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dorokora · 10 months

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Chapter 14 Episode 8 Part 1:

We start with a flashback with an “actor” and Oscar. Oscar begins to talk about the "Urban Legend" of the Mist City, Jack the Ripper. There are four main types of roles that will rise to the front stage. the "Criminal", "Witness", "Vitcim", and the “Target” of the incident. Oscar began to talk about the play he written that was also endorsed by Loki. The "culprit" was never caught, so the motive remains unknown. Therefore, it is also unknown whether the street prostitutes who were "victims" were really the target. Therefore, it is unknown whether what the "eyewitness" saw was really the "culprit". And the same criminal who was killed at that time other than the street prostitute, "a person who does not know whether it is a victim". Everything is an unknown unresolved case. Oscar poses the questions. "Was the culprit's target really the street prostitutes?" Was the culprit really aiming for us?”. Oscar answered that the "Street prostitutes were torn apart instead of real targets." The victim protected that person….and left the stage of this world. Oscar said this with a slightly distorted expression under his mask. Oscar wants to endorse this theory. Their performance this time is a reenactment of Jack the Ripper's "Urban Legend". The reason he chose that is because everything remains unknown. He wants the “actor” to play the role of a "street prostitute" to protect the "true target". This is a very difficult role. They need to convince everyone that there is a reason to protect the "real target (MC)". Just like those World Rep did. The actor needs to show a seasoned feeling that goes along with the role. That's why the Yurakucho Guild had to prepare a "substitute" to match it. Thanks to Babe Bunyan and the “Actor”, the World Rep of the Great Spirit has stepped off the stage. Thanks to that, they have the opportunity to serve as Wakan’s substitute for the first time. Oscar tells them the preface has become long, but how about you, can you be "useful"? The “Actor” nodded. Because for the "actor", only being "useful" was the supreme pleasure. Oscar then uses his sacred artifact and in no time, the “actor” has become a “World Rep who is absent from this world”, Bigfoot. If Barong was an actor who devoted himself to God, then he was an actor who could become God itself. Feelings for a certain person (MC) overflowing in his heart. The "persuasive power" accumulated in the eternal time wells up. Bigfoot began to loudly proclaims he love love loves MC from the bottom of his heart. He can do anything for them. He would gladly offer his body and soul. He can throw everything away. Oscar watching, thinks to himself, in this world, no one can decide who they love. But if it were free to choose, all the tragedies in the world would disappear. Romeo shouldn't have fallen in love with Juliet. Juliet shouldn't have loved Romeo. Because the families they were born into have been bitter and hated each other for a long time. If you were looking at it from a "God" perspective. If only I could control my mind freely. I'm sure that person will be able to live as desired by parents and friends. Equal to that miracle, the strongest power is surely "useful" in this world. Even the story of that hopeless tragedy will surely be turned into a comedy. but if one get too close to those that "lack existence" they will draw you in and will lose control and go on a rampage in the streets of Yurakucho.

We cut to the present as we see Nobumichi holding off the Missing with his sacred artifact. Nobumichi knows that no law, past or present, can "save everyone without fail." He know that the only thing hr can capture in this way is only what he can see from my point of view. That's why he became a loyal dog, following orders from above. Seeing Nobumichi fight, Beowulf wants to join in, but Wyrm is still a little out of it. Beowulf playfully calms him down and took down some of the missing at same time. Beowulf, who has broken the treasured sword he can wield, becomes bare-handed, and has no weapons left, becomes the strongest. That is the “power to throw away everything about yourself”. You can never win against an opponent who has left something behind. With this power, Beowulf boasted of being the strongest against all opponents in the past. Oscar, maskless, watches as MC jump into the core of the Exception said, “Loki, you are intelligent, savage, and oratorical. He always gave me objective, “useful” advice. That's why I also wanted to show the desired me. I wanted to show myself on an equal footing with you. I've been living in fiction all my life so that I can be worthy of the "you" who watches over me. A genius playwright with education, blood lineage, and a famous theater company. Guildmaster of the Entertainers with great power. You're the one who taught me for the first time that there's nothing beyond that title.” Humans are said to be social animals. So, if you peel off the "social", what remains is the "animal". Oscar didn't want to show that he was an "animal". That's why he’s been living wearing a social "mask". Oscar remembers what Loki told him before. Flashback to Loki saying “I abhor ``fiction'' for the purpose of turning a desirable narrative. I hate being moved for someone else's sake. I just hate pretending to be for myself.” Oscar wonders what might have been the meaning behind Loki's words. Loki, who doesn't even have a single freedom of movement, Oscar wondered what he would have looked like freed. Oscar doesn’t know , he can’t have the viewpoint of "God". No, even if you are in the perspective of "God" who looks down on everything from the sky, you can't just look at yourself. If Loki is the first person to openly point out what is under the mask, then MC is the one who is showed the naked appearance under the mask. MC, the hateful one who embarrassedly exposed their scarred self, their pathetic self. Oscar said MC better come home safely and they better make a face like, "Nothing happened." Looking beyond the abyss that was once dropped, Oscar murmurs as he gazes at the destination of his chosen opponent. This can of his no longer has the power to calm the chaos of the stage. This is because it has already come to light that the Entertainers have violated the conditions for using their "management privilege". And if this chaos continues, all of Tokyo will be swallowed.

We cut to inside of the Exception. MC is getting overwhelmed by the “lack of existence” until Yuma showed up to help them. MC thanks Yuma and ask him about Amduscias. Yuma tells that they came here together but got separated. Yuma ask MC why they ask. Yuma thinks back to his fight with Amduscias. They saw how MC was trying to stop them but couldn’t so they stopped fighting themselves. MC said they did that because they too was watching them from the broadcast from before. Yuma thanks MC for watching him and introduce himself. Yuma thinks to himself he don't even know himself, just as it is. He didn't know himself for a long time. He came wandering without being able to see himself. without knowing what he is. He has no place to live anywhere in this world. He thought there was no other person like me anywhere in the world. When Yuma looks at MC with his own eyes, he said they are a wonder. MC is neither human nor a beastman. Yuma stares at MC intently. Yuma get closer and move his nose. Like smelling something suspicious that he has never met before. MC ask what’s wrong. Yuma backs away and said it was nothing. It was at that time they see Bigfoot. Bigfoot is having more and more of his “role” violently peeling away. The “actor’s” true identity is that he was the son of the chief of a shaman tribe living in a certain snowy mountain in his homeworld. He had a peculiar talent. It is said that any "god" can be brought down. Therefore, he was not given a name. In order to become a vassal of a completely pure "god". Oscar gave him the name Bigfoot. An "urban legend" is something that does not exist. Information that does not give you enough "faith" to become a "myth". He was called a name for the first time in his life. It was warm, he was happy, he wanted to help. Yuma throws MC over to Bigfoot to get them closer to him. "It", which had lost all "vanity", was becoming "a lack of existence". Bigfoot was slowly turning into a Missing. The actor doesn’t know his name anymore. He don't even know who he is. The name given to him was gone, the role given to him was gone. MC ask him what name does he want. MC remembers when they first arrived in Tokyo. They had nothing on that day. A name that vaguely popped into their head. But there was someone somewhere who believed in them. And they remember someone somewhere who acknowledged it. Bigfoot thinks to himself how could he not think of someone special who was the first to accepted him as he had decided for myself. That is the fate of an actor. He will never forget the person who saw his fiction for the first time. Bigfoot regain his sense of self. He and MC do the usual Exception handling ritual. There’s only one left, Kirito. We cut to Duo who begins to uncover the truth about the Shinjuku incident. It began with a sin that has been committed from the viewpoint of "God". An unforgivable sin committed by Mononobe as a supervisor of this game. And for the Entertainers to set the stage, they crossed a line as a guild of the management side.

#chapter 14 #Housamo spoilers

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zapphattack · 1 year

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Excerpt: "Crippled Lifetimes in a Broken Dollhouse" - [Haruspex I]

It was done. Artemy Burakh’s life’s work had been concluded in the span of less than half a lunar cycle. The lifetime of a fly exceeded the extent of his labor, finished in a mangled heap like if one were to force a sown seed to flourish in but a day's time. He felt ragged and pulled apart, tugged by the innumerable lines hooked under his skin.

The Haruspex no longer remembered what life felt like before coming home. He couldn't tell if that was a particularly good thing, to be unmade and recentered in so little time. Birthed once more into a new existence defined by things he hadn't known existed but a month prior.

It was as if the tectonic plates of his heart had shifted, chasms burgeoning and newborn mountains towering over his menial priorities of before. Connections ruptured, paths formed anew, all strange and unknown.

Drawing his eyes away from a blurry haze of tepid water and dusty dishes, he caught sight of the town outside his old home's window. It was not his hometown, and the building he inhabited could hardly be reclaimed from the clutches of absolute tragedy. A roof was still a roof, nevertheless. He observed with melancholy as Murky sat on the old swing set, hinges creaking only when she shifted her posture, hunched and uninterested in playing, picking at loose strings in her threadbare clothes.

The girl sometimes looked sideways to the second swing, freely tugged by the wind. She would grow weary and hold it in place, palm on the seat to simulate a weight that wasn't present. At one point Artemy witnessed Murky putting her doll on the perch beside her, only for her expression to close and her arm to swing, batting the intruder away with a muffled exclamation in her miniscule voice. “You're not the one who should be sitting there. Nobody is. Not anymore.”

Why did the Burakh house curse itself to shelter a brokenly split family? No pairs, only halves too jagged from loss to fit together; men with no brides, children with no brothers. After all this heartbreak, the Ripper still could not spare his ward from the loss he'd felt so long ago. Murky had barely gained a sibling, only to lose him to the clutches of what she’d naively thought was a friend.

He wondered if Ersher would mind if he buried Sticky alongside him, so they could at least not be cursed to be as alone as those they left behind.

The window creaked, pulled shut by the wind. Foggy glass cracked before his tired visage, and he felt a foreign kinship with the inanimate.

#ZapphAtext #pathologic #pathologic fanfiction #pathologic haruspex #the haruspex #artemy burakh

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melodicwitchlight · 2 years

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carcerum in animus.

As she felt Hannibal slide his knife over to her neck, Abigail swallowed, gulping in fear. Why would he reveal his secret to her? She had thought he had become a father-like figure, just like Alana had been like her surrogate mother.

Sensing and looking at him now, Abigail felt frightened for her life, it was like Hannibal’s cannibal killer instinct was taking over him, seemingly consuming him. Or perhaps, he couldn’t risk anyone getting in his way.

“…I’m truly sorry, Abigail…”

It certainly sounded like his voice was full of remorse, but the way he now slid his knife, pausing over her neck, was one done of deliberate precision, like he’d sliced open people many times before. The knife was right above her other scar, which was the result of her father slashing her neck a few months back.

“Please don’t do this…” Abigail whispered. She couldn’t see Hannibal’s expression, since she was caught in his strong grasp, which seemed like a comforting hug just a few moments before. She tried to twist away from this perpetrator, the Chesapeake Ripper, of all things.

She felt the cool bite of the steel knife shift over to her right earlobe, and she couldn’t help trembling in terror. Hannibal wouldn’t really do this, would he?

He saved me from getting caught, from killing Nick Boyle… She supposed that she did do it in self-defence, but the thing was, she enjoyed it, sliding the knife inside his stomach made her feel alive once more, a survivor not a victim.

---

With one swift motion, Hannibal brought down the knife with a practiced precision down onto Abigail’s head. As she saw the motion, she squeezed her eyes shut trying to prepare for the inevitable pain that was sure to come.

She felt a burning, agonizing sensation where her right ear was and she couldn’t help a visceral scream of pain escaping from her lips. She felt hot blood trickle down the side of her head and tears started welling up in her blue eyes. She tried to bite back her screams but it felt like she was being gutted, similar to what she experienced with her father.

She was still screaming, when she felt Hannibal’s hand clasp over her mouth firmly, with a cloth that smelled like chloroform. She scrabbled at his hand desperately, trying to get his hand off but his hand might as well have been stone.

“Abigail…” Hannibal said, in a voice that made Abigail’s skin crawl with fright and newfound revulsion. “Trust me, I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

She shook her head, tears still falling down her face. She didn’t want to lose consciousness, for Hannibal to be free to do whatever he wanted to do to her, and her not knowing. Also, the nightmares…

She couldn’t help breathing in the chloroform though since it was pressed too tightly to her mouth, and as the chemicals started kicking into her system, everything started to waver in front of her.

She dug her fingers into her palms in a vain attempt to stay awake, to not fall victim to the chloroform, but soon her eyes started to flutter shut.

She felt like she was slowly slipping into darkness.

No, not again…

Back to her world of horrific, debilitating, damaging nightmares, which in every waking moment, she tried so hard to block out.

…

Her body soon went limp in Hannibal’s grasp.

#abigail hobbs ic.#drabble

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ghostdrinkssoup · 2 years

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hi! i’m kinda new to hannibal despite it being on my watchlist for six years sdfjsjhd. i still have three eps left till the end of the series and even though i already know what happens, i wanted to ask you - what did you feel when you watched the finale for the first time? were you surprised??

ps. i think your blog is really neat :)

hello and thank you !! dw I’m still pretty new to hannibal too, I first watched it in january I believe? but I’d been meaning to for AGES I’m such a fan of gothic horror + my film lecturer at uni liked a short I made in class (had to film a stalking scene using horror elements) and he was like “you should watch more horror stuff, it might help” and boom, here I am :D

anyway to answer your question: I really love twotl and how s3 was written in general !! the build up felt super solid and natural to me because will and hannibal’s arcs were super consistent throughout, especially will’s tbh. I talked to a friend of mine irl about it and she wasn’t a fan of his corruption, but personally I was so glad they went there with his character. his morality was the focal point of the whole show, and has been since the beginning, and as much as the external plot goal of catching the minnesota shrike, and then eventually the copycat killer/the chesapeake ripper, is what drives the story, the internal plot question (and interwoven character arc) is really an exploration of the nature of will’s empathy and ability to connect with psychopaths, and how that affects his identity and sense of self. so even though he eventually catches hannibal, s3b works because the question the story raised in s1 still hasn’t been answered. at first I was worried imprisoning hannibal was going to be a bad move story-wise because it resolves the plot goal before wrapping up the character arc, but was pleasantly surprised with how well it all worked. I think it has to do with the choice to have hannibal turn himself in rather than have will capture him directly, because that way they’re still in some sort of power struggle (“hannibal has agency in the world” and all that)

I think it’s why twotl hits so hard, because after all this time, and after all the ways these two have tried to hurt each other and free themselves of the other’s influence, whether it be because of hatred, or worse, because of love, they’re unable to end the conflict. and the audience knows that because we see them try over and over, and it just doesn’t work. in the end, a mutual surrendering to whatever they’re becoming seems to be the only solution. and it’s not even advantageous for either of them, like will tells bedelia that breaking hannibal out of prison isn’t some attempt to manipulate the situation to his advantage, it’s just “degrees of disadvantage” which makes sense because if he sets hannibal free he loses his family, his life, any shred of morality he has left, etc (“he who holds the devil, hold him well. he will not be caught a second time” / “I don’t intend for hannibal to be caught a second time”). and it’s great because it’s not a win for hannibal, either. “my compassion for you is inconvenient” evidences this well enough. it would be easier for him to kill will, and he could do it if he wanted to, but he just can’t. and it’s all just so satisfying because it makes sense. neither of these characters were set-up for moral redemption, so it feels right for their story to be tragic, and yet everything about it is so twisted and complicated and human, you know? they’re both so different by the end, and finally equal within their power play

and I was very fond of the ambiguity of the ending !! you could interpret the fall as purely metaphorical (fall from grace and into corruption) or it could be literal, or both. if you think they died at the end and bedelia cut off her own leg, only for them not to show up, that’s a valid (and wonderfully ironic) interpretation. if you think they survived and are now hunting together (with bedelia being their first victim) then that’s also equally valid. I think for a show that had to end due to cancellation, the creators made the right choice to leave the finale up to the audience to decide. it’s why I’m still unsure if I want a s4 because the story feels so complete? but I’m definitely not against it either if it ever gets picked up again :)

omg I ranted and wrote a whole essay response for you NDBSJHD this was fun though !! and I hope you enjoy watching the final episodes yourself :DD feel free to share your thoughts after if you want, I’m always interested to hear different interpretations !!

#I was actually thinking about the finale today so this gave me an excuse to write a post about it LMAO #twotl my BELOVED #killing eve wanted to do the tragic operatic ending soooo bad but didn’t build up to it at all #like the arcs don’t even support that type of ending #but that’s a rant for another post <3 which is currently sitting in my drafts #thanks for the ask!#ask response #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal meta #ghost speaks

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devilscreekballad · 2 years

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Sequel Novelization, first 740 words

Below is the first draft of the sequel’s novelization, first 740-750 words. Once it hits 10k words I’ll put it on inkshares? would you support it?

If one deems the term ‘fresh snow’ to be an applicable one in a city like London, such snow was covering the paths and buildings of the metropolis.

Miss Magnolia Fenwick had, given said weather, expected to end a long day of trudging through the more grey than white mass by coming home with her clothes soaked to about the knees. But an involuntary and near fatal bath in the lake of St. James’ Park had left her thoroughly drenched, freezing and utterly rattled. But who wouldn’t be if they had been pushed into the icy waters of an not-yet-as-frozen-as-it-looks-to-be lake by a complete stranger who just seconds prior had already toppled one over? Magnolia could consider herself fortunate that the other passers-by were quick to fish her out of the lake, quicker than she had worried, if she were honest. If one would want to be cynical, on might think the recent reign of terror the Ripper had sown in Whitechapel had left the common Londoner with a slightly higher bit of care for his fellow humans. Be it as it may, though, now Magnolia — who thankfully was not living too far away from the park — was sitting in front of the crackling fireplace of her lodging in Pimlico, wrapped up in two blankets, with her feet planted firmly in a bowl of warm water. This could have ended much worse, there was no denying that. Thus Magnolia was happy that it had ended the way it had, even though she was not particularly looking forward to the consequences of that unfortunate bath, which would most certainly befall her in the coming days. At least she had no bigger plans for the near future. With the New Year well gone by there were no bigger gatherings on the horizon. Not to mention that her landlady and housekeeper, Mrs. Prenton, would not let her leave the bed until all doubt about her physical well-being would have been cleared. Which meant that Magnolia had a lot of time ahead of her in which she which be alone with her thoughts. A prospect she could not muster tremendous excitement for, try as she may. Magnolia keenly and gladly described herself as ‘a woman of healthy and suitable curiosity’, which simply meant that she’d not let unanswered questions and intriguing mysteries rob her off her sleep, but would neither follow a trail rashly, as she might lose her head on the way. This approach, as stubborn as she could be about it, had served her well in the past, but with no way of following the already meagre trail (in fact, she had nothing but the man’s face, and that only because he had stared at her before pushing her onto the ice and making a run for it) it would not do her any good dwelling on this shoddy affair. Thus Magnolia was trying to think about anything but the events of the day, which, naturally, went the way these attempts always go: The thought one did not want to think positioned itself firmly and steadfastly at the front of one’s mind.

Magnolia let out an annoyed grunt and sank deeper into the old armchair, rubbing her temples, just as the door opened and her landlady stepped in with a tray of fresh soup. “Getting frustrated over the whys and wherefores won’t do you any good, dearie, you know that,” Mrs. Prenton said, and Magnolia caught herself trying to once again pinpoint down the old lady’s accent. As usual, she failed magnificently. “Oh, I know,” Magnolia answered. “But can you blame me?” Mrs. Prenton put the tray down and sat down in the other chair by the fire. “I don’t think anyone can. But you already pointed out yourself that you have nothing to go off of but this blaggard’s face.” Mrs. Prenton shook her head. “And a hunch,” Magnolia added. “I think it’s a given that…” That moment the doorbell rang. The two women looked at each other, quite confused. “Are you expecting someone, Mrs. Prenton?” Magnolia asked, but her housekeeper just shook her head. “Not at all. And I would not think that Molly does.” Molly was the housemaid, a lively young thing, though a bit of a fusspot. “How strange…” Mrs. Prenton mumbled and got up to see who it was, leaving Magnolia to her thoughts again. At least this was a new, albeit small, mystery to wonder about now.

#the hazy light of gaslit stars #baodc sequel #halogs spoilers

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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Under the Rain

Written by: @nightlock-1989

Prompt 9: Canon-Divergent/ In Panem D12 “I waited for you” he said but she didn’t reply. He pressed for an answer he knew he deserved, “under the rain, Katniss. I waited for you, under the rain… why would you do that?” / “I can’t do this anymore, Peeta” / “Bullshit, you can but you just don’t want. I thought you were brave!” he yelled at her looking for any reaction that will give some hope. His tears threatening to run down his face. / She didn’t move, and she didn’t correct her, so he ran away and slammed the door behind him. / “I love you” Katniss said to an empty room. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

@alwayseverlark, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with for your prompt. This is part one that sets the foundation for what will happen in your prompt. This will be three parts.

Under the Rain- Part One- Rated T

16 years old

Not Prim, not Prim, not Prim, not Prim.

“Ela Fairsmith” Effie Trinket announces.

I breathe a sigh of relief and do everything I can to fight a smile. While Prim and I are spared, Ela, a girl two years older than me from the Seam was just reaped and is walking to her death.

Madge subtly reaches for my hand and gives it a light squeeze. She looks to me with a tight-lipped smile.

“Now for the male tribute,” the escort says with excitement.

Not Gale, not Gale, not Gale, not Gale.

“Pe-“ she begins.

I tighten the hold on Madge’s hand enough to the point she lets out a small hiss.

“-ter Edmund.”

I finally release the breath I was holding. It’s another boy from the Seam, slightly younger than me.

“Sorry,” I mumble. She removes her hand and sets it on my shoulder.

“You should go find your sister,” she recommends.

I move to walk away when Madge grabs me by the wrist.

“Are you going tonight?” she asks.

“To what?” I answer.

“The celebration by the meadow.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Gale’s last year; right?”

“I don’t think—”

“Just think about it,” she shrugs. “I’ll be there at 8:00.”

Her behavior puzzles me. Every year, the teenagers of District 12, gather in the meadow and have a bonfire, both Seam and Merchant, to celebrate the fact that they weren’t reaped. This is particularly popular among those who have aged out of the Reaping or have a loved one who aged out.

I’ve never been but I’ve heard the older kids whisper about it. People save any extra money to obtain some white liquor from Ripper, causing Haymitch Abernathy, her best customer to lose his mind one year. It’s not uncommon for girls to come to my mother for an herb concoction, finding themselves pregnant after the night at the Slag Heap.

For both classes, it’s their last true night of freedom, their final chance to be irresponsible. Tomorrow will be their final day of rest and later in the night, the only thing they will be doing is going to bed early to begin their life in the mines or in town.

It is Gale’s final reaping and while one would think he could breathe easier, it doesn’t. While Gale has aged out, Rory will be eligible next year, and eventually Vick and Posy. I’m lucky with just Prim. I don’t see why Gale would want to go to something so stupid.

I open my mouth to disagree while backing up, when I suddenly hit something solid and nearly trip. Hands grab my hips to hold me steady, but I shy away at the touch and immediately turn around to see who touched me. I look into the wide blue eyes of Peeta Mellark. I imagine mine are filled with fury.

“Uh, sorry. I, uh-um, I thought,” he rambles.

“I have to find Prim,” I spit out before storming off.

I see her smiling with her group of friends when I approach. She throws her arms around me and my heart warms.

“Ready to go home, Little Duck?” She nods and we go to meet my mother.

Later while enjoying an indulgent meal (for us anyway) of rabbit stew with the Hawthorne family, we are interrupted by a pounding on the door.

Hazelle goes to answer, and a frantic voice is asking for Violet, my mother. I hear a muted conversation and my mom informs us that a mother is expecting twins. Prim, a little healer in the making, offers to go. 8:00 comes around when Posy begins yawning, signaling time for bed.

Gale offers to walk me home, but I decline, and we make plans to meet early tomorrow morning.

I don’t live too far from the Hawthorne’s but it’s a nice night and I decide to take a walk. I become aware of someone around. I look and see Cray, the head Peacekeeper.

“Katniss Everdeen,” he says with a smug grin.

“Officer Cray,” I greet ducking my head down.

“Looks like the odds were in your favor.” Cray begins stepping towards me.

I continue walking but look up. “I suppose so.”

“What are you doing out here alone?” he asks curiously.

“I’m not…er, I won’t be for long.”

He slowly continues walking my way and I decide to turn right instead of continuing forward.

“Heading to the meadow?”

“Yes,” I spit out.

He’s still following me, and the meadow is now in sight. I quicken my pace.

“Big plans, Miss Everdeen?”

“Yep.” I look in the crowd, but I don’t see Madge. I do see Peeta Mellark, and he’s spotted me. I’ve caught him staring at me a few times over the years, but he always looks away. Tonight, he doesn’t. Does he recognize the tense body language? Can he detect the fear in my eyes from this far away?

I don’t hesitate before I raise my hand and wave quickly. He breaks away from his group and starts walking towards me. I notice the moment that he sees Cray lurking in the shadows.

“Hi Peeta,” I say in what I hope is my most cheery voice. I don’t want Cray to register the terror in my voice.

“There you are, Katniss,” he says with a huge smile, as if nothing is wrong. He sets a hand on my shoulder and I slightly flinch. His blue eyes pierce mine, silently telling me to go with it. “Madge almost had us send out a search party. You told us you would be here at 8:00,” the sound of his voice increasing slightly.

“My mom needed me to drop off some supplies. Mrs. Oatbrook’s having twins.”

“Well, let’s go find Madge so she calms down.” He guides me forward with his hand on my back.

“Breathe in,” he leans in closer and whispers. When we reach the other teens, I finally allow myself to exhale.

“Are you okay?” he asks, bending down to look me over.

“Fine,” I say shortly.

“Are you sure?” he bends his head down to look in my eyes.

I’m momentarily stunned. Have his eyes always been that shade of blue. I feel as if I could get lost forever in them before I shake the thoughts away. Why am I thinking about Peeta Mellark? I need to get a handle on this situation. “Damn it, Peeta. I’m fine. You don’t need to rescue me all the time,” I say storming off after I spot Madge engaged in a conversation with Delly Cartwright. She’s just nodding her head.

“Hi, Katniss. I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” Delly drones on and on while I try to calm down. I begin looking around for a Seam kid I recognize when I spot one of Gale’s friends, Thom. Okay, good. I’ll leave when he leaves. My house is along his route.

“Thirsty?” Madge asks.

I’m not even thinking straight or registering the odd, burning taste until it’s already down my throat, having been desperate to ease my dry throat. I must have drunk half her bottle but all I can do now is cough.

Why did that taste like peaches?

“Because it’s mixed with peach juice,” Madge laughs.

“Wait, what?” Did I say that out loud?

Delly begins laughing. “Have you ever drunk before, Katniss?”

“No,” I shake my head.

“May I?” Delly asks. Madge hands her the glass and she takes a drink and ponders. “What is that?”

“Something called vodka. I swiped it from my mom’s dresser.”

“Rye,” Delly calls. Rye Mellark is one year from aging out. The resemblance he has to his brothers is remarkable. When he approaches, I look him in the eye. His eyes are blue but not the same as Peeta’s. Ugh, I’m thinking of Peeta again.

“Delly, Madge,” he says with a brief hug. “And Miss Everdeen, this is a rare gift,” he says with a curious tone. His smile is also nice, but he doesn’t have Peeta’s dimple.

“Can I have your glass?” Delly asks Rye. Delly takes another sip of the peach concoction and a sip of whatever Rye has.

“Well, I don’t see how this could be stronger than Rippers.”

“What stuff?” he asks.

Madge hands him the cup and he takes a small sip.

“Yeah, it’s not,” he answers quickly.

“I think you’ll be okay, Katniss,” Delly assures me. What does she mean I’ll be okay? I didn’t ingest poison or anything.

I’m getting very warm. I begin to remove my sweater and drape it over my arm. They’re talking but I’m not even caring. Everything feels…. lighter? But at the same time, my body feels heavier.

“I feel better already,” I say with a grin.

“Not as strong but Everdeen’s little as it is. She’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“But the night is so young,” I say with a puzzled look. “It’s warm and the fire’s hot.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you pretty babes later.”

Delly and Madge giggle like a bunch of schoolgirls…. wait, so am I.

“He’s so cute,” Delly whispers.

“Eh, if he’s your type,” Madge says.

“I just love his eyes.”

“I thought Prim had the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen,” I offer.

“Katniss, we’re talking about boys,” Delly adds.

“The floor is moving,” I say and grab for Delly’s hand.

“You mean the ground?” Madge asks.

“Sure,” I let go and begin heading towards the large rock that I sometimes sit on after I finish hunting.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Madge grabs my elbow. “This is my fault. You’re sticking by me.”

I scoff. “Why is everyone trying to take care of me? I can take care of myself. First Mellark, now you.” I wrangle free from her grasp.

“Wait, Rye was trying to take care of you?” Delly asks.

“No, Mellark,” I emphasize. “MY boy with the bread. If we have to-to-to- aren’t you warm?” Madge shakes her head with a smirk.

Her and Delly glance to the side and wave someone over.

“What were you saying about Mellark?” Delly laughs putting a finger to her lip.

“Yeah, the boy with the bread?” Madge encourages.

“My,” I gesture with a hand to my chest. “MY boy with the bread.” The girls are laughing loudly. “And if we are going to talk about boys, then Peeta’s eyes are the most prettiest blue. And his brother doesn’t even have a dimple.”

“I think that might be the nicest compliment I’ve ever been given,” a familiar voice says.

“Ugh,” I turn around and glare at Madge. “No more strawberries for you. Screw this, I can walk my own ass home. I don’t need you,” I point to Peeta, “or you,” I point to Madge, “or you,” I point across the fire at Thom. They all dodge out of the way as if there are tracker jackers around. Maybe I’m just flailing instead of pointing.

“What did you give her?” Peeta asks.

“We already EEE-STAB-LISHED this,” I emphasize taking a step forward, tripping in the process. A pair of strong hands catch me.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Peeta suggests.

“I was trying to go to my rock by the tree, but Madge wouldn’t let me.”

“I wasn’t going to let her go alone,” Madge explains to Peeta.

“Smart idea.” Peeta looks around and leans into Madge and whispers, “Cray was eyeing her.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” I add.

“I know you’re not, Katniss,” Madge says with a frown.

“He can’t have me,” I proclaim.

“We know, Katniss. We just want to make sure you’re safe,” Peeta says.

“You and your savior complex,” I groan before marching towards my rock and plopping down.

After about a minute, I hear a loud gait approaching. “May I sit down?” Peeta asks.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll walk over there,” he points to a tree not too far from my rock. “And keep an eye on you there.”

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve done just fine on my own,” I scold.

“I know you have…. Everyone knows that you have.”

“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms. I relent and move my sweater so that he may sit next to me. I tilt myself towards him, one leg tucked under my knee. “Wouldn’t you rather enjoy the party?”

“And miss out on the chance to speak to the elusive and mysterious Katniss Everdeen?” he grins. “Never.”

“I’m not mysterious,” I say.

“Yeah, you are. No one knows much about you.”

“So?”

“So…. If we are going to be friends, that means we tell each other the deep stuff.”

“Deep stuff?”

“Like what your favorite color is.”

“You’ve crossed a line now, Mellark,” I reply staring at him causing him to furrow his brow before I burst out laughing. He joins me. It’s a nice sound.

“Mine’s orange,” he says.

“Like the fruit?” I cringe.

“Softer, more muted…. Like a sunset.”

“The sunset over the lake is beautiful,” I say wistfully before covering my mouth and looking around.

“No one heard,” he assures me. “Well, except me…. Do you see many of those sunsets?”

“Only once since my dad died,” I mumble. “Green, like the woods.”

“That’s very appropriate for the strongest-willed girl in District 12.”

I scoff, “There you go again.”

“Go again with what?” he smiles.

“The compliments,” I say before the silence begins. I chance another glance and look in his eyes. We’re further away from the fire so it’s not as pronounced but I still can’t help getting lost in them. “Your eyes, they are like…. I don’t know. You can’t describe it.”

“They’re just blue,” he chuckles.

“No, they’re not. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“How much did you drink?” he teases while I give him a light shove.

“I don’t know.”

“Moonlight,” Peeta says softly.

I look up at the crescent moon puzzled. “What about it?”

“Your eyes… the only way I could describe it is it’s like moonlight,” Peeta answers before taking a drink and cringing. “How the hell does Haymitch drink this all the time?”

“Let me have some,” I reach for the cup and Peeta holds it out of my reach. I lean forward, invading his space and reach for the cup. I put one hand on his thigh which causes him to still his movements. He lowers the glass and looks back at me. I flex my hand and remove it.

“One small sip,” he instructs.

“What makes you so sure I’ll listen to you?”

“Nothing, but I hope you trust me enough to heed my warning.”

“I trust you…. I think,” I whisper taking the glass from his hand and sipping before I spit it out.

Peeta laughs and takes another sip. I stand up, wobbling slightly, Peeta gently grasping my arm as he stands up.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

The buzz is starting to fade. Maybe getting drunk was exactly what I needed because I would never be brave enough to say this sober.

“You always have,” I whisper. “Thank you for the bread.”

“Wait, from when we were kids,” he asks. I nod.

“Katniss, that was nothing. And I should have gone out- “

“Your mother beat you for it,” I interrupt.

“Katniss, it was fine. You were- “

“Peeta- “I try to stop him from saying more.

“No Katniss…” His voice fades as he continues to ramble about who knows what.

“Peeta,” I say but he just keeps going. I do the only thing I can think of to do as I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips. It does indeed shut him up. When I pull back his eyes are wide open and he’s staring at me as if I’ve grown two heads. Of course, he would be horrified that a Seam girl just kissed him.

“I’m, uh- “I freeze.

“Well, shit,” he says and then licks his lips before smirking.

“I—I have to go find Madge,” I mumble before storming off. I find Delly and Rye and I’m horrified. I can’t face anyone who looks like Peeta right now. I look into the crowd and I don’t see her face, but I do see her outfit…. and the back of Gale’s head. They are walking towards the Slag Heap. My jaw drops. I hear Peeta approaching.

“You okay?” he asks.

“My best friends are headed towards the slag heap? How could they?”

“I’m so sorry, Katniss. I, I know you’re with Gale—”

“What?” I interrupt.

“You and Gale, you favor each other.”

“No,” I say and shake my head.

“Oh…. Well, I thought—”

“You thought I was dating Gale even though I kissed you?”

“Well, drinking makes people do stupid things,” he offers.

“No, shit,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I begin to scan the crowd, looking for Thom.

“So, you’re okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I just don’t know why they didn’t tell me. I don’t know how it even happened. He’s always whining about her and her townie ass.” I don’t see Thom anywhere. He’s probably at the slag heap too. I groan.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks.

“I’m looking for Thom so I can walk home with him.”

“I can walk you home,” Peeta offers.

“Then I’ll just owe you more,” I point out exasperated.

“Can we stop with the whole owing thing, Katniss? We’re friends, we don’t worry about owing friends.”

“Friends? I’m not so good at friends.”

“Yeah, but I know your favorite color. That means we are on our way to best friends.”

This causes me to snort. “Don’t you want to stay at the party?”

“Party or walking a pretty girl home?” he says with a tilt to his head. “Definitely going with the pretty girl.”

“I’m not pretty,” I mutter.

“You have no idea the effect you can have, do you?”

There is a loose tendril of hair that has come out of my braid. Peeta reaches towards it before stopping. He’s asking me with is eyes for permission. He takes whatever it is that my face is saying as a yes before tucking it behind my ear.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, offering me his arm which I surprisingly find myself taking. We walk at a leisurely pace back to the Seam. We walk along in silence before I stop.

“Peeta?” I ask gazing at his face.

“Yes?”

I open my mouth not sure what to say so I just go with what comes to mind. “What’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday?” Sundays are usually when the town businesses shut down early in the afternoon.

He grins, “You’re going for the really deep stuff now. You know there is no turning back now. We are definitely friends after this.” He waits for an answer and I nod.

We continue walking while he tells me about how he likes to draw on any spare sheet of paper he can get his hands on. He tells me about how he sketches the things around him. A loaf of bread, the apple tree, the pigs, the town square. His favorite though is a dandelion. We walk in silence, the weight of his words in the balance.

We reach my doorstep and stare at each other. The silence is becoming painful, and I have to know.

“Why a dandelion?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“You know why, Katniss.”

I nod. “I thought I’d lost all hope. That bread sustained me and my family until I realized I already knew a way to take care of my family…. That dandelion was hope…. And you lead me to it.” He doesn’t say anything. “Jeez, it must be open my mouth and embarrass myself day. Never mind, I’m drunk, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Are you really? Or has it worn off and you’re now lying about it?”

He searches my eyes, willing me to tell the truth. “I’m a little drunk, but I know exactly what I’m saying.” His gaze is making me vulnerable, and I hold my breath. Peeta steps closer. He’s in my space and my senses are overwhelmed. There are butterflies and heat in my stomach.

Peeta lifts my chin and leans down, his lips barely touching mine. “Will you allow it?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say, the word barely getting out before his lips are pressing against my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing but Peeta does. He cradles my jaw before he gently moves his lips against mine. I grab his shoulders so that he will stay rooted to me. We kiss for a couple of minutes, our lips dancing together. He doesn’t try for more. He is the first to pull back.

“Good night, Katniss,” he whispers grabbing my hand to press a kiss to it. He turns around and walks towards town. I head inside and lean against the door. What the hell just happened?

When I wake the next morning, I have a major headache and am slightly nauseous, even more so when I think about that kiss. What the hell was I thinking?

I try to clear my head in the woods, I really do but I’m missing every single shot. This has never happened before. Damn you, Peeta Mellark. I decide to get more strawberries for Madge before heading into town. When I reach the meadow outside of the fence, I notice the dandelions and I begrudgingly pull them out.

Before I know it, I’m at the bakery and I glance in the window. I see Peeta, and no one else. This is stupid but my body is clearly not listening to my head since I’m setting the dandelions on the doorstep and knocking. At least my body works enough to run off behind the apple tree where I hope Peeta can’t see me.

He opens the door and looks around before he looks down. He bends to pick up the dandelions and a wide grin appears on his face. Shit…. I’m in trouble.

#nightlock-1989 #alwayseverlark #prompt 9 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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i-am-totally-a-human-being · 3 years

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Danganronpa V4: A New Ending

Chapter 1: part 1

<—character intros ____ next part—>

Your story begins under the cut

Murderers always get caught. Always.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Jack the Ripper. The Zodiac Killer. The Black Dahlia. Those are all unsolved murders.

Well it doesn’t matter how long it takes, whether the murderer is still alive or not, but eventually, one day, they will get caught.

Perhaps they’ll be caught when they die and go to hell, if you believe in that sort of place. Perhaps a bored detective will read over the case in his free time and put the pieces together. Perhaps the murderer confesses on their deathbed. It doesn’t matter.

Murderers always get caught.

And I like to make sure they get caught sooner, rather than later.

I suppose an introduction is in order.

I’m Y/N L/N, and I am 16 years old. 16 years, 9 months, and 13 days, to be exact. I’m almost 17. I was scouted and asked to attend a prestigious school called Hope’s Peak Academy to study as a Super High School Level Forensic Scientist, and that is what I’ll be doing for work until death or retirement takes me.

As a Forensic Scientist, I analyze crime scenes and help detectives solve cases.

I make sure that murderers always get caught.

I make sure criminals do their time.

I make sure justice is always served.

“Hnng,” my eyes fluttered open, only to close immediately due to the sun shining right above me. I was laying down, facing the sky. So I was outside… interesting. The last thing I could remember was me being inside my house, not outside. So what happened to lead me here?

I sat up, looking around me. Sand, waves to the left of me, tropical trees to the right. I’m… on an island?

I stood up and brushed the sand off of my clothes, checking my lab coat pocket for my phone. Nothing. I must have dropped it.

Unlikely. I never lose my phone….

Someone took it.

Had I been kidnapped?

“Ugh,” I turned when I heard a groan behind me, “where…. where am I…?” I saw a boy who looked around my age sit up, jumping when he saw me. I shot him a polite smile, nodding.

“I’m just as confused at you.”

“Right…” he got up, brushing himself off just as I had, “Um… I’m Hajime. Hajime Hinata.” He extended his hand, and I gladly took it.

“Y/N L/N. Are you a student at Hope’s Peak?”

“I…. think so?”

“Pardon?”

“I… don’t remember my ultimate at the moment.”

“Odd. Amnesia, maybe? Because if you think you’re a student, that means you have an ultimate. So you must have amnesia.”

“Yeah… that’s probably it,” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down, “so what’s your ultimate?”

“Super High School Level Forensic Scientist. I process crime scenes. And, until we figure out where we are and why, this is one.” I started looking around, perhaps a note was left for us in the sand?

“Crime scenes? Like, dead bodies and stuff?”

“....yes, like dead bodies.” I sighed, finding no note anywhere nearby. Frustrated, I kicked the sand slightly before looking inward on the island we seemed to be on.

“I’m sorry, did that offend you?”

“It’s fine. Let’s just figure out where we are.” He nodded and followed me inland, until we found a path to a large building.

“Do you think there’s other Ultimates in here?” Hajime looked at me, making me pause.

“I sure hope so.”

“What does that mean?”

“Cause if it’s just the two of us,” I smiled at him, “then one of us will have to kill the other for food.”

“!!!” He stepped back, eyes wide. I laughed, patting his shoulder.

“I’m joking, Hajime. Lighten up.”

“R-Right…” He took a deep breath as we pushed open the doors.

Everything went black.

16 students remain

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #x reader #goodbye despair #hajime hinata #hajime hinata x reader #hajime x reader #Danganronpa v4 #slow burn #danganronpa hajime

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mando-lore · 3 years

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The Terror of London: the story of Spring-Heeled Jack

Certainly Strange: A Podcast About The Unexplainable, episode 6

Listen on: YouTube Spotify Castbox

The Victorian era was a time of shadows and superstitions. In every corner of London’s dark streets lived a mystery or a monster. One of the most popular and certainly strange urban legends of this time is the story of the leaping devil, Spring-Heeled Jack.

In October, 1837, a young servant girl named Mary Stevens, is walking through Clapham Common to the house that she works at. Suddenly, a figure jumps from one of the shadows, gripping her tightly. The figure starts to kiss her face and tries to rip off her clothes. Mary cries out in alarm, and the figure vanishes. Of course, this just seems like a case where a man tried to molest the young woman. And it could have been exactly that, had the strange figure not ripped at Mary’s clothes with claws instead of hands. Claws, she said, that were “cold and clammy as those of a corpse.”

Mary Stevens was not the first one to see this strange clawed creature jump from the shadows. In September 1837, one month before the attack on Mary Stevens, a man saw a man with horns and red glowing eyes leap over the cemetery fence.

This strange devil-like man did not wait much longer to strike again after attacking Mary Stevens. The very next day, it was reported that a strange figure had jumped out in front of a traveling coach, causing the coachman to lose control and crash. Witnesses reported that the figure escaped by jumping over wall that was nearly 9 feet tall, whilst laughing uncontrollably.

This was also the very first time the police got involved. At the scene of the crime they found a pair of very deep tracks in the mud that could only have been made by jumping from a great height. The tracks also showed that there was some gadgetry on the shoes, and speculated that it might be “some sort of compressed springs”.

And this is how the strange devil-like figure got the name of Spring Heeled Jack.

It was January, 1838. Polly Adams, who worked as a barmaid, was walking across Blackheath in south London when she was suddenly attacked. She was discovered half-naked lying in the gutter. When she came to, she is reported saying that she had been attacked by a man who had ripped open her blouse and had grabbed her breasts with claws that were sharp and cold as a corpse, eventually cutting open her belly.

On January 9th, the Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Cowan, received an anonymous complaint of another servant girl who was attacked by Spring Heeled Jack. Because of this incident, several other people came forward about similar incidents in the Kensington and Hammersmith area, all involving servant girls.

This was the perfect story for the press, and Spring Heeled Jack began to get a lot of publicity. With the increase of publicity, there was also an increase of reports from people who had seen or were attacked by the now famous ‘terror of London’. The police took these reports very seriously, and even the Duke of Wellington, the one who had defeated Napoleon, went out armed on horseback to hunt for the monster that haunted London.

This did not stop Spring Heeled Jack, however, from striking again.

There came a knocking on her door. The police, he claimed. He had found spring heeled jack in an alley outside her home. Jane Alsop opened the door. When she accompanied the policeman to the alleyway, she noticed that he was not wearing a police uniform, but instead a long black cape. She got suspicious, but it was already to late. The cloaked man attacked her, trying to undress her whilst, according to her, spitting blue flames out of his mouth.

Jane Alsop described her attacker later to London magistrates: ”He was wearing a kind of helmet and a tight fitting white costume like an oilskin and he vomited blue and white flames!”

Nine days later, the same fate befell Lucy Scales. Walking home from having visited her brother, she was attacked by a man in the same outfit as Alsop had described. And again, he spitted blue flames out of his mouth, blinding her and even causing a seizure.

Then, after terrorizing London for many months, Spring Heeled Jack disappeared.

There were no more reports of people being attacked by Spring Heeled Jack. In 1855 he was seen in Old Hill, far from London, leaping from the roof of an inn to another roof across the street. Somewhere in the 1880’s, a man and a young girl reported that they had seen Jack with glowing eyes, who had bid them a good evening.

Spring Heeled Jack was also seen in 1872, when he landed amidst a group of soldiers. One of the soldiers claimed to have shot at him, but the bullet reflected off of him with a hollow, metallic sound.

Spring-Heeled Jack was last spotted in 1904, 67 years after he had first appeared out of the shadows, jumping over a building in William Henry Street in Liverpool. And, seemingly, disappearing into the shadows once again.

Although frightening and violent, Spring Heeled Jack never mortally wounded any of the women he attacked. This did not stop locals from suspecting him of murder. In 1845, a 13-year old prostitute called Maria Davis was pushed off a bridge into an open sewer, where she drowned. Although the coroner recorded Maria’s death as ‘Death by Misadventure’, and though an eyewitness had seen that it had not been Jack who pushed her but instead one of her clients, locals still claimed that Spring Heeled Jack was the true murderer of this child.

Many attacks on women were blamed on Spring Heeled Jack. When there came a report that a woman had been murdered in Whitechapel in 1888, with her clothes ripped off her, people automatically assumed it had been good old Spring Heeled Jack, especially since the culprit had seemingly disappeared into the night without being spotted by police.

Spring Heeled Jack immediately became suspect number one in the other murders that followed. So much so, that the killer himself wrote a letter t the Metropolitan police signed Spring Heel Jack: The Whitechapel Murderer. Later, the killer shortened it simply to Jack. Perhaps better known as the real terror of London. Jack the Ripper.

The real Spring Heeled Jack, if he ever existed, was never caught. There was only ever one suspect. Henry Beresford, the eccentric young third Marquis of Waterford, who was known for his misogynist behaviour towards women and for having a bad, often alcohol-fuelled temper.

The Lord Mayor of London also had a theory that Spring Heeled Jack was simply created by a group of elite gentlemen who dressed up and terrorized women as part of a bet.

There is another, somewhat strange theory of how Spring Heeled Jack is actually an alien from a planet with high gravity. This would, according to them, explain his extraordinary jumping abilities. Our thin atmosphere could have made him giddy, which would explain his laughter. He would be a nocturnal alien, with reflective eyes like that of a cat. That would explain his glowing red gaze.

But, before considering the theories about aliens, it is important to understand the historical context in which Spring Heeled Jack was born. Because, how can a creature such as Spring Heeled Jack be born in the minds of people?

The 1830s in England were turbulent times, full of tension and anxiety. It was a time filled with social, economic, political, and cultural changes. King William IV died in 1837, and people were uncertain about the capabilities of the young queen Victoria, since she was only 18 and a woman. In this time period, society became more regulated and disciplined, which characterised the Victorian era.

In a period of increasing and intensified control, the monstrous Spring Heeled Jack represented the appealingly uncontrolled. Like the wicked Mr Hyde compared to the composed Dr Jekyll. That is why he is constantly shifting in eyewitness reports. One time Spring Heeled Jack is a beast, the next time he is a ghost, and yet another time he is a devil.

This tense and potentially volatile context became the perfect ground to build a legend that is build on mass panic and sensationalism from the press.

During the Victorian era, printing technology improved. This gave more people access to education and books, causing illiteracy rates to drop. The increased demand of books combined with the high rates of crime created the perfect environment for people to profit off of sensationalized stories about monsters and criminals, such as Spring Heeled Jack.

So whether Spring Heeled Jack was a man, a monster, a ghost, a devil, an alien, or simply a result of a restrained society looking for sensation, his legacy is very much real. Spring Heeled Jack remains a popular penny dreadful figure from the Victorian era, featuring in games such as Assassins Creed Syndicate or the series Jekyll and Hyde. And whatever Spring Heeled Jack was or is, he is Certainly Strange.

SOURCES

Bell, K. (2012). The legend of spring-heeled Jack: Victorian urban folklore and popular cultures. Boydell Press.

Bellows, J. (2006). Spring Heeled Jack. Retrieved from: https://www.damninteresting.com/spring-heeled-jack/

Castelow, E. (n.d.). Spring Heeled Jack. Retrieved from: https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Spring-Heeled-Jack/

Dunning, B. (2007). The Attack of Spring Heeled Jack. Retrieved from: https://skeptoid.com/episodes/4064

Grundhauser, E. (2016). Meet Spring-Heeled Jack, the Leaping Devil That Terrorized Victorian England. Retrieved from: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/meet-springheeled-jack-the-leaping-devil-that-terrorized-victorian-england

Ogden, P. (2020). Spring heeled Jack: The Leaping Devil Who Spread Hysteria in Victorian Britain. Retrieved from: https://oddfeed.net/spring-heeled-jack-the-leaping-devil-who-spread-hysteria-in-victorian-britain/

Origjanska, M. (2017). Spring-Heeled Jack: The Leaping Boogeyman who terrorized Victorian England. Retrieved from: https://www.thevintagenews.com/2017/11/26/spring-heeled-jack/

Perry, L. (n.d.). Spring Heeled Jack, Fiction Based On Fact. Retrieved from https://casebook.org/dissertations/ripperoo-spring.html

Sheldon, N. (October 29, 2018). 16 Frightening Details in the Story of Spring Heeled Jack. Retrieved from https://historycollection.com/16-frightening-details-in-the-story-of-spring-heeled-jack/16/

#certainly strange #nemo #podcast #mystery #unsolved mystery #london #spring heeled jack #urban legend #ghost story #ghost stories #jack the ripper #unsolved murders #unsolved murder #lore #folklore

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neurodivergent-loverboy · 3 years

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OC-tober Day 15: Stitch

I had so much fun with this one! I've been meaning to write something featuring Scout's mom for a long time, so I was very excited when this prompt jumped out to me! As always, thanks so much to @oc-growth-and-development for the prompt :)

"Razi, biti, what in the world did you do to your jacket?" Momma was standing with her hands on her hips, ignoring the mountain of unfolded clothes at her side in favor of frowning accusingly at Razi.

He looked down. One of the sleeves was half hanging off his jacket, split open right at the shoulder. "I dunno. It just ripped."

"It just ripped?" Momma repeated in disbelief. "Nothing just rips, you must have done something to rip it."

As Razi thought back, he vaguely recalled snagging his jacket while he was chasing Rico Mancini around the park. He'd felt the jolt of resistance and heard the subsequent tear, but he didn't think to check what had happened. "Got caught on the fence by the ball court. I didn't mean to."

Momma sighed, shook her head, and went back to folding. "I know you never mean to, but somehow you do this every week, twice or more. You are destroying your clothes quicker than I can mend them!"

"Sorry, Momma," he mumbled, hanging his head.

"Don't fret, now," she answered, pausing in her work to smooth his hair. "Before bedtime I will show you how to fix it for yourself. You're getting big enough to have a chore to do."

By dinnertime, Razi had already forgotten about it - but of course, Momma didn't forget. Once Razi was in his pajamas with his braids combed out, she brought her sewing basket to the kitchen table.

"First you must thread the needle," she said, picking out a spool of red thread that matched the ripped jacket. "The end is right here in this little heretz." She pointed to the end of the thread, stuck in a notch at the top of the spool. "Hold the spool like this, and stretch your arms out as far as they will go. That is how long your thread will be."

Razi did as he was told. "Now what?"

"Now I cut the thread for you. Next time you will try the cutting yourself." Momma snipped the thread, precise and effortless. "There you go. Take care you don't lose it."

She selected a needle for him, helped him push the thread through the hole - "It's called the eye, ahuva," - and walked him through tying the knot.

"Why's all this stuff takin' so long?" Razi complained at one point, after dropping and retrieving the needle for a third time.

"Because you're learning," Momma told him.

Finally, the needle was threaded - but they still weren't ready to start sewing. "First, you need to take out the loose stitches. I will hold your needle while you use the seam ripper."

Razi took the implement with wide eyes. "It looks like a harpoon!" he exclaimed, turning it back and forth.

"It's for pulling out stitches, not for poking." Her tone turned sharp, and Razi stopped stabbing at the air with a guilty look. "You hear me? If you are not safe you will not use it."

"Yes, Momma."

"Good girl. Now turn the jacket inside out. You always work on the inside. I will show you where to begin and end." She marked along the seam with a pen and demonstrated once with the seam ripper before letting Razi do the rest.

He thought surely that must be the last step before sewing, but he was wrong.

"Not quite yet," Momma said when he asked. "We need to tie the loose ends. I can do it for you this time."

Razi slumped forward on the table and blew his bangs out of his eyes with a huff. "Why couldn't I just start fixin' it without doin' all this stuff?"

"Because," she answered without looking away from the jacket, "it's important to do things right. There is no point in mending something halfway; it will just need to be mended again. When you complete every step, you make the clothes almost like new again."

"Oh." Razi didn't really understand, but he had a feeling that if he ever tried to skip a step Momma would somehow know. She was clever that way.

"Okay." Momma set the jacket down in front of him. "Watch carefully. I push the needle through, and then again to the other side. Are you watching? Now you try." She handed him the needle, and Razi copied what she'd done. "Kol hakavod. Do you see the space there, where there is no thread?"

"Uh-huh."

"Send the needle back to fill the space. Yes, just like that. This is a backstitch, and it's very strong. Good for mending seams."

It was slow work: too slow for Razi's taste. Five or six times, Momma reminded him not to rush. Once, he ran out of thread and they had to go through the whole process with the needle again. But finally, he had sewn up the rip in the seam.

Momma tied off the end and turned the jacket right side out. "There, see? Just like new."

Razi admired his handiwork, tugging experimentally on the sleeve. The fabric stayed in place. "I did it," he said, awed.

"Yes, you did. And you can do it again next time, too. Keeping your clothes nice is your job now."

"Can you show me more sewin' stuff?" Razi asked eagerly.

"Yes, but not tonight, hamuda. Time for bed." She hustled him down the hallway to the bedroom.

"When I get big," Razi said as he climbed into bed, "I'm gonna make all my clothes myself 'stead of buyin' 'em."

"I'm sure they will be wonderful." Momma tucked him in and kissed his forehead. "Chalomot paz, Razi."

"Night, Momma." When Razi fell asleep, he dreamt of slicing open patchwork whales with an enormous seam ripper.

#oc-tober #asher writes stuff #scout lester

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spoiler1001 · 2 years

Text

“I can’t tell if your wife hates me or wants to sleep with me.”

Raiden blinked at the comment that passed through his receiver. “I’m going to need more information, Ken.”

The battle ensuing around him was vaguely forgotten as his partner’s voice rang out. It was feminine, but with a lower register and a rasping texture.

“I keep getting emails about how I’m ‘stealing’ you and how I’m using my ‘beauty and charm’ to manipulate you, and then there are paragraphs about how alluring I am…” Kennedy’s voice continued. It was slow, not at all worried despite the woman in question being a former spy that knew how to get jobs done. Raiden looked in the corner of his HUD display, the heartbeat monitor of his partner in the corner of his consciousness, despite her not being a participant in combat. Rose would have had no reason to know that was there and would have no way of understanding why.

“This must be great for your ego.” Raiden chuckled.

Kennedy made a noise from the back of her throat. He sighed. “I’ll talk to Rose.”

“As if she’ll listen,” Kennedy grumbled. “It doesn’t matter. Look out for that blade.”

Raiden flipped out of the way of an incoming sword swing, with it barely grazing his chin, leaving it red hot for a second. He hummed and felt his anger rise.

It was cold, snowing where the fight was happening. The World Marshal was digging somewhere in Greenland for oil, despite Greenland banning such action. Money was paid and heads looked away. The night sky was beautiful, gemlike in appearance. The stars reflected against Raiden’s armor, the lights losing their glow as blood from his enemies sprayed onto him. Raiden swallowed down his anger as his self-control wavered.

Eventually, the bodies stopped coming. The sulfuric smell of the oil was in the air, as one less way for World Marshal to make money was slowly demolished. The oil was dropped back into the earth, the suction pulling the metallic oil refinery down with it. It was no problem outrunning it, but the heartbeat of his partner was spiking a little, a shot of anxiety. It settled as Raiden, and by extension, Kennedy stared down a now gaping hole in the beautiful country of Greenland. The scenery, pit to hell excluded; it now caught on fire, was distracting. Raiden could retire here with Rose and John. His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps in the snow behind him. The chill did not bother him, despite his pain inhibitors being turned off. The raw nerves grew numb against the cold.

“Well, if it isn’t Jack the ripper himself. We were just doing some honest work-” The man Raiden was after said. He was heavy set with a thick beard, which had frost and icicles. He wore an aviator jacket and thick pants that go up to thick rubber boots that went up to mid-thigh. The man grinned at him, his two front teeth broken halfway down. The man smelled as though he bathed in the crude oil pulled from the oil rig, despite crude oil breaking down skin and other organic material. Jack didn’t care about the speal of honestly and morality.

“Honestly stealing from a country that doesn’t want you?” Raiden huffed. The man, Raiden didn’t care to remember his name huffed and sighed. It wasn’t about the ideals. It was about this man’s employer or, technically this was a share holder, the man’s company. It kept finding ways to make other’s suffer.

“This no different than all of the other companies that drill oil. It’s not like the others ask for permission. You just have a vendetta against us. We at least stopped the brains transporting.” The chair man huffed. “Unless, that’s not the only thing that you are upset about.”

Raiden looked over the man facing him. There were oil burns on his skin, with patching of cybernetic skin. SoRaiden looked deeper all of his organs matched the man’s core DNA, with one main exception.

“Well I can now check your liver off the index.” Kennedy’s voice said from the receiver. Raiden just cocked an eyebrow, ignoring the unease with the fact that pars of his organic body were on a spreadsheet back at base. At least he didn’t have to see the torso that the patriots left in a jar anymore. Raiden just narrowed his eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Lightning Bolt, you want what once was yours. Well, please, I implore you to come and test me.

It was not much of a test. It was like a gold fish challenging an alligator. Blood and goo coated Raiden, even down to soaking through his silver hair. One less person in charge of the company, one less area of influence. Raiden picked up the cybernetic arm that was left of the man that challenged him. The presence of the men that stripped him of what he was multiple times was anger inducing. His body flashed red as the snow began melting around him. Raiden played little mind of the environment as he collected his thoughts.

Getting to base was easy enough. The secrecy was paramount to the safety of his partner. They had to move every so often to keep her out of the World Marshal’s eyes. He slipped in through a window, where tarps were already set down. The chosen hideout for the moment was in an abandoned apartment building, barely having power but Kennedy making do with her laptops to help sync up with him.

“So, what’s left out of the chairmen of the group-” Raiden said before being interrupted by a towl being slid towards him.

“No, shower first. I can smell the gore on you.” Kennedy interrupted. She was a woman, a couple years younger than him, with her own scars and cybernetics. Hers was twofold. One was a metal and nano matcine regulatior that cupped her face from the end of her eyebrow to her cheekbone. Synthetic skin rested over top of that. She also had a cybernetic implant along her spine that had a faint green glow.

She had blond hair with streaks of gray in it, with bright green eyes, synthetically green. She turned to face him with a cocked eyebrow. The one not equipped with eybernetic implants had rings pierced through them. She had muscles, haven been trained with fighting since she was young and keeping up with exercises to keep her physique. She was wearing jeans with a zip up sweatshirt with a hood, the zipper undone and the whole coat folding downward to expose her shoulders. She had a faint scar of a nick on her neck.

“If you get blood everywhere, you are cleaning it up.” She said, her voice flat. Raiden clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He snarked.

Kennedy looked over her intell, counting down all of the targets. She took notes of who was left and what parts of Raiden were unaccounted for.

“Fucking Patriots.” Kennedy sighed. Her mind flickered back to nightmares that had started to fade slightly. She pinched the pridge of her nose and huffed. Raiden stepped into the room, wearing synthetic skin and sweatpants. Kennedy looked up watched him sit on a couch a foot from her.

“You were saying?” Kennedy turned to face him.

“Who’s left off the World Marshal/ Patriots list?” Raiden sat back and looked back at her with his full attention.

“Three more people. Do you want to know their names?”

“Will it matter?”

“No.”

Then Raiden sighed and shook his head. Silence filled the room, with Kennedy keeping her fingers on her nose.

“Are you ok?” Raiden placed his hand on her shoulder. The cybernetics of both of them flashed but Kennedy pulled away.

“Just nightmares.” She whispered.

Raiden did not look convinced.

“Jack, how long have we known each other-” She asked.

His mind remembered how he found her bloodied and screaming, winds forming around her, a metal blade spiraling at her. “Over a year.”

“And how well do you know me?”

He remembered catching it, just barely in time, the metal nicking the side of her neck. Her cybernetic implants latching onto him as cries for help echoed.

“Pretty well.” he answered.

“Than you know, I’m fine.” she smiled.

Raiden clenched his jaw, pretending like he doesn’t remember the taste of her blood.

#metal gear solid #mgs #metal gear raiden #metal gear rising #tw blood #tw death.

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

Text

Traps and Sneaks: Chapter 2 (of 2)

As the Guardian, it’s Marinette’s job to protect the Miracle Box and all of the Miraculous inside of it from evil. Obviously just sticking it away somewhere hidden isn’t going to cut it, so Marinette makes a box to hide it in. A booby-trapped box. A very dangerous booby-trapped box.

And if a certain someone gets their thieving little fingers caught in it, so be it.

links in the reblog

Lila sniggered to herself as she snuck up the stairs in the Dupain-Cheng bakery, unnoticed and unhindered.

Really, it had been way too easy to get in. All it had taken was feeding Alya a lie about how she had lent Marinette something to help her finish with their most recent Literature project but hadn't gotten it back, and she was worried about approaching Marinette to ask for it because, well, Marinette had been so busy recently that she probably thought that she had returned it. Lila was worried about appearing like she was accusing Marinette of stealing it if she asked about it, and they were only just starting to fix their relationship after getting off on the wrong foot. Alya had swallowed the lie like it was the most believable thing in the world, clearly thrilled that Lila and Marinette might be on the road to reconciliation, and from there all Lila had needed to do was suggest that maybe it would be easier for her to just fetch her things herself than it would be to ask Marinette.

Alya had been too eager to help, going into the bakery herself and getting permission from Mrs. Cheng to go in. Then she had let Lila in the side door- "I can't possibly go through the bakery myself, what if they recognize me and blame me for the time when Marinette got expelled and don't let me in!" Lila had exclaimed when Alya suggested that she just go in through the front herself- and made sure that she knew the way up before leaving. There had been a dicey moment when Alya moved to come up with Lila and help look, but Lila had waved her off with another excuse, insisting that she didn't want to eat up more of Alya's free time, especially when she knew that Alya and Nino had been thinking of going out for ice cream.

Alya had left, Marinette's parents would be busy in the bakery for hours, and Marinette herself was across the city at some sewing techniques workshop that she had won a full-ride scholarship for and hadn't shut up about all week. There would be no one to catch Lila and plenty of time for her to investigate Marinette's room and find- well, anything she could use against her.

A diary with embarrassing secrets, perfect for blackmail. Money, perfect for- well, money was always a good thing, and so was jewelry that she could pawn. Photos, also for blackmail. Sketches of designs for any other contests Marinette might have her eyes on, to copy and claim that Marinette had taken Lila's ideas. Maybe in-progress commissions that Lila could mess up, all the better to put a dent in Marinette's reputation if the damage wasn't found before she sent the pieces off to whoever had bought them.

One last flight of stairs, and Lila pushed open the door to the Dupain-Cheng apartment. Another set of stairs led up to a trapdoor that Lila could recognize as Marinette's (thanks to Alya's instructions), and she scampered up the steps and into the obnoxiously pink room at the top of the stairs.

The first thing she noticed: it was neat, unlike what Alya had warned her. There wasn't fabric draped all over the place or notebooks left out. On one hand, that would make things more difficult because she would have to search to find anything interesting, and unless Lila wanted to raise suspicion right away, she would have to put away anything she took out. On the other hand, well, it would probably be easier to find some things if she didn't have to dig through piles of fabric scraps or whatever it was that Marinette apparently usually had scattered around her room.

"Okay, first impressions," Lila said out loud as she glanced around. Marinette's school bag was by her desk- maybe she could tear out a couple pages of notes, so Marinette wouldn't have them to study from on the next exam. Next to the desk was a mannequin with what looked like a fairly complete outfit on it, leather pants with a lot of detail work and a matching jacket. Lila fingered the material, glancing at the seams on it. Since the piece was complete- or at least it looked complete- Marinette probably wouldn't look at it too closely before sending it off to its recipient. The recipient who, if the size of the pieces and the look of them was any indication, was probably Jagged Stone.

If she could mess with Jagged Stone's perception of Marinette and maybe mess up their working relationship, that would be perfect. Then he wouldn't feel inclined to do Marinette any favors like, say, coming in to call Lila out on her stories.

Lila decided that she would look for a seam ripper later, when she was poking around the desk. There was no point in stopping her assessment of Marinette's room now for that. After all, she had plenty of time.

The desk was otherwise pretty clear of anything interesting, though Lila was sure that she would dig through it later if she had time. The boxes on it probably just had sewing stuff anyway, and that- well, mixing it up or taking things might annoy Marinette, but she probably wouldn't think that much of it.

Across the room, though- well, there was a storage chest doubling as a bench, and Lila would be very surprised if there wasn't anything interesting in there. There might be a lock to deal with, but she had expected that and brought along her lock picking kit along. A few pokes and she would be in, ready to find out any secrets that Marinette might prefer stay hidden.

"Why couldn't she leave her diary on her desk like a normal person," Lila grumbled anyway, because it was also very possible that she would unlock the chest and find...nothing. Maybe Marinette didn't have any juicy secrets for Lila to exploit, and this whole trip would be- well, not for nothing, because she was still fully intending on causing ill-intentioned chaos, but not nearly as productive as she had hoped.

And considering that Lila was running quite a large risk with her lies to Alya about the thing she had 'loaned' to Marinette, a large payoff would be really preferred.

After a few more minutes of poking around- Marinette didn't keep a diary up near her bed, either, or any jewelry of any value, not that that stopped Lila from pocketing a few exotic-looking necklaces that she could always claim were gifts from people that she met around the globe- Lila turned her attention back to the large storage chest. The lock gave after a minute of working on it, and she flipped the lid eagerly, hoping that- well, hoping that there would be something interesting inside. Instead, she came face-to-face with...presents.

Boring. Knowing Marinette, they were probably all homemade and not worth anything.

Lila scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the pile of gifts. There was nothing interesting about Marinette being so disgustingly organized that she had gifts for her friends prepared well ahead of the holidays and their birthdays. She shoved a couple of the presents to the side, her nose wrinkling further at the next row of equally neatly-wrapped presents underneath.

Except... they were all labeled as being for Adrien.

Lila's eyebrows raised as she glanced at the top row of presents and- yep, all for Adrien. On closer inspection, all of them had little post-its on them with what event- and what year- they were meant to be for.

She sniggered. Marinette was a little obsessed, wasn't she? But as interesting as this was, it wasn't exactly something that she could easily use as blackmail. A bit disappointed, Lila kept digging, shifting packages aside. One more layer, and her fingers brushed against a dark wooden box, one that looked like perhaps Marinette had put it together herself.

It was exactly the sort of thing that a girl like Marinette- someone annoyingly craftsy- would store her diary in. Jackpot.

Smirking, Lila pulled the box out and considered it, her smile dropping as she did. Really, upon second glance, it was surprisingly sloppy, with uneven, dripping varnish and wonky nails. It was ridiculously heavy, even for its size, and especially considering that it was clearly made out of some cheap plywood. And oddly enough, it had two locks on it.

Frankly, the locks were the only reason why she didn't immediately lose interest. If they hadn't been there, Lila probably would have assumed that it was actually a failed project that Marinette was trying to hide.

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which lock to try," Lila scoffed, setting the box on the floor in front of her and settling down more comfortably to work on it. "That second keyhole isn't even in the right spot!"

Really, had badly had Marinette messed up that she had managed to insert a keyhole in middle of one of the side panels, nowhere close to where the box and the lid had come together? It wasn't even straight- in fact, it was upside down. Shoddy craftsmanship, all around.

(The fact that Lila had never made anything like the box and had no idea how to even approach putting a lock like that on a box or even make any sort of box herself was, of course, completely irrelevant.)

Unlike the lock on the storage bench, the lock on the box wasn't very straightforward. There were more pins in this lock, and each one had to be individually maneuvered into place. Lila worked on it, scowling in concentration as she slowly picked it open.

Either Marinette had just happened to have a lock sitting around that she used, or there was something good inside of the box. No collège student was going to spend the amount of extra money it would take for a fancier lock like this for no reason at all.

With one last careful nudge, the lock gave. Lila grinned in triumph, flipping the box open. The lid seemed a bit heavy- for some reason it seemed to be lined with a strange metal band, but who cared- and there were a few stray papers and a thin journal sitting in the top compartment, on top of a wooden shelf with- you have GOT to be kidding me- another lock, just barely visible. Lila reached in to move them, and suddenly metal flashed, quick as a blink. Lila shrieked in surprise, automatically yanking her hand back, but she was far too late. Pointed metal teeth had snapped shut around her arm, keeping it in place, and- oh god.

They hadn't just closed around her arm. No, they had gone straight through the skin and- oh god the pain-

Lila fainted.

Marinette had been having a lovely time at her sewing techniques workshop. Their instructor had walked the small class through all sorts of different ways of handling material, and next week they would be covering more tricky materials. They had gotten an entire binder with step-by-step photo reminders of what they had learned, and Marinette's already had notes scribbled up and down the margins.

She was so glad that she had won the scholarship to the class. It wasn't that she couldn't afford it herself- after all, with the commissions that she had done lately for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, she wasn't left wanting for money- but considering that she often had to miss things because of akuma attacks, Marinette wouldn't have wanted to spend the money on something that she might not even be able to attend. With the scholarship...

Well, if an akuma showed up, that would still suck. She was learning so much from the class and it would definitely up her design skills. Having to duck out on the class because someone got upset and Hawkmoth had to akumatize them would be a huge disappointment, because she would miss out on so much valuable instruction. But at least she wouldn't be spending her own money on it.

She still felt a bit guilty that she was doing the class and not spending the spare time working on learning more Guardian stuff, but the Order and Master Norbu had assured her that she should make sure to balance her superhero duties and her civilian life. After all, they didn't want her coming to resent her duty as Guardian because of everything that it made her miss out on.

The last section came to an end, and everyone turned off their machines and started packing up. Marinette tucked her sewn samples into her bag with her binder- at some point, she wanted to actually file the fabric pieces in next to their respective instructions, but that was a project for another day- and pulled out her phone, opening it up to check for messages. She had put it on silent for the class- silent with the sole exception of akuma alerts, thank you Max for that setting modification- so that no one would accidentally distract her. Sometimes the class chat blew up over the weekend, and having that pinging constantly throughout the class...

Well, it wouldn't give anyone a very good impression of her, that was for sure.

-and oh boy that was a lot of messages.

"My parents tried to call me ten times, Tikki!" Marinette hissed, all of the relaxation and good feelings from the day gone in a heartbeat as she tried and failed not to catastrophize. "Oh my god, what if one of them had a heart attack or a machine broke and sent pieces everywhere and they're at the hospital and it's really bad and I should have been there and-"

"Call them back!" Tikki urged, sticking her head out of Marinette's jacket as soon as they were clear of the rest of the group. "And- look, it was both of your parents calling, not just one or the other. So that means that they're probably fine, right?"

"Oh!" Marinette considered that for a minute, then dove straight back into her worrying. "Then maybe the bakery caught on fire and burned down and we're homeless and-"

"Just call them back, Marinette!" Tikki exclaimed, though she was looking worried, too. "Then they can tell you what actually happened."

Marinette wavered, then pressed Call. Her mom's phone rang once, twice, and then she picked up.

"Marinette! Ah, is your class over?"

"Yeah, we- we just finished," Marinette responded, her heart rate slowly dropping back towards normal. Her mom didn't sound overly upset, so- maybe it wasn't super-serious? "I- I saw you called? And papa?"

"Yes, I hated to call during your class, but- well, there was an incident," her mom told her, sounding a bit hesitant. "Right away- your dad and I are fine, the bakery is fine, the house is fine. But your classmate- Lila Rossi- she broke into the house and into your room. She got into your storage bench and- anyway, long story short, there was a box in there that was, ah, quite severely booby-trapped?"

Marinette's heart skipped several beats, jumping straight into her throat. The- that was the box where she hid the Miracle Box. It was very well hidden- after all, it had been in a locked storage bench, hidden under Adrien's presents, and then locked (several time over) itself- and she had assumed that that would be enough to keep it undiscovered. If Lila had gotten into it- even just into the first layer- that could be enough to put the Miracle Box in danger. The police might want to know what was in the box, or they might have broken it open to get Lila's hand out- because presumably Lila had gotten her hand caught when she tried to get the box open, and getting the trap open wasn't exactly straightforward- or maybe Lila hadn't been caught too badly and had somehow persuaded someone to open the box for her. "It- yes?"

"Whatever the box is hiding- well, it's still hidden," her mom assured her, and Marinette couldn't stop herself from letting out a sigh of relief. "The second level is still locked. And the doctors did manage to get it off of Lila's arm- well, after a bit of puzzling, at least, they said that set-up was very clever. That was why we called you, actually. We didn't want to bother you, but it was just taking the hospital and the police so long to figure out that lock mechanism and they had been hoping for a clue."

...well, at least her mom didn't sound upset with her. Yet, anyway.

"We've gotten the box back now," her mom continued. "And we've already dealt with the police, so you don't need to worry there. They understand that Lila wasn't meant to be in our house, much less your room, and that the box was securely hidden and locked up. The only reason they might want to talk to you is to learn more about why Lila might have broken in."

"To make me look bad, I bet," Marinette said dryly. "To steal things, or plant evidence, or try to find something to blackmail me. Why else?"

"Lovely girl." Her mom said something to someone else on the other end of the line, muffled and indecipherable, before she came back. "That's all, really. Will you be coming back soon?"

"Yeah, I'm heading for the bus stop."

"All right. See you soon!"

With that, the call disconnected. Marinette stared at her phone for a minute, then glanced down at Tikki. Her kwami looked just as worried.

"I thought that you had hidden the Miracle Box really well!" Tikki exclaimed. "That was a really nice place, and no one ever goes digging in there! Add in the fact that you had it locked, and it should have been fine."

"Yeah, but clearly Lila was digging around with the intention of finding anything that I had hidden," Marinette told her. She let out a sigh, the stress starting to inch back in on her, taking all of the relaxation from her sewing class away. Maybe the Miracle Box hadn't been found today, but- well, this was hardly going to be the end of this whole fiasco. If (when) Lila got akumatized again, she would probably go after the box again to see if she could break it. She might tell people at school about it- changing, of course, the reason why she had been in Marinette's room in the first place and making up completely different circumstances as to how she had ended up with her hands on the box. While Marinette really had no choice but to return the box to its previous spot for the moment- after making sure that it was re-set, of course- it wouldn't be completely safe for the long term.

At least summer break was coming up soon and she had already been doing research on how to DIY hidden compartments. Clearly she would need to use that knowledge earlier than intended.

"Maybe she'll actually get in trouble this time," Tikki offered hopefully. "I mean, breaking and entering, trying to steal- you could try to press charges."

"Maybe, but considering how injured Lila probably is, she'd probably pull the sympathy card." Marinette groaned. "I don't understand how she even got in! We've been keeping the side door locked, and mom knows better than to let Lila into the house."

"If she got through the locks on the bench and the box, Lila probably knows how to pick locks," Tikki reminded her. "She might have just picked her way through the door downstairs."

That was a terrifying thought, honestly. That someone like Lila could just pick her way past a door lock and get in her house...

"If that's what happened, I'm definitely going to petition my parents to get better locks." Marinette checked her room again, then headed back down the stairs. Tikki flew after her, phasing into her purse. "I don't think they would agree to put in booby traps, too, but- ugh, I'm going to be worrying about people getting into the house now."

"Maybe it's just a matter of the lock being old and needing to be replaced," Tikki suggested. "Hopefully your mom knows more."

"I hope so!"

It felt like it took forever for the bus to come, and then it trundled along the streets far too slowly for Marinette's taste. She spent the entire trip worrying over different scenarios where Lila could twist things around to make Marinette look like the bad guy and trying to figure out where she could add a hidden compartment to her room, somewhere where no one would notice the addition.

This far, she was coming up blank. Maybe she could put something on her balcony- but that just didn't seem secure enough. It would be far too easy for a passing akuma (or, perish the thought, a passing supervillain) to accidentally knock into and destroy a hidden compartment. No, it would be better to get creative inside her room.

Once she hopped off of the bus, Marinette wasted no time in hurrying home. The bakery was still open- hopefully business hadn't been interrupted too much by Lila's injury- and she headed in, sparing a quick smile for a few regular customers that she recognized. Her parents had one of their normal bakers working the counter in her mom's place, clearly finishing up the day so that the Dupain-Chengs would be able to deal with the mess going on in their home.

Hopefully it wasn't messing production up too much. If both of her parents were upstairs and they had one of the normal back kitchen bakers at the counter, that meant fewer hands on deck to start preparing things for the next day. And since the staff wouldn't stay overtime, that meant that her parents would end up working long hours.

Freaking Lila. Of course she just had to make life difficult for everyone else simply because she was spiteful and fixated on revenge.

Not wasting any time, Marinette headed upstairs. Her mom was in their kitchen and on the phone, her back to the door, but her dad wasn't anywhere in sight. That meant he was probably downstairs, which suggested that she actually wasn't in trouble because she had the trap. If she had been, her dad would be there too, his arms folded and a frown on his face.

Her mom, though, was more than making up for the frowning as she argued with whoever was on the other end of the line.

"No, I am not arguing the definition of 'breaking and entering' or 'trespassing' with you," Mrs. Cheng snapped into the phone, mere seconds after Marinette entered the room. Marinette paused, blinking over at her mom in confusion. Normally her mom didn't raise her voice over the phone. "You are not a resident here, you do not get to let people in who we don't want inside. That is outright irresponsible behavior- no, I do not care what your interpretation of the situation was, I already told you that. And I will be contacting your mom about this. Perhaps she can get it through your head how unacceptable your actions were. Good-bye."

With that, Mrs. Cheng hit the end call button with a flourish, scowling at the phone for a moment before noticing Marinette. Her scowl was promptly replaced with a smile. "Marinette! How was your class?"

"It went well," Marinette told her, biting back the urge to gush. That could wait until dinner, after the more pressing issue of Lila's break-in had been dealt with. "Who was on the phone?"

"That was Alya," Mrs. Cheng told Marinette with a sigh. She pocketed her phone and washed off her hands before returning to her dinner prep. "I was calling to ask her if- well, she stopped by earlier to get something, so I wanted to know if she saw or heard anything out of place while she was here. I just wanted to try to get a better idea of when Lila might have broken in so we wouldn't have to go through as much security footage-"

"Wait, why did Alya come over?" Marinette interrupted, frowning in confusion. She hadn't borrowed anything from Alya recently, and normally Alya at least texted her to let her know if she was borrowing anything from Marinette for some reason while she wasn't home.

"I was getting to that, don't interrupt," Mrs. Cheng gently chided her. "Anyway, Alya seemed pretty surprised about us having a break-in... until I mentioned that it was Lila."

Marinette groaned. She was getting a sinking suspicion that she knew where this was going. "Please don't tell me that Alya let Lila in."

"...Alya let Lila in," Mrs. Cheng confirmed, sighing. "...on the plus side, at least she didn't pick her way in through our doors. I would be looking into swapping out our locks if that were the case."

"Why on earth would she think that that would be a good idea in any way?" Marinette exclaimed. "And- well, presumably she let Lila in and then just ran off instead of supervising her, which- even if Lila somehow made up some reason for having to stop by my room, why wouldn't Alya at least have the common sense to stay with her?"

"Well, from what Alya said, Lila said that she had loaned you something and you had forgotten to give it back, and she was worried about bringing it up and making you upset... because you might think that you had already returned it and think that she was trying to frame you. Or something." Mrs. Cheng pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. "It sounded like Lila was making it sound like you two were starting to mend bridges. And I told Alya that Lila was found with a lock picking kit and some jewelry from your Nonna Gina in her pockets, but she's still insisting that it was all a misunderstanding. "

"How- how much did you tell Alya?" Marinette asked suddenly, brain all of a sudden dancing with pictures of Alya hearing about the trap and trying to dig into what, exactly, Marinette was trying to hide. She presumably had enough sense to not go digging through Marinette's things in hopes of an interesting discovery, especially considering how hurt Lila had gotten, but that didn't mean that Alya wouldn't incessantly ask her questions, and within hearing distance of other people, too.

Not that Lila probably wouldn't bring up the trap on her own- or would she? Why would she? There would be no way to talk about it without making herself look bad. But if Lila's reputation was tanking anyway, maybe she would bring it up just to make Marinette look bad, too.

"Not much," Mrs. Cheng assured her. "I didn't have to. I implied that Lila got into a locked box of sewing things and cut herself that way, which is very believable. Your fabric scissors are sharp, as are your rotary cutters, and it's not hard to believe that someone who wasn't familiar with that box might get themselves injured. I'm not going to tell your most inquisitive friend about your very mysterious and heavily-guarded trap box."

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief.

"On a related note, I suspect that Alya might not be very keen on coming over here for a while," Mrs. Cheng added. "I was not subtle about how irritated I was with her. And she just kept on digging her heels in more whenever I pointed out things that she wasn't considering or just flat-out missed." She paused, looking slightly sheepish. "And I may, before you got back, have insulted her investigative and observational skills. Just a little bit. I just got too mad about the fact that she fell for such an obvious lie and didn't even try to check with you about it before she went ahead and let Lila in."

Honestly, Marinette couldn't blame her mom for exploding. She couldn't believe that Alya would have done that- and apparently still thought that she was completely justified in doing it. If Lila hadn't gotten herself injured and had gotten away without being caught, who knew what sort of damage she could have caused or what information she might have gotten her hands on?

Frankly, if things had gotten to that point, once she realized what had happened, Marinette probably wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to pull out the Horse and Portal Lila to somewhere dangerous. The arctic, maybe, or the surface of the Moon. She wouldn't be able to cause trouble there.

After a pause, Mrs. Cheng nodded towards the couch. "Your box is there. I think the police said that it's currently disarmed, but be careful with it."

Marinette nodded, scooting around the table to grab the box off of the couch. She was planning on being super careful. After working so hard on the trap- well, she had once gotten a cut on her finger while she was assembling the booby trap, and that had been without any force behind it. She had no intention of becoming acquainted with those same blades with force behind them.

Besides, the box was completely safe when it was disarmed, and Marinette really didn't think that she was likely to ever just forget to disarm it, not with all of the safety measures she had deliberately built in. All that took was unlocking the second lock first- the crooked one that looked like it had been a mistake, or just a practice run on a spare piece of wood that ended up not being a spare piece- and then she could unlock the lid itself. There was a visible latch on the inside that would give away- to her- if the trap was set or not, and she always checked it just in case before sticking her hand in.

"I know how to open it safely and make sure that it's disarmed before I put my hand in," Marinette assured her mom. "After all, I designed it. I won't forget how to do it."

"Honestly, I figured that much. It wasn't a reassurance when I looked at the box at first because honestly, it doesn't look like an expertly engineered box." Mrs. Cheng smiled over at Marinette. "But that's deliberate, isn't it? No one would suspect that there's anything inside when it looks like a beginner's project."

"It was either make it look like that or try to make some sort of ornate box with a hidden key hole so that no one could figure out where the lock was, but- well, I don't have the time or skill to do that sort of carving." Marinette ran one hand over the box, remembering how much effort it had taken to make the box really solid and then go back and make it look like a beginner's project, ramshackle and not at all sturdy. If the person looking at the box knew anything about construction, the presence of the lock would probably give away the fact that she knew what she was doing, but Marinette was willing to bet that most people wouldn't know that. "It would have been cool, though. I've seen some locks online where people would never figure out how to open it unless they had been shown how, and that would have been nice."

Hawkmoth would probably just try to slice the box open then, but- well, if he did, he was in for a surprise. The wood might crack, but the enchanted metal underneath wouldn't budge.

"You've done quite a bit of research about this, then." Mrs. Cheng considered Marinette for a long moment, and she resisted the urge to squirm. "Honestly, there's a part of me that really wants to question the box and say no to you having it, because it's clearly dangerous- I mean, I saw the damage that it did to Lila- and even though I know you'll be careful, it's hard to be comfortable with the idea of that being in your room. But clearly you've been responsible with storing it, and I trust that you wouldn't have gone so far out of your way to get the materials and do the modifications to that trap if you didn't think it was important to protect whatever is in there." She took a deep breath, and Marinette could tell that her mom was severely torn about whatever she was about to say. "So your dad and I are going to allow it, and we won't ask about what you have in the box. Heaven knows you deserve some privacy."

Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I- thank you."

"And- I didn't want to say anything over the phone, but the police had originally wanted to talk with you about why you had that trap on the box," Mrs. Cheng continued, and Marinette's heart dropped right back into her feet, the moment of relief gone. "Because- well, normally kids your age don't have stuff like that. But- oh, you should have seen it. Your dad got very puffed-up and huffy with them about how this was the second time in less than two years that a classmate of yours had been caught breaking into your room with ill intentions and were you not allowed to protect your things? And one of the police was Officer Raincomprix, so of course he was in a pretty big hurry to drop that line of questioning. Particularly when he was reminded that his daughter was the other classmate that had snuck in."

Marinette hastily muffled a laugh. She would have loved to see that, honestly. "And they didn't say that they would, like, come back later or anything?"

"Only to get a statement from you that Lila wasn't meant to be at our house at all. Your father and I discussed it, and- if it's all right with you- we'd like to pursue pressing charges. We've heard enough about Lila that we want to make sure that she won't be bothering you in the future. Breaking and entering is just- she's taken it too far. She's been taking it too far, and I apologize for both your dad and I that we haven't taken it seriously. No disorder is going to compel someone to target you to the degree that she has been, much less plot to break into your room." Mrs. Cheng shook her head, clearly disgusted at herself for having fallen for the lie. "At the very least, we want to look into getting a restraining order. That should keep her away from you."

"What if Lila spins some tale or tries to get sympathy and we can't get the order?" Marinette asked. Even with their evidence- well, from the sounds of it, Lila's hand was probably pretty mangled, and she didn't have the magical healing potion that Marinette kept on hand just in case to put it back to normal. "What if they decide that her hand is punishment enough?"

"Then we'll argue that." Mrs. Cheng's voice was firm. "If you testify about what Lila has been like, then the courts will know that she's likely to just go back to school and cry about her wrist to get sympathy. And they've seen people like her before, I'm sure. They're not going to be as easily fooled as your teachers and classmates and- well, and your dad and I."

Marinette swallowed and nodded. That would be nice. That would be really nice.

"And if they do- well, and even if they don't- I will be talking to Lila's mother. There's no way she knows what her daughter has been up to, if she still was letting her run around." Mrs. Cheng nodded once, sharp, and Marinette knew that there would be no stopping her mom now. She was determined to keep Lila away from Marinette and force her to see the consequences of her actions, and so it would happen.

Honestly, Marinette had the best parents ever.

Marinette let out a sigh of relief as she tucked the box back in its spot, piling the presents for Adrien back on top of it and shutting the lid of her storage bench. It locked with a thud and a sharp click, sounding sturdy and secure.

It was too bad that that was a lie. Marinette ran her fingers over the lock, wondering if she should try switching out the lock for a different style, something that would be harder- or, even better, impossible- to pick. It might be hard to do that without attracting attention, though, and if she messed it up?

It would be better to not have signs of tampering on her bench, just in case. Maybe she should practice with putting in and taking out locks on a bit of scrap wood first.

A blanket went over the bench, set at a jaunty angle, just casual enough that it didn't look arranged. Marinette's backpack went next to it, the perfect picture of nothing here to see.

And still Marinette worried her lip.

"It'll be fine, Marinette!" Tikki told her, zipping up next to her shoulder. "Downstairs is all locked up, the box is hidden, and the bench is locked. No one is going to be breaking in- and Lila is in the hospital anyway."

"I know, but..." Marinette trailed off, glancing around her room. Whenever someone entered her room without her consent- when Sabrina broke in, after Jagged Stone's camera wandered in while broadcasting live to all of Paris, and then now with Lila- she always felt thrown off kilter and uncomfortable, out of place and not as secure as normal in her own room. It wasn't ever a nice feeling.

She couldn't even safely leave her diary out in her room. Not her diary, not anything that might be the least bit valuable, not any signs of her crush or anything that might even hint at her double life. Maybe it would be a good idea to tuck those things away anyway, but there was a difference between having to simply put things away instead of leaving them out in the open and having to lock everything away under several layers of protection.

Marinette was starting to get the feeling that once she was older and had her own place, there would be a lot of personalization with false walls and hidden compartments where she could hide away- well, everything, really. All of the parts of her life that she might be at all leery of anyone finding out about.

It was always going to be a good idea to hide the Miraculous stuff, especially while Hawkmoth was active, but Marinette should be able to expect some measure of privacy in her own room. The fact that she apparently couldn't...

Maybe it was a better idea to not dwell on that too much. And, with any luck, they wouldn't have any trouble going forward. She and her parents had talked over dinner and come up with a new rule for letting in friends and classmates: all visits had to be approved by Marinette before they set foot through the door. If she let them in herself it was fine, of course, but if they came in through the bakery and wanted to be let up then Sabine had to have a text on her phone from Marinette approving it. There would be no more surprise visits from her friends- or at least no truly surprise visits, since she would at least get a couple minutes' warning from her mom's inquiry text- and no more people going up to her room when she wasn't there 'just to grab something really quickly, honest'. If someone tried to come over as a surprise and Marinette didn't see her mom's text right away- either because she was just busy or because she was out as Ladybug- then that was just too bad. They didn't just get to saunter up and poke around in her room unattended until she got back.

That- well, security reasons aside, it was a really good change. There had been multiple times lately when Marinette had been in the middle of trying to catch up on homework and one (or more) of her friends burst in and interrupted her, and that had both thrown her completely off and eaten up time that she really didn't have to spare because she felt bad about sending them away when they had come over to see her. There hadn't been any times yet where Marinette had been out as Ladybug and came back to find someone in her room, but, well, she couldn't get lucky forever. If they hadn't made the change, then it would probably only be a matter of time before Ladybug slipped into her room after a long fight and found Alya waiting there.

(That would be a disaster.)

"At least I hadn't gotten around to painting the trap with the poison that the Order sent me," Marinette commented after a pause, pushing away thoughts of her new visiting arrangements and how she really should have implemented them earlier for the time being. The poison was a new suggestion from the Order, something to completely ensure that Hawkmoth wouldn't be able to steal the Miraculous, and it was a suggestion that made her really, really nervous. She fiddled with one of the tassels on the blanket, then resolutely turned and headed up to bed. "The police might have been fine with the bear trap- if only barely- but a bear trap coated in poison? I would have gotten in so much trouble."

"I still think it would be a good idea to put it on," Tikki told her. "I know it ups the scary factor even more, but in case Hawkmoth finds the box and he doesn't pass out from the trap- or if it doesn't catch him as much as it sounds like it got Lila, since he might be expecting a trap!- then it should still keep him from getting away scot-free. You have the antidote and the healing potions, so you should still be safe!"

"In theory, at least." Sure, the Order had assured her that it would take some time for the poison to kick in, enough time for her to get to her remedies- a delay of sorts, followed by it absolutely flooring the unfortunate person affected- but that still depended entirely on her keeping her head long enough to actually get to them.

Maybe she needed to consider a rearranging of where things were so that there would be less distance between the box and the antidotes, just in case that very dangerous and (hopefully) very unlikely scenario of the box snapping shut on her ever happened.

Ugh. More things to do, as though she didn't already have enough on her plate. But Tikki was right- Hawkmoth was too much of a threat to keep putting off the secondary level of protection. She would just have to be super careful around the box- even more than she had been before- and prioritize getting her remedies located closer to the hidden Miracle Box.

That, and she definitely had to make sure that she kept her remedy up-to-date, no slacking and letting it come close to expiration. And, well, she had to make sure that she didn't use up the healing potion- the potion that would immediately reverse the damage from the trap in case something went wrong- with injuries that she got while sewing or tripping over her own feet.

At least she knew how to make the healing potion. As long as Marinette kept an eye on how much she had- and her (poorly) hidden supply of potion ingredients, those had to be next on her list of things to build hiding spots for after a new spot for the box and a close but not too close location for the remedies- and made sure to top it back up whenever she got low, using it for other injuries shouldn't be a problem.

"I'll tell Mom no babysitting next weekend, and do the poison then," Marinette said, realizing that she hadn't said anything for a minute. "If I do it right away and the police end up wanting to see it again, then that'll be an issue. If I give it a little time, then I won't end up putting the poison on and then having to take it right off again. And I need to get some more supplies- a dedicated paintbrush, and some gloves so that my skin doesn't come in contact with it at all."

Tikki nodded, approving. "I didn't think of that! That's a good thought. I think that should be fast enough. And it'll give you time to think about ways you can shake up your set-up so that no one else will know about it again!"

"The biggest changes there might have to wait to summer, honestly," Marinette admitted. The amount of work it would take to make a hidden cubby- and to make it fast enough that no one would notice it- would be absolutely insane, her biggest project yet. "But I'm sure that I can make some changes to up my security before then, and dream up improvements that I can make so that I'm ready to hit the ground running as soon as I have enough free time."

Her mind was whirring with more ideas already, actually. She would have to ask the Order to enchant more metal so to be Miraculous-resistant, pieces that she could put inside of the storage bench and keep it from being destroyed. If Hawkmoth (or his akumas) couldn't pick locks, that should be enough to stop him. And then if she practiced with taking out and putting locks in, then she could put in a lock like one she had seen online most recently, the one that had a hidden keyhole. Both improvements wouldn't affect her ability to get in- which was a good thing, since speed was super important during akuma fights- but should make things for difficult for anyone with nefarious intentions.

It would be a lot of work, of course, and might mean skipping out on a few outings with her friends to get things done quickly just in case, but she could make the Miracle Box safe and secure again. It might even end up helping her in the long run, since now she knew where the weak points in her security were and could fix them before they were put to the test by an akuma or Hawkmoth. Sure, it wasn't ideal that people knew about the box at all, but- well, it wasn't worth crying over spilled milk.

Marinette would come back from this, and she would come back stronger.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #Traps and Sneaks

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unluckyopossum · 3 years

Text

I Need A Place I Can Rest- CH 2

Viktor Vector x Fem!V

Vik wants to fix things for V more than anything. V just needs somewhere to feel safe.

This chapter romance is acquired by the two idiots who struggle to appropriately discuss feelings.

Read on AO3

A jarring electronic ding broke the silence in the cramped elevator lobby. Vik had been waiting, shuffling back and forth anxiously, for what felt like an eternity. Desperately hoping he was being led to V and not a pointless chase by his guide. His only company was the small hairless cat sitting patiently by his feet, occasionally looking up at him in a way that made Vik feel the cat knew more about his situation than even he did.

The lift doors finally creaked open and the ripper darted inside slamming the roof button as soon as it lit up, the doors closing slowly again behind him. As the elevator began it's achingly slow ascent he glanced down, surprised to see the cat again. He hadn't even noticed it come in, or move at all for that matter. Maybe the little guy was just as worried about V as he was, V always being one to give the alley cat a scratch and a snack. As he bent down to give his little helper a scratch on the head, he realized he hadn't even taken off his exo-glove in his rush. Taking a moment to finally pay attention to what he was wearing he felt he looked a little disheveled. Exo glove on, shirt loose from where v had grabbed it, sunglasses on in the dark; But V had seen him like that plenty of times, and there was no time to feel self conscious now. No time to worry about how V would feel about an old man confessing to her. An old washed up legend no one even remembered. The cat mowed again sounding almost stern. “Right, now or never, nothing to lose” he said aloud, clearly only for him .

Another ding sounded and the elevator groaned to a halt, shuddering slightly. The tightness in his chest and urgency with which he scaled the last flight of stairs to the open rooftop felt like his old boxing days. Entering the ring for a fight he wasn't prepared to win, but he hadn't backed down from any of those fights either. V was higher stakes than any of those matches had ever been, more important to him than his pride, that was for sure. Rounding the corner to Misty's special retreat he heard a familiar voice, but an unfamiliar sound coming from it.

A soft whimpering fluttered through the air, barely audible over the street noise below the building. Vik was halted in his tracks by the scene in front of him as he started to exit the stairwell. V sat in one of the red plastic porch chairs Misty had set up, staring at the roof edge in front of her, lips moving and occasionally gesturing to empty air. Red neon reflected off the tracks of moisture in lines down her cheeks. She hung her head, back hunching and shaking as the sounds of a few sobs escaping her lips. Before Vik was able to move forward her head lifted back up out of her hands and she looked back at the empty space at the edge of the railing.

" God I'm so fucking stupid Johnny, what if he hates me now, or thinks I'm dumb, and a waste of his time. Just some stupid gonk brained kid." her voice was shaky in a way he had never heard before. Even with all the injuries and pain she had shown up in at his clinic, her voice had always stayed steady. Even after the news of the relic… losing Jackie... he hadn't ever seen the merc cry.

" I know, I know, 'just grow a pair V, if not now when.'" she says in a deeper almost mocking tone.

" Well there's no way he is interested in me Johnny, that's why" an exasperated sigh escaped her, a frequent occurrence in her conversations with Silverhand.

" Well I at least wanted to be his friend for the little time I have left you ass, and I blew that too" between each sentence a pause hung that Vik could only assume was Silverhand’s response. Her voice seemed to be rising slowly as the conversation moved forward and the ripper didn't know if it was his place to interrupt them.

" Not everyone thinks like you Johnny, that only works in BDs and I highly doubt Vik would be into something like that"

Like what? … whatever the rocker was telling her he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but couldn't help but be curious.

" Look Johnny, you can tell me not to care what he thinks as much as you want but I can't help it, you know as well as I do how I feel about him and... fuck I just don't want him being disappointed in me "

Finally seeing a place to step in Vik stepped out from the stairwell overhang walking towards V, trying to convey confidence with his gait.

"Could never be disappointed in you sweetheart" he passed by the empty chair next to V, instead kneeling in front of the merc. Obscuring her view of Johnny if he had judged his location right, hoping to have her focus solely on himself. She sat lips just slightly parted, eyes wide in surprise ,and a startled sputter all she managed to respond with. Vik pushed his shades up on his head, wanting to see her without anything getting in the way.

" V your the strongest woman I have ever known, how do you think I could be disappointed in you" he smiled up at her, green eyes shining so bright she could almost see her reflection in them. His gloved hand came up to her knee giving her a gentle squeeze, one that could normally be taken as supportive or just for comfort if he had moved his hand after. But he didn't, he left it firmly in place, the skin under it felt surprisingly warm for the cool night city evening.

“Scared? now that I could be… not that it’s easy for me to say sweetheart. I don’t want to lose you V, and I didn’t want to put more weight on your shoulders by making you worry about my feelings.” his bare hand reached up to wipe the streaks of tears off her cheeks. It was hard to tell with only neon illuminating her but he thought they were a bit more flushed than they had been.

“Look V you clearly know I’m no good at this, and I’m real sorry about that. I’m going to do my best though and try not to fuck this up.

“ Vik what are you” She stuttered out trying to wrap her head around everything that was happening. Still stunned that the ripper had come after her at all after she had thrown what she considered to be a childish tantrum in the clinic.

“ First I need to apologize V. I know I was mad about Silverhand, maybe even jealous, but I didn’t need to take that out on you.”

Jealous… she caught onto that word, latched on even. She couldn’t quite grasp what Vik could possibly be jealous of Johnny for, the gonk was dead and stuck inside her head with a terrible personality. She didn’t even consider that it could be all the time Johnny got to spend with her, the quiet moments at night, even waking up and feeding the cat together.

“Not being able to fix this, well it kills me V. I just want to protect you, keep you safe and not being able to do that is harder than I ever could have thought. I thought not saying anything would be part of protecting you, making your life a little more simple when things were goin crazy. Looks like I was wrong though and I should have told you how I feel a while ago.”

A pained expression came over her face as it crumpled up with a loud sniffle from her. “Vik… I have wanted to say something for so long, but you shouldn’t… you should want to be with me.”

“V why, I know it’s not my strong suit but I want to listen. I know the two of us have had a hard time speakin about these things but now sure seems like the time” He had given her knee another squeeze and placed his free hand on her forearm resting in her lap. Partially because he just wanted to touch her, but also due to the look of cornered prey she had as the concept of having to share her feelings and be vulnerable for once. He hoped the touch would be some comfort and connect them in a way. That squeeze seemed to be the only thing needed to break down the floodgates as tears began to slowly run down her cheeks again as words started to tumble out of her mouth with barely a breath in between.

“ Vik we both know I’m basically living on borrowed time with my own body as a death bed, stuck in my own head as I lose myself, even though Johnny wants out. He’s the only one I can even talk to about all this because when I have tried to bring it up I can't make myself speak. I’m so scared of pushing you away Vik, so scared of telling you too much and you deciding you can’t be around me. Because who would want to be with someone who might be Johnny Silverhand at any moment. I’m so scared to love you Vik but it’s way too late for that, I want you so much, and it makes my heart hurt constantly because I try to keep away from you, which you know doesn’t last any time at all. Even in the worst times I have when all I can see is my own doom, I'm thinking about you Viktor Vector, and it's just not fair of me to put this on you. It’s fucked but I just want to spend the little time I have with you” She finished with another loud sniffle having to take time to catch her breath.

Vik took the pause as the perfect opportunity to stand and lean down to wrap his arms around the smaller woman. His impressive size may not have been as useful for his ripper work as it was for boxing, but her frame being completely enveloped in his arms made her immediately lose some of the tension she had in her. That he thought was more important than anything else.

“V you aren’t putting anything on me I don’t want, wish I had realized we felt the same way ages ago. I think I’m old enough to decide if it’s worth it to be together too, and for me it is V. It’s going to take way more than the relic to keep me from being into you V, but I’ve known that for a long time.”

He stepped back giving her a little space as he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed to admit how long he had wanted her and not said a word.

“ We’re going to figure this out V so you better count on that ‘little time you have left’ being a lot longer than you think.” A familiar smirk spread on his lips “ but if you’ll have this old man I’d spend every second with you that I can”

That finally got a smile to lift her wet cheeks as she stood to meet him, throwing her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. He head buried in his chest momentarily before looking up into his eyes, caught by them again, a frequent occurrence for her.

“ Vik you do know you aren’t even that old right? I mean just look at Johnny and Rouge, you don’t even want to know what Johnny tried to get up to with her… oh that was supposed to be private apparently.” Vik let out a deep chuckle, his hands moving into place on her hips, fingertips idly playing with the edge of her pants.

“ So Vik, even if I’m right and I don’t have much time left… would you spend it with me?”

“You don't even have to ask sweetheart, you know I will, and I’ll be here to listen even on the worst days”

“ you do know Johnny is gonna be with us every step of the way until we get this sorted right? Well of course you know.... But is that okay?”

“ Well maybe he could give us a bit of private time” He said with another smirk as she blushed furiously” V, dealing with Silverhand is a very small price to pay for being with you”

“ He said it should be an added bonus.” she giggled and smiled at him, the blush still lingering on her cheeks '' Johnny promised he would figure out a way to fix me so you can keep patching my dumbass up forever” the widest smile graced his face since he had found her, the idea of dealing with V forever was much more appealing than she could know.

” Fine, I'm holding you both to that sweetheart. Though as your ripper i could recommend being a bit more careful in your next fight.” The deep rumble of his laugh shook through his chest with her head still resting gently on it.

A tug at the back of Vik’s neck pulled his head down slightly as V stretched up to reach him. Her lips brushed his so lightly it took him a moment to register the kiss. Once it fully clicked a soft groan escaped his lips and his fingers tightened holding her waist firm and he met her lips once more. This time he met her lips passionately, firmly pressing their lips together and pulling her hips towards him so their bodies were flush against each other.

A meow at their feet broke them apart to look, both panting and flushed. The cat looked impatiently up at V clearly wanting something from her, as she shuffled her feet feeling suddenly rather embarrassed for initiating the kiss as reciprocated as it was.

“ Shit Vik, I gotta feed Nibbles, and I’m still covered in blood. I should probably head home for the night… feed this one on the way out.”

She stepped back, having to look away from him now or she didn’t think she would be getting off that roof tonight. She was clearly about to make a move to leave when Vik caught her wrist.

“ dinner tomorrow” he said, still sounding almost out of breath.

“What?”

“Let me make you dinner tomorrow, like you know… an actual date”

A grin popped onto V’s face immediately, never thinking those were words she would get to hear the Viktor Vector say to her. Words she had wanted to hear so badly.

“Deal, my place after you close up” She leaned up once more giving him another quick kiss before practically skipping to the elevator, cat on her heels. She was practically unrecognizable as the woman he had watched sobbing not much earlier, her mood clearly turned completely around.

Vik sunk down into the plastic chair letting out an exhausted sigh, still stunned at everything that had just happened. He tried to wrap his head around V actually being into him and trying to calm down from how flustered V had made him with their kiss, glad she hadn’t seemed to pick up on it.

The fingers of both hands rubbing his, he had suggested making dinner for V but definitely had blurted it out before really coming up with a plan. Figuring out what to make was his first order of business as he got up to head home and begin his recipe research. Next would be what to wear, and that would require a consultation from Misty. He had almost forgotten about her, she would be overjoyed after pushing him to say something to V for months, probably even more so when he told her the rooftop retreat had been the spot where the tell finally happened. The elevator dinged to let him know it was time to head back down to the streets and he stepped in, happy to be going home for the first time in a long while. In fact, he realized he hadn’t been this happy in longer than he could remember, finally feeling optimistic about what was to come because him and V would be facing it together.

#Oh shit I finished another chapter #I'm still not sure this is any good #and I spent waaaayyy less time editing #oh well fuck it #cyberpunk 2077 #fem!v #female v #viktor vector #viktor vector x v

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