” Dean mumbled into his pillow. “Hey, I was about to head out for some breakfast. Coffee and burritos?”

“Uh-huh.” Sam huffed a laugh. 

Walking through the door of the motel room, Sam noticed Dean sat at the table with the picture in his hand. “Where’d you find this?”

“I found it yesterday at that old house. It was on the floor,” he explained, not too sure he should share the dream he had last night. He knows how Dean acted last time he was having crazy dreams. “I think we should look into it. I can’t seem to figure out who she is.” Dean just stared at his brother. “....why?”

Sam hesitated. “Because...I had a dream about her. Like she was crying out for help.”

“Ok…” Dean started before he was cut off by the ringing of Sam’s phone. Saved by the bell. “Hello. Agent Crosby.” Dean watched as Sam’s face fell. “Thank you for calling.” 

“Well, what was that?” Dean asked. “The sheriff. She says one of the other kids that were with Dylan was just admitted to the hospital. Something’s definitely going on.”

“Yea definitely. I’ll go interview the kid’s parents.”

“I’ll go to the library and try to dig up something about this girl or the property that maybe we missed.”

Sam had been at the library for hours. He read through every  book and newspaper article he could find. She had to be Julian’s brother’s daughter, that much he figured out. She called him Uncle in his dream and Julian only had one sibling. According to some articles he found, his brother, James, had a wandering eye. Maybe Mystery Girl’s mom was one of his mistresses. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. This was gonna be harder than he thought.

The librarian walked past noticing what was on his computer screen. “Excuse me?” she whispered. He turned around although he almost thought he had imagined it. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice what you’re researching. Are you trying to find out about James Van Buren’s illegitimate child?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Yea I think so,” he spluttered. The librarian reached over, typing in a few words into the search bar. 

“Eleanor McNamara’s obituary. The girl’s mother. They tried to keep it secret but nothing ever stays that way,” she added, clicking enter. 

“Thank you so much.” She nodded, walking back to her desk. Sam read the obituary. Eleanor, the girl’s mother, died three days after giving birth. She emigrated from Ireland to New York, moving to Virginia within a few months. It named the ladies’ parents, Mary and Gerald McNamara, also from Ireland. He also looked up their obituaries. Nothing. 

Sam took a deep breath. Why is this girl so hard to find? His phone rang just then. He slid his finger across the screen, answering it. “Dean?”

“Hey man. Ya know the kid in the hospital?”

“Yea?”

“Well, he’s catatonic now. All he’ll say is ‘Y/N’ over and over again. Mean anything to you?” Dean asked.

“Maybe?” 

“Meet me back at the hotel,” Dean said before hanging up.

Back at the hotel, Sam shows Dean the info he found out at the library. “How much do you wanna bet this Y/N chick is your girlfriend?” Dean retorted, grinning at Sam’s bitchface. “Dude. She’s not my girlfriend. And yes I think you’re right.” Sam paused.

“But why would she hurt those kids?”

“I don’t know man. You know how ghosts are. The longer the person is a ghost, the crazier they become.”

Sam sat back in his chair, pondering. “She didn’t seem crazy to me when she was in my dream though. It seemed like she was crying out for help.” Silence fell over the brothers. “Well, either way, we have a problem.” Dean finally said. “Yea. Where are the bones?” Sam finished his brother’s thought. “Maybe we’re looking for an object she would’ve been attached to.” Sam’s brain was going over a million possibilities. He thought back over his dream, still vivid in his mind. He felt the desperation and fear she must have felt. Then, he noticed a necklace she was wearing. “She was wearing a necklace. It looked like a locket.” Sam picked up the photo of the girl and her uncle. “She’s wearing it in this picture. Maybe it would happen to be in a drawer or jewelry box somewhere in the house.” 

“Alright, well, Ima head out a grab some grub. Guess we’re going back to the house tonight.” Dean announced, taking his keys from his pocket, walking out the door.

Sam sat at the small table with the photo in hand. Something wasn’t sitting right with him. Something’s missing and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was exhausted from the rude awakening the night before. Lying down on the bed, he told himself he’d take 20 minutes to refresh for tonight. Not even realizing he’d fallen asleep, he found himself back at that mansion but it seemed like brand new. It was actually a beautiful house, masking the evil that lived inside its walls. 

There was nobody to be found. It was deadly silent, except for the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. He felt a pull toward the cellar. Making his way through the kitchen to a red-painted wooden door. The door let out a harsh groan when Sam opened it. In front of him was a long, steep stairway leading into a dark abyss. Sam searched his pocket, hoping to find the small flashlight he usually kept in it. Amazingly, it was there. Flipping it on, he could make out many shelves full of jars filled with various foods. Stepping onto the cool, dirt floor, he realized he was barefoot. 

…and wearing a filthy dress that was probably white at one time. The girl must be showing him something through her eyes. Looking down at his/her arms he noticed they were littered with bruises of varying colors. He felt a pain in his stomach. Starvation. Her uncle must have starved her aside from beating her. 

Sam felt anger building up in his gut. He wished the bastard was still alive so he could do the same to him as he did to her. He walked toward a far wall where the boards of the wall looked different than the rest of the cellar.

Y/N appeared before him, staring Sam in the eyes. Her wide, desperate, Y/E/C eyes bore into his. She spoke but he couldn’t hear her with his ears. He could hear her in his mind. Y/N. She pointed to the wall. He glanced at the wall and back to her. She suddenly appeared closer to him, almost touching him. Y/N. She banged her fist on the wall. 

A booming growl came from the top of the stairs. Sam felt her utter fear, helplessness and a twinge of anger. He turned to her but she was gone. He looked back at the stairs seeing nothing but red eyes. “Sam,” it growled. “Sam. Sam!” The red eyes got louder and closer. 

He jerked awake in his bed with Dean standing over him. “Having another dream about your girlfriend?” Dean chuckled and pointed to the brown paper bags on the table. “I got the grub.”

“Yea ok. Umm… Lemme. I’ll be right out.” Sam sputtered, dashing to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. 

Five minutes later, he walked back out. “Well? What was it about this time?” Dean questioned. “I think I know why she’s still there,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I think her bones are in the cellar. She showed me exactly where in the dream.” 

“Good. We can put her to rest so we can get some rest.”

They ate their food in silence. He felt so sorry for this poor girl. Her mother died right after she was born. He definitely could relate to that. Her father rejected her. Just to be sent to live with her abusive asshole of an uncle. He wondered if she ever had anything good happen to her that she could hold onto. Sam was tortured by the devil himself but he was also a grown man when it happened. He had Dean and Bobby for support as well. But she was just a young girl. Did she even have anybody she could call an ally or even friend?

A few hours later, they found themselves at the old mansion once again. Both of them heading straight for the cellar, Dean with a sledgehammer and Sam with an ax. They immediately started tearing down the wall. It didn’t take long to find the cramped hole she was tucked away in. Her bones were huddled in the corner like she was cowering. Dean carefully wrapped her up in a sheet and started to carry her out back to the pyre they had built. 

Sam wasn’t far behind Dean when he saw something fall out of the sheet to clink on the stair. He bent down to pick it up. It was her locket she had been wearing. Dean continued up the stairs not noticing that Sam had stopped following. Opening the locket, it was a tiny picture of a baby on one side and a tiny picture of a beautiful lady with long, wavy hair on the other. He figures this must be her mother.

Looking back into the cellar he saw Y/N standing there with the lady from the picture in the locket. They were both smiling. He just smiled back, dropped the locket into his pocket and walked on. 

“Thank fuck. I’m so ready to get back to the bunker,” Dean declared hopping into the driver’s seat of his Baby. “We are taking a breather for a while for some much needed R&R.” Dean started up the car and sped off into the night. Sam sat in the passenger seat thinking about all that transpired. He fiddled with the locket he still had in his pocket.

“I don’t blame you. I could use a break too.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #guardian angel #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x ofc #dean winchester #physical abuse #emotional abuse #starvation #angst #nightmares #ladybug fic

[the-delta-42]

An Unexpected Turn

Inspired by [this post] by @lenoreofraven

Warning: This oneshot mentions violence, child molesting and murder. if anyone of those may upset you DO NOT READ

An unexpected turn

Ladybug watched as Hawkmoth tore the ring off Chat Noir’s finger, before carelessly tossing him aside. Adrien skidded along the floor until he hit a desk and came to a sudden halt. He was vaguely aware of Nino rushing over to check on him. Adrien opened his eyes and spotted Mayura standing frozen, staring at him.

The sound of breaking glass made everyone look over towards Ladybug and Hawkmoth. Ladybug had managed to gain the upper hand, until Lila hit her with a chair. Ladybug was stunned for a total of two seconds, but given her close proximity to Hawkmoth, that was long enough for him to grab the earrings and forcibly tear them off her.

Ladybug fell to the floor, blood coming from her ear, the other held in Hawkmoth’s grip. Marinette tried to stem the flow of blood from her ears, until Alya rushed over, tossing Lila to the side, before pressing a bunched-up shirt against the bleeding wound.

Hawkmoth only grinned maniacally, before dropping his transformation. He ripped the Butterfly Miraculous from his chest and tossed it to the side. Marinette spotted it and quickly grabbed it, Alya violently jerking when Marinette grabbed the Miraculous. Gabriel slipped the ring on his finger and shove the earrings into his ears.

“Take that off you waste of breath.” Plagg all but snarled, his green eyes narrowed. Tikki screamed and dashed towards Gabriel, who knocked her aside.

“Be silent.” Gabriel snapped, before summoning both Kwami into the ring and earrings.

Gabriel still had the sick, twisted grin on his face, before a fan knocked his head to the side. Mayura glared, drawing her hand back to strike Gabriel again. Gabriel grabbed her hand, removed the Peacock miraculous from her and tossed her aside.

“You won’t need to turn up for work tomorrow, Nathalie.” Said Gabriel, his voice cold.

Adrien was internally screaming, his father was Hawkmoth, who had torn his lady’s ears off, revealing her to be Marinette, Lila was working with him and Nathalie, the woman who had become similar to a mother to him was Mayura. A little voice that sounded like Plagg spoke in his mind, ‘At least she tried to do the right thing.’

“Now, no one can stop me.” Gabriel gloated, holding his hand up and then snapping his fingers.

“NO!” Scream Marinette, jumping up to rush at Gabriel, only for a shockwave to pass through the city, knocking her off her feet.

Everyone was disorientated, Gabriel dropping the transformation, before quietly walking over to Adrien.

“Get up, we’re going home.” Said Gabriel, his voice the signature coldness of his personality.

“Fuck off.” Adrien grunted, glaring up at the man.

Gabriel was dumbstruck by Adrien’s response, before glaring at the boy.

“I am your father and you will do as I say.” Said Gabriel, his glare intensifying, before he turned and looked at Nathalie, “Nathalie, get up-”

“Do I work for you?” The short, curt response from her actually made him freeze, “Last I checked, you still had a restraining order to stop you from going anywhere near Emilie or her son.”

Gabriel could only stare at the woman, saying nothing, giving Marinette ample opportunity to knock Gabriel down with a chair, grab the Ring, which she passed to Adrien, the earrings and the Peacock broach.

Quietly slipping the Peacock and Butterfly in her pocket, Marinette quietly put the Miraculous back on, Adrien doing the same. Tikki and Plagg zipped out of their respective Miraculouses and unceremoniously flopped into the hands of their chosen.

“I don’t get it.” Said Alya, getting to her feet, “He had them both, so why didn’t he use them?”

“That’s a good question.” Said Marinette, vaguely aware of the fabric in Alya’s hand, “The only thing that’s changed, for me at least, is I still have both my ears attached.”

True to form, both of Marinette’s ears were on either side of her head, any blood that had been there a few minutes ago was gone.

“What happened?” Gabriel snarled, whipping around and facing Marinette, who just looked down at Tikki.

Tikki gave a shuddering sigh, before forcing herself to sit up.

“You tried to make two wishes simultaneously,” Said Tikki, looking tired, “we can only do one wish per person and even then, it’s at a cost.”

“But it didn’t cost him anything.” Said Kim, before the penny dropped for Marinette, who started laughing.

“Yes, it did.” The girl continued laughing, “Tell me, tell me, how big was your fashion empire? Reaching across the globe, stocks in everything, raking in millions every day?”

“Obviously.” Gabriel grit out, before Adrien got it and started laughing as well.

“I-I think you should look yourself up,” Said Adrien, leaning back against the desk, “You’d be surprised.”

Gabriel only continued to grit his teeth, before Ms. Bustier walked into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Said Ms. Bustier, frowning down at her paperwork, “But last week’s incident report came in and-”

Ms. Bustier looked up and her eyes clocked Gabriel Agreste standing in her classroom. Ms. Bustier and Gabriel held eye contact for a total of thirty seconds, before she turned to the class.

“Everyone, go out to the courtyard.” All the students followed her command, Nathalie escorting them out. Ms. Bustier was the last one to leave, locking the door, leaving Gabriel alone in the classroom.

“Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!” Gabriel snarled, but got no response. Gabriel spun and stared at the spot the Butterfly Miraculous had landed, only to find it wasn’t there. Gabriel snarled, his eyes going to his left hand, expecting to see the Peacock in his grip. Gabriel fumed, as he realised that he had no Miraculous at his disposal. Then he froze, that Marinette girl was Ladybug, and Ladybug was the new Guardian. All he had to do was wait for the police to come and release him and he could go over to the bakery and grab the miracle box, and perhaps he could have a little fun while he was there.

The last thought made him freeze. Gabriel quickly rushed over to the computer and hastily typed his name into the first search engine he could find. The results flashed across the screen.

Fashion Mogul found to be The Collector

Child rapist and murderer The Collector found to be missing from his Cell

Hawkmoth believed to be Collector under a new name

Gabriel Agreste spotted near ex-wife and son’s home

Related Articles:

Ladybug and Chat Noir confirm suspicions

Emilie Graham de Vanily marries partner of seven years

Gabriel slowly clicked on each of the articles and slowly read them. Everything he had, that he had built, was gone. He and Emilie were separated since Adrien had been two, after she reported him to the police, he’d been arrested two years later after police found DNA evidence on one of the Collector’s victims. A sudden kick in the stomach jolted Gabriel. In trying to get his wife back, he’d lost everything.

AUT

Adrien quietly focussed on Marinette’s breathing, he could vaguely hear Lila making strange noises whenever Chloe moved, as well as Alya rapidly typing on her phone. Marinette’s sister had been one of the Collector’s victims, ironically the one that lead to his arrest.

“What do you think life was like before he screwed up?” Asked Lila, her head dangling upside down, “I mean, we know he had sleeper Akuma’s-” “Don’t we know it.” Alya muttered. “myself included, but, seriously, if his life was so great in that other world, why would he look for magical jewellery?”

Marinette dug around in her pocket and pulled the Peacock and the Butterfly. Carefully pinning the Butterfly to her jacket, she tapped it twice.

A purple Kwami fell into her hands and just laid there, trembling and crying.

“Pl-please, m-master.” The Kwami sobbed, “N-no more.”

Tikki rushed over to the Kwami, Plagg unceremoniously flopped and flailed, acting like water in a balloon. Plagg eventually made it to Tikki and the other Kwami.

“It’s okay, Nooroo,” Tikki soothed, stroking Nooroo’s head, “he no longer has the miraculous, you’re free.”

Nooroo, only continued to quietly sniffle, while Plagg flopped around.

“To answer your question, Sausage hair,” Lila pulled an insulted face, “his wife was missing, or dead, one or the other. He felt he had lost everything in his life and took to manipulating people to try and get what wanted.”

“So, he ruined his own life, while making Adrien’s better?” Asked Alix, leaning forwards.

“Not just Adrien’s,” Said Tikki, “In that world Lila had taken to lying about everything and everyone, Chloe was a nightmare and any adults were complacent and did nothing.”

“Wait, so I was a Psychopath, Chloe was a Sociopath and everyone else were doormats?” Said Lila, rolling off the table.

“Yup.” Said Plagg, before looking up at Adrien, “I know you hate me complaining-”

Adrien pulled a piece of camembert out of his pocket and shoved it in Plagg’s mouth, while Marinette gave Tikki a Macaron.

“Why would their lives change?” Asked Marinette, frowning slightly.

“They were Hawkmoth’s primary tools in Akumatizing people, since he no longer needed them, the Universe accommodated their lives.” Said Plagg, swallowing his cheese, “He had no reason to use either of them this time around and, as a result, never manipulated them into his tools.”

Everyone was quiet, before Alix exhaled, “So what else has changed?”

The Kwami all exchanged glances, before the attention of the class was drawn over to the entrance.

“I don’t care if you need to question them, Roger, I need to get to my son!”

Adrien winced as His mother stormed in, closely followed by Officer Raincomprix. Marinette quickly hid the Kwami in her jacket pocket, making sure Sabrina’s dad didn’t see them.

Emilie crossed the courtyard and yanked Adrien into an embrace.

“Thank god, you’re safe.” Emilie whispered, holding her son tightly.

“I’m fine, maman.” Said Adrien, trying to save his lungs.

Emile then held Adrien at arm’s length and looked him in the eyes, “Adrien Raphael Sancoeur-Graham de Vanily, when that monster is involved, nothing is ever fine. How did he even get into the premises? I thought this school was safe.”

“That’s what we’re trying to investigate, ma’am.” Said Raincomprix, trying not to flinch when she glared at him, “We have reason to believe he had help from a staff member.”

“He didn’t.” Said Marinette, getting the eyes of everyone.

Emilie softened at the sight of the girl.

“Okay.” Said Raincomprix, folding his arms and scowling, “How did he get in?”

Marinette fished Nooroo out of her pocket and pointed to the brooch.

“He got in because he was Hawkmoth,” Said Marinette, “Don’t ask how we got the Miraculous from him and don’t ask us to hand it over.”

Roger opened his mouth, before Emilie cut in, “Where is he now?”

“He’s been locked in the classroom.” Said Lila, before Emilie spun on her heel and stalked off.

“No. Wait. Come back.” Said Adrien, as slowly as possible, “Oh dear, she can’t hear me.”

Everyone was quiet, before Marinette looked at Adrien, while stroking Nooroo, and said, “What’s the chances of your mother committing murder?”

Adrien just shrugged.

AUT

Gabriel looked up as the door unlocked and opened. Emilie stormed in and, before Gabriel could react, punched him so hard that he fell to the floor. Emilie then stood on Gabriel’s chest and glared down at him.

“You have no right, being here.” Said Emilie, her voice cold and face hard.

“Emilie-” Gabriel was kicked in the face, blood spewing from his nose.

“Do. Not. Speak.” Emilie grit out, “You brought this on yourself, all those children you harmed a slaughtered and you always wondered why I would never let you near my son. I’m amazed that Marinette didn’t try to kill you herself, given what you did to her sister.”

Gabriel only stared up at her, desperately, only for Emilie to press her foot down harder, “Where did you get the Miraculous?”

“I found them.” Said Gabriel, weakly.

“You mean you stole them from the Guardian you murdered, then you killed the others until the Miracle Box was given to Ladybug.” Snapped Emilie, her foot pressing down harder.

“We need him alive for the trial.” Said an unfamiliar voice, making Emilie turn around.

“Skye, how long have you been standing there?” Asked Emilie, looking at Marinette’s oldest sister.

“Long enough,” Said Skye, looking at her nails, “Michael is trying to get the media to clear off, to give you and Adrien some peace.”

Emilie got off Gabriel and started to head out of the room, before she looked back, “Make sure he doesn’t get off easy.”

“Don’t worry.” Said Skye, her eyes and voice cold, “He won’t.”

Gabriel watched at Emilie walked away, his heart sinking further into the bottomless abyss of loss.

Everything was gone for him.

AUT

Marinette quietly dozed next to Adrien, who rested his cheek on her head.

“Macarons are dancing.” Marinette mumbled, as she cuddled into Adrien.

Adrien smiled as the News announced the Gabriel had been confined to a lifetime sentence with no chance of getting out.

For some reason, Adrien felt as if he had everything he wanted.

Although, he thinks his mother was right about one of his thoughts, it would be best to finish school before marrying Marinette.

Adrien just hoped the ring he chose would still fit her finger in ten years’ time.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #lila rossi #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #emilie agreste #adrienette #tikki #plagg #nooroo #delta writes #caline bustier #roger raincomprix #sabrina raincomprix #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth wins #but he also loses #tw: violence #tw: child molestation #tw: child death #Gabriel is a predator #so he is treated like the garbage he is

[rainydaysofspring]

And if the world was ending... (Part 1)

Hey everyone, I had this idea yesterday and I’ve never read something like this before, so I decided to write it out.

Summary: When Ruby gets the worst News she could ever imagine, her world crumbles to pieces.

Pairing: None

Trigger Warnings: Death, Fainting, Sadness, Angst, poorly written medical stuff

Word Count: 1298

If you wanna be added or removed from my Tag-List, please let me know!

Tag List: @ethandaddyramsey​

RUBY "I can't give you that kind of information over the telephone miss. You must come to Edenbrook Hospital as soon as possible." That's what the lady on the phone said, when I got the call, saying my boyfriend got in a bad accident with his motorcycle. Those words were rushing over and over through my head, as I was taking the quickest way to the hospital. Visions of the worst kind were coming into my mind, even though I tried shutting them down to drive safely. My life wasn't the only one on the line if I got into an accident. There was another, little life I need to protect. The fastest and probably most dangerous drive of my entire life and countless prayers later, I stood in Infront of the lady who called me earlier. "I'm Ruby James, I got a call relating to my boyfriend, Matt Stevenson." I wanted my voice to be clear and calm, like always, but instead, the sentence came out almost whispered, my voice about to break. The lady at the admission desk looked at me with an emotionless gaze, before clicking around her computer a few times. " You can't see him yet, he is still in the ER. But take a seat in the waiting zone, a doctor will talk to you as soon as there is news." She flicked her hand in direction of an area with seats, a few people already sitting there, expecting news from doctors too. I quietly thanked her and walked over to the said area and took a seat near the windows. Outside, it began to rain heavy, out of thick, grey clouds. Somehow, rain always seemed to calm my nerves, but not today. Not with the life of my greatest love on the line. Minutes ticked by, my constant focus on what on earth takes them so long. I didn't even know what happened to him.

ETHAN "Matt Stevenson, 26, motorcycle crash. Suspected internal bleeding, vitals unstable." One of the paramedics yelled. "Rookie, get in here!" I yelled as we ran to the nearest free trauma bay with the patient. Nurses and doctors sprung into action, I included, orders were yelled around the room. "I need a CT, stat!" one order after another got thrown through the air. But one of the things yelled caught everyone's attention: "VITALS DROPPING! HE'S CODING!"

RUBY Deep in thought I just stared to the ground, doing nothing more than praying. Praying, even though God and I don't have the best relationship. Maybe he could help me. Help Matt survive. He just has to. For me. For his baby. For our little, sweet family.

ETHAN The heart rate monitor read a long, steady line, with no signs of heart activity. "Damn it," I thought. Another life lost. "Time of death: 12:54" My monotone voice sounded thorough the Trauma room, nurses starting to work on the body, like protocol expected them to. I left the room, going to the reception desk if the busy ER, asking: "Trauma 4, did he have any contacts to call?" "Yes, he did. His girlfriend, she's waiting on the atrium." With that answer I thanked the nurse and turned around, making my way to the atrium, to break the news to his girlfriend, tearing her whole world down with it. In the elevator, my mind was racing. 26 years old, motorcycle crash. He wanted to overtake a slower vehicle, didn't see the other driver blinking left, and couldn't stop anymore when they started making their way. He didn't have a chance. Too much blood loss, internal hemorrhage, the trauma of the head, even though he wore a helmet. I decided to take his girlfriend to my office, to give her as much privacy as possible while receiving possibly the worst news of her entire life. When I stepped foot into the atrium, I scanned the people in the waiting area. An older couple, holding hands and praying, a man, middle-aged, nervously fidgeting with his fingers, a few people just staring at the ground and a woman, younger, maybe around the age of 25, carefully stroking her abdomen, lost in thought. "Matt Stevenson?" I called out, and her head snapped up, ripping her out of her thoughts.

RUBY

When I heard a deep, melodic voice speaking the name of Matt, I got snapped out of my thoughts. There stood a man, maybe 40 years old, wearing glasses and a crisp white coat, under that a Shirt, tucked into blue pants, a tie completes his appearance. Shaky, I stood up and almost whispered, that I was here for him. The doctor came to a few steps towards me, as well as I took a few steps in his direction. He introduced himself by a court handshake, accompanied by a nod and the words "Dr. Ramsey. You're Matt Stevenson's girlfriend?" I nodded, trying to read something from his gaze, but nothing was detectable out of his eyes or mimic. Almost, like he was trained to never let emotion show in his face. "Would you like to follow me to my office?" I just nodded again, following him through the halls of this huge hospital, continuing to wonder, how the love of my life was doing and when I could go and see him. Arriving at his office, the doctor, whose name o already forgot, opened the door and invited me in. He kindly offered me a seat on a sofa, himself sitting next to me, with a little distance between us. He took his stethoscope off his neck, laying it on the small coffee table in front of both of us. After what seemed like collecting his thought one last time, he began to speak: "Ms. James, I understand you're Matt Stevensons Girlfriend?" he asked. I answered him by saying a simple yes, more didn't seem to get out of my mouth. I was scared. So damn scared. He took a deep breath, before speaking again. "He got in a motorcycle accident, sustaining heavy internal, as well as external, injuries." The sound of that sentence made a shiver run down my spine, a tiny thought of what he would say next itching at the back of my brain, but nothing o wanted to put more thought into. "When he came here, he was unconscious and his vitals were already not optimal anymore." The tiny possibility became more and more likely, I noticed tears starting to build up in my eyes. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. "I'm sorry to tell you, but Matt Stevenson didn't survive the crash. He died at 12:54 today. We did everything we could." With those few words, my entire life crumbled to pieces. I stared at the doctor, not sure what to say, as slowly the tears in my eyes spilled over and run down my face. I saw the doctors' lips moving, but couldn't make out what he said anymore. The ringing in my ears was to loud to hear something else.

ETHAN The girl looked lost. So lost. She just stared at me, shock evident in her face. Tears started welling in her green eyes, starting to fall down her cheeks. She was broken.

RUBY He couldn't be dead. No. I needed him here. I needed him with me, raising our unborn baby. He'd never be able to see his child and this kid would grow up without a father, but instead with a single mother. Could I do this? No. Not without Matt. Not without the love of my life and the man I wanted to spend eternity with. Suddenly, black dots clouded my vision, becoming more and more. From far away, I heard the doctor saying my name before everything went black.

#ethan ramsey #Ethan jonah ramsey #open heart #mc #pixelberry #angst #death tw #fainting tw #tw

[qweeby]

What’s your Deepest Thought-Part 2/???

Warning: Trigger Warning, Angst 

Author’s Notes: Dabi looks high in this gif that is all. 

 “Wait...really I can join the league?!” Shigaraki puts his head down back on the bar counter and sighs, “Yeah you're in but you’ll have to meet the other members one of them is actually on the roof, do what you want with that information”. “Ok thank you Tomura” I did actually hear a faint noise on the roof but i didn’t know for sure if it was my quirk “I’ll go talk to them!”.  I walked to the back exit and used the stairs and made my way to the rooftop. It was weird because I didn’t hear anything, there was no voice...it was strange....  Just when Y/N made it to the roof there was a man standing on the edge looking out towards the streets of Japan, “H-hey be careful you don't wanna fall. The man slowly turns around, he has a slim,somewhat-lanky build, black hair that spiked up around his head and some of it hanging over his eyes hiding their turquoise glow.

“What’s a kid doing up here?” “I’m not a kid, I'm a new member of the league and I wanted to introduce myself. Tomura said there was someone up here so i thought maybe-". The man turns back around “If you are here to “make friends” then you might as well crawl back to whatever hole you came out of” Y/N walks up to the man “ I'm not gonna back run away I’m going to change society, you don’t have to like me I could care less. Both of the villains make eye contact glaring at one another then suddenly the voices start to creep in. She starts hearing voices from a strange woman and multiple screams of many children. Y/N holds her head “Shut up shut up shut up!” the man stares at Y/N confused “ Hm? I didn’t say anything”, Y/N’s ears begin to bleed as the screams get louder but there’s a name she hears that overrides all the screaming….Toyua!….Toyua!….TOYUA is being screamed into her ears, “WHO IS TOYUA!” the voices stop for some reason now it is nothing but quiet until she looks up at the man while he holds out his hand that is covered in blue flames and his face seemed intense and angry. 

“Who told you about that name HUH”, panicked Y/N quickly back ups into a wall as she holds her arms straight out, WAIT WAIT WAIT DON’T BURN ME N-NO ONE TOLD ME ANYTHING I SWEAR! I HEARD FROM YOUR MIND!”, “YOU READ MY MIND?! BAD MOVE KID! the flames grow bigger as it slowly engulfs his arm “IT’S MY QUIRK! I CAN’T TURN IT OFF!...I never heard such a damaged mind before...you probably have good reason for being in the league I-im sorry if i brung up bad memories. The man takes a deep breath as his flames disappear, he once again looks outwards to the city as he looks at a distant billboard of the pro heros that has All Might and Endeavor.

“The name is Dabi, get it memorized Doll” Y/N nods simultaneously as  she stands up “Yeah i got it Dabi”. “If i ever hear that name escape your lips,I’ll turn you into burning ash” Dabi cliches his fist as he looks away from the billboard, “You didn’t hear anything else did you?” “I only heard screams from a lady and some kids and sometimes I’d hear a man but then everything got canceled out by Toy- t-the you know what word...but right now all i hear is you heart beat i'm guessing you're scared i know something you don’t want anyone to know” Dabi smirked “No that’s not it at all, i just saw a familiar face”, He walks up to Y/N as he makes contact with her face caressing her cheek “ I know you’ll keep your mouth shut doll~....” then in a split second her surrounds his hands around her throat not choking her but he could easily tighten his hold. “Right?” Y/N is completely terrified as she looks at the damaged soul she thinks back to her father as he would look at her with the same death glare, she looks down “Yes I...won’t say a word but...can i ask a question?....what’s your deepest secret.” Dabi stays silent while he moves his hands away from Y/N and then he chuckles “Are you talking to me...or Toyua..” Dabi and Y/N exchange glaces. “ Tomura might have accepted you into the league but that doesn't mean I do, in my eyes you're a little trying to fit into a world that she doesn’t belong in! 

The broken man leans in and whispers in Y/N’s ear, “You're nothing but a doll in a room full of action figures. Then out of nowhere Kurogiri’s mist surrounds the two as he appears in his warp gate, “Dabi, Master Tomura would like to see you” “Tsk tell boss I’m on my way,are you coming kid?”. Y/N walks away from Dabi and sits on the edge he was standing on, “I guess that’s a no huh..” Dabi goes through Kurogiri’s warpgate leaving Y/N on the roof to be left with her own thoughts and thoughts of people down below walking the streets of Japan. Y/N takes at her phone and her earbuds then puts them on, the entire world goes quiet as Y/N watches Stains video for as of now she’s left listening to Stain and his ideals.

-Hours have passed since then and Y/N wakes up to a blue sky-

“..Huh?..Morning already?..” “ Looks like you finally woke up huh, Doll?” Dabi is standing in front of her blocking out the sun from Y/N. She's completely covered by his shadow. “Get up Boss gave us a job we have to go to”, “A job...but it’s sooo early can I get five more minutes”. “No we have to go now” Dabi picks up Y/N and throws her over his shoulders, “Kurogiri we’re ready for the drop off” Y/N starts squirming and freaking as she’s being carried by Dabi. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, IS THIS HOW YOU MEN US WOMEN LET ME GO DAMMIT, YOUR THE REASON WHY THIS SOCIETY FUCKING SUCKS YOU KNOW THAT!” Dabi smirks as she freaks out. He kinda liked how chaotic she was, “Geez this doll doesn't have a mute button?” “HOW ARE YOU CALLING DOL-, Dabi walks into Kurogiri’s warp gate with helpless Y/N.

Both Dabi and Y/N land on what seems to be the top of a building, “Kurogiri we can take in from here”, “NO WE CAN’T I DON”T WANNA! WHERE ARE WE ANYWAY!” Dabi drops Y/N, “Tomura needs files from this hero agency on some kid” “Wait WHERE BREAKING INTO A HERO AGENCY!” “Yeah now shut up and come here”. He grabs Y/N and holds her tight with one arm and uses the other to burn a hole through the roof of the hero’s agency as they both land in a hallway. “ Hey Doll do you hear anything”, “No dumbass there’s no one here” “ I mean with your quirk dumbass that’s why you're here” Dabi plucks Y/N on her forehead “Ow! What the fu- he covers her mouth, “No talking just listening, tell me if you hear anything or anyone nearby ok, Doll. Y/K gives him a thumbs up. “Good now let's get what we need and leave”.

Dabi opens up a door leading to a huge room full of computer monitors and file cabinets, “Bingo… you go look over there and I’ll go look over here”, “Annnnd who are we looking for exactly?” “Some kid named Katsuki Bakugou”, “That name...isn’t that the kid that won the Sports Festival? Does Shiggy want to recruit him or something ?” Dabi snickers “Haha Shiggy really?, i don’t think you're allowed to give nicknames when it’s your first day of the job Doll”, “Says the guy that keeps calling me doll” 

-They both look around for a few minutes-

“Heyyyyyy Dabiiiii” Dabi turns around as he looks down at Y/N, she’s holding the file up to his chest “You found it?” “ Yup all me baby!” Dabi snatches the files from her “Done get too excited we still have to leave from this place” Dabi makes his way to the door until Y/N stops him, she’s holding his hand “You hear something?” she nods “Doll we gotta move.  Dabi and Y/N run out the other door and make their way to the staircase but Y/N here’s some voices coming from the stairs so she pulls Dabi towards her causing Y/N and him to fall into a nearby elevator. Turns out the one they fell into was a broken elevator. Their bodys slam into the elevator causing it to fall.

“DABI DABI DO SOMETHING!”, “YELLING ISN’T GOING TO SOLVE ANYTHING” the elevator continues to fall until it abruptly stops causing Y/N and Dabi bump heads. Ow! Hey watch it Doll!”, “Ugh shut up Dabi! We're stuck in an elevator!” “You pulled me in here with out no fucking warning!” “Pro heroes were coming, I didnt wanna make any noise!” “OH and you thought jumping into an elevator was going to be quieter?!” As Dabi moves his hand while he talks sometimes tiny flames would shoot out but as there worry panic turns into an argument the flames get bigger. “Dabi this...this is your fault” “ My  fault? MY FAULT WHAT THE FUCK OR YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” “Y-your mind… it- Y/N clenches her shirt as her breathing begins to get uneasy.  “WHAT ABOUT IT!” “IT WAS HARD TO CONTRATE WITH YOUR MIND FEEDING ME WITH YOUR THOUGHTS! When i brought up the sports festival your mind started thinking about your mom didn’t you that’s the lady calling you Toyua!” Dabi spreads out his hands as his blue flames shot them, “ I’M NOT GONNA SIT HERE AND HAVE SOME IDOT BLAME FOR THERE DUMB QUIRK!” Y/N begins to shake “I-I’M NOT GONNA GET BLAME FOR A PROBLEM YOU CAN’T SEEM TO GET OVER!” Dabi stares at Y/N as he points his hand at her.

“THAT IS EASY SAID THAN DONE! MAYBE THE TREAT WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH DOLL MAYBE BURNING WILL GET YOU TO LISTEN! Dabi then stares at Y/N and thinks back to when he looked exactly like that, shaken and scared...and being burned. Dabi turns his head to see Endeavor “I see that you still don’t want to uses your flames” He  walks through Dabi as he taunts the young Toyua “My body hurts so much when use my flams i-i DAD I CAN’T” Endeavor steps on the young Toyua, “You can and you will and if you don’t I’ll burn you myself!” Endeavor and Toyua disappear but when Dabi comes back realty to Y/N is passed out with some burn marks on her. “Shit shit shit” Dabi picks up Y/N and Bakugo’s file, he looks up at the elevator and burns it away with his flame, “We should have done this from the start”, Dabi’s flames burst from his feet as flies up the elevator shaft all the way back to top of the hero agency where Kurogiri is waiting for there return.

“Hey dust cloud!” quickly rushes to Kurogiri “Open up we gotta take her back to the hideout we umm had a little trouble getting the files but we have them” Kurogiri opens his warp gate before Dabi walks in he stares at Y/N “I think my deepest secret ...might be fear of letting you in….”.

#my hero academia #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki #himiko toga #league of villains #x reader #anime #boku no hero academia

[highfivecalum]

Here With Me {LH} 1

hi guys ok so here’s my new luke fic that’s based off of the book/movie safe haven! some chapters will be very similar to the movie but some are completely different/made up so!! luke isn’t in this first chapter but he’ll be introduced soon soo yeah! hope y’all like plz don’t let this flop

SHE BARELY RECOGNIZED HERSELF when she looked in the mirror. She gulped at her new haircut. Nothing too drastic; a cut just a few inches above her shoulders with the color a dirty blonde, the opposite of her long dark brown hair she had before. It wasn’t crazy, but it was enough for somebody who knew her to do a double take at the girl to be able to recognize her.

“You’re sure you want to do this, sweetheart?” She looked at Ruby through the mirror and nodded her head. She didn’t have another choice. This was the only thing that she knew would keep her safe from him. “You could always go to the police again.”

She shook her head. “The police don’t care, Ruby. I’ve been there. Multiple times. They don’t do anything, it’s never enough.” She thought back to the time where she showed up at the police station, frantic, bleeding from lip and the cops still said it wasn’t enough. The restraining order she tried to get against him never happened. The cops claimed there wasn’t enough evidence, as if the black eyes and blood lips weren’t telling enough.

“Here.” She took out her diamond earrings, took off the diamond promise ring Ben had given her, and took off her diamond necklace. She left them on Ruby’s bathroom sink. “Sell these when you get a chance. When I find a place, a safe place, I’ll give you my address and you can send the money.”

Ruby offered to give her the money in her safe, but she refused. She took out all of the money in her personal saving and checking accounts and while it wasn’t a lot, it was enough to keep her on her feet until Ruby sent her the money and she found a stable job in a safe place. She thought selling her jewelry, although she knew she wouldn’t get as much as she paid for it, would help her out, as well. She didn’t have time to do it herself, not wanting to risk Ben to find her, and Ruby offered her help.

The drive to the bus station was filled with anxiety. Nail biting, leg bouncing, and knuckle cracking, she couldn’t stop. All she could think about was him finding her, showing up to the bus station, stopping her. But that was unlikely, she knew. But still, her paranoia got the best of her.

“Now you call me when you’re settled, okay? I’ll be waiting by the phone until you do.”

“I will.” She put her hood up and got out of the small car, throwing her duffle bag over her shoulder. She took a deep breath, looking at Ruby with an unreadable expression on her face. She would miss Ruby, she was like a mother figure in her life and she knew that she would never see her again. “Thank you for everything, Ruby.”

The door slammed shut and she rushed to the ticket booth. She bought a ticket to the first city city she saw on the board; Bayside, Florida. She quickly slid the money under the glass and thanked the man behind it before snagging it and rushing to the bus.

Once she was settled, she took her hood off and exhaled the sigh she had been holding in for days now. She was finally safe. Or, at least, she thought she was.

***

Neena’s knees were weak when she stepped off of the Greyhound bus she had been sitting on for almost fifteen hours straight. She huffed when her sneaker clad feet hit the concrete and she looked around. The town sign, welcoming her to Bayside, looked like the typical beach town sign with blues and whites and anchors on it.

Neena’s eyes widened in surprise when she looked to her right to see a small bed and breakfast. It was exactly what she was looking for. Sure, she wanted to explore the town some, but she was beyond exhausted and the sun was already starting to set. All she wanted was a good night's sleep.

“Welcome to Bayside Bed and Breakfast!” The older lady behind the counter, whose name tag read Joyce, greeted Neena happily. Neena offered her a small, barely there, smile. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

“Do you have any rooms available for the night?”

Joyce checked the computer and frowned with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, dear, we’re all booked for the night. The earlier bus that stopped here was full and filled us right up! There’s a hotel just about ten miles out of town.”

Neena blew out a puff of air and nodded her head. “Thanks anyway.”

The bell dinged when she exited the building and Neena looked around. The pier attached to the small restaurant extended far out, further than any pier she had seen, and it was lit up completely. There was a band on the end and she noticed a crowd of people dancing and drinking and seemingly having the time of their life. She smiled subconsciously, trying to remember the last time she danced and laughed so freely like the people she was looking at were.

Neena walked on the semi-crowded beach and took home under the start of the pier just below the many rocks scattered around. She took off her hoodie, already sweating from the Florida heat even though the sun was down, and laid it down on the sand below her. Plopping down, she rested her back on her duffle bag and threw her head back.

She wanted to cry. She was miles and miles away from home, in a new city and state where she knew nobody, where she didn’t even have a house to live in or a bed to sleep in, with barely enough to get her through the week. She thought her plan was foolproof. Boy was she wrong.

“I did not think this through.” Neena mumbled to herself.

Soon enough, the band ended and all that could be heard was the sound of the waves crashing on the beach, and that was enough to lull Neena into a peaceful sleep, even if it was on the sand, under a pier, in a town she was so unfamiliar with.

***

“Hello?” A voice was muffled to Neena. “Excuse me, Miss?” Neena felt a gentle shake on her shoulder and she slowly opened her eyes, not remembering where she was at first. When her eyes opened fully though, she was faced with a girl around her age she guessed and a beach packed full of people.

“Uh,” Neena rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up.

“Sorry to wake you.” The redhead girl giggled. “But I’m out for my morning run and saw you sleeping here. I don’t recognize you much. Are you new to town?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

“And… you’re sleeping on the beach?” The girl cocked an eyebrow while Neena nodded her head. The girl pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. “Do you not have a place to stay?”

Obviously not, Neena wanted to roll her eyes. “No I don’t.”

“Did you try the B&B?” Neena nodded her head. “Sold out, huh? Well, I live just five minutes up the street, just near the woods and my house is a little bit small, but I have an extra bedroom. Did you want to stay with me until you’re up on your feet?”

Neena blinked in surprise. Was this girl seriously offering her a place to stay? Neena was sceptical, but she didn’t want to continue sleeping on the beach. She had sand in places that sand should not be and she was craving the feeling of air conditioning. The girl looked normal, mostly, and nice enough, so why the hell not? Neena thought.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. I’m not going to let you sleep on the beach when I have a perfectly good and unused guest bedroom and bathroom in my house!” The girl stood up from her squatting position and held her hand out for Neena to take, which she did happily, and pulled herself up. Neena tied her hoodie around her waist and slung her duffle bag over her shoulder. “I ran here from my house, which is about a twenty minute walk. Are you okay with walking?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.” Neena followed her and they began walking, making small talk here and here to fill the awkward silence between the two of them.

“Oh, I’m Amy by the way.” She laughed and extended her hand for Neena to shake.

“Neena.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Neena nodded in agreement and it fell quiet. She shifted her full duffel bag, switching it from one shoulder to the other and wiped the small sheet of sweat off of her forehead. She put her hair up as best as she could, with it being shorter than she was used to, and tried to ignore the baby hairs that tickled the back of her neck.

“This is it!” Amy singsonged happily and skipped up the stairs. “Oh, by the way, I live with my boyfriend, Michael.”

At the sound of Neena staying in a house with a man that was a stranger to her, she swallowed thickly and nodded, trying not to let it show that she was even more nervous now. She knew not all men were like her ex-boyfriend, but she still wasn’t too keen on being around men she wasn’t familiar with.

“Mikey! I’m home!” Amy called out into the small house, holding the screen door open for Neene who carefully shut it behind her. She took a look around, feeling nostalgic at the homey feel it had and the bright colored walls. “And I brought a new friend!”

“New friend?” A man's voice echoed throughout the house. “We know everybody in town, how are you possibly making new friends?” The man appeared out of the bathroom in a pair of swim trunks and a tank top and smiled at Neena. “Wow, you are new.” Michael laughed.

“She was sleeping on the beach, so I told her she could crash here for a few days until she finds a place to stay. And…” Amy smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck. “I was thinking you could talk to your mom or dad and see if she could help her find a place?”

Since the town of Bayside is so small, only one real estate team was needed, and that just so happened to be Michael’s parents. They worked as a team and had their own office in the middle of town and did very well, surprisingly. Not many people moved to Bayside, almost everyone just passing through on the way to their destination, but lots of businesses were interested in the town and expanding their business to Bayside.

“I can ask her,” Michael smiled and gave Amy a quick peck before pulling away and turning his attention to Neena who was standing there awkwardly messing with the strap of her duffle bag that was still hanging on her shoulder. “I’m Michael.”

“Neena.” She pursed her lips.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Michael motioned for her to follow him, since Amy was already hopping in the shower and Neena followed him. He swung the door open, revealing a small room with bright yellow walls, a twin bed in the corner, and a small dresser. Attached to it was a small bathroom and a closet that Neena knew she wouldn’t be using since she didn’t plan on unpacking her things until she found a house of her own. “I hope this works for you.”

Neena nodded her head. “Much better than the beach.” She exhaled a laugh as did Michael. “Thank you, Michael.”

“Course. Get yourself settled and comfortable,” Michael made his way to leave the room, but stopped and spun around to face Neena. “Hey, uh, Amy and I and a couple of our friends are going out for drinks and food tonight. Did you want to come?”

Neena knew she would need to be making friends if she planned on staying for a while, but she wasn’t ready to so soon. She hadn’t planned on meeting Amy and Michael so early on, and she was glad she did, but she didn’t want to overwhelm herself with meeting so many new people at once. Plus, she was exhausted and sleeping on a bed for a change, instead of a bus or the beach, sounded way too appealing to her to pass up.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.”

Michael smiled and nodded his head before exiting Neena’s new, temporary room, and shut the door behind him. Neena fell back onto the bed, the springs squeaking just a little bit under her, and sighed. She was thankful for letting these two strangers-turned-friends stay in their house, but she knew she couldn’t squat there for too long, didn’t want to overstay her welcome. The thought of living alone scared her, with Ben in the back of her mind constantly, but she was starting over. Starting a new life. By herself and she had to get used to it.

***

Taglist: @cosmocalum @wrappedaroundcal @hereforlukescruff @glitterprincelu @astroashtonio @irwinkitten @irwinvalentines @kinglyhood @swiftmusicinmymind @jetblackyoungblood @old-zeppelin-shirt @cantbehandled-ever @in-paper-dreams @kaxseychill @catchinqcalum @roselukes @monsteramongmikey

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #luke imagine #luke imagines #luke blurb #luke hemmings blurbs #luke fanfic #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #5sos imagines #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #luke hemmings 5sos #5sos luke hemmings #5sos luke #luke 5sos #here with me

[kastlenetwork]

Forgive me if you're getting this Ask twice-- I couldn't tell if it went through the first time. Thank you for agreeing to help me! I am a grad student working on a literacy learning project in which I need to immerse myself in a form of literacy that I do not have experience in. I am a reader of fanfiction and a huge fan of Kastle, so I decided that I would write my own Kastle fanfic. Would you and the Kastle community share with me what you as readers typically look for in a Kastle fanfic?

The first one did send through, but it’s totally okily dokily! I would also like to preface this by saying I was just sat here and I’d answered with this with an actually not horrific response and then my laptop died out of absolutely nowhere, :) without warning :) [which happens all the time, because my computer is dying in general, but still I’m miserable about the loss lololol anyway] – so, this one isn’t as well thought out.

I’m just gonna say that the main thing that I look for in Kastle fanfiction is close to canon characterization. We’re all different people with different eyes and ears and brains, so when we watch the show, obviously different things might stand out or feel more prominent in who they are, than other things to other people. So, I’m not bothered by different headcannons or anything like that. I mean, it’s fanfiction, that’s the point – I’m reading it to read that writers’ take and have a good time……or a bad time, depending on if the writer is trying to squeeze out hearts lolol. But, there’s a general base line for who the characters are that has to be met for me to really get attached to what I’m reading. I’m this way for any fanfiction for any couple, to be honest. But, it’s super prominent when dealing with Karen and Frank, for whatever reason. If they stray too far away – their characterization, their vibe, their dialogue – I start to slowly check out of what I’m reading. I might just flat out stop. And if they’re in a Different Scenario where one doesn’t want to focus too heavily on the heavy, how that’s adjusted to fit the more lighthearted piece.

I mean, take Frank for example. If I open a fic and he spends the entire thing absolutely miserable with no small bright spots, at all, that’s just as off-putting to me as him being some weird happy sunshine man. Because, Jon’s Frank Castle (and that’s all I can go on on Frank, at all, honestly. I’ve never read a TP or DD comic lol whoops) finds things amusing. I mean, he’s literally lying in a bed having a deal worked out for him to go to prison in Gen. Pop. and he’s making jokes about it. Karen’s screaming out at him that refusing to cooperate with her and his lawyers, so that they can help him, will do nothing but result in him failing to get answers to about his family and have him rotting in a cell. And his immediate response could be more misery and more doom and gloom, but instead he’s turned on impressed and amused by Karen’s outburst. He admires the blunt and fearless goddess before him the honesty and the blowup and he teases her choice of wording. He’s light in a moment where she literally just said the results of his actions might be that he never learns the truth and he’s taking delight in her explosion despite it. 

Yes, he’s angry. He’s violent. He’s depressed. But, sometimes he talks about his family and he’s smiling. He’s laughing. Does it more than likely melt back into his ever present grief? Absolutely. But, it doesn’t mean that show of levity isn’t there. And Karen’s character and characterization faces a similar path in the show, just in the flipped direction. The core of her is built around something traumatic and sorrowful, but her general demeanor is positive and determined. 

Frank is funny. Karen is funny. Frank is sad. Karen is sad. 

They’re feeling a lot of things at various times.

So, the main thing I look for in Kastle fic is the appropriate balance of that. If I feel like it’s too far off the mark, I more than likely won’t finish it. 

The second thing I look for ties directly into the main thing, which is simply the dialogue. How they talk to each other. Especially once it’s starts bleeding further into the actual romance aspect of the story and not just the build up. Frank’s not adverse to endearment – he’s obviously someone that cares EXTREMELY DEEPLY for those he loves. (To the detriment to the gangs of New York). And we’ve seen him call Leo “sweetie” and stuff, this sweet little girl that he gets a big soft spot for. But, we’ve also seen him talk about his wife on multiple occasions and give big romantic speeches about his wife, like when he and Karen were on a date sitting in the diner. He calls her “my old lady” and he says he would literally chop his arm off at the table if he could just have another moment with her and feel what he thinks Karen must feel for Matt (*coughs* k sure, Frank) and it’s all really depressing ‘cause he’s destroyed, but he and Karen are on their date wow what a date sitting there and he’s talking about love and it’s just such a good moment. 

He’s not gonna call Karen the things he called his wife, obviously, unless they’re general terms of endearment. But, I think it’s a good example of the way he talks. I look for as close to canon characterization on the way they speak. Like, if Frank starts calling Karen his “beloved” it’s suddenly not Frank anymore – it’s some guy who happens to be as hot, but there’s been a mind swap or something. If Karen’s calling Frank “sugar plum” I’m kind of scratching my head, because who’s that blonde lady that’s suddenly speaking, what’s going on?

And I think the final thing I look for is simply that Karen is given more agency in terms of the relationship they’ve got. Because, in TP1 and TP2, it’s very much Karen who’s standing there with her arms flung open going, “I want you to be in love with me, like I know you are! I see you pushing it away! I am in love with you! You are allowed to love and have a life! Have a life with me!!!!!” And then Frank basically trying to push her back to Matt for literally no reason. I think a part of this is just Frank himself in his constant sabotage mode, because that’s his entire life after his whole family was murdered. He’s on destruction path, even when he’s trying, in moments, to get out of it. But, I ALSO think part of it is just that they didn’t have Karen for the full season, either season, and, even before they knew Marvel Netflix was heading to the grave, the shows refused to appropriately connect and were instead taking the ’’’easier’’’ path. Because, it was made pretty clear that they’d put her in the whole show if they could, but only could get her for so much time, and they wrote for that time.

So, in fic, I look for Karen getting to have her feelings actually be on display, instead of just being there to bounce his feelings off of, because they didn’t have her for enough time in either season to go more deeper on her end, since she wasn’t actually their character. And for her to get to have more agency in what’s going down with all that wanting them to be in love stuff just feels crucial to me, at this point, seeing as Marvel refuses to just make my dreams come true and announce that they gave a shit about these shows and are bringing them into the fold with the same casts.

Other than those two things, which I consider to be fairly standard, and that one thing where it’s just my exhaustion with my girls always having to fix everything – I’m pretty open to anything in terms of actual story. (I’ll even read a pregnancy/baby fic if it’s well written – and I’m…adverse to fanfic about babies). I just want an appropriate balance of their individual traumas to the sass master’s that live inside them and appropriate dialogue to who they are as people.

(I’ve got a whole thing about what I look for in a fanfic in general, but it’s not specific to Karen and Frank – it’s just like….spaces and pacing, which doesn’t have much to do with this.)

\\\\

What do you all look for in Kastle fic?! Help @chaiteacookiesnglitter out and reblog this and put in your two cents about what you’re inherently looking for. :DDD

#kastle #kastleff #kastlenetwork #chaiteacookiesnglitter #ask #txt: chey

[artificialqueens]

Powerless Part 8 (Branjie) - athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that’s still reading! I’ve finally fed the children some fluff after all this angst! This chapter has so much fluff it lowkey made me wish I could draw so I could draw some parts of it. Thank you so, so much to @youre-a-kite, for your support and amazing feedback with this. I would appreciate and love any comments or feedback you have!

Brooke has been asleep for three days.

The doctors at the base removed the bullets from her abdomen and thigh. They found and removed a GPS tracking chip in her left shoulder after Vanessa mentioned it. They controlled the bleeding, stitched her up, put her on antibiotics. She’s hooked up to monitors, her life reduced to lines and beeps and numbers, and her chest rises gently, but she still won’t wake up.

Vanessa shivers as she remembers holding Brooke in her arms as the blood gushed out of her and her breathing got faint and her eyes slid shut and didn’t open again.

No one knows what the latest shot from the lab might do to her. Vanessa’s ears shut down at Silk’s long-ass explanation of the drug and its possible effects, and all she got out of it is the worry currently buzzing inside her.

She’s taking a break from the crime-fighting and part of her is relieved. She honestly doesn’t care if the world goes to shit when the world did this to Brooke. Let the burden of protecting it make someone else’s shoulders tense. She spends every second next to her bed, chatting about everything and nothing for Brooke’s deaf ears, her own form of whistling in the dark, so Brooke doesn’t wake up alone. A’Keria stole Silk’s prized comfy chair for her to sit in, both of them acting appropriately puzzled and innocent when Silk chucked a soda bottle across her office in anger and led a witch hunt, complete with pitchfork, for the thief.

She’s dozing in the chair, which is truly worth anything Silk could do with that plastic pitchfork, forcing her eyes back open because every time they close she sees Brooke bleeding in her arms, only this time Vanessa didn’t get her to base fast enough. She ignores her heavy limbs and tells herself she’s fine, that she’s used to little (or no) sleep, and this way she’s guaranteed to be awake for Brooke.

“Vanessa?” A’Keria patters across the floor. “Silk wants to talk to you. It’s important.”

“But Brooke-”

“It’ll only be a few minutes.” A’Keria is apologetic, and Vanessa understands there’s not a question involved.

She huffs and puffs her way to Silk’s office like a middle-aged white lady whose coupon was expired.

“This better be good.” She crosses her arms and digs her heels into the ground.

“Vanjie, we can’t find anything on Brooke.” There’s a tone to Silk’s voice that Vanessa doesn’t like.

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s just a little…suspicious.” Silk ticks points off on her fingers, and Vanessa knows she’s been sitting on this a while. “She wakes up in the lab with no memory. She said the lab ‘helped’ people like her, but where are they? She never mentioned anyone else, and there’s only a few costumed villains in this city. We can’t find anything about this lab, and don’t you think it’s weird they’re not looking for her? We found one recent report of a plane that crashed in an ice storm, but she’s not on the flight manifest. Facial recognition got nothing. Not to mention all we have to go on is a first name–”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get her social security number when she was bleeding to death in front of me!”

“Vanessa,” Silk tries. “I’m just saying, how do we know she was on the plane? What if that’s another lie the lab fed her and told her to use when someone questioned her? How do we know everything she told us wasn’t just lies they made her believe?”

Vanessa’s stomach churns. She doesn’t like what Silk is implying, but she has to admit it could be possible.

“Are you saying we can’t trust her?”

“All I’m saying is I haven’t made it this long in the game by believing everything I hear.”

She thinks of Brooke sleeping in her arms, gulping hot chocolate like a little kid, smiling like she was afraid to. The way Brooke’s eyes fought through their shadows of pain and lit up like the sun when she remembered her name. That Brooke would never lie to her. But if she didn’t know she was lying…

Vanessa distracts herself with the plane diagram on Silk’s computer screen.

“How many people were on the plane?”

“Sixty, all with some ballet company.”

“How many does it hold?”

“Sixty-one.”

“But you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Vanessa demands. “One empty seat. What if it was Brooke’s? She said they took her from the crash. What if they deleted her records? The whole plane went down, and with the record gone, no one would know she was there! That empty seat was Brooke, it has to be.”

“The plane crashed last March,” A’Keria cuts in. “Frost appeared eight months ago, at the end of November. They could have kept her there, training her, making sure their drugs worked, before they set her out. It fits with the time frame,” she concludes and Vanessa could kiss her.

She can tell they’ve swayed Silk, or at least given her some doubts, which is sometimes the best you can hope for.

“Keep looking. Please, Silk, I…I love her.” It’s the first time she’s told anyone else, and any doubt she might have had is gone as the words leave her. She loves Brooke, and she doesn’t care who knows it.

Vanessa speeds back to Brooke’s room, trying not to be disappointed when she’s still asleep. She’d had some overly hopeful fantasy that Brooke would be wide awake and ready for another kiss when she got back.

She drops a careful kiss on Brooke’s forehead. “Please wake up, Brooke,” she whispers. She nestles into the chair, praying she won’t fall asleep, but she does. —

Vanessa shoots awake in the semi-darkness, wall clock reading 6:17. She���s unsure if it’s morning or night until a shaft of morning sun breaks through the window and punches her in the face. She gets up to close the curtains when Brooke’s finger twitches.

Brooke’s eyelids are fluttering, breath quickening, and Vanessa’s heart leaps when those green eyes meet hers for the first time in four days.

“Where…” Brooke rasps. Her eyes flit around in fear, and Vanessa understands at once. Waking up in a strange bed with no memory of how she got there…

She repositions herself so Brooke can see her. “You’re not at the lab, I promise. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Brooke looks wearily at her, fingers fumbling at the IV. “No, you wanna leave that in, okay?” Vanessa takes her hand before she does any damage to herself. “That’s helping you, I don’t know doctor shit, but it’s okay.”

“V-Vanessa?” she asks, voice sounding like she’s had a cocktail of gravel and broken glass, breathing still ragged.

“It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you.” She gives Brooke’s hand a light squeeze and grabs a water bottle from the nightstand. “You want some?”

Brooke nods and Vanessa holds it to her mouth while she sips slowly, breaths calming.

“Do you remember what happened?” She knows she has to call a doctor, but it’s been four lonely days and Vanessa just needs to hear Brooke’s voice, needs to see that she’s okay.

“I…my name. My name is Brooke.”

“That’s right,” Vanessa lays encouragement over her desperation. “Anything else?”

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration, but she seems dazed, and there’s a glassy, far-off look in her eyes making Vanessa’s chest tight with worry. She’s about to press the call button when Brooke’s shoulders heave.

“I remember he hurt me and I…I…”

“Oh, Brooke,” she soothes. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Vanessa blinks back tears, her heart sinking. She doesn’t know how she was naive enough to think Brooke would wake up with a perfect memory and her trauma wiped clean. Brooke will need help to get through what the lab did to her, she knows that.

“Vanessa, I don’t feel good,” Brooke says quietly, lowering her head.

“I’m gonna get someone to check on you, alright? I should’ve called sooner, I’m sorry. Does anything hurt?”

She shakes her head. “It’s too hot.”

Vanessa has Silk and a doctor in the room in seconds. Brooke flinches away and curls in on herself when she sees the doctor, breath catching in her throat and soft whimpers falling from her lips as she trembles.

“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. I got you, I promise.” Vanessa squeezes her hand tighter and Brooke grips back like Vanessa is her lifeline.

“I trust you,” Brooke replies, an echo of days and several lifetimes ago, and Vanessa’s heart lightens.

“Heart rate’s a little elevated,” Dr. O’Hara explains the monitors for Vanessa’s benefit as she pulls a thermometer from under Brooke’s tongue.

“99.7,” she announces, shooting a glance at Silk that Vanessa can’t read.

“That’s not too high, right?” Vanessa asks hopefully.

Then Silk informs her that Brooke’s normal temperature is 95.6, and Vanessa allows herself to panic. —

“There’s no infection. Doctor thinks it’s a residual effect of the drug. It’s like it needs to burn through her system before it’s gone. Her bloodwork is different from the first sample we took, so this must be a new formula. Probably why she’s reacting to it like this,” Silk explains as Vanessa applies an ice pack to Brooke’s forehead.

She nodded off just after Silk left this morning and has been asleep since, drenched in sweat and mumbling unintelligibly as the number on the new monitor rises steadily, currently hovering around 102.

“I think it should pass in a few days,” A’Keria muses. “When she talked to us, she said the drugs made her feel weird at first, which is why she was so out of it when she fought you. Then she would sleep, which she’s been doing. This is the rest of it. Since she went every week, I’m figuring this’ll wear off by Sunday.”

“She’ll get through it. She can take higher temperatures because of her powers like you can, Vanj,” Silk pats her shoulder in a rare display of comfort.

It’s nice to think this could all be over soon, but that still means days of sitting here uselessly, watching Brooke thrash around and sweat and futilely putting ice packs on her.

Shooting fire out of her hands has never seemed so stupid.

She is powerless. —

A’Keria was right. The fever starts to break Saturday afternoon, hours after it hit 105 and A’Keria had to drag Vanessa away from Brooke’s bed while the doctors put ice on her.

By that night she’s back at safe levels, and it’s another waiting game. Vanessa wears out the tile floor wondering how much Brooke remembers and is still up when Brooke coughs awake, instantly holding water to her lips and gripping her shoulder comfortingly.

“Vanessa, I remember something else,” Brooke says once she’s able to talk.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

Vanessa leans down as Brooke stretches up and their lips meet after what feels like years. Brooke’s lips are cool and yet Vanessa melts at their touch. She shivers with delight as Brooke’s hand roams down her spine. Brooke is here, she’s alive, and whatever happens, they’re together. She perches on the edge of the mattress and lays her hand on Brooke’s chest, feels her heart race with excitement beneath her touch.

They’re interrupted a few minutes later when Brooke’s heart monitor goes off. —

Brooke is released Tuesday night, and Vanessa takes her to the safe house Silk set up for them. A’Keria even went to their apartments and stocked the cozy space with their own stuff, and Vanessa collapses onto her familiar brown couch with a sigh.

Brooke stands in the doorway, picking at her nails.

“Hey, you wanna sit down? Or we could go to bed if you’re tired,” she offers. Brooke is like a skittish animal, eyes darting around nervously, and Vanessa keeps her voice low and even.

“Um, bed is okay. Can I get changed?”

“Of course you can. A’Keria brought your clothes, they’re in the second room down the hall.”

Vanessa changes into her own pajamas and raids the kitchen, drooling at A’Keria’s chip selection.

Brooke comes back in gray pajama shorts and a white T-shirt, and again Vanessa marvels at how much smaller and more vulnerable she looks when she’s not in her suit.

“Anything you want to eat?” Vanessa asks as she rips open a bag of chips.

Brooke shakes her head.

“How about toast? You really should eat something,” Vanessa insists lightly. Brooke has lost weight, not just over the past week but in the months since they first met, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s ribs whenever she rubs her back.

“C-Can I have hot chocolate too?”

“You can have all the hot chocolate you want.”

Brooke eats her toast while Vanessa crunches on chips. They’re in her bed that A’Keria had moved in (she conveniently only had time to bring one bed, not that either of them has complained) and it’s so much like that night Vanessa is half-expecting the lab to burst in and take Brooke away from her again. She forces the thought away. They’re safe now. The silence is comfortable, and peaceful, and Vanessa lets out a breath she’s been holding for well over a week, feels the tension slowly dissolve from her limbs. On Friday they’re meeting with Silk to indulge her love of “debriefing”, but they had the next two days to themselves, and Vanessa could be content with this for two days, maybe even for her whole life.

“You doing okay, Brooke? Anything you need?”

“No, I’m good. Um, Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, but are we…what are we? Like, you know…”

Vanessa’s been asking herself that same question, and she honestly doesn’t know the answer. She’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she is in bed with a woman she would’ve happily punched in the face a month ago.

“I know what you mean. We can be whatever we want to be. If you want to go slow, get to know each other better, we can do that. If you want to go fast, we can do that too. I love you, Brooke, and I’m comfortable doing this either way.”

“I love you too,” Brooke breathes. “I think…I think I want to go slow.”

“Then we’ll go slow. Take it a day at a time. We don’t need all the answers right now. We’ll do what feels right, okay?”

Brooke nods, stifling a yawn.

“Get some sleep, Brooke. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Brooke nods again, burying her head in the pillow. She’s asleep in minutes, and Vanessa puts her chip bowl on the bedside table (you never knew when a midnight craving would hit) and quickly follows suit. It’s been a long day.

She feels like she’s barely closed her eyes when a shout lurches her awake. Brooke is thrashing around beside her, asking someone to please stop hurting her, and Vanessa places a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re not there. It’s just a dream.” she repeats softly until Brooke bolts up in the bed, panting, shirt damp with sweat, cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“No, Brooke, don’t apologize. It’s okay.” She holds Brooke to her chest, puts the blonde’s head on her shoulder until her breathing becomes steady again. She falls back to sleep with her arms wrapped securely around Brooke, ready to fight her nightmares away. —

They live the next two days like royalty, laying in bed and eating chips, taking breaks for soft, salty-lipped kisses. It’s not until she’s in bed with Brooke, their legs tangled together, Brooke laughing at something she said, that Vanessa realizes she wasn’t entirely happy before. She wasn’t miserable, exactly, but she knows she hasn’t cared for another person, or for herself, really, since before the fire.

Now that the drug is out of her system, Brooke’s head is a little clearer, and between her glimpses of memory and Vanessa filling in the blanks, she is able to reconstruct the night before the lab’s ambush.

Vanessa remembers every second of that night, the image of Brooke beside her and the softness of Brooke’s hair as she ran her fingers through it permanently engraved in her brain. She knows Brooke is still a little fuzzy on some of the details, but she also knows that Brooke still loves her, and she lets it be enough for now.

The debriefing goes on far too long, in Vanessa’s opinion, and Silk has a mile-long list with Brooke’s answers to her questions, which probably aren’t as helpful as she hoped.

Brooke was allowed on one floor of the building. She only interacted with the doctor and the General. She doesn’t know anyone’s real names. She never saw other people there. She knows there was snow on the ground when her plane crashed and that the leaves had changed colors when she started doing her missions.

The legal issues are taken care of. Under the Superhero Protection Act, Brooke was within her rights to defend herself against the General and the doctor, even though Brooke, who has her knees up to her chest the whole time, goes rigid in her chair and keeps muttering I’m bad as they explain this. She didn’t sleep at all last night, and Vanessa hopes seeing Dr. West on Monday can help her.

Dr. West–Nina–used to be a superhero herself, West Wind, back in the day, but retired to practice psychiatry and spend time with her wife. She’s dealt with cases similar to Brooke’s and A’Keria had recommended her, knowing she’d be gentle enough for Brooke.

Vanessa runs her thumb over Brooke’s hand. Things are going to get better for them. She knows it. —

Vanessa wakes up to an empty bed and the scent of vanilla wafting through the apartment, which means Brooke had a nightmare. She’s taken up baking when she can’t get back to sleep after. She says it helps calm her, and gives her instructions to follow, which she likes. She’s gotten better the past few weeks, and Vanessa smiles as she remembers the disastrous first attempt when the smoke alarm woke her at 3am and she had to defrost their stove after Brooke panicked and shot ice at it so it didn’t catch on fire.

There’s vanilla cupcakes on cooling racks, and even though Brooke has deep purple bags under her eyes and her cuticles are chewed up, Vanessa waits to mention it.

“Cupcakes, huh? She fancy. You stepping up in the baking world, boo.”

Brooke’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Brooke’s face falls. “Yeah. I’ve been out here since 4,” she admits.

Guilt washes over her as she realizes that she slept through it, that Brooke had to deal with it alone, but that could mean the nightmare wasn’t intense enough to wake her, which is hopeful.

“You know you can wake me when it happens. You don’t have to suffer alone,” she puts on her concerned voice, making sure to never yell at Brooke or make her feel bad for this.

“I bother you almost every night. I wanted to let you sleep.”

Vanessa goes quiet. She knows Brooke has been working on this with Nina. Trying to understand that she’s not a burden and she’s not a bad person for asking for help. She also knows that, even though Brooke is doing a lot better with the therapy, the lab’s cuts run far too deep to be healed so quickly.

“Well, let’s try one of these cupcakes,” she puts on a smile and stuffs one into her mouth. —

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“So, Nina said it might be good for me, but I wanted to ask you, um…”

“What is it, baby?”

“Do you think maybe we could get a kitty?”

“Of course we can. I’ve always wanted a cat, actually. We can go to the shelter tomorrow if you want.” —

A colorful ball of fluff masquerading as a cat paws at the front of his cage when Brooke walks by. The shelter worker lets him out, and he immediately latches onto Brooke’s leg. She sits on the floor and reaches out a hand, then hesitates, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looks at Vanessa questioningly.

“Oh, you can pet him,” the worker thankfully supplies before Vanessa has to explain that Brooke is still used to asking permission for everything she does.

She strokes his fur tentatively, smiling as the cat begins to purr.

“I think he likes you,” the worker says. “His name’s Henry. He was brought in with another cat, and they’re kinda friends now. This here is Apollo,” he explains, opening another cage for a gray cat to strut out. This one also nuzzles against Brooke, who pets a cat with each hand and grins in a way Vanessa has never seen.

“They like me,” she whispers incredulously.

Vanessa smiles at the worker. “We’ll take them both.” —

The next month passes by both slowly and quickly. The days seem long and indistinguishable when living them, but when Vanessa looks back at the end of the month, she sees how much things have changed, how different every day has been leading up to now.

Brooke is understandably wary of taking medication, and Nina says they can ease into the idea later if needed, but even just being away from the lab, going to therapy, and taking care of herself is working wonders. She makes it through the night once, then twice. She eats more. She talks beyond just answering questions. The skin around her nails begins to heal.

She still has her bad days. Still has nightmares, still says I’m sorry more than one person should, still calls herself bad for things she’s done. But when they finally have a Sunday where Brooke doesn’t jump out of bed and scramble to go to her appointment, Vanessa cries tears of joy in the bathroom.

And Brooke is making her better too. She goes to her own session with Nina. She starts to think about her mom more, and even talks about her. She digs the memories up from where she’s buried them and lets them see the sun. Nina mentions that helping at the animal shelter might aid Brooke’s progress, and Vanessa goes with her because she’s not quite ready to do something like that alone yet. She institutes Sunday brunch, which her mom did when she was a kid, and she creates her own sort of family, Silk the grumpy uncle who yelled on holidays and A’Keria the cool aunt that always got you the good presents.

They take things slow, like Brooke asked for. They talk for hours at night, Brooke listening intently to stories about Vanessa’s family, helping alleviate some of the ache. They cook dinner together, and Brooke massages her shoulders, and she eases Brooke into sleep with gentle neck kisses and holds her through the nightmares. Vanessa’s never taken a relationship this slow. Usually she ran through them like a blaze, the heat and passion consuming her while the flames grew, and if she happened to make a few girlfriends (or buildings) crumble from her heat, so be it.

But Brooke is a cold winter snow, a slow and quiet chill fiercely penetrating through your heavy coat and bulky layers of clothing straight to your heart, taking your breath away if you weren’t used to it.

Vanessa hasn’t felt this kind of joy, this pure bliss, in years, and she knows Brooke feels the same way. Which only makes it that much worse when Silk corners her with an idea one day.

“Vanjie, I have a plan but we’re gonna need Brooke. Frost, really,” Silk begins.

“I have a bad feeling about this, but what is it?”

“Well, I think we need to destroy the lab. If you and Brooke went in together, we could get records, information, we can get those doctors in custody and make sure there’s no building to return to. So they don’t do to someone else what they did to Brooke.”

Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, mind already weighing the dangers of this. “What makes you think she would want to go back there? Do you really think she should go back?”

“That’s up to her. We could really use her knowledge on this. Doctor says she’s okay physically, but I don’t want her health at risk, and if her or Nina don’t think she’s ready, we can wait. Just ask her.”

And Vanessa says she will, but the days go by and she still hasn’t. Brooke has been doing so well. The nightmares have been less violent, and she’s happy. They’re both happy. Will bringing this up ruin it all? Steal her happiness, make her get bad again? How can she even ask Brooke to go back there?

Over two weeks later, when Silk brings it up again, Vanessa knows she has to ask. But that night Brooke has a nightmare so bad she shoves Vanessa off her and it takes her torturous seconds to realize she’s not the doctor, she’s not trying to hurt her. Brooke’s tears soak into her shirt, Vanessa’s heart rips in two, and she knows the question won’t make it past her lips. —

She is able to keep the question secret, planting it down deep and ignoring it in favor of Brooke’s safety and contentment, but all it takes is one moment, at a godforsaken debriefing, for it to break through the dirt, demanding an answer.

“So, Brooke, what do you think of the plan?”

“Silk,” Vanessa hisses, but it’s too late.

“What plan?”

Vanessa sighs as Silk ducks out of the line of fire. “Brooke, Silk wants to infiltrate the lab and destroy it. I was supposed to tell you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brooke sounds hurt and Vanessa never wants to hurt her.

“Brooke-”

“C-Can we talk about it later?” she asks, and Vanessa nods.

“Okay. Um, Silk, I want to hear about this plan. Please.”

Silk never passes up an opportunity to lecture, and Vanessa gets herself comfy before she starts. Silk should really pass out snacks if she wants people to pay attention for this long.

Brooke’s face is blank and unreadable as Silk drones. She nods once it’s done, eyes downcast and bottom lip between her teeth. She lifts her head up when she’s ready, and Vanessa isn’t sure what she wants Brooke to say, but she’ll support her either way.

“I want to do this. Let’s bring down the lab.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #superhero au #powerless #athena2 #tw mention of blood #tw implied PTSD #tw therapy #concrit welcome #submission

[hsmakingmeblush]

I’m Lost In Your Fire

A Vampire Journalist Harry Fic

*Read Chapter One 

Chapter Two

Harry can’t help but let out a groan as he lets his body sink deep into the warm water filling his pearly white porcelain bathtub. It feels like a relief as the water sinks into his skin and envelops his sore muscles in warmth. He lets the soothing scent of lavender fill his nose and allows calm to overtake him as his bath bomb continues to fizz in the quiet of his bathroom.

Today hasn’t been the worst day he’s ever had, not by a longshot, but it’s been long and stressful. Putting up with pricks like Jimmy at the office all day and not being able to say anything can make the tension in his body skyrocket with holding back any reaction. And believe it or not, working on fluff pieces he could writing his sleep can actually be more draining than the hardest hitting journalism beats. There’s only so many times he can type out the words London Poodle Parade before wanting to break his computer himself.

But now that that piece is over, finally, he’s got to get down to the real business. Mr. Turner’s finally given him a story he can actually sink his teeth into… so to speak. It may not be the hard hitting stuff they write down in the political new section, but a profile feature actually gives him something to work with, real substance that’ll occupy his mind and give him something to research. Which is why he’s decided to take a nice long soothing bath to help ease him into the research process. Admittedly, it’s been awhile since he’s had to do anything this extensive.

So, Zoe Price, who are you?

He clicks his laptop on from where it was sitting asleep on his wooden bathtub tray along with his wine glass that was decidedly not red with wine.

He decides to start his search by typing her name into Google- the best way is oftentimes the simplest. He’s almost surprised when he sees the rest of her name pop up in his suggestions when he’s only typed “Zoe P” so far, but then he remembers that if this woman was truly a nobody he probably wouldn’t be writing a profile on her. He clicks down to her name and hits enter and the first thing his eyes are drawn to on the screen is the photo in the corner of a woman with warm eyes and dark hair. She’s not bad to look at, but he doesn’t let himself linger before he moves on to the rest of the webpage.

The first link up is for something called London Bites. Was she some kind of food blogger or something? Sharing recommendations for London’s hidden dining hotspots for tourists and residents alike can all enjoy the best of what the city had to offer? Hm, didn’t seem likely that he’d be assigned a profile on someone that… mundane.

He clicks the link, mentally reminding himself to go back and look through the twitter that had been listed just below on the search page.

At the top of the page is a a black and white photo of London with London Bites across the top in red cursive. Not exactly the vibe he would expect from a food blogger.

As he scrolls down, he sees yet another photo of who he presumes to be Zoe herself if the caption is to be believed.

Zoe Price.

24.

London, UK.

Political Science, B.A.

But in this one her hair is shorter, lighter, and any warmth Harry fleetingly thought she’d had minutes ago is nowhere to be found. She looks more severe in this photo, it’s to be expected when it’s clearly been professionally posed and shot for business purposes, but Harry can’t say he likes the way she looks in it all the same. Not that it matters what he thinks. He’s writing a piece on her and her work, not on… her looks or how friendly she may or may not be.

To the right of her photo is a little blurb that reads:

It can be hard keeping up with all the goings-on in London politics and current events. There’s politicians galore, people with opinions everywhere you turn, and vampires just around the corner. Join Zoe Price every Monday as she interviews guests, debates hot button issues, and provides you with your weekly dose of social and political insight. Whether you want to be a more educated citizen, you want to impress your friends with being up-to-date in all things politically relevant today, or you just like the sound of Zoe’s voice, this is the podcast for you.

Subscribe and listen to London Bites now on Apple Music, Spotify, or wherever else you like to stream podcasts.

Below that are little Twitter and Instagram icons which presumably link to Zoe’s own social media. A cursory scroll down also reveals the latest episode of London Bites available to listen, but Harry’s still thinking about her podcast description. “Vampires just around the corner.” He’s already getting the feeling that this piece isn’t going to be all that great of an opportunity as Mr. Turner suggested it would be. The churning in the pit of his stomach only worsens when his eyes focus on the title of her latest podcast episode just under the streaming widget.

Vampires: Friends or Foes

Vampires. Society loves to hate them. Are they really the filthy bloodsucking monsters politicians would have us believe? Probably. But join me as I share my own experiences with vamps and the stories my subscribers have shared. Who knows, maybe the results will surprise you.

It seems pretty obvious now, Zoe Price is no mundane food blogger. Instead she’s a… an antisanguinist? A sympathizer? Well, no definitely not a sympathizer if she says that vampires “probably” are all those vile things people say.

At this point Harry’s not altogether sure what to make of Zoe Price. And he’s not so sure he’s looking forward to figuring it out. Figuring her out.

He swallows down a big gulp of lukewarm blood before he clicks play and closes his eyes, allowing his body to sink deeper into the soothing lavender and chamomile oils that have mixed in with the warm water.

Hi everyone, welcome to London Bites! I’m your host Zoe and today we’ll be getting into what seems to be everyone’s favorite topic to discuss: Vampires. If you’ve been a subscriber for awhile you might remember our episode from a few weeks ago, The Londoners guide to dealing with vamps featuring guest Maggie Sinclair. If you’re new to the podcast don’t fret, you can go back and listen to self defense instructor Maggie Sinclair share all her tips and tricks for handling a vampire situation. I’ve received a lot of messages on social media since then letting me know how helpful you listeners found that episode, so as usual feel free to tell me what you want to hear and maybe it’ll make it into the podcast!

Now onto today’s business. I hope you have a snack and something to drink because today’s episode is gonna be a long one. There’s no guests today. Insert “boooo” sounds here (but not really because who has the budget and skill for that? Not me that’s for sure.

Harry’s ears prick up just the slightest bit at the laugh she lets out at her own self-deprecating joke, but otherwise he remains still and faintly tense as he waits to here what else Zoe has to say.

Today’s show is going to run a little differently than usual, but hey it’s always fun to spice things up once in awhile, right? Instead of a guest joining me, I decided to pose a question to my wonderful followers on Twitter and Instagram. What have your experiences with vampires been like? And bleeding heck you lot had many a story to share!

So without further ado I’ll get right into it. And if you’re asking yourself right now “when is Zoe going to share her own story?” well tha’s a good question and I’ll be sharing at the end so I guess you’ve got to listen to the whole episode to get to it. No one likes a podcast fast forwarder! At least I don’t.

Ah, our first story is from Amy right here in London and she said that she once saw a vampire help an old lady cross the street. Hm, well who’s t’say it even was a vampire. It’s London! The weather is absolute shite if the number of jackets I’ve got in my wardrobe is any indication. Who’s t’say it really was a vampire and not just a human whose mark was covered by his coat. I’ll just put that one down as a… maybe vampire experience.

Harry doesn’t know whether he should scoff at how very human it was for Zoe to bring up those damn marks or seethe at the notion that a vampire helping someone was impossible. Nonetheless, he finds himself rubbing the pad of his thumb over his own cross marking on the skin of his left hand, just as dark and inky black as the day he got it.

He must get lost in his thoughts, thinking back to how it felt to get the mark branded on— the excruciating, his tears as he looked over the doctor’s shoulder to find his mother’s eyes, her own solemn expression— because once Zoe’s voice floats back through his ears, she’s already in the middle of sharing someone else’s story.

We could just let the filthy leech stay in our town, Zoe, and living right by a school no less? Not on our watch. Me and a few of the guys got together and drove the bloodsucker right out. The best part was he didn’t even try to fight back! Can you believe how humiliating? If he wasn’t a disgusting monster I might’ve felt bad for the kid really, but ‘ey he got what he deserved.

Well listeners, what a harrowing account by Joshua in Liverpool. It just goes to show the lengths some vamps will go to concealing their identity and how we as citizens must be vigilant. It was great to hear that none of those children got hurt before Joshua and his friends were able to get rid of that vamp.

Harry’s breathing picks up at that, fast and loud in the quiet of his bathroom. His hands find the edges of his tub and his fingers curl over the porcelain in vice grips. That was- humans call them the monsters but when they do things like that… humans are the deluded monsters in this world.

And this, this Zoe Price. She’s just, well, it doesn’t seem like there’s a question about her being an anti now. The way she talks about vampires… pretending like she’s willing to give everyone a fair shake. Ha! Fat chance at that.

It’s then that he hears her say “it’s truly a godsend that those god forsaken leeches can’t procreate or else we’d truly have a mess on our hands trying to get not just adult vamps but their spawn too.”

He can’t slam his laptop closed fast enough. He wants to scream at all the anger bubbling up from inside his chest. These people, they don’t know anything! Harry’s disgusted at how Zoe’s voice curled around those words, how she said them as if she’s said them before. Most of all, Harry’s angry at the fact that hearing that sentiment isn’t new, far from it really. The fact this his whole life, he’s had to listen to human talk about how vamps shouldn’t have kids, how it was a good thing they couldn’t. Well, he only really started hearing the latter when he grew older, when people forgot, when he moved away from Manchester and nobody knew him or where he came from.

All the same, it makes him sick to hear and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do tomorrow when he’s supposed to call this woman and set up a meeting. He doesn’t know how he’ll stand being on the phone with her let alone seeing her in person.

To stop his thoughts from swirling around in his head, he lets his body sink down until he’s submerged in his bathwater. He lets the silence overtake him and feels his tense muscles relax and his limbs grow heavy. He thinks of his mother and how mad she used to get at him when he did this as a child. He thinks about how warm her body felt as she wrapped him up in a towel and held him close to her chest and whispered how much she loved him in his ear. He thinks about how much he misses her. How now there’s no one here to pull him out of the bath and dry him off. So he stays like that, in the dark and the silence until sleep overtakes him.

---

*This fic would definitely not be written if it wasn’t for the amazing Danie @angelinsheer so thanks binch! And if you’re enjoying this fic just know that Danie’s been a huge help at planning and holding my hand through the entire writing process 😂

#vampire journalist harry #my writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x ofc #fic #**** #text

[mtvswatches]

Wynonna Earp 2x01 Steel Bars and Stone Walls

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) The episode kind of picks up where we left off in the season 1 finale, but I still don’t understand what’s going on… Waverly and Doc are running away from a weird-ass monster, and it seems as though Waverly was trying to shoot at it in the last shot of the finale. And now…

2) This shot feels iconic…

And it definitely reminded me of Buffy’s “I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, and you are?”

3) Dolls managed to call off the missile attack on Purgatory. Well, that storyline was quickly defused.

4) “Neat freak in the streets, chaos in the sheets.” Uh. Why are you thinking about Dolls in the sheets, Wynonna? STOP IT.

5) I guess Dolls had more than one secret to hide…

6) Yep, still super into these two…

7) Uh-oh… Nicole said that Waverly tastes different. Does this mean that she is in fact possessed? And Waverly says that she’s fine, but she looks far from it…

8) “What’s worse than dead?”

Um, okay…

9) “We’ll grieve when we save him.” I was wondering when they were going to address the fact that Wynonna killed Willa and how that must have messed her up, but so far she’s proven to have what it takes to be hero, which means that she’ll put others first before herself and her own feelings. Although I doubt she’ll allow herself to grieve even when Dolls is safe and sound…

10) So, Dolls is not a man… but what the fuck is he?

Deputy Marshall Dolls is many things. He's stubborn, he's humorless, he's principled and he's strong. He's a good man. He's also not a man at all.

I also really appreciate how they haven’t pitted Dolls and Doc against each other to win Wynonna’s affection. It’s obvious both of them have feelings for her, and that she does too for them. But apart from a few barbs here and there, Doc and Dolls have built a bond of their own. They might not be friends, but they certainly respect each other and trust each other to a certain extent, regardless of who ends up with Wynonna. (I’m praying it’s Doc, though.)

11) “Your head looks naked” Girl knows to hit where it hurts most…

12) Okay, what the fuck is going on with Waverly?

And they’ve already pulled that “it looks like Waverly is about to murder someone but she actually isn’t” crap twice now, and I’m scared the third time’s the charm and she’ll actually chop someone’s head off for realsies…

13) Plan B is Waverly dressed as a Watcher and talking like Giles. I love it.

14) I can’t possibly believe this is the first time they’re having this conversation…

BLACK BADGE LADY WHOSE NAME I CAN’T BE BOTHERED TO LEARN: You left my husband to die.

DOLLS: No. Greg told me to leave him. He knew he was bleeding out.

There’s no way this is brand new information for her. It makes zero sense. Dolls had been working for her for a while before he even got to Purgatory, I’m sure this kind of messed up stuff had to come up some time before now, right? Especially considering she had in it for him.

15) This kind of looks like the Initiative. Or that lab from The Cabin in the Woods.

16) So she’s an “it”, too. I need answers.

17) Waverly is saving the day just by being her charming self and talking this young man’s ear out… Oh, and she’s just smashed his face against the computer BAD MOVE BAD MOVE THE MONSTERS ARE COMING!!!

WHY WOULD YOU KEEP A MONSTER THAT GOES INSTA-CRAZY WHEN IT SMELLS BLOOD IN A LAB WHERE PEOPLE ARE WORKING AND CAN EASILY GET HURT?! IN A GLASS CAGE???!! SURROUNDED BY A FLIMSY FENCE?!!! ZERO SENSE!!!

18) This dude is either Dolls’ BFF or he’s the nicest dude in the history of the universe… Waverly just fessed up EVERYTHING after having smashed his fucking head against the table, and he agreed to help them?

19) Wynonna! You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Alright, you don’t have a mom. Oopsie.

20) My heart can’t take this…

WYNONNA: I'm coming with you! DOC: I will get him out. And if he is no longer the raging asshole we know and respect, I shall take care of it. It's my turn, Wynonna. You've had enough. WYNONNA: Was this your plan all along? DOC: Now go, save the sister you've got left.

He’s sacrificing himself so that Wynonna doesn’t have to. More importantly, he wants Wynonna and Waverly to be safe and to be together, and he wants to help Dolls.

And the heart eyes, oh, the heart eyes!!

21) “You should see what I can do naked.” Does everyone have to flirt with Wynonna? Yes, they do. They must.

22) BITCH, YOU SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!

You came alone? Curious. Foolish. But then again, you are the man who thinks he can pull off that mustache.

That mustache is precious! PRECIOUS!

23) NO.

He’d better not blow himself up, I swear to god I’ll give up on this show if they kill Doc off!

24) My baby is turning into a good guy, he just stopped Dolls from murdering the lady who deserved to die just for mocking his mustache.

25) In the words of Buffy Summers, when scary things get scared… not good.

26) Yikes, they had to have him put it in his eye…

27) WHAT THE FUCK DID HE JUST WHISPERED IN DOC’S EAR?!!!

28) !!!!

29) I really hope this science dude becomes a member of the team. He truly is ride or die!

30) WHO DID HE SHOOT??!!

Was it the bitch?! Please not the dude, I liked him!!

31) Oh, no… I liked her, too…

32) Why would Black Badge want this band of unruly misfits to work for them, though???

33) So… Wynonna just straight up asked Doc if Dolls had told him to give her a message, and he said no. So he either lied or the thing Dolls whispered in Doc’s ear was meant for someone else?

34) Wynonna just pretty much invited Doc to have a shower with her and he left. On the one hand, I’m shocked. On the other hand, I get it. Girl needs to make up her damn mind, she can’t just go back and forth between Doc and Dolls depending on whom she’s pissed at…

35) Damn…

36) Oh, Wynonna…

I stand corrected, she did allow herself to break down and grieve. 

37) What does this mean? Is he gone?

38) WTF!!

Again, who are the brains working at Black Badge? Why would they put this monster in a wooden box with a big ass hole in it? 

39) All in all, a solid season opener, establishing several storylines for the season. But I really hope they don’t just brush over the fallout from the events from the previous season. Turning Willa into the Big Bad and then having Wynonna kill her was momentous, and it needs to be properly addressed. 

40)  Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #Nicole Haught #Doc Holliday #Xavier Dolls #WE recap #WE 2x01 #mine

[keeroo92]

Crimson Tide Ch7

Chapter Seven - Transit

Enjoy!

---Reader---

Your shoulders relaxed in V’s grasp as the ache in your head faded away. The pain kept getting more powerful and each episode left you feeling wrung out like a towel. At the very least, whatever was happening to you had yet to last longer than a few minutes. Terror still dominated your mind, but you took solace in the discomfort's brevity.

Maybe I have a tumor or something. Maybe I’m going crazy.

Maybe I’m already crazy.

The rapid pounding of your heart began to slow and you took a deep breath, exhaling heavily as the last twinge of pain dissipated. You opened your eyes and blinked, the light a shock after being closed for the past few minutes. You were still outside in your mother’s yard, so it couldn’t have been too long. V would’ve moved you otherwise.

“It’s gone again,” you whispered. V pulled away to gaze at you, his concern evident as it always was. You gave him a smile, hoping it would reassure him, but he didn’t budge. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand on your cheek helping center you further.

“It’s getting worse,” he said. You nodded and reached for your water, taking a sip to gather your thoughts. He took your left hand and stared at it thoughtfully, weighing his words before he continued.

“I think it has to do with the portals.”

You sighed and set down your glass. “It does seem related. Maybe we should try checking Dante’s library?”

He smirked and his emerald eyes rose to meet yours. “You read my mind, little fox.”

The poet helped you rise, guiding you back to sit in one of the wicker chairs from where you’d fallen to the ground. At the sound of approaching footsteps, you turned your head to see your mother returning. She looked a little calmer, but she still toyed with her hair anxiously as she sat down with a sigh and dropped her hands.

“I’ll be staying with your grandmother for a while. She says hi.”

Relief flooded you; your mother would be out of danger. You weren’t close with your grandmother, but she lived over six hours away and it should be safe there.

“Okay. Say hi to her for me,” you replied. V dropped your hand and stood, stretching his shoulders with a soft grunt. He gestured toward the main road, indicating how it was now early afternoon. You’d been gone for hours, and you needed to return to the group soon.

“We should head back. Are you good, mom?”

She nodded and the two of you rose to hug. You inhaled her scent and allowed it to ease some of your worry away. There was something about the aroma that made the world seem less scary, a gentle reassurance that you weren’t alone. The feeling of home reminded you painfully of your childhood and you hugged her tighter, absorbing as much of the comfort as possible with so many worries swirling in your mind.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered. You released her and stared earnestly into her eyes, heart aching as you saw the tears waiting to fall.

I’m so sorry, mom…

“I promise. Everything’s going to be fine.”

I hope.

---V---

The lull of the bus sent you straight into a doze, the bitter tang of cigarettes and sweat barely making you pause. V found it distasteful, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He sat stiffly, your head resting on his shoulder as you napped. Your mother’s parting words to him echoed in his mind as he watched your eyes twitch in a dream.

Protect her.

The poet sighed softly, trying not to move too much. What was he risking, by not asking you to stay behind? Would you die if you went to save Nero and Dante? Would he? What if your health got worse and something trapped you in Hell where there were no hospitals, no doctors or even a band aid?

He couldn’t let you die. He wouldn’t.

You can’t possibly be thinking of making her stay behind.

V mentally rolled his eyes at his companion.

You know, in most cultures it’s considered rude to eavesdrop.

What do I care? Listening to you think is the only entertainment I got! No cable in here!

I’ll get right on that.

A low purr and the echo of a rockslide sounded at his sarcastic response and he smirked. It was occasionally entertaining to have three separate beings share his mind, though it became crowded at times. He had the ability to block them out, but other than a few intimate settings it seemed excessive.

The point remains – she is ill. It’s too risky.

Yeah, good luck keeping her from trying to save Nero.

V cringed. It would be a difficult conversation. He’d need to plan carefully, pick the right moment. Be strategic and tactful, approach the issue with logic, so you might see reason. He huffed in frustration as no immediate solutions came to mind.

Doesn’t matter when or how you say it; she’s not gonna like it.

If you’re going to offer commentary, at least try to be helpful.

My advice? Keep your mouth shut. She’s going, and there’s nothing short of hiding her in the basement and throwing away the key that’ll stop her.

V sighed. This might be more troublesome than he thought. Griffon faded into the background as he continued his musings, the mouthy demon having said his piece. The blocks passed by in a blur as the bus rolled on and before he had time to make any progress, it had reached the stop closest to home. He tugged the cord overhead and whispered your name gently to wake you.

“We’re here, love. Wake up.”

You blinked your bleary eyes open with a grunt, crinkling your nose adorably. V’s heart warmed, renewing his determination to keep you safe. The bus creaked to a full halt and he led you off as you yawned. The bus stop wasn’t far from the manor, and within ten minutes the two of you were stepping through the front door. Inside, Lady sat at her computer typing furiously. From the stressed look on her face, V knew no portals had formed since she’d arrived.

“I’m going to go train for a bit, we can visit Dante’s tomorrow,” you murmured, giving V a quick peck on the cheek as you stepped away.

I suppose I’ll work on the new bedroom, then.

He rolled up his sleeves and turned around to head back to the exterior of the house, trying to focus on finishing the drywall by dinner instead of his worries.

---Reader---

You heard Trish training as you neared the familiar room, her low grunts mixing with short blasts of yellow light that flashed through the hallway. She gave you a tight nod as you drew your sword, beginning your warm-ups as she practiced. The motions soothed your troubled mind and you let out a deep breath as you focused on honing your skills.

You finished warming up quickly and joined Trish’s sparring session in the open center of the room. As you approached, you noticed her movements seemed off somehow, slower than usual as if something was distracting her.

“You okay, Trish?” you asked her kindly. She met your eyes and the look of agitation on her face solidified your worries.

“I’m all right. Let’s get to it.”

You didn’t believe her, but lowered yourself into the standard guard position anyway. Trish smiled ferally and attacked, her blade a blur as you struggled to counter her speed. She had no mercy, slicing and lunging with such rage on her features she resembled a demon. You cursed as her attacks forced you to step back, putting your spine against the wall.

She dashed forward, her blonde hair a tornado as she closed the gap with a grunt to slash at you with a dagger. Her path of attack was obvious, no tactical thinking apparent and you blocked it easily. Caught off guard, Trish paused and you countered with an upward slice of your own, expecting her to dodge as she always had.

But your blade sank into the meat of her forearm, drawing blood as she staggered. You dropped the sword to the floor and rushed over to her, already shouting apologies.

“Trish! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, let me take a look at it!”

Something’s definitely off with her, she’s never taken a blow like that before.

She held her bleeding limb out for your inspection, her jaw clenched as you took stock of the damage. It was shallow, to your relief. You wouldn’t even need to stitch it closed. Still, you dropped her arm and retreated to bring the first aid kit over. Trish sat in annoyed silence as you cleaned the injury, barely making eye contact as you wrapped it in gauze.

“Ok, you’re good. Again, I’m really sorry,” you said. She stood and continued practicing, her eyes challenging you to join. The two of you fell into the familiar pattern of attacking and defending in turns and you tried to ignore the concern niggling at your mind for your friend. You lost track of time as you sparred, too focused and worried to notice the hours ticking away until the clatter of approaching feet stole your attention.

“GUYS! Guys, we got another one! Let’s go!” Lady’s thrilled voice shouted from the hallway. You beamed at Trish and helped her grab the spare swords kept in the training area, dashing out to the main room to learn how far you’d be traveling.

You skidded to a stop when the hum returned, intense and focused like a scalpel performing brain surgery. With a startled gasp you dropped the tangle of blades, hands rising to rub at your throbbing temples.

“What the hell, Y/N?” Trish cried behind you. The pain crystalized, driving deeper into your skull and she stared in confusion as you crumpled to the ground, unable to respond. It felt like someone was taking an ice cream scoop to your brain and you retched, spilling foul-smelling bile onto the hallway floor. V came running as the others finished preparing the van, and together he and Trish carried you to the couch in the van.

“What’s wrong with her?” Trish asked. You wanted so badly to reassure her, but all you managed was a weak groan as V settled your head in his lap.

“She’s been hearing a humming sound, accompanied by pain. We think it has something to do with the portals,” V replied. He stroked your hair and gripped you tightly as Nico started the van. Trish’s voice sounded distant, almost as if she were underwater as she replied, and you withdrew inside yourself, hiding from the agony behind a wall of blank incoherence.

 For the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be able to recall the journey to the portal. All you knew was the pain between your ears, and how much you fought it for control of your own thoughts. You failed at every turn.

The next time you processed your surroundings, you found yourself still in the van with V, the Tris and Lady on their way out the door as he continued stroking your hair and cradling you gently. Nico and Kyrie sat in the front, their eyes mirroring V’s concern as they watched you recover. You blinked as a flash of bright colors and unending light crossed your vision, but it dissipated so quickly you couldn’t discern any details. With its passing the pain vanished without a trace.

“Are you all right now?”

You raised your head and nodded, carefully standing a moment later to head outside. V’s hand on your wrist held you in place and you stared at him with a questioning expression. He swallowed and looked at the floor as he spoke, unable to look you in the eye.

“I… I think you should stay behind.”

He can’t be serious.

Nico and Kyrie frowned but didn’t speak, staying out of the obviously approaching argument. You glared at V, about to retort when he continued.

“You aren’t well and we don’t know why. We don’t even know for sure that Dante and Nero are still alive, let alone if we’ll find them. We might be gone for months. What if your condition worsens? What if it overcomes you during a battle? You could die.”

The undeniable urge to lash out, to fight surged through you. You blinked in disbelief – V wanted you to sit at home and wait like some kind of helpless idiot while everyone else went after your best friend? No way. He knew you’d never do that! Just thinking about it made you shake with rage. How could he suggest such a stupid idea?

How dare he?

“I’ll stay with you. The others should be able to handle anything they find well enough,” he concluded.

You almost slapped him, clenching your hands repeatedly to suppress the desire. He dropped your wrist as you seethed in anger but didn’t retract his words. It took a moment for you to calm yourself enough to face him, but you saw red again as he reached out to lay a hand on your shoulder. You blocked his touch with a dismissive gesture, knocking it off course with ease.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me right now. I can’t – we don’t have time for this!” you snarled. V visibly flinched at the venom in your voice but you were too angry to feel guilty.

And without another word, you opened the door and started running, straight at the portal with tears prickling at your eyes. It opened again behind you as V followed, but you had too much of a lead on him and he couldn’t stop you. He cried your name, but you didn’t turn. You only ran faster, determined to cross. Lady and Trish were eliminating a pair of Caina and as you streaked forward, the roar of the engine returned as Nico turned the key in the ignition.

Come on! Just a little farther!

You watched as Trish and Lady stepped into the yellow light. The portal flashed gold and they were gone. Nico’s van roared past you and you heard the mechanic’s shout of exhilaration as the front bumper made contact. Another flash and it disappeared, Nico and Kyrie on the other side. Your heart pounded painfully fast as you forced your feet to move even faster.

“Y/N, wait!”

No. I’m not turning my back on them.

A low roar echoed through the air, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Shadow turn to face V with a snarl, her opinion clear. Griffon appeared a moment later, his voice reaching you as you dashed away from his master.

“Run, little lady! You’re almost there!”

A hurtling object descended from on high and you swerved to dodge Nightmare’s comet as it struck the asphalt. It materialized rapidly and inclined its head as you passed in an approximation of a bow. You returned the gesture as you ran by, hoping it understood your gratitude.

“Damnit, STOP!” V shouted, but you didn’t pause for an instant.

You closed your eyes and sprinted through the portal, the yellow glow flashing so bright it burned through your lids. The ground beneath your feet vanished and you were weightless, suspended between two worlds in a thick plasma. You couldn’t breathe; there was no air. It was the most terrified you’d ever been and you couldn’t even scream.

And then it was over, a solid surface materializing under your feet as you completed the crossing. The second you opened your eyes, nausea overcame you. A kind hand held your hair back as you retched violently, your stomach expelling what seemed like everything you’d ever consumed.

---V---

He watched helplessly as you vanished, his arm still stretched out to stop you. Breathing was impossible as the portal flashed, taking you to the Underworld despite his best efforts. V turned on his three friends with a murderous glare, and even Nightmare shrank away at the pure rage in his emerald gaze.

“I warned you, Shakespeare. There was no stopping her,” Griffon commented, landing on the massive golem’s shoulder. V pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed, grappling his anger into submission.

“Yes, you were right. All I can do now is follow her and do what I can to keep her safe.”

Shadow purred her approval and he released his hold on the three summoned creatures, an enormous cloud of black shards flitting to settle on his skin and hair. He gripped the handle of his cane tightly, taking comfort in its familiar shape in his hand as he stepped closer to the portal.

Don’t think, just keep walking. This time will be different.

Yet his mind brought up the past anyway, reminding him of his time in Mundus’ prison and all the torture he’d endured. He felt the cold tendrils piercing through his flesh, heard the clatter of the Yamato as it fell from his grasp and broke. Smelled his own blood leaking from his wounds.

Done with the drivel yet?

V grimaced, shaking his head to rid himself of the vision. He wasn’t that person anymore, he never would be again. This time would be different. Mundus was dead, what could he possibly need to fear?

Other than losing you…

He forced his reluctant feet forward, his eyes fixated on the glowing portal as he snarled at it.

Let me save you from that weakness…

His jaw clenched as he heard the echo of Mundus’ taunts in his mind.  His vision darkened as he remembered being encased in demonic energy, his pitifully trembling arm reaching desperately for the Yamato as he was erased.

You need neither ego, nor memories.

V growled and took another step, pushing through the recollections and embracing the pale light as it flashed around him. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his wits about him during the crossing but unable to do so. The oppressive energy, the silence and taint of demonic power were too reminiscent of Mundus for him to ignore. His arms flailed, reaching out for something, anything to hold onto.

But he was alone.

You’re never alone, Shakespeare. We got ya.

Shadow and Nightmare chimed in their agreement, and the aching loneliness and isolation gripping V’s heart eased. He focused on his bond with the three demons, taking it as a refuge from the pain of memory as he waited to complete the journey. He envisioned himself wrapping the thick tendrils of their power around himself like a cocoon, concealing himself from any foe until he prepared fully.

And then, his feet touched down. He was through. He gasped heavily, drawing in a massive lungful of breath as he fought back a wave of nausea. It was nothing, a trifle. Unworthy of his attention, he must focus on finding you.

Still, he found himself bent over and heaving bile onto a patch of bright orange grass.

Damnit.

“There you are V! Ah, here, let me…” Lady cried from somewhere nearby. Her hand lifted his hair out of the path of his expelled stomach contents and he tried to grunt his gratitude, but only another gob of filth escaped his mouth.

“Let it out, Trish was the only one who didn’t blow chunks,” Lady murmured kindly. She rubbed his back until the heaving stopped and he was able to rise to his full height again.

Where’s Y/N?

He scanned the area, giving the brunette a quick nod of thanks. There was Nico and Kyrie, next to the van. Trish was to the left, her eyes trained on the horizon.

Ugh, appalling…

The myriad of colors was blinding, the cacophony too disorienting to make sense of easily. What demon would shape their realm this way was beyond him, but he sincerely hoped they were long dead for their crimes against perception.

There you were, arms crossed as you came out from behind Nico’s van with an irritated frown. You walked right past him without a word, joining Trish on the hillside. V’s heart sank. He’d expected you to be angry, but it was much worse to encounter it face to face.

I must make amends somehow. Even though I was right.

Yeah, maybe leave that part out when you apologize…

Obviously.

Trish turned and walked to the group. V sympathized as he saw her cheek twitch; he knew what she was fighting. He felt it too, through his link with his three friends.

“There’s something down there, we need to go check it out,” the blonde announced.

Nico cracked her knuckles and climbed into the driver’s seat and V sighed as he stepped into the van, already bracing himself to endure her insane driving.

#fanfic #Crimson Tide #v x reader #reader insert #devil may cry #dmc #dmcv #dmc trish #dmc lady #my writing