#you know how it is with teenage girls with repressed rage

[ministarfruit]

day 24: plagued by the horrors ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

#minifemslashfeb2024 #heathers #heathers the musical #heather chandler #veronica sawyer #chansaw #I love my girl veronica. she has every illness #every illness meaning being a teenage girl with repressed rage #you know how it is with teenage girls with repressed rage #that is JD's hand but this ain't about him #this month has just been me drawing ghosts basically #I THINK IT'S FUNNY IF YOU SEE IT AS CHANDLER HAUNTING HER AND JUST BITCHING AT HER CONSTANTLY #hey veronica! you fucked up! hey veronica! you fucked up! hey v #veronica does really go through it though. #IS THIS MY FIRST TIME DRAWING HEATHERS? #WELL THERE YA GO

[innerunderrain]

Cathartic [Yan.Childe x OlderFem.Reader]

Cathartic: the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

Warnings: Yandere themes, disturbing thoughts, delusions, non-consensual touching, age ape (Reader is five years older), drugging, mentions of violence, implied future noncon, Childe being a weirdo unprovoked, mature themes. (Let me know if I missed some tags!)

Minors DNI

[English is not my first language warning!]

Word count: 1.2k

-

Childe first met you when he was eight years old, his mother introducing you as the daughter of a longtime friend, declaring that you'd act as a caretaker to him and his younger siblings.

Childe and his siblings were more than capable of looking after themselves, but his mother insisted that you required the money considering your family's unfortunate circumstances. He didn't know much about your family, but he recalled seeing your mother on a number of occasions, her pale face and sunken eyes inscribed in his mind. He felt a little guilty that you had to look after his family, considering you were only thirteen years old and had always lived in the presence of your mother.

You were a sweet girl in every way, delicately soft-spoken, and had round eyes that reminded him of the deers his father occasionally brought home from a deliberately protracted hunting trip. You were somewhat admirable, even though you were noticeably reserved and only spoke when someone talked to you.

In addition, you had a tendency to trip over your own feet regularly and had a difficult time finishing each task. Of course, neither he nor his siblings ever voiced disappointment, opting to instead assist you despite your stubbornness.

But it all changed when he turned fourteen and fell into a crack into the earth, swallowed up by the abyss and forced to travel through such darkness. Something within the abyss stirred up his provocateur persona, generating his eagerness for battle to the surface, transforming him into a young man that lusted over violence.

Even though only three days had allegedly transpired after he plummeted into the abyss, yet he felt as though three excruciating months seemed to have passed by. His family turned him over to the Fatui's since they couldn't cope with his new demeanour, terrified at the new sudden monster that embodied itself into their son.

By the time he was eighteen, he had established himself as a prominent figure in the Fatui community and was well-known among his peers as a daring warrior who would do anything to relish a good fight. As you became twenty-three, your mother had already passed away in the previous years, and you couldn't keep up with your expenses with just babysitting, therefore you had to get a higher-salaried job.

He didn't fully understand the nature of your new employment, which was situated near to a Fatui station, but he was aware that it involved assisting the notorious Doctor of Snezhnaya in conducting experiments. He was fortunate enough to be stationed there and occasionally have the opportunity to discreetly observe you from a distance.

He felt a little ashamed to admit this, but his feelings for over shifted into a rather - mature, if that's how people would often consider it.

He wasn't sure if he genuinely liked you or if it was just the raging hormones of a teenage boy, but something within his chest would tremble, erupting the warm sensation he so desperately desired. He would feel rather warm, with droplets of sweat accumulating on his forehead, and his clothes would feel somewhat confining.

Fortunately, you managed to cross paths with him one day and approached him with a warm grin and a hug around his shoulder, asking how he was doing. That was possibly the happiest moment he ever experienced.

Childe would then greet you on a regular basis, following you around like a lovesick puppy and begging for your attention. He knew you didn't have the heart to dismiss him, so he'd run over to you, his hands grasping your fingers in a tenuous grip.

Despite being an overall immoral person, God seems to have favorites. Childe seems to be one of them.

One day, Childe's good fortune took over when he was forced to seek refuge within your cosy home owing to an unexpected snowstorm. He was stretched out on your sofa, a soft blanket encircling his body, and god. The blanket smelt exactly like you. He almost choked on his saliva at the notion of you lazing around aimlessly on the blanket with a book in your hand, a gentle smile engraved on your pretty face. Perhaps he'll have the chance to experience that domesticated moment one day.

Currently though, you were in the kitchen, humming a quiet tone as you pour hot water into two cups before placing two bags of mint tea into the scorching cups.

Childe marched behind you without a thought, hesitantly placing one of his hands on your waist, the sound of his heartbeat rapidly drumming against his chest.

"A…Ajax, what do you think you're doing?"

You uttered, your fingers scrambling to grasp his wrist and take his hand away from your waist. Childe only chuckled casually, apologising quietly as he drew his hand away, watching as you lightly smacked him on the shoulder with a light smile on your face.

By the time he was twenty, his touches had become more daring, and he frequently pulled and tugged at your flesh while murmuring phoney excuses whenever you reprimanded him. He felt like a depraved old man, but he couldn't resist because you're so alluring. You hardly changed, except for an inch or two of growth, as he grew larger and stronger.

He could no longer always follow you as closely as he had in the past, however, due to his duty as a harbinger. He made it a point to visit your home whenever he had the chance, requesting to stay the night and stating axiomatically how much he missed you.

Child would bring you exquisite presents from his journeys, including the most exquisite gowns and delectable teas, although he occasionally added a personal touch to the teas. You'd become lethargic whenever you drank the tea, denouncing it as drowsiness and falling asleep in front of him thoughtlessly.

Tartaglia would seize those opportunities to further explore your body, his fingers sliding up and down your curves, tracing his lips on your neck. Snickering as you writhe and squirm under his grasp. Sometimes his impulses were so overwhelming that the only way he knew how to cope was to jerk himself off on your sleeping face.

Naturally, he made sure to avoid cuming on you, but every now and again, he couldn't help but chuckle at the image of you waking up and stressing out over the white liquid that soiled your sheets. But right now that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. It was quite cathartic to sit by your bedside, fondling and groping the curves of your body after a lengthy day, climaxing while consistently reciting your name as if it were some kind of holy mantra.

One day, you'll see all his efforts for what they were, melt into his arms, and squeal his name in ecstasy as you beg him to softly fuck you. But one day, it'll happen one day. But right now he's willing to wait. Ajax was a naturally patient man, and believes that one day, you'll come around. But right now, he's not taking that chance to possibly ruin that relationship between the two of you.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #genshin childe #childe x reader #tw noncon #older #disturbing #yandere genshin imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader

[onlineproblems]

tagged by @wikipedie to share 8 TV shows to get to know me :) Oh boy, this is gonna be hard lmao

1. Bates Motel. Norma Bates remains thee woman of all time to me. What can I say about her? Grief and rage and tragedy and hope and despair and love and insanity

2. Twin Peaks. Laura Palmer you are my Cathy haunting me outside my window. Dale Cooper I love you. Audrey and Shelley and all those strange, weird, terrible things teenage girls experience captured by the absurd landscape of a small Oregon town and the Black Lodge. Fun fact the Bates Motel writers were heavily influenced by this show.

3. Doctor Who. I'm not so into it anymore, but this shaped my adolescence and early adulthood.

4. Psych. My best friend in high school and I would watch this show over and over together, quoting all the best lines, laughing and crying. It has so much nostalgia for me. Me and Shawn are ADHD buds.

5. The OA. A weird, crazy, beautiful show that didn't deserve its cancellation. Asked some big questions about death and life and stuff like that. I love weird stuff and I love unconventional fantasies.

6. Sharp Objects. Amy Adams was an early crush, ever since I was 13 and I got obsessed with her in Sunshine Cleaning and Enchanted. Now here she is literally embodying my journey of trauma and self harm and horrible parents and growing up in the South so how can I not imprint on this amazing miniseries.

7. Seinfeld. In a totally different vein. I hate Jerry and George and Kramer but I want to marry Elaine. I watched it for the first time last year with my longtime Seinfeld fan husband.

8. The Mentalist. Had to be on the list because I've watched it three times this year and I was obsessed with it as a teenager. Everyone is hot and everyone is traumatized and repressed. It has great and surprisingly consistent writing for a procedural that ran for 7 years, and I enjoy its explorations of grief, revenge, found family, etc.

Honorable mentions: The Sopranos, Westworld, Better Call Saul, Good Omens, Dark, Fringe, Hannibal, X-Files, Pushing Daisies, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Kingdom, Love Death and Robots, Orphan Black, Watchmen, Ozark, Dorohedoro

I tag @shesaysdisco @2oppositesidesof1coin @magsturbate @wearymeadow and anyone else who takes an inkling to it

#yes I'm aware the honorable mentions outnumber the actual tag #shhh #opceled #amceled

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

I get why some women wouldn't want to be separatists... I think women are in limerence or romantic obsession because the reality is, men are selfish and hate women. Most women in their relationships are experiencing some form of sexual violation and abuse from their partners, or he watches porn, and men don't love their partners. What these women are after is a fantasy.

I have ptsd because of my father.... He did not want me to experience any good things in life, including romantic love, he molested me when I was 4. I feel sexually violated and unfulfilled. I was taught via my religion that marriage was the plan of happiness; eternal marriage and families... he wanted to own me, my mother was complicit. There was this guy I secretly dated, until folks started talking and I was terrified because my father started threatening me, constantly humiliating me and having sexually charged conversations. He befriended the guy too... I never told him I was being abused because I was a vulnerable and dependant teenager. I blamed myself for being a coward because my mother constantly gaslight me, by never telling this guy how I felt and pulling away, like I forever ruined my chance to experience romantic love, because I know how guys are, and he was "different." Very charming, didn't watch porn.... when I initiated with him, it felt loving when he recripocated... I had to stop because I was terrified of "disobeying" my father; i have a lot of anguish and repressed rage over this... I felt pure, like my body was a temple... I just wanted to feel pure and loved, once. I feel pain and loss. But also am too scared of the risk. I am scared of being healthy again... that men might be attracted to me again (I don't sleep anymore I look haggard, use to get lots of attention,) and charm me and I will fall for them and get raped. I am terrified of men, and wish I had experienced romantic love. It sounds good on paper. I will never understand how men hate women so much. My own father hated me. I got hard radar because of him, but he forced me to be a seperatist first. I feel more judgement over being single and I feel like a loser while having to prove I am not. The comments from women who are anti seperatist on here are honestly more nasty to single women... "forever virgin" was one of them. There is sooooo much pressure to date! But there is no love and romance, how are women not more terrified with the bdsm shit??? That scares me!! Our trauma is a kink to men. My own father told me I was pretty when I cried, and that I was a pretty girl and could get raped. I am terrified of men. How are women not terrified? They need to be warned? I am breaking up with my therapist for not getting it when I said "I am sad I did not experience romantic love" I do not want a husband anymore, I do not want a bf... I am just sad. This shit makes me sad and makes me suicidal tbh. I get why women crave romance, I do not get them wanting to put themselves at risk and deny reality.

hello anon. I am not sure if you wanted my advice or a place to vent, but either way I want to say how sorry I am for everything you went through, you didn’t deserve any of it and I truly hope there will be better days for you.

I hope you can find a therapist who will understand you and help you heal without trying to force their opinions on you, the job of a therapist is to remain neutral and help you heal and live the best way possible that works for you. it does seem like you need help and I hope you find the strength to continue to seek it. I think whatever conclusion you come to, regardless of the external pressure, there is absolutely a way for women to be happy without men, you can find a community, a group of friends, indulge in hobbies that you enjoy, these are all things to think about when you are safe and ready. I am not sure if you are still living with your father and I really hope not, but please do try to take care of yourself and seek available resources, I know it’s really difficult, but try to take it one step at a time.

#CSA tw #rape tw

[everythingflowinginbetween]

#1

I have found the journey to twenty-three arduous, blindingly painful, and shit. When and where was the warning that by the tender age of twenty-three, I would be seen as this full-fledged adult who carries wisdom and is on her path to enlightenment and has enough money and enough language to articulate what to order at some fucking high-end restaurant that has Truffled Leek Compoteor (really love the fact that I can experience wanting these experiences though, and I desperately want to hit le bernadine when the money comes in, even though there are cynical parts of myself fighting with healthy me on the topic of finer likes and more opportunities of self-expression…I digress), or having the language to discuss contemporary art or the mannerism and social cues to benefit from a networking experience. I'm still in the binds of the mind and language from a 17-year-old girl who’s spent her entire life dissociating, having a pocketbook amount of language to communicate with the outside world with. I was contemptuous at the cards dealt to me, the victimization, the raw rage at what the world had given. The deep cynicism that kept and gave me enough energy to continue living in a world so seemingly hell-bent on destroying me and my innate curiosity and inner goodness. My rage got me into jail, got me a divorce, led me astray from my peers, and isolated me into extreme depression and shame. I buttered my entire existence into this cocoon wherein lie a rotting carcass holding onto failed dreams and the hope for my parent's love. I mean when was I supposed to know how to be an adult? Society really just throws children of 17 into the world and says good luck, don’t do too many drugs, and come out back okay. Where was the toolbox? How do you expect me to keep my neurosis in check in this world where maneuvered contempt hidden in kind gestures is the way to win, to gain, and to live. I was still stuck in this brutally honest rage fit that held everyone at face value. When was I supposed to know you're supposed to repress the rage and find a way to express it healthily? 

Now I'm 23, I'm supposed to adult And I am. I guess YouTube was a great tool, and Google too; searching up why am I depressed every day? and how I structure a good life? was very defining for my life. This research lead me to my Internet mentors, some of who I am in utter awe of and some I'm a bit embarrassed to say changed my life despite their ideologies. I'm a child of the internet, it's the ultimate sage the ultimate god the ultimate tool, and the ultimate parent and idealized figure. The Internet helps me become me

Now 3 quarters and a half into twenty-three and there’s this terrifying reality slapping me in the face, and I want to like scream at the world to not take it away. I'm begging, Please don’t take away the little of my curiosity, the innate goodness and childlike wonder I have left. Every day I gain more responsibility and see reality for what it is and more so the reality of society for what it is. 

Three days ago, I went into midtown Manhattan; I love midtown despite what everyone believes, its fucking great, the architecture, the many different cultures of people, the annoying excitement of the opportunity of being here, just being able to be connected to others life stories without being overtly attached makes me feel seen, the chaos it's perfect to me, Although the truth of this sentiment of loving people the paradoxical notion of pure hate came up in a bit. I was walking and this group of teenagers walked right through me and I found myself saying fuck these fucking teenagers,  I felt this deep contempt within me, felt my face contorting this hate. I found myself thinking and feeling superior to them, and this is something I've been battling the past few months this innate feeling of feeling better than anyone younger than me, now that I'm not the youngest girl in the room. This complex started stemming in conjunction with the feeling as if I'm losing the best part of myself, my childhood, my inner Child's needs, wants and voice being torn away. Is this a conscious choice or is it the result of a capitalistic consumerism society? Is being an adult the complete disregard for other human beings, younger or older, is it the ability to thrive in this decrepit society? is it the ability to suppress yourself to a debilitating degree? Im deciding I don’t want to be warped by this social system, and look I don’t know how I'm going to not drown in the noise and lose my best parts. Well actually fuck that im deciding there’s no way I'm losing these parts of myself. I'm consciously choosing to be my own kind of adult, I choose my life, and that is what’s wild, what I didn’t really know before is that we have a choice, and when you start to feel like you're losing yourself or you're in a Job that makes you want to grab a noose, just realize you're not a victim, even though there are certain things out of our volitional control. We can control our responsibility to ourselves, the way we act, where we put ourselves, the people who surround us, how we interact with others, our beliefs, values, etc. I guess the point of this piece is to realize you don’t have to mold yourself into the perfect Western ideas of what it means to be a successful human adult or just a successful human entity, you choose.

#adulting

[babydotcom]

okay i don't know if anyone's said this before but i think hakoda and bato's relationship is really important to sokka accepting his attraction to men. this absolutely got away from me so the analysis is under the cut. i'd appreciate it if you gave this a read!

we all know sokka sees his dad as the pinnacle of Manliness, and spends so much of his childhood and teenage years trying to live up to this standard he feels hakoda has set for him (whether or not this perception is accurate). he is supposed to be a warrior, a protector, a leader. he is supposed to be strong. this is why he represses all of his negative emotions, all his grief, sadness, rage, hurt. it's why he falls madly in love with the first sweet, emotional, kind, traditionally feminine girl he's ever met that he's not related to, because yue compliments his perception of manhood. it's why suki, a woman who is all of the things he thinks a man should be, is confusing to him. suki opens his eyes a little bit, because she is an attractive girl that also embodies manhood the way sokka thinks he should.

from the beginning of book two on, we see sokka be more honest with himself about his attraction to men, even if he's not so open about it. there's the boulder, chong in the cave of two lovers, and zuko (he was flirting at the western air temple i don't care. this isn't about shipping anyway). these are men that sokka textually finds attractive, so he knows he's not straight. this doesn't fit into his perception of manhood- hakoda's love for kya was incredible, so of course sokka would ingrain heterosexuality into manhood. he never voices this same-sex attraction (i know this is nickelodeon, but you know what i mean), but it's pretty much a no-brainer that a relationship with suki, who he perceives as being man-adjacent, is something he wants so much to pursue.

from book two on, we also see sokka sort of reevaluate this manhood standard by expanding his horizons. he finally is expressing himself creatively. first is the haiku club in ba sing se-- when else have we seen him trying to impress girls by meeting them where they're at, using his words in poetry to impress them rather than performing some act of machismo? second and infinitely more importantly is in Sokka's Master. the entire episode is about sokka proving (and realizing) his worth, and to him he is only worth anything if he is a perfect man, if he is like his father. for someone training to be a swordsman, we actually see sokka do little swordfighting in comparison to how much art (which for the sake of this post we'll consider traditionally feminine) he does. he never once complains about this, but his appreciation of the arts changes over the course of his training. for his first calligraphy practice, sokka tries, sure, but he doesn't take it seriously. he mushes his face into the paper, taking the easy, and the more brash route to the end goal.

he approaches his first spar with *checks notes* fat, the same way. he tries, but fails spectacularly because he takes the brash and easy route, making the most obvious first strike against his opponent. he sucks with the sword, so far. it's only after he takes piandao's painting lesson seriously-- or as seriously as he's capable of-- that he has any sort of breakthrough in his swordfighting. his development as a swordsdman, his mastering of a masculine activity and fighting style, is dependent on his acceptance of art and emotion and creativity, of femininity. piandao's training, his emphasis on the arts, is what made sokka a great swordbender. in realizing his worth, sokka had to accept femininity into his ideal of man.

back to hakoda and bato. sokka doesn't get a lot of time with his dad before the invasion on the day of black sun, because obviously they have a war to fight. but what time he does have with hakoda is spent spiraling over his worth as a man yet again, because hakoda has shown just how much sokka has yet to grow as a leader. it's neither of their faults, but hakoda showing up sokka at the planning meeting causes a blockage in sokka's growth, just after he'd reached new heights in sokka's master. sokka's back to feeling like shit, and this is compounded by the failure of the invasion. that moment at zuko's coronation, when hakoda tells sokka that's he proud of him, after sokka had been absolutely crucial to winning the war? that's means the world to him. his Ideal his proud of him.

i imagine that during the war, hakoda and bato weren't together. hakoda was still mourning kya (and he always will be, but the wound was fresher then), and then they were fighting for their lives. so, i think when they do get together, it's not terribly long after the war. sokka seeing them start a romantic relationship is what allows him to finally embrace his attraction to men. his father, his chief, his pinnacle of manliness, can love other men and express that openly. hakoda is the Typical Father in that we don't really see him actually vulnerable other than that moment in boiling rock when he tears up at seeing sokka, so to see his father in a loving relationship again, with bato, his life long best friend, would be incredibly powerful for sokka. it finally clicks that sokka can love a man, too, and that loving a man does not make him less of one. before bakoda get together, sokka probably fears ever coming to terms with his same-sex attraction. he knows that hakoda loves him absolutely, but the nagging voice in most, if not all, queer peoples' heads still makes sokka wonder if hakoda would respect him as a man if he were in a gay relationship, regardless of how much hakoda loves him. to have that worry soothed... that's everything to him, when it comes to his sexuality and acceptance of himself.

much of sokka's arc throughout the series is about deconstructing that idea of manhood he's held onto since he was a little boy, and redefining masculinity in terms that embrace the feminine parts of him that make him such a great warrior, protector, and leader. he is loving in his protectiveness, he is soft in his strength, he is creative and artistic in his leadership. sokka's development in this regard is incomplete by the end of the series, because he's 15 and nobody is done growing up at that age, but him getting his dad back, and finding that his ideal isn't really what he thought, has him on the right track to fully embracing himself as a man whose strengths go beyond the idea that he created as a kid, and whose love goes beyond gender. i just think that's neat.

#i've been working on this post for hours and idk if i said everything i wanted to say but here it is #i think sokka's arc is so beautiful man #it's all about acceptance and open-mindedness and self-worth and self-love #i love him #sokka #hakoda #bakoda #bi sokka #even if sokka ends up in a het relationship that boy is a FRUIT #atla #avatar the last airbender #analysis #atla analysis #mine

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

Toki’s Psychological State Through the Seasons

Toki is by far for me personally the most interesting member of Dethklok; I know to some degree he’s deemed as a potentially over hyped character by fans and even the show itself, but there’s countless reasons why people cling onto that character, and they’re good reasons. Even if said reasons just come down to “I think he’s neat.” that’s valid.

For me I am so fascinated with his character development, personality, and the varied chunks of background information we get about him throughout the series. A big part of this character is that when you look at him in season one compared to season four he is very different or at least he appears to be much different. Season one does establish that Toki does have a childish personality, his bedroom looks more like a room for a kid than one for a guy in his 20s. Season one establishes those basic facts about him that do heavily carry out through the show, but also increase as the show goes on.

Toki goes from immature but not overly immature to....a complete fucking wreck by the finale of season four (before Doomstar) and the reason for it is simple; it’s trauma.

Toki starts to act differently in season one after the Dethfamily episode; he spends practically that entire episode in a catatonic state, his parents always looming nearby like figures of danger and doom. After this we do get to him being bitter about being seen as immature and seen as the kid of the band (despite the fact he was barely 16 when he joined Dethklok) and when a charity informs him that a dying girl wants to meet him he turns into a complete prick. He finally comes out of that when he sees a video the kid made of herself singing a song about death and hatred, with that scene we see a small flashback of Toki’s childhood; him about the little girl’s age standing out in the snow staring up at his parents looking confused and a moment later he’s being smacked across the face. 

We could already gather beforehand when we found out he came from a very devout religious sect outside of Lillehammer that his childhood was sketchy, plus how he locked up when around his parents, but seeing the flashback of him being hit as a little boy.....Answers the obvious question of “did they beat him?”

Season one is the least eventful of the seasons. Season two is when shit begins changing drastically.

Season two Toki receives a call to inform him that his father has cancer and is on his death bed, the family and the church wants him to return to Norway to see his father. He acts completely fine about this initially, the phone conversation and the way he announces his father’s terminal illness to the band is as if somebody just asked to borrow his car. When it gets close to time to actually go and when they are in Norway it’s different though; he becomes anxious and clearly uncomfortable, in Norway he stays in town mostly, stalling around places he went to as a kid and a teenager before he ran off to America. 

He does handle his father’s dying well once he finally convinces himself to go inside his house and see him then follow through with his father’s dying request to carry him up to his old childhood home (which goes wrong because his friend’s are dicks.) 

I am not going to go into personal detail at all and my situation was nothing like Toki’s (it’s incredibly rare to hear situations like that anymore), but Toki handling his father’s passing freakishly well kind of was a red flag for me, because I know from my own experiences that when you find out something complicated like a terminal illness or the death of your abusive parent theres’ a chance you may respond way too calmly to it, and then later down the line days or months or years later something will trigger a big reaction to it. Which is what happens.

After handling his dad’s death well we get the most iconic scene involving Toki at that point and honestly still the most iconic; he beats a man to death with his bare hands. The thing that triggers this is a hallucinated image of a rabbit, an animal he associates both with his father and his childhood, the image of it triggers him to fly into an insanely feral blind rage taking it out on a guy who had been annoying him all night. Toki has always throughout the entire series shown signs of being a tad violent, but never THAT bad. Sure he shot down a plane and had accidentally caused a death or twenty (the whole band is, it’s part of the sacrifices to the Gods deal) but we had never seen him before or after that moment beat somebody to death. That is new and it came from a place of pent up....shit. Shit he never worked through and even after that continued to not work through.

Because after this we lead into him worsening further; he begins drinking. A lot. The band consist of dudes with addiction issues, mainly alcohol, but Toki never seemed to drink quite as much as them until after he went feral on that straight edge guy. 

Toki deals with his childhood trauma in several ways:

He drinks. A lot.

He focuses on fantasy and daydreams to keep himself from focusing on his past.

He spends a lot of time with Dr. Rockso who takes advantage of his kindness often, he also spends gross amounts of money bailing his clown buddy out of jail. Constantly.

He occasionally gets violent, but never to the point of manslaughter.

Seasons three and four are when we get fully introduced to Toki acting like a kid more than a guy in his 20s and it makes sense. Toki didn’t have a childhood; we learn that his parents essentially made him into a slave at a young age having him do pointless “chores” like sweeping snow during a storm, carrying stacks of wood much too heavy for a small child, etc. and when he failed to work quickly enough or failed a task they punished him. They punished him by locking him in a shed, they punished him by chaining him up like an animal, they punished him by smacking him, by beating him with a bull whip, and worst of all (who knew it could get worse) they would force him to stay for long periods of times in a deep hole dug into the ground. A hole where he hid a clown doll made of twigs and straw, the only friend he had as a little kid.

From all that we can gather through the show he didn’t exactly have a social life of any kind until his teens, the older he became the braver I think he became, and that was responded to with worse violence from his parents. I think the statement in season one about a vision of father killing son wasn’t totally off, I think if Toki had never run away from Norway that his father would have murdered him. I think his parents knew somehow that he isn’t entirely human, they knew he was something else, and I do think his parents had plans to kill him before he could become “too powerful”. 

That aside though.....Once we the audience as well as his friends find out far more details about his horrifying childhood Toki changes. A lot. He’d already been immature and a tad bit off but he regresses further after that, more prone to depression and outbursts, clinginess, and a need to feel like he’s loved by pretty much anybody.

This is a dude who is about my age that came to the horrid realization that any person or animal he loves will die because that’s his “gift”, the gift of death. He works his ass off to repress and rationalize a brutally nightmarish childhood, and the guys he’s in a band with who he loves and sees as his family....are dicks. We know that when he joined Dethklok before they got famous that they were all close, but when they began becoming popular and became immensely wealthy the others became more focused on self indulgence and power, less focused on this still a child who desperately just wanted a family.

I think a key factor with Toki being the way he is comes down to the band’s “no caring” rule. A rule that only existed because of Magnus. Toki is the baby in a group of people who have known each other for a good while, people who came to an agreement to not give a shit about each other for a reason they never explained to him because it’s too painful for them to think about. I think he always tried to live by that rule of not caring, he tried to bury all the shit wrong with himself the best that he could but he was never good at it. It’s also clear they all care about each other and they definitely care about Toki; Nathan and Skwisgaar often being the most protective of him. 

In season four aka the season where the show becomes less of a comedy and more of a drama with stunning animation. Toki is immensely more immature and awkward, he’s clingy with the band especially where Skwisgaar is regarded. Near the end of season four he’s completely fucked up; he splits his time between Rockso (his comfort object) and Magnus (a father figure to replace Nathan) in the dinner episode which has so much going on in it. So much. Toki is at his lowest point in the series; he shows up late, drunk as fucking hell, shirtless, and covered in bruises and cuts. Rockso is with him and when Charles tries to tell him Rockso shouldn’t be there Toki goes into a full fucking anxiety attack until Charles tells him it’s fine to have the clown there. Toki’s heavily dependent on Rockso by that point; his found family is quickly falling to shit. God knows what kind of shit Magnus might have been feeding him about the band at that point. 

Toki’s entire thing from day one/the pilot of the series is that he just wants a family. When he feels like he doesn’t belong in the one that he found and was taken in by he searches for family in other places, when he can’t handle the memories of his childhood he spirals hard. I understand that the guys didn’t really know how to handle it after they heard about Toki’s childhood so I can’t fault them completely for just.....shoving him off onto Rockso after that, but I still think they should have tried to be there for him more so, more directly. I think an outlet that isn’t a drug addled clown might have helped him in some way, I think if when he’d been a teenager if one of them had found out about his upbringing and just pointed out “that isn’t okay, at all.” then things might have panned out differently. 

Mental regression isn’t uncommon when it comes down to victims of trauma caused by extreme abuse. Especially considering his trauma all occurred basically from the get go; he was a child slave, the closest I would guess he ever got to having a childhood when he was a kid was seeing other kids childhoods. Going into town and seeing kids playing, sneaking into birthday parties just to be around other kids his age, etc. and he definitely was childish as a teenager, but I think he tried to bury that side of himself when his bandmates started teasing him or pointing out how unmetal it all is.....But then a douche bag journalist brought his parents to America, a little girl died, his abusive father died horribly (as he should) in front of him, he beat a man to death (allegedly), etc. 

He spent a lot of years away from all the trauma and the death and the bull shit then suddenly it started piling on top of him again and his escapism was fantasy, clinging onto a junkie clown, partaking in childish hobbies.....because why not? 

Each member of the band suffered some messed up shit when they were kids and it shows in different ways, this is Toki’s way of dealing with it....or not. I’m not entirely sure what his psychological state would be post Doomstar; the way he bounces back from immense trauma makes me think that he would be okay given some time and that’s a safe assumption to make, especially now that his bandmates/family will be there for him the way he needs them to be.

I want to tag @theidiotwiththepaintedface who hopefully will enjoy this painfully long deep dive into a character’s psychology lol.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #toki wartooth #character analysis #tw: child abuse

[streussal]

Okay, what the heck is Yellowjackets and do I need to watch it?

Yellowjackets is a drama/suspense/horror series that follows a group of women at two different points in their lives - as teenagers trapped in the wilderness, and as women in their fourties who never really dealt with the trauma of their experiences. It’s inspired by the 1972 Andes flight disaster as well as Lord of the Flies. The first season has 10 episodes (six have aired) and the series has been renewed for a second season. The show creators apparently have plans for 5 seasons. It’s got a Critic’s Choice nomination for best drama series, as well as a best actress nom for Melanie Lynskey.

1996: A high school girls soccer team becomes state champions and takes a plane to nationals - only for the plane to crash in the wilderness, where they end up stuck for the next 19 months. There is a flashforward to later in the isolation that shows at least a few of them have descended into cannibalism - and not just eating someone who died of exposure or starvation, there is at least one incident of actually hunting a girl down and eating her in what comes across as some sort of ritual. However, six episodes in and the series is nowhere near that point. They actually start off fairly functional, and develop decent survival skills. But the cracks are beginning to show, and the social hierarchy is shifting. (Some people say this is too slow moving; I personally would find it weird if they started hunting their friends down to eat right away. I like that things are taking their time to develop, and we see the complex relationship dynamics.)

2021: We follow four of the survivors twenty five years after the crash. The adult cast was a major draw for me - Melanie Lynskey, Tawny Cypress, Juliette Lewis, and Christina Ricci. The survivors have largely gone their separate ways and made an agreement to never say exactly what happened in those 19 months - instead dealing with trauma and barely repressed rage on their own. It was a famous case though, so journalists come around every few years, and the internet has a bunch of theories. But lately some of them have received vaguely threatening postcards from someone who knows something, and they don’t know if it’s from an old teammate or maybe someone talked…

While I’m definitely interested in what exactly ended up happening in the woods, the adult storyline is my favourite. Melanie Lynskey as a homemaker with barely suppressed rage! Tawny Cypress running for state senator while dealing with her troubled young son! Juliette Lewis who’s been in and out of rehab for the last two decades and keeps a shotgun in the trunk of her car! And then Christina Ricci as a cheerfully terrifying nurse who seems to regard the past with fondness instead of as a source of horrific trauma. (I'm also very impressed with how the adult and teen cast matches up - not all of them quite match looks wise, but from mannerisms, etc you can tell that the actresses clearly talked a lot behind the scenes.)

So yes, you do need to watch this show! It has everything! Messy relationships between teenage girls, messy relationships between middle aged ladies, female rage, long term trauma, political attack ads implying cannibalism, slow burn cannibalism, “is this girl precognitive or schizophrenic or both”, weird antler symbolism, girls kissing, women kissing, a girl that sleeps with her best friend’s boyfriend but it’s clearly nothing to do with him it’s all about her best friend, a teenage girl pulling a Misery on the cute assistant coach, Juliette Lewis greeting Christina Ricci with a shotgun and Christina Ricci cheerfully offering her a drink, Rekha Sharma asking questions while lying about who she is, angry 90s lady music!

#yellowjackets #queenofattolia #fandom pimping

[linkspooky]

HI! I love reading your metas! They're really insightful and they make me appreciate series I love a heck of a lot more. Especially JJK and MHA. Could you talk about what some of the characters cursed techniques may represent in the story, im super curious on what you could say on that.

Sure, but I’ll just do the main four characters for now because that’s easier. I’m also going to simplify the cursed techniques because that’s easier to show how they’re symbolic in story.  Gojo’s two main techniques are “the infinity” and “unlimited void”. They each serve as symbolism for the central flaws of his character. 

The infinity is something which makes it impossible for any techniques to reach Satoru. It makes him untouchable at all times.What is Satoru Gojo’s greatest difficult as a character? It’s getting closer to other people. 

Gojo has it in his head that the only person who can stand next to him is someone equally as strong as he is. Which is why he allowed Geto in for a long time, until Gojo became “the strongest” alone. In the year after that moment, Gojo and Geto grew further and further apart because Gojo was now strong enough to handle every mission on his own. When Geto just leaves, Gojo is shocked that he can’t reach him. Gojo is an untouchable person, and, someone unable to reach the person he truly cares about in time. He can’t touch Geto, at least not in a way that matters, not in a way that would save him. 

This is also something Kamo Sr. complains about later, specifically referring to this scene. For Gojo, other people will only ever be something that gets in his way, specifically because of his cursed technique.

Gojo’s second technique is the unlimited void. He specifically says this to Jogo when using it against him for the first time. 

Here’s thes skinny, the real irony here is he’s talking about himself. Gojo is someone capable of anything, and yet he’s incapable of affecting the world in the way he wants. He wants political reform,but the way to do that is to bow your head and play politics, the two things Gojo is terrible at. 

Gojo is someone who can do anything, and yet at the same time fails at everything he sets out to achieve. His great power doesn’t really enable him to do anything he wants, because he’s just one person like everybody else in the world. He could kill all the higher ups but that wouldn’t change things. Gojo is bad at politics so, when he fails in Shibuya, he’s the one who ends up exiled and blamed for letting himself get sealed by the elders who hold all the true power in the situation.

His domain is the perfect metaphor for his character, someone who simultaneously holds all the power and is ultimately powerless. 

These other ones are going to be a little bit quicker because we haven’t gotten as many details on their cursed techniques. There’s some serious foiling going on with Yuji and Megumi’s cursed techniques. Yuji and Megumi both revolve around the concept of the shadow. The shadow is the other self, or the repressed self. Both of these characters deal with a lot of themes of repression. 

It’s commented several times that Megumi has way more potential, having inherited what is most likely the most powerful technique in the Zenin arsenal in the ten shadows. However, at the same time he’s someone who ignores his own potential my repressing himself. 

Megumi is someone who continually represses himself by saying that there’s no way he could ever be as strong as Gojo. He pretends to be weaker than he really is. However, repressing himself is what makes his shadow grow even more powerful. 

Megumi and Yuji are both characters who are built around the idea of repressing themselves until they go nuts. They’re both embodying this jungian idea of the other self, the repressed shadow. They both, flip, for lack of a better term. 

Megumi is all silent brooding until he goes crazy with power. We don’t know what Yuji’s technique is, but not only does he show the same behavior, all smiles on the surface until he flips out into a violent rage. Yuji also specifically has two sides to himself. The other side is Sukuna, a violent murderer. We’re also shown gradually, over the course of the story, the two sides coming closer to one another. 

Both Megumi and Sukuna repress themselves, so their selves are split. Megumi has a shadow based technique, as a metaphor for his true potential being much, much more than he says it is. Sukuna being the flip side of Yuji, shows how Yuji divides himself betwee his “violent self” and his “friendly, nice guy” normal self that he uses mainly to interact with others. Megumi suppresses his potential, Yuji his violent side. 

Nobara’s main technique is using pins into a straw doll, to hurt others in the same area on their bodies. (Simplifying, for the sake of time). Rsonance inflicts pain on another person using an effigy, like a hair, or blood, connected to an avatar like the straw doll, or even in some cases her own body like in Origin of Obedience. 

It’s actually a pretty common place way to curse others in japan, like you could buy a doll, tie someone’s hair to it, and then stick pins in it. It’s like ouji boards are for us, it’s like a curse that’s in the common popular knowledge. A teen girl might try to curse someone if their boyfriend cheats on them. It’s like how people in america can have witchcraft phases when they’re teenagers (not talking about like, actual practicing wiccans and whatnot). There’s also a commonly used phrase in japan, “When you’re cursing someone prepare to dig two graves.” It means, that in the decision to curse someone else, the curse might rebound and affect yourself too. Like, how revenge won’t just hurt the person you want to avenge yourself on, you might end up hurting somebody else, or even yourself in the process. 

Not only does Nobara physically experience this once, she curses herself using resonance in order to harm somebody else by using her body as the straw doll proxy. Nobara’s central character trait is her complete lack of sympathy for other people. 

If you try to get Nobara to sympathize, her usual response is “I don’t care.” Nobara being low empathy doesn’t mean she’s a good or bad person, it’s just a facet of who she is. However, she is a very self righteous person. Which factors into her cursed technique, she’s the kind of person who could curse, inflict pain on another, without thinking about how it might rebound and affect her or someone else. Which is exactly what the straw doll proxy does, it inflicts pain, one nail at a time. Nobara doesn’t like it when good people get hurt, same as Yuji, same as Megumi, but when she sees herself in the right she has no problem at all punishing what she calls a “bad” person. 

#Anonymous #jjk meta #metasks #jujutsu kaisen meta #cursed techniques #cursed technique #nobara kugisaki #satoru gojo #itadori yuji #megumi fushigoro

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #frank castle x karen page #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #love me some soap opera style drama #and frankly so does marvel #and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this #probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

[2manyfandoms2count]

Heartbeats

The famous “I-swear-it-gets-fluffier-it’s-just-this-first-part-that’s-a-little-angsty” one shot... Inspired by my brief ICU work experience and a reddit thread I read last week. Hope you guys enjoy! And special thanks @sd1970x for beta reading! 

---

Beep - Beep - Beep - Beep -

The sound of the heart rate monitor in the dark hospital room was driving Adrien crazy. It just seemed so slow, especially compared to the restless beat his foot was tapping on the ground as he waited. 

“Hey.” Alya layed a soothing hand on his jittery leg. “She’s going to be okay.”

Adrien raked a hand through his hair and looked at the resting body in the hospital bed. Alya couldn’t really understand. Sure, her best friend lay there, having been caught in the middle of an Akuma fight. But she didn’t know how.

She didn’t know it was the saviour of Paris they were watching breathe, making the sheets quietly rise and fall as she did so. His best friend, too. The girl of his dreams. He himself hadn’t known until the car had hit the chimney behind which Ladybug had retreated to feed Tikki while Chat held down the fort, their opponent having escaped their first Lucky Charm plan. 

He’d rushed to it and frantically dug out the rubble; he’d barely registered it was Marinette he was holding in his arms as he carefully extruded her from the pile of bricks. All he’d seen was the red blood that drenched her pink shirt. All he’d felt was the weakening pulse at her wrist. 

He’d dashed her to the hospital, ignoring the Akuma yelling after him to come back and fight.

She’d been rushed to the operating room as soon as they’d arrived, the doctors being afraid that she might sustain internal damage from her apparently broken ribs. Chat had just had time to snatch her earrings to avoid them getting lost. 

He’d then proceeded to kick the Akuma’s ass, fueled by the rage of it having injured his Lady. It was only after he’d purified the butterfly and everything had seemingly returned to normal that he’d realised he’d been crying. 

As he detransformed, two very concerned Kwamis floating in front of him, he’d been relieved to see a message from Alya in the class group chat saying Marinette was in stable condition, although still unconscious after her operation. He’d immediately volunteered to join her and Nino to visit their friend.

He stole another look at her. She looked so peaceful. Unhurt.

He knew the bulk of her injuries were concealed under the linen, though.

The monitor continued its incessant beeping. Adrien knew that it going silent would not be a good sign, but couldn’t help but be irritated by it nonetheless. Especially when the sound was superimposed with that in other rooms, as well as the bustling activity of the resuscitation ward.

“You’d think that with all this noise she’d be awake by now.” He mumbled. 

“Dude, relax. The doctors said she’s still sedated. She’ll wake up soon.” Nino wrapped an arm around his best friend’s shoulder. Adrien harrumphed doubtfully in reply.

“I’m more surprised that we haven’t seen Chat Noir around yet.” Nino added. “Apparently he’s the one who brought her in. He’s a cool dude.”

Alya nodded. “He really is.” Adrien’s heart warmed a little at his friends’ kind words. Then had to refrain from letting out an ironic snort at Alya’s next comment. “I still don’t understand what Marinette was doing there. It’s not like her to roam around fight scenes. It’s usually my job.”

“Your birthday’s coming up, babe, maybe she was trying to get a surprise message from Ladybug.” Nino shrugged.

As the pair bickered about how little or how much it was in character for Marinette to have been caught in the middle of offensive fire, Adrien got up to avoid betraying anything from his facial expression. He wasn’t sure Marinette would appreciate it if she woke up and found that all her friends knew that she actually didn’t need to stalk around Paris to get an autograph, or anything from Ladybug. She just had to say three little words to summon her. 

He approached the monitor screen, taking a look at his friend’s constants. He didn’t know much about medicine, but none of the numbers were flashing, which he assumed was a good sign. The electrocardiogram traced a regular curve that looked like the ones in medical shows. He took a mental note of the values. 

There was a small knock at the door before a nurse came into the room. “Marinette’s parents have returned, I’m sorry but she can’t have more than three visitors at a time and family has priority.” She said almost timidly. 

“Of course!” Alya replied with a smile. “We’ll be off.”

Adrien’s eyes stayed glued on the monitor, so she went around the bed and took him by the hand to gently drag him out of the room. She repressed a smile. For someone who claimed Marinette was ‘just a friend’, Adrien really seemed worried about her.

Tom and Sabine were waiting in the hallway. Tom looked the most shaken Adrien had ever seen him. He could tell he’d been crying.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Sabine said with a brave smile. “Sorry we had to go, but we hadn’t closed the bakery properly in the rush to get here.”

“Anything for Marinette.” Alya hugged her friend’s mother. “You’ll keep us updated? And don’t hesitate to call me if you need a bit of a breather, I’m sure we’re all happy taking turns to keep her company.” She didn’t have to turn around to know the two boys behind her were nodding.

“Of course.”

The three teenagers waved goodbye as they walked towards the exit. When the parents had entered the room, Adrien put his hands in his pockets and felt the two little studs he’d borrowed. 

“I forgot something in the room, I’ll be right back!” He said hurriedly as he turned around. He would’ve kept them safe for her, but he knew his Lady would probably panic if she woke up and couldn’t find them.

Nino looked at each other confusedly and shrugged.

When he was sure no one was in sight, he transformed into Chat Noir. It wasn’t the most discreet he’d ever been, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse as to why Adrien would have Marinette’s earrings. He knocked on the door before opening it. Tom and Sabine were sitting on each side of the bed, each holding one of Marinette’s hands. 

“Hi, Chat Noir.” Sabine said, wiping a tear.

Tom got up and engulfed him in a bear hug. “Thank you.”

Chat Noir awkwardly patted him on the back. “Anything for Marinette.” He parroted Alya. Including die for her. The thought scared him. “How is she?” He asked even though he knew the answer as he stepped away from the big man.

“She’ll be okay.” Sabine said. “The doctors repaired what they could, the rest will heal naturally. She’s going to be in a lot of pain, which is why they’re keeping her here, but they started weaning the sedatives so she can call the nurses if it hurts.”

Chat nodded. “I’m sure we’ll all be relieved when she wakes up.”

���Would there be any way for us to reach you to give you news?” Sabine asked hopefully.

“As much as I’d like to give you my contact details, I’m not sure it would be a good idea.” He smiled sadly. “But don’t worry, I’ll be around.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Anyway, I don’t want to bother you during your family time, I just wanted to make sure Marinette got these back.” He delicately transferred the earrings into Sabine’s hand. 

“Her lucky earrings.” She commented with a smile. “Thank you.”

“They weren’t so lucky this time.” He said gloomily.

“Of course they were! You found her.” Sabine squeezed Chat’s hand. “And the surgery went well.”

“We’re very grateful, son.” Tom patted him on the back.

Chat was moved by their words, which made his heart flutter in his chest. “I was only doing my duty.” 

“But you made a difference. And that matters.” 

Chat Noir wished that his father could sometimes be at least quarter as supportive as Tom and Sabine were. It would avoid him crying in instances like this.

“Will you tell her I came by?” He sniffled.

“Of course!” Sabine dug a tissue out of her bag, which he accepted gratefully, and a pen and paper. “You can write her a message too if you want, she’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

“Thank you.” 

He scribbled a quick word on the page, aware that he really needed to head back before Nino and Alya started worrying about his prolonged absence. 

Get well soon Purr-incess. I’ll be waiting for you. Love, Chat Noir P.S.: I might come back and borrow those earrings of yours again if I need extra luck.

“You took your time!” Alya greeted him with her hands on her hips as he finally walked out of the hospital.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nino asked, noticing the puffiness of his friend’s eyes, but not wanting to comment on it directly. 

“I think so.” Adrien smiled bravely. My Lady, at least. 

Read more on AO3

#again i promise it gets fluffier #they're all happy in the end #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #adrinette #adrienette #half reveal #lovesquare #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #the real mvps #tw: major character injury #it's not graphic though #love confessions #ml #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #elle writes

[blacknight1230]

The Past Catches Up With You

OUAT Peter Pan Imagine

Prompt: “I know what I have to do. But going back means I’ll have to face my past. I’ve been running from it for so long” & “Once you’re grown up, you can never come back.” 

The sound if arrows flying through the air then hitting their target and the clashing of swords filled the area. “Nice one, Devin. Now try letting go of the arrow when you breath out,” you instructed one of the Lost Boys. Devin wordlessly nodded and did what you told him, his arrow hitting the target dummy straight in the head. “Excellent work. Rufio, don’t do such fancy moves. It’s about hitting the target in the weak points, not showing off,” you commanded. “Whatever you say, mom,” Rufio sassed, ignoring your helpful tips. You narrowed your eyes at him and strode up to him, quickly knocking him off his feet with a few well placed punches and kicks. “And this is why Pan ordered me to train you boys. You guys are good fighters, but he wants the best, so you either listen to what I say or you’ll end up worse than this,” you scolded the dazed teen. You walked away, towards Pan’s second-in-command, and one of your best friends, Felix. 

“Nice way to show them who’s boss, (y/n),” Felix complemented as he sharpened his sword. “Thanks, Felix. These boys have sure have authority problems when it comes to someone other than Pan giving them orders,” you said, sitting next to Felix on a log. “They listen to me, though,” Felix pointed out. “True. I have theory that they don’t respect me as much cause I’m the only girl here. And I happen to be one of Pan’s most trustworthy,” you told the scar-faced teen. “It’s possible. The boys aren’t too keen on newcomers. You being a girl doesn’t make matters better.” You rolled your eyes; you’ve been here for a couple of years, but time on Neverland was different than everywhere else. “I’ve earned this position despite being a girl. They should know that Pan doesn’t just trust me without a proper reason,” you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Speak of the devil,” Felix said, motioning his head towards a figure appearing from the green foliage. 

Peter Pan stood to the side of the training ground, eyes intensely watching the boys as they practiced archery, swording fighting, and sparring. Authority and dark magical power radiated from his figure, his green eyes glowing as they seemingly stared into the very existence of his Lost Boys. He was expressionless as he mentally noted what the boys were doing wrong and right. The sight before you made you feel warm, but you tried not to show how the piper affected you. Said boy locked eyes with you, a smirk breaking out onto his lips as he strode over to you. “Tired, love. Are the boys too much for you to handle?” he teased, raising one magnificently sculpted eyebrow. “More like they can’t handle me. Rufio over there is still bandaging his hurt pride when I knocked him to the ground for back talking,” you chuckled, eyeing said boy. He was grumpily pouting on a wooden log across from where you were. Peter found this rather amusing, a sly smirk on his face. “His loss, love. Come, I think the boys had enough training for today,” he said, getting up from the log. He whistled loudly, getting all the, boys attention and told them, “Alright, boys training’s over! Get back to camp if you want your fill of dinner before its gone!” 

A stampede of hungry, teenage boys rushed towards the main camp, dirt and dust flying as they did so. You camly got up and followed the horde of Lost Boys, used to their frenzied antics. Peter walked alongside you, as you took your time walking the path back to the main camp. “I’m still surprised you can put up with our rowdiness. Being a princess and all, I’d expect you complain endlessly about how ‘wild’ we are,” Peter said as you traveled through the jungle of Neverland. “Hey, I was a rebel princess. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t even be here,” you defended yourself, punching the King of Neverland playfully, but hard, in the arm. Pan allowed you to hit him, as you knew he could easily stop you, and playfully cried out in pain. 

Before you were the first Lost Girl on Neverland, you were a princess, although not first in line to inherit your kingdom. Unlike the other inhabitants of Neverland, you were not from the Enchanted Forest or the Land Without Magic. You were a princess from another dimension, and you hated your royal roots. You hated the stuffy dresses, the countless rules, the strict and stone faced members of the royal house ... hell, you couldn’t even talk to or hang out with anyone that wasn’t humanoid or a royal non-humanoid from an allied kingdom. Like the monsters that were repressed by your people. It was suffocating and you didn’t conform to your families strict ideals. 

As such, your family finally had enough of your “rebelliousness” and decided to send you off to an institution know for “correcting” wayward princesses. You, in turn, had enough of royalty and fled your home without a word, seeking out the freedom you dearly longed for. Eventually, you found your way to Neverland, encountering Pan and his Lost Boys, who met your arrival with them encircling you with weapons drawn, aimed to kill. The only reason you were still alive today was that you were able to hear Pan’s flute, meaning you were lost, and therefore part of the Lost Boys. It took awhile for everyone to trust you, especially Pan, but it happened and you were never felt more like you were home. 

Back to the present, you and Peter finally reached the main camp, a raging bonfire going on in the middle of the layout of tents and huts. The boys were either chowing down or were dancing to the beat of the drums. Peter left you to go include himself in the boys merry making as you grabbed a bite to eat. Grabbing a slice of meat from the day’s hunt, you silently greeted a few of the boys with a raise of your cup. The younger boys dragged you to sit with them, happily chatting away as they told you about their day. 

Soon you were done with your meal and the music called to you. Like you were under a spell, you jumped into the frey of wildly dancing bodies, letting the music guide your movements. You danced freely with your fellow lost brothers, your mind focusing on the sound of the pan flute and the drums. As you danced around the fire, you saw Peter staring intensely at you with his green eyes, the light of the bonfire casting shadows across his face, intensifying the strikingness of his attractive features. You couldn’t help but keep his gaze as you danced, enjoying the way he was looking at you with such intensity, an undistinguishable emotion flowing in his eyes. 

Unfortunately, the party was interrupted by a loud sound and a bright light. Everyone stopped in the middle of what they were doing, staring at a hole ripped into the fabric of space and time right near the center of the campgrounds. The portal seemed to shine brighter as two figures appeared from the other side of it. As they stepped through, the portal closed behind them, allowing you to see their features now that the unnatural brightness was gone. One of the figures was a teenage boy, characterized with tan skin, dark brown hair, and a mole on his right cheek. He was wearing red hoodie over a light grey shirt, dark grey skinny jeans, and olive/white sneakers on his slender build. His brown eyes eyed the Lost Boys nervously, his hand twitching over the hilt of the sword in his sheath. The other figure was a teenage girl with long blonde hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin. On her head, she wore a magenta headband with devil horns, paired with a green and mint collared short sleeved dress, pink and purple striped leggings, white boots with pink tips and a star on each heel, along with a black spider necklace. But the most astonishing part about the girl was the pink heart shaped marks she had on her cheeks. 

Peter and the Lost Boys immediately surrounded the two newcomers, weapons pointed at them. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my island?” Peter growled. The boy immediately pulled out his sword and took a defensive stance. The girl on the other hand, raised her hands up and yelled, “Stop! We’re not here to hurt anyone! We’re just looking for someone!” Peter dismissed her claim, saying, “Whoever you are looking for is not here! Now leave before my boys and I make you wish you never stepped foot here!” The boy raised their weapons, slowly drawing closer to the new girl and boy. The girl now raised her up hands up and took a defensive stance, her hands glowing purple with magic. 

Before any violence could come to a head, you shouted a command out to the Lost Boys and Peter, breaking the tense air. “Everyone put your weapons down!” you shouted, voice strong and dominating. The Lost Boys, confused by the order, slightly lowered their weapons and allowed you to walk through the crowd of them to the new visitors. As you showed yourself to the newcomers, the blonde haired girl’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. “ (Y/n)?” the girl said. “Star,” you said breathlessly, unable to bite back the smile that made its way to your face. Star’s hands stopped glowing and she tackled you ina hug, which you gladly returned. “Um, what’s going on?” the hoodie wearing boy asked, completely clueless. “Marco, this is my cousin I told you about? I’m pretty sure I told you about my favorite family member,” Star explained, looking at her friend while still holding on you. 

“Oh, isn’t this precious,” Pan sneered, interrupting the moment. “A family reunion. How wonderful that they’ve come to visit.” You decided to ignore Peter and his terrible attitude, continuing to talk to your four-years younger cousin. “How did you find me, Star? Neverland isn’t on any map and can’t be visited through ordinary means,” you asked. “I was able to use your old tiara to finding out what dimension you were in! Pretty cool right,” Star bragged a giant smile on her face. Before you could say another word, Peter got in between the two of you, creating a distance of a few feet. “Peter!” you exclaimed angrily. “What the hell?” “I don’t care that you’re her family. I want you off my island. (y/n) has already told me about the way you treated her and I don’t want someone like you here because of it,” he coldly told Star. “Hey, man, back off!” Star’s friend, Marco, yelled stepping in front of Star protectively. The Lost Boys didn’t like this, murder in their eyes as they crowded around you four, fingers itching to use their weapons. “Everyone stop! I don’t want any fighting!” you shouted, dreading for any blows coming to a head. The Lost Boys slightly calmed down, but they were still tense. 

“Peter, Star was the only one in my family that I could be myself around. I see I rubbed off on you a bit,” you said. “You guys keep talking about our family as if they were abusive, keeping you locked up and so on,” Star pointed out. “I forget you were too young to understand at the time. Grandma Etheria and the rest of the Butterfly family constantly looked down at me, finding fault in everything I did. I didn’t dress right, talk right, sit right, walk right ... and they let me know. It practically destroyed my self-esteem. And to make matter worse, Grandma Etheria decided to send me to St. Olga’s,” you explained to your younger cousin. “Oh no, not St. O’s!” Star exclaimed in horror. “Please don’t tell me they tried to turn you into a mindless ‘perfect’ princess!” As she said this, she grabbed your forearms and shook you a bit. “Calm down, Star, I didn’t go to St. O’s. I left home before I was forcibly shipped off. I had a pair of dimension scissors and used them to hop from dimension to dimension until I eventually found my way here,” you continued, smiling when you reminisced about finding Neverland, your true home. 

“I’m happy you found a place you could finally be yourself. If I wasn’t so desperate for your help, I wouldn’t even ask you this,” Star said. This worried you; what did she want you to do? Star quickly answered your question before you voiced it, saying, “I need you to come back to Mewni with me.” “What?!” you shouted, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I’m sorry, but I really need your help! My mom has disappeared and I can’t find her, the Butterfly castle and kingdom are destroyed by Eclipsa’s half-monster daughter and she escaped her crystal! I can’t do this on my own and everything is in disarray!” Star cried. 

All this new information shocked you, making you stand there in silence. Peter decided to step in, angrily setting in Star’s face. “You might be royalty, but I’m the king here. I say who steps foot on and leaves my island. This includes (y/n). Since she’s lost, that means she belongs here and with me. Shfe’s mine, and she’s not going anywhere off this island,” he threatened. Star stood her ground, staring into his harsh green eyes that seemed to glow with dark power. “Then you don’t know (y/n), because she hates other people making choices for her.” She turned towards you and continues, saying, “(y/n), I’m sorry for our family treating you so terribly and I understand your reason for running away. But I still care for you and so does my mother, both of us missing you terribly when you left. If you still love us as much as we love you, I beg you to help me. I need you, my mom needs you, Mewni needs you!” 

(y/n) could only stand there in silence, which Peter mistook for her not wanting to return to her home, while in reality she was pondering over her beloved cousin’s words. “Get off my island. I never want to see your faces again,” he threatened, before whistling loudly, causing the Lost Boys to snap into a a violent, wild frenzy. The area was quickly filled with the sounds of weapons clashing, cries of pain, and angry shouts as Star and Marco fought the Lost Boys. Luckily, Star and Marco were successfully able to defend themselves, despite being greatly outnumbered. Star’s voice filled the air as she shouted spells and Marco yelled as he used karate moves/defended himself with his sword. You tried yelling at both sides to stop fighting, but neither side listened to you, either not hearing you over all the noise or not caring enough to listen to you. This made you angry, so angry you used your magic to cast a powerful spell to end the violence. 

Unlike Star, you didn't need to verbally say a spell to use your magic, simply sending out a wave of bluish-white magic to emit from your magically glowing figure. As the wave of magic hit the Lost Boys, Peter, Star, and Marco, they were enveloped into a quartz of crystal, frozen in place. You sighed as you stood past the crystal prisons of your fellow Lost Boys, stopping at Peter’s crystal, staring at his evil smirk on his face and the magic accumulated in his hands. “You just couldn’t wait and let me think for a moment could you, “ you said sadly. You used your magic to reverse the spell, and on Star and Marco as well. The three teens fell to the ground, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry, guys. This was the only way to get you to stop fighting and listen to me,” you apologized, helping Star up first. “Was that the Crystal Imprisonment Spell that Rhombulas uses? Where did you learn it?” Star asked, amazed that you could do such advanced magic. “Glossaryck used to give me private lessons. He said that I needed to learn magic, too, in case something happens. But he wasn’t specific on what that was,” (y/n) explained. “That sounds like Glossaryck.” 

You turned towards Peter as he growled, getting up from the ground and his green eyes trained on you. “You little ... How dare you use your magic on me!” he yelled, “Release the Lost Boys right now (y/n)!” “You left me no choice, Peter. You all were attacking my family and I couldn’t just stay by,” you said sternly, brows furrowed as you scolded him. “How can you defend them? They’re the main reason why you are on Neverland in the first place! Or haven’t you forgot that?” Pan seethed. “I haven’t forgotten what they did to me, Pan. But this just isn’t about my family anymore. My homeland is in danger and you’re wrong to think I’ll just sit around and watch shit hit the fan!” you yelled, turning around to walk away, thinking that was the end of it. But it wasn’t and Pan wanted to let you know it. “Oh really? Well, know this, princess, you’ll eventually be disappointed as nothing is going to change. You’ll still be the miserable, insecure, little girl you were when you came here, scrutinized by your family and your people,” Peter threatened, teeth clenched and pure hatred seeping from his pores. 

You stopped, back still facing Peter. Said boy smirked, thinking he won this argument. But what you said surprised the male, saying, without looking at him, “I know what I have to do now, Peter. I know going back means I’ll have to face my past. I’ve been running from it for so long but I have to face it sooner or later. And I choose now.” Pan stood there shocked, mouth open a bit as he contemplated your words, and watched as Marco effortlessly opened a portal to another dimension with a pair of scissors, then entered the hole in the fabric of time and space while mumbling about ‘nachos,’ whatever that was. Star on the other hand, nervously looked behind her at Peter, seemingly contemplating if taking (y/n) away from her current home was a good thing, before regretfully entering the swirling portal. 

Before the (h/c) haired girl followed the two, she turned her head to the side, looking at so called King of Neverland. “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can, Peter, to my home, the Lost Boys, and you,” she said, so much raw emotion held in her eyes. But Peter didn’t care, only focussing on the frustration that took over his heart and mind. “I forbid you from leaving, (y/n)! When you leave this island, you’ll eventually grow up, and once you’re grown up, you can never come back!” he shouted angrily. (Y/n) physically flinched and quickly turned her head back towards the portal, trying not to show the tears in the corners of her eyes. “Goodbye, Peter. Until we meet again.” And with those words, she stepped through the portal and left Neverland, seemingly forever. 

As the portal closed behind her, (y/n)’s magic seemed to leave with her, as the crystals imprisoning the Lost Boys started to melt, freeing them from their containment. Felix was the first to get his bearings, stroding over to Peter and placing a hand on his shoulder, said King of Neverland not tearing his eyes away from the spot in which (y/n) walked into the portal. “Pan, what happened? Where’s (y/n) and the other two?” Felix asked his fearless leader, a scowl on his scarred face. “She’s gone, Felix. She left Neverland,” Peter told his second-in-command emotionlessly. 

Before the taller male could question him some more, the green-clad boy turned and walked away from the center of the campgrounds, towards his own private tent. Felix knew he was taking the Lost Girl’s departure harder than he let on. But he gave his trustful leader some space, allowing Peter to let his emotions loose in private. “(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing,” Felix said quietly to himself, before moving to help his fellow Lost Boys recover from the recent events.

~ Time Skip ~

“Again! I expect you to redo everything until you lot get this right! I have no excuse for weak, boys in my army of Lost Boys!” Peter seethed. It was several months, possibly a year, since (y/n) left Peter and Neverland. At first, Peter was angry, at (y/n) and her cousin, for leaving Neverland. Then, he was angry at himself for letting the Lost Girl leave, thinking he should have done everything he could from letting the girl leave. Eventually, Peter’s anger faded away and was replaced with a longing to see his favorite girl again. It was only until (y/n) left did Peter realize he felt something for the rebel princess, seeing her more as just another inhabitant of Neverland and a pawn in his games. And when he realized this non-platonic feelings, he regretted being so heartless to (y/n) before she left, hating himself for letting that be the last thing he ever said to the (h/c) haired girl. 

Since (y/n) left Neverland, Peter changed, unfortunately for the worse. He was harsher and more cruel towards his Lost Boys and those that had the misfortune of being his enemy. All Pan cared for now was power, stopping at nothing to increase his magical strength by achieving immortality, regardless of the lives he had to take. And that meant he was setting in motion the events that would lead to taking the heart of the Truest Believer from a young boy to remain young forever. 

Hence, the current intense training session the Lost Boys were doing, as Pan need them to be prepared for everything and anything, failure not being an option. “Who knew (y/n) leaving effect Pan this much? He’s been running us into the ground during training even since the girl left him,” Rufio mumbled to a couple of other Lost Boys. Pan heard this, and he did not like it. “What was that Rufio?” he snarled and turned towards the wise-cracking Lost Boy. Rufio’s face paled in fear as Pan strode towards him, his friends that once surrounded him nowhere to be seen, as they fled from Pan’s wrath. 

The poor Lost Boy stood quaking in his boots as the King of Neverland stood in front of him, the slightly shorter leader wrapping a hand around Rufio’s throat, crushing his windpipe and preventing any air from reaching his lungs. Rufio gasped from breath as the other Lost Boys stood there in fear induced silence, unable to do anything but watch. “You’ve been mouthing off too much for my tastes. Looks like I’m going to have to put a stop to it permanently,” Peter growled. He shoved his hand into his chest, fingers wrapping around the boys heart. “Please, no...” Rufio pleaded. 

Pan was just about to rip the boys heart out of his chest and then crush it to dust, when a loud noise and bright light shook the camp site. Everyone turned their heads to the sky, where a giant multicolored portal hung just below the treetops. Something or someone, came out of it, falling to the ground, and the portal closed violently with a loud bang. Peter and the Lost Boys were unable to do anything, as the figure got up from the ground and their features finally revealed by the light of the fire. (H/c) locks framed a (face shape) face, (e/c) eyes looking over everything as a bright smile broke out on the female’s (thin/plump) lips. 

Felix was the first to break the silence, calling out the name of the person. “(y/n)? Is that really you?” the second-in-command asked, shocked that the girl had finally returned to Neverland. “Yeah, it's me,” the former Lost Girl replied a smile on her face. Felix immediately caught the girl in a hug, picking up the (much/slightly) shorter girl in his excitement. It seemed the spell was broken, as the Lost Boys immediately started moving towards the former Lost Girl, chatter filling the silence. 

“Welcome back, (y/n),” Felix said to the girl, after he pulled away from her. “It’s great to be back,” (y/n) replied, her face so full of light and joy. Her (e/c) eyes caught Peter’s, causing the girl to stare straight into the piper’s eyes. He was stunned; here she was, the girl Peter has been obsessing over ever since she left, popping out of the blue, acting as if she never left in the first place. Their longing glaze was broken by a younger Lost Boy tugging on (y/n)’s hand, her attention turning towards the little one. “(Y/n), will you be staying here? Please don’t leave us again,” he said, his voice honey sweet and blue eyes looking at the (h/c) girl with pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, Jack,” (y/n) said, lowing herself so she could be eye level with the young boy. “I won’t be leave you.” 

She rose to her full height and announced with a loud voice, “In fact, I will never have to leave Neverland again. From this moment forward, this island will be my forever home!” The campsite erupted in cheers and howls, all the Lost Boys loudly showing their approval. “If that’s the case then, let’s celebrate! To our one and only Lost Girl!” Felix cheered. As if it wasn’t already possible, the boys got even louder, happily cheering at the chance to party. Peter could only stare on wordlessly, as (y/n) was swept away by several Lost Boys, losing his sight on the magnificent girl. 

~ Time Skip ~

The Lost Boys howled in delight as the drums were banged and the fire in the center of the campsite crackled. Peter watched from the side lines as they danced wildly. But his gaze was focused on one very special dancer. His green eyes followed (y/n), watching every move of her limbs and bend of her body as she danced without a care in the world. She was one with the music as she her body followed the rhythm of the drums. Peter’s eyes caught (y/n)’s (e/c) ones, everything around him seeming to slow down as did so. 

He immediately tore his gaze away from her, pretending to be watching Felix wrestle some unfortunate soul into the dirt ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw (y/n) stop her lively dancing and steadily make his way towards him. Peter felt his breath get caught in his chest as she came closer, but was able to calm himself down before (y/n) got close enough to notice the effect she had on him. 

“Enjoying the party?” she asked him, leaning against the bark of a tree next to him. “Of course. I enjoy seeing my boys let loose for once. The drinks help a bit, too,” he replied, gesturing towards the wooded cup in his hand. (Y/n) gazed out at rowdy group of wild teenage boys in front of her, a closed-mouth smile on her face. “I missed this. The freedom, how carefree everything is, not having any responsibilities,” she admitted. “You missed all of this? Even Rufio’s attitude?” he asked, surprised. 

(Y/n) let out a short laugh, music to Peter’s ears. “Is it so surprising I missed my home. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t long to come back here and just let loose,” (y/n) continued, (e/c) eyes glowing in the firelight as she stared out at the wild party goers. It was silent for a little bit, a hint of awkwardness in the air. “So, um, what exactly happened back on Meowy?” Peter spoke up, desperately trying to break the silence. “Mewni. And so much happened. Everything has changed. And I couldn’t be happier,” (y/n) explained, a smile on her face as she reminisced. “Tell me about it. I’ve never heard of it before.” 

“Well, I won’t go into the long and detailed history, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear about that. But I will tell you that Mewni is now unified between its people and the kingdom is in the hands of its true queen,” (y/n) explained as shortly as she could. “Well, that’s good,” Peter replies. A pregnant pause filled the air, until Peter thankfully broke it. “Is what you said before actually true?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “What?” you question, thinking you misheard him. “You said would never leave Neverland again? Was that true? Or was that just something you said that was in spur of the moment?” Peter continued. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t believe what she was true. Why would she want to stay here and be with me? he thought. Especially after how I treated her the last time I saw her. “Peter,” (y/n) said softly. “I was serious when I said that. Nothing will make me leave Neverland and you guys again.”

Peter felt his heart stop for moment, in disbelief at what she just told him. (Y/n) turned her kind gaze away from looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “Besides, it’s not like I can return home anyway,” she said softly. “Wait, what?” Peter thought he heard wrong. “It’s no big deal. You already know I never saw Mewni as my home. Neverland is my home. When the chance came for me to spend forever in my homeworld or spend forever here, I made my choice,” she explained nonchalantly. Peter could only open his mouth wide in shocked silence. He never thought she would such a thing. Give up her family and everything she known just to be with for him and the Lost Boys. It was almost insane. 

“You really did all of that? Even after what I said to you before you left?” Peter gaped. “I’m sorry ... for what I said by the way. I wasn’t thinking straight and -” “Wow, the Peter Pan apologizing. To little old me,” (y/n) teased a goofy smile on her face. “Don’t make fun of me. You know I’m don’t ever apologize ” Peter pouted. (y/n) giggled, forcing a hidden smile to make its way to Peter’s lips. “I missed you, you know. Can you believe that?” Peter admitted, trying to hide his warming cheeks. (y/n) was astonished at his confession.“You really missed me? I thought you would have forgotten about me.” “I would never. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you,” Peter continued, gently taking the girl’s hands into his. (Y/n) looked down their combined hands, cheeks red at the feeling of Peter’s warm hands. “I did, too. The thought of Neverland and you kept me going. You were my reason to keep fighting, so one day I would be able to return to you.” 

Peter gently placed his fingertips under her chin, directing her downcast eyes to look at him. “(Y/n) ...” he trailed off. He didn't know what he was going to say, his eyes flicking to her luscious soft lips. Peter couldn’t help but subconsciously darted his tongue out to wet his own, longing to meet them with hers. His hand trailed to cup her cheek, enjoying the site of her reddening skin under his rough fingertips. (Y/n)’s luminous (e/c) orbs nervously flew to look back at him, her breathing hitching in her throat. He watched her for a moment, looking for any indication that she was uncomfortable. But there was none, so Peter slowly inched closer, stopping until there was little more than an inch between them. He heart stopped as (y/n) closed the distance between them, the organ soaring at the feeling of her luscious lips on his own. Peter felt her wrap her hands around his neck loosely, his other hand moving to grip tightly to (y/n)’s hip. He could taste the Neverberries from the juice she had before, along with a specific taste he couldn’t quite identify. But he couldn't get enough it, shown by him adding more pressure into the kiss. (Y/n) reacted positively, fingers gripping onto the hairs at the base of his neck, a little mewl coming from her lips as she relaxed into his hold. Peter was just about to kick it up a notch when they were rudely interrupted. 

“Hey, lovebirds! Get a tent will ya?” Felix shouted from across the campfire, hands cupped over his mouth and announcing the scene to everyone. (Y/n) was the first to pull away, face red as the Lost Boys howling once they noticed what their leader and Lost Girl were doing. “Shut up all of you!” Peter hollered at the boys. He was just about to teach them all a lesson when he felt (y/n) lean her head onto his chest. He looked down she was hiding her face in his shirt in embarrassment, the sight causing his heart pang in pity. “Peter, let’s go somewhere else. Please,” (y/n) quietly pleaded. “Alright, dear. Let’s head back to my tent. I still want to be with my favorite Lost Girl,” he whispered in her ear, placing a kiss on her forehead. Peter wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist and gently led her away from the center of camp. The Lost Boys started cheer and make lewd comments, which Peter when stopped at the entrance of his private abode, (y/n) continuing on inside without him. “Not another word from any you, or else I’ll be locking you in the cages for a week!” he threatened, glaring at them with darkness in his eyes. The boys shut up, knowing their leader was serious as they avoided eye contact. “Felix, knock up into shape if anything happens.” The second-in-command smirked, giving Peter a quick wink. The green-clad boy ignored it, heading inside and back to the beautiful girl waiting for him. (y/n) was laying on his fur-covered bed, patiently waiting for him. Peter sighed and crawled next to her, pulling her into arms once he was comfortable. He snuggled into neck, placing soft kisses onto her exposed neck. “Stay with, darling. I want you in my arms tonight,” Peter pleaded, already feeling his eyes close in bliss. “With you. Always.” 

#ouat imagine #ouat #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #ouat peter pan #ouat peter imagine #ouat peter pan x reader #prompt au #prompt imagine #prompt

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 13

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2063

Warnings:  Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely 

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Ey up my Loves, so we’re back and kicking ass! Quite literally in this Chapter, I’ve been going back over my previous chapters and I’m considering rewriting them to fit my new style. Let me know what you all think, do you prefer them as they are or would you want them to match my new style ? Anyways without further ado here's chapter 13, enjoy everyone! <3 

3rd person POV

Years have passed since that moment, time brought changes to the trio, what was once a childhood crush developed into a fierce love that neither of the pair wanted to acknowledge or admit in fear of loosing the other.

As you can imagine both Steve and Becca were ready to rip the heads off of their dumbass siblings.

6 years is a verrrry long time to put up with long looks of pining and repressed feelings, but unfortunately for the Brooklyn natives, y/n and bucky were about as stubborn as each other and refused to listen to the reasonable, sometimes frustrated, rants of their best friends. So much to the utter frustration of Steve and Becca, the two young lovebirds lived in a state of denial and attempted (the keyword being ATTEMPTED) to move on with their lives.

Naturally, someone as charming and handsome as James Barnes seemed to have a never-ending line of girls begging to be his, it had become a common occurrence for him to have a new girl on his arm each week, not that Steve or Y/n approved of his behaviour but hey Bucky can be a real big dumbass when he wants to be. Y/n did try to hide how much it bothered her, thankfully not only was Bucky a dumbass he was also completely unaware of her feelings and simply chalked it down to her being the unapproving sister, but to Steve it was a clear as day. He could see it in her face every time Bucky left to take the new girl dancing, or when she’d finish work early only to see Buck and his new girl on a romantic date in the Café opposite the dinner she worked at. The bright light behind her eyes always dimmed a little and she wouldn’t talk for hours, which for anyone that didn’t know her was enough to ring an ambulance and arrange a mental evaluation.

Now that’s not to say that Bucky was any better, the look of absolute utter rage that covered his face when another man called for Y/n was enough to make Steve and Becca completely loose it and simply laugh at his misery, neither of them felt bad because they’d been telling him for YEARS to man up and confess his feelings. Occasionally the pair did feel a slight twinge of guilt towards their brother, like the time the trio went to Y/n’s house to surprise her after work, only to see her kissing the cheek of a guy they’d never seen before, just like his other half Bucky did try to hide it, but the flash of pain that crossed his face was impossible to miss.

It’d gotten to the point where Steve wanted to lock em both in a closet til they finally admitted their feelings and put themselves out of their misery, though the fact that he had all the physical stats of a toothpick quickly nipped that idea in the bud.

Cut to today, for once it looked like it’d be a fairly normal day for everyone, boys were off doing god knows what, knowing those two it’d involve a punch up started by a small blonde idiot and finished by an even bigger idiot of a brunette. Though the same couldn’t be said about their girl, ever the more responsible one of them all Y/n had agreed to work overtime in the local dinner over on main street, meaning that she’d be the one closing the place down at 9pm.

Y/n didn’t even wanna think about what her two idiots would get up without proper adult supervision, though over the years she’d learned to expect that it would more than likely be something illegal.

Thankfully, it wasn’t something she had to worry about for the next couple of hours, though 9 times out of ten she’d be the one cleaning up the cuts and bruises only for them to come back the next day fresh wounds. As much as it did on occasion piss her off to no ends, Y/n wouldn’t want it any other way, they were and always will be her boys.

Y/N’s POV

Well, that was an absolute shit show of a day.

I mean you’d of thought that I was common knowledge not to put ya hands up a waitresses skirt, but nay some men didn’t seem to have got that memo, ever the public servant I made it my job to enlighten then with a hot cup of coffee to the crotch. How I’ve not received employee of the month is beyond me, what’s not to love ? I’m a fucking delight!

Thank god it’s home time, if I’da stayed in that place any longer something would of happened, knowing my crazy ass it’d of been something violent but in my defence….okay I don’t have a defence, but men can seriously suck ass when they wanna. All I wanna do is have a peaceful walk home, ignore the homeless guys that like to gawp at my ass and run a big old bubble bath whilst relaxing with a decent book.

Naturally, that didn’t happen.

Now, If ya spend as much time around a bunch of over aggressive monkeys that love jumping into fights as much as I do, you’ll probably get real good at recognising the sounds of a fight. And I’ve got a pretty good idea who the two dipshits are that started this pissing contest.

The sounds of shoes scuffling across the pavement were pretty much impossible to miss now, that along with the grunts and groans of a bunch of guys smacking the absolute shit outta each other tipped me off to what was happening around the corner. Everything in me screamed to carry on my merry way and let these morons sort out whatever beef they had in peace and believe me I was so close to ignoring it and walking past em, but it’s kinda hard to do that when ya hear ya best mate scream “come at me motherfuckers!”.

I couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that came outta my mouth but come on guys! This is the 5th one this week!

Very reluctantly I doubled back and went to help my idiotic boys out of whatever trouble they managed to get em selves into, and boy I’m glad that I did cause they were losing. Badly. It would seem that Steve’s request was met for them to “come at” him, cause one of em had him by the arms and was pummelling the life out of his small body, and Bucky wasn’t having any better luck either. Buck was in the same situation, but he had the pleasure of two guys restraining his arms whilst another two took turns in kicking him in the stomach, I mean I was already pissed off at what was happening to Steve but now,  I’m beyond pissed and IF I’d of taken the time to calm down for a few seconds I’da thought of a better plan than this.

“Man…I really liked these shoes”.

In my defence, I didn’t mean to throw them as hard as I did, I was hoping to distract them for a couple of seconds so I could get the jump on the guy beating the crap outta Steve, instead I hit him square in the back his head and knocked him the fuck out. Any other time I’da been wetting myself laughing, but instead it seemed like time slowed down as the assholes holding Steve up froze and made eye contact with me, even the guys on Bucky stopped to see what had happened, all four of em had a look of complete and utter disbelief when they finally saw me. Not that I really cared, all I wanted was for em to get the fuck off of my boys.

Nobody seemed to wanna say anything for the next couple of seconds, the assholes beating up Bucky and Steve were still trying to wrap their heads around what just happened, and my idiots were looking back and forth between the guy on the floor and me, not even taking the time to try escape their holds. How the hell they manage to survive all these years without me is beyond my understanding.

“Sup my dudes, my names Y/n and I’ll be kicking ya ass today”.

I think it’s safe to say that I snapped everyone out of their shocked states, cause the guys holding both Steve and Bucky dropped their asses to the ground and instead focus on me, which is pretty fair considering I did just knock their mate out with a 2-inch healed shoe.

“Do ya know what we do to girls that don’t know their place round here? Cause ya about to find out girly” why is it always the ugliest motherfuckers that try to act tough, I mean look at this guy! he’s got more stains on his shirt than he does teeth, and about as much hair as a furless cat, I’ve been more intimidated by a group of 12-year-old girls in the dinner than I have him!...teenagers are fucking scary don’t judge me.

Right back to this absolute shitshow of a ‘fight’.

Mr ‘I’m only 30 years old and I already need dentures’ swung his arm out towards me in a pathetic attempt at a punch, which massively backfired on him cause I threw that dumbass over my shoulder and ‘accidently’ knocked his last 4 teeth out.  That left me with the rest of the hounds, two of em were rushing at me the second I let go of their newly toothless friend, the one on my right missed me completely and fell over a fence, dumbass. The dude on my left though, well he didn’t miss I’ll put it that way, he fully rugby tackled me into the car behind me, knocking the wind outta me and leaving me dazed for a few seconds.

But just like the first guy, his ‘punches’ were about effective as a marshmallow. Pretty embarrassing for him really, I mean you hate to see it.

“Okay no, give me your hand I’m gonna teach you how to punch cause this is just embarrassing for you dude, first don’t put your thumb at the bottom cause ya gonna break it, second don’t just throw ya arm forward and hope it hurts, use your body weight cause ya got a lot of it and throw it into the punch.”

At that point I’d pushed him off me and the car, his form was absolutely terrible so I went ahead and corrected it for him, found out his name was Eric, which was pretty interesting, gave him a few practise shots and then let him hit me for real, and I must be a fucking amazing teacher cause that one hurt!

“Really Doll?”

Let me tell you, I’d never seen Bucky so unimpressed in my life, his face was completely deadpanned with only his eyebrows raised, Steve wasn’t too impressed either, his infamous mum glare was in full force as I sheepishly backed away from my new best friend.

“In my defence, you left me unsupervised, and Eric’s form was absolutely atrocious, wasn’t it Eric my lad ?”

“….She’s a pretty good teacher to be fair”.

“See? I’m a good teacher! Suck it Barnes!”

Bucky Knocked Eric the fuck out in response. I think you can all understand how heartbroken I was.

“What the hell Barnes?! If it weren’t for me you and Steve would be dead!” I’m pretty sure I looked as insane as I was acting, Steve was full on laughing his ass off behind Buck, I mean if I weren’t so annoyed by them both right now I’d be on the floor with him just dying of laughter. But nay, I had a bone to pick with the both of them, which I think they both realised considering they both went pale before turning around and bucking it to my house. What you need to remember is that these are fully gown men, running around a Brooklyn neighbourhood screaming bloody murder, with a much smaller y/h/c lass running right behind them brandishing a pair of heels, fully intending to murder them both.

How we’ve gone all these years without being arrested or locked in a mental asylum astounds me.

So hopefully you all enjoyed this, let me know what you all think, we’ve got about 2 more chapters left of my boys then we move onto Captain America the First Avenger!! 

lots of love

Rose xx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

[fandomsilhouette]

engarde to the graveyard (send the people our regards)

They’re nothing more than children, arrested in their growth. They’re the adults of the future, a future that they loath. They’re secret keepers, mysteries, people made of histories too big for their skin. They’re never going to win. 

Happy @felinettenovember​, y’all! Or honestly, at this point, not very happy but you know what? There’s catharsis. @emzurl​ coerced me into it and @musicfren​ held me to it, so there is... an amount. No further promises, though! This is a complete story as of this post. 

Part 1 complete. Part 2 complete. 

Their delight was palpable, tangible in the stiffly shifting smirks that shuffled from person to person when Marinette walked hand in hand with Adrien into the classroom on a Monday morning. In the way Bustier grinned slyly as she announced a permanent seat change that brought Marinette shoulder to shoulder with him every day, holding herself firm in the full force of his lovestruck besotted gaze. 

Even at his sappiest, Felix had always looked at her with weight behind the fluff, with respect and admiration as the scaffolding to cotton candy sugar. Marinette thought of the way she used to sink into beanbag chairs, swallowed whole in the vast endlessness of it, completely lost to herself when she returned from its maw. 

Felix found himself next to a girl he had already broken up with and knew immediately the rumors (the truths) hadn’t spread far enough yet. 

Their teacher reminded each of them, quietly, after class that she was there to keep them safe and happy, and as their guardian she was happy to make the changes to allow them to sit where they would be most productive. 

Neither of them had been productive in weeks. It didn’t seem to matter. 

Akuma fights were almost better. Chat still tailed her, kept her back secure. He took more blows meant for her than he used to, and Marinette stayed awake at night playing them over and over in her head, guilt curdling in her gut like spoiled milk, souring the bitter realization that flooded through her veins when she thought about the way he used to throw himself at her to push them both out of the way, and the bittersweet relief of not having to touch him like that, not getting to touch him like that. 

She shivered in the naked air over her suit and didn’t lean into his shoulder. He twitched in repressed anxiety and didn’t curl his tail around her waist. 

The worst days were the ones where the akumatized was a child. The thing was, adults had long been trained, practiced in the habit of learning how to handle a breakdown. Teenagers had learned what to expect, how to cope, because akumatization was nothing more than more of the feelings they’d already learned to function under the crushing weight of. No one believed them anyways, right, when they said they were hurting, that it was too much, that they needed help. 

To the teenagers of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir were heroes not because they defeated the akuma but because they stuck around, held their hand, swung past their window at night and winked, stopped by with cookies and hot cocoa and a hug. 

They were heroes because they were friends, mask or not. 

Children hurt, and it was all they could know for as long as a butterfly plagued them. 

Felix was losing more and more of himself to this charade they had going on, and Marinette was more duct tape than person, and Chat and Ladybug looked at each other in the aftermath of an akuma attack that left another child sobbing inconsolably in the middle of the street, and watched teenagers (fifteen, sixteen, older than either Felix or Marinette could imagine being, now) who remembered too well what it was like to feel that helplessness come forward to rock this child to sleep because their guardian was halfway across the city and wouldn’t know what to do, anyways.

There were no words left to exchange. Chat’s ring had a minute longer than her earrings, so he stuck around to watch the child while she detransformed in a flash of pink. Marinette walked out, and the teenagers (children, all of them, anyways) parted for the now-familiar face around post-akuma emotional wreckage. Marinette untangled the child’s fist from around Chat’s tail, which he had been flicking gamely if only for a momentary reprieve, and pulled the child into her embrace. 

They burst into sobs, soaked her shirt. 

Me too, bud, she thought. They didn’t hear it. Felix might have (heard, listened, understood), but he had slipped away already. 

There were too many children who had stopped being children for this. It needed to end. 

There was something about working together for as long as they had that meant they didn’t have to talk about it. Maybe they should. Maybe they couldn’t. But they knew, and they fought for it as if everything they had been doing was little more than a play-fight, a mock reenactment of a battle, never mind the slaughter strewn through their lives. 

But Marinette started training at nights, and she came to school looking like the way she feels, which was broken and exhausted and in pain, but she studied harder and started goading Hawkmoth through their masks, and set up traps for fake miraculi and tried so hard not to cry.

Felix made a chart of everyone who's been akumatized, because Hawkmoth has admitted between one of Ladybug’s taunts and the next that he's been akumatized, in some perverted, sick kind of boast. He started interviewing people and following butterflies, and writing class notes in duplicate to slip under her door because he's studied all this before. She hasn't.

They turned heroes to detectives, because what was another mask to wear? 

They found him, and it was so anticlimactic. 

Gabriel wasn’t arrested. Emelie was already dying, disconnected from her preservation container (coffin, Felix scoffed under his breath, and Marinette snorted at the truth of it). It didn’t make sense to rob Adrien of both guardians at once, even if he had assumed he’d lost one of them already and was rapidly losing the other. It seemed kinder for everyone involved just to let her go. Instead they pushed Hawkmoth into therapy and broke patient confidentiality just enough to make sure the therapist reports that he’s showing up. Felix lost another guardian in all but the paper trail, and knew how not to flinch this time. 

Ladybug and Chat Noir, or maybe just Felix and Marinette, stood hand in trembling hand, surveying the battlegrounds of a war waged by a guardian of two children and two miraculi he had no right to, the bloody remnants of a childhood visited by trauma and responsibility, the conniving burden that it was, leaving them destitute and on guard for a threat that always, always came. 

There was no funeral coming for what they had lost, no mourners or witnesses for these alter egos finally laid to rest. There was no one coming to save them save the people they had become to save the world, the people they had become to sacrifice the best parts of who they used to be. They stood there in the wreckage of everything they have been and have become, not sure if there's enough of them left to feel whole again. 

But he held her hand, and she could feel his pulse fluttering, an echo of her own barely-there heartbeat but present, so present, still alive. 

There was something to be valued here, even if it took all the half-broken pieces left behind in the two of them combined, and the rest of their lives. 

Because they had that, now: a rest of to look for. A rest to look for. 

There was still so much left to do. Marinette broke up with Adrien, or tried to. He held onto her, grabbing onto one part of her and then another while she extricated the first. Eventually it wore on her, exhausted her, between his befuddled, bewildered refusal to accept her decision and the heavy judgemental glares of the classmates gathered to watch this spectator sport. 

We did this for you, Marinette. We wanted you to be happy. What are you doing, Marinette? Why are you throwing it all away? 

Don’t we matter to you as much as you matter to us?

Yes, she thought. I don’t matter to you at all. She bit off whichever part he grabbed onto, left it behind, another sacrifice, another memorial at an unmarked grave. May this be the last, she hoped, and cauterized her wound with rage. 

Felix was there, a phantom in the audience, ghostly pale and nearly translucent under the yellow fluorescent lights. 

He caught her eye, and didn’t stop looking. 

It felt like, for once, for the first time, the right choice.

#Notte Writes #Fanfiction #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous: Adventures Of Ladybug And Chat Noir #Felix #PV Felix #Felix Agreste #Chat Noir!Felix #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Felix/Marinette #Felinette #Guardians Of The City Of Love #Graphic Imagery In Metaphor #They're So Young #And So Hurt #Angst #Felinette Month 2020 Day 6 #Felinette Month 2020

[fu-cough]

First impression (when I watched the teaser): kid has a secret power that turns her into this red panda and the mum is the only one that knows about it. They try their best to keep her secret.

----

"I accept and embrace all labels," 😎

This is so cringy, it's perfect.

This is such an amazing friendship, I love all four of them

"She's so brainwashed," I have a feeling that's how my friends talk behind my back..

I LOVE THE BG MUSIC

THAT COOKING SCENE IS SO GOOD WTF???

FINALLY A TEENAGER WHO REALISTICALLY DRAWS FANART

THIS IS SO REALISTIC WTF

"This is what happens when you don't wear sunblock and do drugs all day," I can't 😭

This is how anxiety feels like

THE PILLOW SCREAM IS SO RELATABLE

PORRIDGE FOR BREAKFASSSTTTT YASSS

HER LISTING THE SYMPTOMS LMAO

"It's too soon," WDYM????

ALL THE VITAMINS AND THE PADS OH MY GOOODDDD

THIS IS HOW MY MOM TALKED TO ME WHEN I FIRST HAD MY PERIOD LMAOOOO

Tyler is a bastard

"what's with her?" "what's with your face?" I love this girl

Oh god

"Awooga!" ndnfnfnfnffnfb😭😭😭

"Need more pads? I brought extra," they're the best friends ever oml

THE CATS TEST AHHHH

The repressed rage is aaa

"I saw that look, where did she get that from? Treating her own mother like that," "Ming, it's your mother," "I'M NOT HERE!" JFBDBFBDBDB

"Mine called it stripper music, what's wrong with that?" LMAOOOO

JDJDJDB POOR SECURITY GUARD

I LOVE ABBYYYY

YEAH TYLER IN YOUR FACE (EVEN HIS NAME IS EXACTLY THE SAME AS THE GUY WHO BULLIED ME IN SIXTH GRADE)

LMAO THE AUNTIES WHAT IS THIS

THIS IS HOW MY AUNTIE GRANDMAS ACT LMAOONFNDNF

"Your mother and I were close once, but the red panda took that away," so she's not self aware, huh. Not surprised.

TYLER LMAOOO

"what's she gonna do? GrOuNd mE?" followed by nervous laughing 😭

"I love you, man!" Alright, Tyler, you're forgiven

holyyyy this took from 1 - 100 wtfffff

"I'm 13! DEAL WITH IT!" FUCK YEAHHHH

ICONICCCCCCCC OHH FHBFBDBDBDBXBXBX XXB OH MY GOOOODDDDDDDDDD

THE WAY THEY'RE SINGING AAAAAAA THIS IS AMAZING

I AM NEVER GOING TO EMOTIONALLY RECOVER FROM THIS

GOD I'M CRYING

OH MY GOD

I JUST

AAAAAAAAA

#Ria binges #Turning red

[triviareads]

You know I am Indian and your K/A fic is the only one I have read that I actually believe and picture that Kate as Indian. Honestly in all the modern and historical fics I have read I still picture her as a white girl, cause she reads like a white girl with an Indian last name. I don’t mean to knock other writers cause I do believe they try and it is hard to write from someone of a different culture. And there is more to being Indian then the food, or language. And i feel like your Kate actually behaves like a lot of Indians I know (including me) who live in a predominantly white country/have migrated.

this means a lot to me, particularly considering I've always wanted to read more fic protagonists that are like me, so thank you.

For modern AUs like do not go gentle into that senior year (just rage) (I don't write historical Kate Sharma/Sheffield as Indian in any way apart in her looks, mostly because that makes me deeply uncomfortable and raises a lot of questions I can't answer), I think writing a better, more rounded Indian background for Kate can be partly accomplished by just doing more research on contemporary Indian culture (don't be lazy- Google it!). That being said, the reason I'm able to write Kate the way I do is because of my lived experiences as a brown person, which others can't necessarily replicate.

Like, there's a whole other way of thinking you need to contend with, because we don't think like white people. We're a little more cynical, a little less prone to wearing our heart on our sleeve (which is interesting when it comes to romance- and is also partly why Kate is repressed lol), and subscribe a bit more to the collectivist rather than the individualist mentality (when it comes to family- not for anything academic 😂).

For example, I personally don't think Mary Sharma is like a white mom (Violet) who is super emotionally invested in Kate and Anthony's relationship and coos over how cute they are or whatever. No, she'd probably alternate between vague amusement (lol my teenage daughter is dating I guess) and caution ("you know where your priorities are, Kate"). Or if Mr. Sharma was alive, I don't think he'd do the white dad overprotective routine. As Kate so wisely said in one of my fics, “Our lot don’t do overprotective. We merely interrogate and make passive-aggressive comments that’ll make you want to flee before we even suggest it ourselves.”

And for kids with immigrant parents like Kate, you also contend with that insider-outsider mentality- it's not like a full-blown crisis or anything- it just manifests in the most random ways. Like sometimes, you're very insider, you know, just going about your life, school, friends, etc. Other times you're an outsider, like you find yourself staring at your meal in a fancy restaurant wondering why white people subscribe to the "less is more" mentality when it comes to seasoning, and then proceed to realize why kids here whine about hating spinach and brussel sprouts; You would too if it was cooked like this.

Hope this made sense lol

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #kathony #kate x anthony #desi kate #desi 101 #mary sharma #mary Sheffield #high school au #ask #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi culture