Me, weeping while holding the broken corpse of a character: Who did this to you? You were so young, you had your whole life before you! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?
Me, a moment later: Oh, I did. *drops body to ground* Time for the Angst :-)
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2017 OCs redesigns and remakes 5/3/2021 that still aren’t very concrete (long post-ish, click for better resolution if you want, partial credit of story goes to @kirinbrrr)
Generic Hero’s Journey™
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"What happened to our neighbour? The man with no arms or torso"
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The Promise: What they stole from us (g) -
Books: The Royal Romance 1
Pairing: Liam & Jessica Garcia (MC)
This week’s @wackydrabbles takes a serious turn with this miniseries that complements my ongoing series The Promise. The prompt is “you're gonna get us busted.” (#106)
Triggers: Drug and alcohol misuse, gun violence, OC death mention of gambling and double con (trying to be a little generous in trigger warnings and filters to cover bases)
Catch me here
Canon Divergence Notes
A/N #1: Applewood revisited in the Agent Phoenix: Forged In Fire A/U canon divergent series.
A/N #2: This miniseries is the first completed under this handle *so it's a pretty cool milestone. I wanted to thank those that have read this story that sat in drafts for 2 years as I was trying to find my way as a writer. Just what exactly happens next? The Promise series continues to its next chapter trinity (What was stolen was a story within a story) what happens next is reflective of everyone's journey in the remainder of the series and the Agent Phoenix: Forged In Fire A/U canon divergent series. Thank you to the @wackydrabbles crew for allowing me to use their interesting prompts for these 7 chapters that included 12,000 words. I hoped to have finished with a bang.
Chapter summary: The scandal conspiracy explained
LOVE NOTES @sfb123Thank you for being my fandom ride or die, beta reader, cheerleader, and fandom soulmate.
Last chapter: Bianca Walker’s back story in this A/U is shared. Jessica makes a choice about her assault. Catch up on the chapters here
Special inspiration for chapter: Don't cry for me Argentina - Madonna
Word Count: 1,847 *As always, forgive my typos and grammatical errors.*
Average reading time: 8 minutes
*I suppose you can read this on its own but the story below is related to the promise as a whole. Once completed part three will pick up. This story is central to the plot *also this story has been in my drafts for two years so I wanted to give it its own moment so consider this a story within a story*
He had a long night and he helped orchestrate an egregious violation. In the past, as a young guard, he made mistakes and compromised his morals for money one act caused the death of a guard. He looked after his family as his penance. However, at one point he hoped to take the man's place. He was approached for misdeeds from time to time but nothing as serious as what was asked of him all those years before until this. This misdeed was a reminder of how far he had sunk he tried to justify it by saying no matter what happened she would be alive and she would just have to move on from what happened in that room and no one would once again be killed to clear up this new gambling debt.
He was directed to remove the lock from her door and looked out the window in the hallway as he passed her room he noticed she was dancing with the Crown Prince and it didn't take a Nikon long-range lens to know they were in love but it would take a good enough picture to cast doubts that she was loyal to the council that needed to approve her. Later that evening he was called upon again, this time he was to drive Tariq to the royal hangar with unknown flight plans. As he drove Tariq snickered at him from the back of the SUV reminding him his hands were just as dirty as theirs. Tariq spared no detail in telling him what he had said and done to Jessica and Drake who he considered a son. To Bastien, the incident sounded like it was thirty minutes of pure hell. He went back to his room and called his bookie from the Cordonian Derby to let him know he could pay his debt in full and with interest. Then he drank half a bottle of vodka and took a few Klonopin before passing out to numb the little part of his conscience that remained.
He held an envelope in his hands, and Madeleine curtly said, “Well, hand it over.” It snapped him out of his thoughts. A husky voice added, “Bastien, hand it to her. What’s done is done. There is no moral high road to take here. It was an order, that you were compensated for after all. If it helps, you did worse. Let's not forget Jackson.”
His grip on the envelope weakened, and Madeleine snatched it, “Bastien if you think I don’t carry a grudge for Leo’s little escape, you are wrong. Don’t cross me again; it’s clear I have friends in high places.”
She smirked over at the older man that helped make this possible. She used her manicured nails to open the envelope; a wicked smile curved her lips as she flipped through the pictures in her hand. The trump card would be saved for just the right time.
“Perfect.” She purred to herself.
A man’s voice sounded behind her, “May I?”
She handed the envelope to him, his signet ring reflected off the silver tea service tray in the dimly lit room. He scanned the pictures, “Well, these certainly look compromising… No way the people or press would want her now.”
Another snatched them with scrutiny, “I will be the judge.”
He raised a brow, “Lord Tariq? That’s all you could get?”
Madeleine glared at his nitpicking. “Believe me, if I could use his brother or the commoner friend, I would have.” She continued, “My ex-fiance is meddling, and Liam holds him in high regards despite being a complete deserter. Liam would never believe Leo or Walker would be involved with her.”
The man said, “All that matters is the council the press will do the rest.”
The older man said, “It would be nice if he wiped his hands clean of her. For that, a bigger name was needed.”
A woman said, “A bigger name?” she snickered then continued “Bigger impossible. His friends and his brother are loyal. They cannot be bought. So, she got a fool that could be.”
The other man chimed in, “She has a point. Leo is a fool, and I’m quite frankly ashamed of him and his actions, but Liam holds him close to his heart. Drake is unshakable as well. ANY man in these photos would have satisfied the hungry media.”
He sighed but nodded, “Lackluster choice but the execution is adequate enough. This House would fall apart without me. Make sure you don’t get caught because I will go against you to the press if you do. I will not have our House tarnished because you were sloppy.”
Madeleine frowned, “Of course. It’s the strategic choice. But I assure you, I will not fail our House name.”
The woman said “Offer him a Cordonian arrangement at the very last possible minute. They love each other we can't risk another abdication. He will ascend the throne and be able to keep her just not as a wife then ultimately they will part. I can't imagine someone so in love would want to be a mistress forever especially when you are carrying an heir.”
The older gentleman glared at the photo in hand and addressed the other man, “It’s positively ridiculous she has gotten this far. She is becoming more and more popular. Everyone loves this little love story. I will not leave this to chance. Madeleine is incapable of winning without assistance, so I needed to ensure there is an ace up our sleeve.”
Madeleine rolled her eyes at the apparent dig, but she knew it was true. To win Liam’s hand in marriage, she would have to find a way to tarnish the reputation of his choice, who was now favored by members of the council and at the very last minute so that he would have no choice but to name her as the next Queen Regent.
She looked at her bare left hand and said, “I have my eye on Liam’s mother’s engagement. It would be great in all the pictures. Who doesn’t like a good piece of heirloom jewelry?”
The man smiled at the trio with certainty, “Once he is married, he is buried in the law. Everything is as it should be. I’m sure Liam will come to his senses.” He felt the grooves and curves of his signet he wore for years, and soon he would remove it. He would no longer be the King, but he found comfort in knowing that the Rys line of succession remained intact. Constantine always believed it was a duty to the crown above all else, even if it meant betraying his youngest son in one of his final acts as King by stealing his happiness alongside the woman he loved and who loved in return.
Two Weeks later…
Bahia Blanca, Argentina
Tariq laughed as put his arm around the waist of his female companion for the evening. “I hope you have no further commitments for the evening.”
“You can have me for the night you just need to pay me upfront.”
“I am good for it.” Tariq laughed as slapped her ass.
“Business before pleasure.” Angelina laughed out loud as she put her handout.
“Angelina, not so loud you're gonna get us busted and it's completely unbecoming. I am but a guest; I wouldn't want to wake my seafaring companions on this yacht.”
“Just pay me.”
“I will but maybe I can-”
Angelina curled her lips “Back door is extra.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Tariq took out a stack of bills and handed it to Angelina who counted them. And said, “This is business.”
As the door opened he was surprised to see her there, her lapel pin shining against the crystal wine glass she pressed to her lips.
“Is this a threesome because you didn’t include this in what you paid me.”
The woman said, “Darling, I can assure you that if I wanted a ménage à trois I wouldn’t need to pay.” She walked to a table and said, “My husband and I are swingers we just had a party, not too long ago.” She sat down at the table and crossed her legs then looked at them as she said, “Tariq, I thought we should talk in person. I really don't like threats, especially when there is so much at stake.”
“Well, it seems that I made a deal not reflective of my value. I underestimated how important my role would be and I want to renegotiate with each party individually. My silence and discretion are now more valuable.”
“I see, let's discuss...have a seat and please bring your friend.” gesturing to the chairs in front of them.
Tariq sat down in front of the woman with Angelina by his side.
The woman poured them each a glass of wine. “It's delicious I promise. Argentina Malbec is the best.”
Tariq picked up the glass and swirled it taking in its scent, surprised that Angelina was not doing the same but rather gulped down the wine and smacked her lips and said, “Ahhh.”
The woman quirked her brow at the obnoxious sound.
Tariq smiled at the woman and said, “I apologize for Angelia's tacky display. She isn't used to the finer things in life.”
“Tariq, I wouldn't be so concerned with that.”
Angelina rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.” She took Tariq’s wine glass and mockingly swirled it and said, “Fruity notes… ah screw it you are worried about me while you pay for sex.” Angelina gulped the wine down again, smacked her lips, and loudly said, “AHHHHHHHH.”
The woman looked at her watch and looked at Angelina.
Tariq gave the woman a smug look and said, “You are on my time. You need to make a deal with me, so let's start with what I would like from you.”
The woman smiled and said, “You don’t know how to negotiate.”
Tariq said, “Perhaps and maybe that is because I should be demanding. I could destroy you with the information I know. Not only will you be a social pariah but a royal one and we can't have that now can we?”
The woman said, “Continue.”
“Now let's start with you giving me this yacht, apartments in France, Rio de Janeiro, Spain, part of your fine art collection and I don't mean the forged ones you specialize in. I always knew the Caravaggio in your dining room hall was a fake. You should pay your staff more, the dowdy folk here are restless and a drunken sailor always tells the truth.”
The woman drummed her nails on the table in annoyance.
“I want to also acquire some controlling shares of a few companies I'm rather impressed with this quarter and - ”
Angelina began to convulse violently at the table, bloody foam forming at her lips.
“What the fuck?!” Tariq shouted as he stood up and stared at her as fell to the ground. All the while the woman in front of him is calm at the table.
“Sit down.” the woman urged in a cold and direct manner as Angelina continued to seizure on the floor in front of a panicked Tariq. Her head hit the floor continuously as she convulsed the vibration causing the table to shake and still the woman in front of Tariq didn't flinch and said, “Why pay for your silence when I can have your silence indefinitely.” She stood up and looked at Angelina's body and sighed “What a mess she urinated on herself. Don't worry, I have a cleaning crew for these things.” She smiled at Tariq then shouted to the door “εισαγω”(Enter)
Just then a man with a gun and silencer walked into the room and said, “ναι, σπαθί” (Yes, Sword)
*tags coming soon*
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Warning: Not an X reader fic, angst, character death.
tagging: @kyojiros-camgirl-gf @leftsidebonfire @ask-narancia-ghirga @its-that-guy-again @cesca-untoldstories
Not everything can go your way, and that's the hurtful truth.
Tanaki learned that a long time ago.
Spring and Summer was Tanaki's favorite seasons. It was always so bright for her, she could were cute little outfits. Go flower picking with Avdol, or catch butterflies. Her bare feet in the grass, sometimes not getting anything in between them. There was nothing like it.
Especially Florida, weather was unpredictable, alligators, snakes, and the heat. It was all unbearable for the poor lady, sometimes she wish she never agreed to going with Jotaro.
Getting his daughter out of jail is one thing, meeting your own daughter is another thing. Especially when she's pissed off at you, although who is she one to blame? Tanaki feels guilty of course, but she has to prove to her that she's sorry.
Ever since the loss of one of her daughters, she's not the same anymore. Her cheerful demeanor dropping, maturing as they would call it.
All her interests starting to fade away, except for one.
And that was butterflies.
Strange enough, she loved the ones that were completely white, like moths. So white that they almost glowed in the nighttime, guiding you like fireflies. Tanaki was always drawn to those.
She always hated when it rained, it always indicated something bad was happening. And it makes her feel sleepy, sometimes she wished she could just make it go away.
But she couldn't.
And simply, that was reality.
Tanaki only realizes that now.
"Mrs. Onigiri, your time is up."
But she could never believe it.
Her body feels lighter, but the rain makes her feel heavier. This was not the spring she wanted, not the grass all wet. The smell of a wet outside place.
Yet here we are.
She feels as if she's walking on thin ice, wondering what did she do wrong? The effect of his stand didn't take place did it? It couldn't have, it shouldn't have! She didn't break the promise! That's the only way the stand works! Right? So she couldn't have!
A butterfly flies in front of her before flying away, realization finally hitting her. The masked man smirks.
She broke her promise.
Looking down, her foot starts to slowly disintegrate into a while butterfly. Painlessly, but scary.
She didn't scream, nor yelled. She's realized her time was up, she broke the promise. All she had to do was not cry, yet she did.
Christene couldn't believe it, she's disintegrating in front of her very two own eyes, her mother is dying. And there's nothing she can do. Tanaki looks over her shoulder, a sorrowful look in her eyes. She knew it too, they both did. Tanaki Onigiri was becoming no more. Just butterflies, her favorite kind.
"It seems you've come to realization, you're starting to die, decay, soon you'll be nothing but butterflies. This is your punishment for breaking the promise, now you must suffer."
The Rockstar goes to step closer, but is stopped by Tanaki, giving a sad smile before falling into Christene's arms, her body starting to disappear. It’s unbelievable.
She can’t believe it.
She won’t believe it!
But the look in her eyes says it all.
And that’s what she didn’t want, she wanted reassurance that her mother would be okay, that she would come back, just like her brother did once!
“Sweetie.. I’m so sorry.” Tanaki doesn’t make eye contact with her, but she’s truly sorry. She’s sorry for not showing up, for everything that’s upset Christene. Ever since the death of Cornetta, she hasn’t been able to function properly. Sometimes she wishes she could go back and redo her actions.
Her eyes half lidded, half of her body gone while she continues to disintegrate. All Tanaki could see was white butterflies, they calmed her down. A soft smile still present on her face. Her end was coming closer and closer, soon she would fade into nothingness. Maybe this was her punishment, for being a horrible mother, just like Christene said.
“MOM!! I’m so sorry! I am! I shouldn’t have yelled at you, called you a horrible mother! Please don’t leave, you can’t! What about Zo? Cornetta! She’ll cry!”
Christene goes to grab her hand, squeezing it to keep her from closing her eyes. Hoping that she’d stay with her. Looking into her eyes searching for a answer. Although her ruby red eyes shows it.
Cornetta couldn’t be..
“Cornetta you say? Oh.. heh.. I guess you didn’t hear.. Well, I’ll be seeing her in the afterlife..”
Her eyes widen as she realizes that she’s getting closer and closer, looking in her eyes once more to search if she was lying or not. But she couldn’t find an answer.
“Christene, I’m very sorry.. give my regards to your sisters and father for me will you? And don’t forget Jotaro, tell him I’m sorry also... I hope everything goes well with you and Jolyne..”
Tanaki finally makes eye contact with her, her eyes tearing up. She’s close, and she knows it, it’s only a matter of time.
Letting go of her hand, Tanaki grabs onto her cheeks. Smiling the best she could, wrinkles showing. Keeping her charming nature even at the sight of death.
“I love you dear.”
What did she say?
The final butterfly goes into the sky.
Tanaki Onigiri, was finally no more.
Christene had finally come to realization with reality, it was surely the hurtful truth.
She face plants into the grass, getting her navy blue jumper wet. Not paying any mind though. Her hands curl up into balls as she sniffle.
Those sniffles turning into full on sobs.
“What a shame to see her go, but it had to happen.”
Christene wipes her eyes and nose, her face contorted into anger. Scowling at the masked man named Rasputin. A yellow aura surrounding her. Summoning her guitar, she finally stands and points to him.
“I’ll kill you.”
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Final desing of her (I promise ;-;)
The truth is I am not a very confident person. And it shows with the designs of this woman ...
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Johnny Lawrence, pilot headcanon
I do believe Johnny joined the Air Force, right out of High School. He trained and worked hard, bonded with the others, but he was also projecting the macho image, and resented this other guy who was more openly gay, despite the dangers and the hazing he took for it.
Johnny fell into a pattern with the guy, of sex and shame, but the guy was patient and always understood that even though Johnny said mean things, he kissed so sweetly. This guy helped Johnny through a lot of his childhood issues, even though Johnny was still in the closet, they had a relationship of sorts.
Then the Air Force sent the gay guy on a suicide mission. Johnny is convinced it wouldn’t have been a suicide mission with the proper back-up. The harder Johnny defends the guy, the more of a target he becomes. Eventually, he’s dishonourably discharged because he refused to drop a bomb on a target that wasn’t confirmed as hostile.
Johnny is so lost after that. He lost his position as a karate champion because he followed orders which he lives to regret. He’s kicked out of the Air Force for refusing to follow orders he knew were wrong.
So, that’s my headcanon. It’s a little cliché, but I’m pretty attached to it now. I love hearing about everybody else’s.
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this was my favorite drawing for a long time, when I saw one year passed since I drew it I had to do it again !
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I’ve returned! Now with new art, this time it’s inspired by Cheeteh Z’s ‘Coyotes’ Map call on YouTube! (Super excited for it)
This isn’t actually canon to vwid but I just thought it looked cool
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I drew my OC’s death
how she died: *quick TW for gore by the way*
-Her eyes were ripped out
-She was stabbed in the stomach
-Her arm was ripped off
edit: her name is Ayumu Maeda and she is the ultimate cinematologist
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Things to know about your novel - before writing it
1. your reader
Since you can't put swear words in middle grade lit and you can't make your 40yo villain scream "get the freaking guy", make sure you know who you're writing for!
You also need to picture your perfect audience because you need to have in mind a specific person who, reading your novel, would feel the way you want them to feel.
I write NA, but specifically my perfect reader is an 18yo who liked urban fantasy and folk tales, a witchy person with a love for tarot cards.
Palahniuk writes books that cut deep, leave a mark, make you laugh tragically in front of the bleak situations of life. Bardugo writes lively, velvety prose.
How do you want your book to sound like? Will it make people feel uplifted or do you want them to stop to think or, maybe, do you want them to cry? Up to you.
If your ocs have tragic backstories, that shit is going to haunt them. Don't slide in with a new tragedy mid-first draft, it might sound a little fake.
and, finally. Whoever dies can't do anything more in the rest of the novel. Make sure you don't make them play a key role in a scene where they should be dead. 100% didn't happen to me I swear :)
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~[OPEN] Danganronpa RP - Looking Back to Despair’s Crescent~
Her eyes met yours, as that familiar crimson shade trickled down from her lips, a deranged sparkle in her eyes as she whispered the words you so dearly wished you could have run from.
”There’s no going back, my dear.”
You tremble, watching as her finger trails down the centre of your chest, eliciting a frightened whimper from your lips.
You can feel a thousand eyes gazing into your own, taking a single step back as the realisation dawns upon you.
You were alone.
You...still are alone, aren’t you?
Who...was she? Who were...you?
As you haphazardly toss your hair into a ponytail, letting it fall softly to your side, one word echoes through your skull, rattling your aching bones, and chilling the warmest corner of your soul.
DANGANRONPA KILLING GAME SIGN UPS ARE NOW OPEN!
Man, it’s been a while, huh? Well, we’re back in action, and looking for some new members to join our Discord roleplays!
This is for my Killing Game Roleplays - NOT Danganronpa: Despair’s Advocate (the project advertised on my Instagram a while back)!
We only have a few user spaces open; two characters each, so message me your form on my Instagram (thundercatlost) ASAP!
You’re joining mid-way through a season of Killing Games, but our lovely internet family of users will happily catch you up when needed!
Only rules for sign ups are that you have to be between the ages of 14 and 17 (as there are minors on the server), respectful, active daily, have a discord account (as that’s where the Killing Games are taking place), are happy to jump late into a season of games, and have a strong sense of humour. All entries will be read, so get sendin’, my friends! Both OCs and Canon characters welcome! It’ll close whenever I feel I’ve found the right people - those chosen will be DMed! ^v^
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A memorial for a friend’s bugman oc who has valiantly passed away (the oc not the friend, they’re fine). A respected portal-er, flaming brimstone chuck-er, sass-er, and a hero who will be missed.
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Potential Scene Tag
Thank you for the tag, @inky-duchess!
Peering through the black lace covering her face, Beatrice watched as a black carriage pulled in. Adorned with the Asvarian symbol, the white rose, a tiny casket rested inside.
Benedict and Beatrice stood in front of a centuries old abbey, said to be built by Saint Marcus himself. The gray stone was cracked and slightly eroded, but the building stood tall.
Benedict took Beatrice's hand into his own and gave it a squeeze as a pair of footmen carefully unloaded the casket and marched it inside the abbey. It sat at the center of the room; the focal point.
A silver diadem holding a blue sapphire rested in Beatrice's spare hand as the pair entered. Carefully, she rested it atop the casket as her vision began to blur.
"This...this can't be real-" Beatrice gasped for air. "She- she can't be gone.."
Benedict took his wife into his arms along with the little bundle of joy she held in her own. The boy's chocolate eyes blinked up at his parents. He was the survivor.
"This is my fault. I should have been more careful."
"Look at me." Benedict tilted her chin. "None of this is your fault."
"She is gone because I was unable to save her."
"...We had a month with her," Benedict reminded. "We loved her for her entire life." Tears began to gather and slide down his cheeks; one almost hitting Anastacio. Benedict looked down at him and smiled. "We still have him. And we still have each other."
Tags: @raevenlywrites @chaotic-whore @saiko-tsuki @ladywithalamp
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A New Hero Ch 8
Tag List: @vixen-uchiha
Ok, so here’s the next chap! So, Mari is 15, been a couple months since Lila came to France. So Volpina already happened ok? I was thinkin bout doing it but I like doing this time skip where the chaps aren’t close to each other. Especially since in a few chaps, it’s going to be basically close to each other the chaps. I hope that makes sense. I will try doing one of Lila’s akumatizations tho. I promise! Also, so I made an Akuma, who was made because her little girl was killed. Just thought I’d give a warning. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chap!!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The devastated scream echoed down the street. People ran down the street screaming in fear themselves. Some people turned in that direction to see the new victim and ran themselves to safety. With a wave, feathers flew at people, the ones they hit fell to the ground. People cried out.
Coming down the street pushing cars away from her was a woman. The woman’s hair was pitch black flowing down her back. Her skin was pale gray while her eyes were a deep unnatural blue. Blue, teardrop-shaped glass laid next to her eyes. Tears fell from her eyes when they hit the ground, it cracked the ground. Wrapped around her body was a deep gray dress. Hanging on her neck was a silver chain with a silver heart pendant with a purple tint. It had one sleeve that billowed behind her. Her feet were bare and pure white wings were behind her. The sun was almost down behind her, causing an orange glow around her.
“If I can’t have my family, then no one shall either!” the Akuma yelled, pushing cars away. Chat Noir landed in front of the Akuma and blocked any feathers coming toward them. Nino was hiding behind a building and recording them but knew to leave if things got worse. Ladybug landed behind Mourning Dove silently and crept up slowly and silently.
“Mourning Dove,” Chat called and the Akuma glared at them over at them, “you’re in pain. You lost something amazing, do you really want to cause other people the same pain? You know how it feels, why would you want to cause other people the same pain?” Chat asked and Mourning Dove stopped. Ladybug was creeping up, she was close to getting the necklace.
“I...I don’t,” she replied softly and a soft, broken sob left Mourning Dove.
“Then let us help you,” Chat said as the woman fell to her knees on the ground. Ladybug came up behind Mourning Dove and took her necklace and broke it.
“Time to de-evilize,” Ladybug spoke quietly and caught the butterfly quickly. “Bye-bye little butterfly,” she murmured as the pure white butterfly left her yo-yo. “Miraculous Ladybug!” she threw her yo-yo up and ladybugs left it and repaired all the damage Mourning Dove caused. She looked back at the woman and watched Chat council her and hug her close.
“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed out and Ladybug kneeled down beside her.
“It’s ok, miss. It’s not your fault. Hawkmoth took advantage of you while you mourned,” Ladybug said quickly and the woman nodded.
“Do you have anyone close to you nearby?” Chat asked and the woman nodded.
“My uncle. He was on his way over when…” she trailed off and Chat nodded.
“Ok, let’s get you back to him,” Chat said helping her up. “I’ll see you later, bug,” with that he helped the woman back to the hospital. Nino came up to her and patted her shoulder.
“I’ll delete that footage. She deserves some privacy after what happened,” he said and Ladybug nodded.
“Good. She shouldn’t have to deal with worrying about Hawkmoth taking advantage of her sadness,” Ladybug agreed. “See you soon,” Ladybug said readying her yo-yo to swing away. A groan had them look toward an alley. They walked over and saw a boy around their age gripping his head. He had brown hair that was messy and decent length. There was a short scar on his right cheek, cutting off at his jaw. He looked fairly fit, around the same build as Jason she’d guess. She kneeled down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
She tensed up, corrupted magic came from him. It was the same kind she and Fu felt on Damian and Jason. The same they healed on them. It was from the Lazarus Pit. The teen looked up surprised, showing silver eyes with a faint green to them, and looked between Ladybug and Nino. his attire reminds her of the clothes Damian had, the ones he showed her and the others. League attire.
“What’s your name?” Ladybug asked softly.
The teens face scrunched up in thought. “My name is” he started in Arabic before shaking his head. “Sorry, my name is Xander Grayson,” he replied in French and Ladybug froze once more.
“What’s up?” Nino asked looking at her curiously.
“We had a brother. His name was Xander. He was killed years ago when Lana was just starting high school. But...he vanished before we could bury him. We don’t know what happened to him,” Alya had said when she was asked about when Lana had gotten together with Steve.
“Xander?” she asked and he nodded. “I know someone who can help you, just give me a moment to talk in private,” Ladybug said and Xander nodded slowly.
“O-ok,” he replied as Ladybug stood up and took Nino away to whisper.
“Does that name mean anything to you?” Nino whispered and Ladybug nodded.
“Yes. Remember? Alya and Lana had a younger brother. Named Xander. Who disappeared years ago,” Ladybug said and Nino’s face turned shocked.
“Oh yeah. You think he’s their brother, dudette?”
“I’m thinking yes,” Ladybug replied with a short nod while looking over at Xander. “Ok, you know Jason’s size right?” she continued and Nino nodded. “Go to some clothing stores and get him some clothes. He looks to be Jason’s size. After, head back to Fu’s. We need to heal him. He has corrupted magic running through his veins, just like Jason and Damian.”
“On it,” Nino said with a nod and ran off to get the clothing. Ladybug went back over to the teen and helped him up.
“Where is he going?” Xander asked softly confused, and Ladybug smiled at him.
“He’s getting you a change of clothes and will meet us at Fu’s place. He’s the man that can help you,” she explained and Xander nodded understanding. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked and he nodded. “Good, I’m going to de-transform since I can’t take you to him as Ladybug. It’d look weird,” she said and he nodded once more, she then hid between two trashcans. “Tikki, spots off,” she said and Tikki flew out of the earrings with a flash of pink, with that she stood up and went back over to Xander. “I’m Marinette, but you can call me Mari.”
Xander smiled at her and shook her hand. “Marinette why did you do that?” Tikki asked and Xander stared at Tikki in shock.
“Because Tikki, he has the same corrupted magic as Damian and Jason did. And you know very well we can’t risk doing anything suspicious,” Mari explained and Tikki nodded slowly.
“Ok, let’s get him to Master Fu,” Tikki said flying into Mari’s purse.
Xander tried holding back the tears, but he couldn’t. His vision blurred from tears while his heartbeat pounded in his ears, muffling everything. Along his body, it felt like needles were digging into him. A pounding started in his head as his hands gripped his hair tightly, pulling slightly. The day he disappeared flashed before his eyes in sharp clarity.
The scars along his back and neck stung. Lana’s desperate cries echoed in his head. He could still feel the rough asphalt on his palms and knees. The small scraps from falling. His croaked out ‘I love you, I’m sorry’, said so quietly, but seemed so loud. The pain he felt as his vision darkened echoed faintly. Joker’s maniacal laugh echoing as everything fades.
The feeling of being underwater. Liquid going into his mouth. Struggling, flailing. Coughing harshly when he escaped the liquids grasp. Everything was blurry as the liquid left his eyes. Faintly hearing talking, possible training.
The sting of getting hit, repeatedly. The cold a sharp knife cutting his skin. Slipping in the snow and ice, running. Wind whipping through his hair and across his face. Snow covering everything and making it hard to see. Shouts echoing harshly, ‘Get him! Kill him if you must!’. Arrows shooting at him cutting through the wind. Grazing him. Landing next to him.
Arms wrapped around him and he started struggling. His voice cracked as he yelled out. He didn’t know what he was yelling, just that he was. He heard gentle shushing, then humming. It...it was a french lullaby. He recognized it. It was a lullaby his sisters both learned and hummed to him after a bad day or nightmare. He relaxed in their grip and started crying. A hand ran through his hair in a calming manner. After a while, his tears stopped and he looked up. Mari was the one holding him closely and humming.
“S-sorry,” he whispered out, voice cracking once more.
“It’s fine, Xander. We were just worried about you. Are you ok? How do you feel?” Mari asked gently. Mari watched as Xander’s eyes flicked up to her, they were plain silver once more, before looking at the ground.
“I’m o-okay,” he whispered taking the tea Fu was holding out to him and taking a sip from it.
“Do you mind telling us what freaked you out?” Mari asked softly once more.
“I....” he started before trailing off and looking out the window, “everything from before now....and after that day....was a blur. But now....I remember everything. I....I died. I was dead but I was brought back to life,” Xander said slowly and Mari’s arms tightened around him.
“Being with the League....being kidnapped and revived by them....then being trained by them...it’s tough. I have two friends who went through that. One was with them for 10 years, the other only a few. You were there for 8 years. I can’t imagine how that was after they left. But you’re safe now. They won’t get you,” she replied softly and he looked over and watched as Nino and Fu nodded agreement.
“When you are....ready, you’re sisters will be very happy to see you again,” Fu said and Xander smiled at that.
“Really. They were...devastated when you disappeared. I imagine they’ll be very happy when they see you,” Fu said and Xander nodded. “To help you heal from what happened, would you mind coming here every day for the next week or two? After that, we’ll space out the visits,” Fu said and Xander nodded.
“That sounds fine. Where will I stay?” Xander asked looking between the three.
“With me. I asked my parents while Fu got you ready. They understand and are very willing to let you stay,” Mari replied and Xander nodded.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“No problem. Why don’t you change into the clothes Nino got you,” Mari said and Xander nodded as he slowly got up and took the bag from Nino. After he changed into a teal sweatshirt, white tee, and gray sweats, he sat down in front of Fu.
“Shall we begin?” Fu asked and Xander nodded.
“Are you sure you want to go to school, Xander?” Mari asked. It’s been a couple of weeks by then since Xander was healed. He’s meet all of Mari’s close friends who shared the same sentiment as Mari regarding him. They were just outside the school when she asked once more. Adrien stood next to them while the others went into the classroom to ‘deal’ with Lila. He understood that they pretended to hate each other in public for a movie they’re filming.
“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t think staying couped up at your place will help with anything. Not to mention, I’d rather be near you and your friends. I haven’t had an episode recently....but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Your parents and Fu are good, but not as good as you, sister,” Xander said smiling as he said sister in English. Mari beamed at him and took his hand.
“Ok, let’s get you enrolled then.” Mari then leads Xander, and Adrien as he trailed behind them, to the principle’s office. She knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Damocles muffled call came through. Mari opened the door and Damocles looked between her, Xander, and Adrien with a slightly confused expression. “What do you three need?” he asked and Mari had Xander sit in a chair.
“He’d like to enroll here. He’s from America but came here for a specialty therapist that’s really good. But since the therapist doesn’t know when he’ll be good to go home, we thought he’d enroll here for the time being,” Mari explained and Xander nodded. Damocles nodded at that and started typing on his computer.
“Alright. Now, what’s his name, where is he staying and who’s his family?” Damocles said.
“His name is Xander Grayson. He’s staying with me, Principle Damocles. So the info in my file should do,” Mari said and Damocles nodded slowly at that.
“Alright. Now, what about school records?”
“I was homeschooled,” Xander replied.
“Yeah. But he can be in my classes. That way if he’s behind in anything, I can help him,” she replied and Damocles nodded at that.
“If you are higher than the rest of the class, would you want to be moved ahead or stay in the same class?” Damocles asked leaning against his desk.
“I’d like to stay in the same class as my sister, sir,” he said and Damocles looked a bit confused at that.
“That’s me, Principle Damocles. He’s become an honorary Dupain-Cheng,” Mari explained and Damocles nodded at that with a small smile.
“Alright. Marinette, Adrien, why don’t you two head to class. We just need to finish up some work before he can join you,” Damocles said and Mari nodded.
“Of course. We’ll see you soon, Xan,” Mari replied patting his shoulder before leaving.
Bustier was smiling as Lila claimed her tinnitus was acting up. Right as Nino sat down next to Kim and Lila next to Adrien, a knock sounded. “Come in!” Bustier called. Damocles then came into the room with Xander following behind him.
“Miss Bustier, you are receiving a new student. Please take care, make sure to look at his file as soon as you can as we do not want to cause him any problems through negligence,” Damocles replied and Bustier nodded. “Good day, if you need anything, come to me,” with that, Damocles left the room and Xander waved to everyone.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?” Bustier suggested.
“I’m Xander Grayson. I’m from Gotham in the USA. Uh, if I say something makes me uncomfortable, please drop it and don’t talk about it,” he said and the class nodded, some looked a bit confused though.
“Xander, do you want to sit next to me?” Lila asked with a charming smile and Xander shook his head.
“If I could, I’d like to sit next to my honorary sister, Mari,” Xander replied and Lila made a show of grumbling.
“You don’t want to sit next to her, Xander. Mari’s a bully,” Alya spoke up and Xander glanced over at her.
“I’ve already decided to sit next to her. Please don’t argue with me,” he said as Mari beamed at him. He went up the steps and sat down next to Mari. Chloe was sitting next to Sabrina as Mari had told her what was going to happen.
“If you’re from America, why don’t you have an accent?” Mylene asked that and Xander tensed up.
“Practice I guess,” he replied shortly.
“Why don’t you save the questions for later. Give him some time ok?” Mari replied and the class nodded at that.
“Ok class, let’s begin today’s lesson,” Bustier called out.
Ok, so this was the new chap. I hope you guys enjoyed it. There was a bit of a wait, sorry. Anyways, we have Xander appear! He’s Alya’s and Lana’s younger brother. Rn Mari n the others r around 15 yo. Lana is 21-22. Xander is a few years younger so he’s 17. Alya is 27. Just thought I’d tell ya so your aren’t confused. I hope you enjoyed it, I’ll see you again soon! -Love Willa<3<3<3
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She´s Emma, but someones name her Death Lady o Death Emma... She´s friend with X-Virus but he doesn´t accept her as a “real” friend
Her story is in progress...
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So two characters i waxed poetic about earlier deserve to be described.
Life and Death.
Life is pale as snow, skin white and in some bright lights translucent. He has white blonde hair, that curls around his ears and cheeks. His eyes a very light blue and look almost like frozen lake water. He is of medium height and a build somewhere between chubby and willowy. He wears white clothes, a loose top, white jeans and is often barefoot. His voice is lilting and musical and he's often laughing.
Death is taller, thinner. She's intimidating in that way. She has dark brown eyes that look black outside. But inthe brightest of lights they shine brown. She has dark skin that when exposed to the same light that reveals the brown in her eyes, reveals galaxies of freckles. Her hair is long and midnight blue, dotted with stars and galaxies. Her clothes are dark and flowing, robes and batwing sleevs and dresses. Her voice is deeper and less melodic. She is always smiling and always close to life when she can be.
Both of them can grow taller, looming in height. Their bodies twist and contort into only vague humanoid shapes.
Life becomes even paler and the melodic sound of his voice turns scratchy. Tears fall constantly and his skin blisters beneath the torrent. His eyes empty and any humanity vanishes.
Death becomes sharp, her nails long and pointed. Her hair falls limp and she wails. Her eyes expand and leave no color at all. She bends and looks broken. Tears run down her cheeks too, leaving behind blood red streaks.
They hate these forms but take them when needed.
Life and death are in love and very kind.
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Forgive me for six sentences of unhappy Trespasser ending. This is sad, all hurt, no comfort, character death, and I'm so sorry to emotionally harm Josephine. I'm on mobile so no "keep reading" like I wanted, but I have warnings and space so here I go.
Josephine never believed she could loathe a kiss from her amor as much as she loved it, but each time Tirena left for the Eluvians and returned to the Council- to her- Tirena kissed her that much softer, gentler. The woman who valued privacy, the reputations Josephine cultivated, every "only us" moment, cupped Josephine's face with both hands so tenderly and kissed her longer and longer each time without a care to the people around them, each one feeling like a good-bye…
Their last ritual of "Come back to me" was not met with "Always".
"I love you, tesoro, you are beyond stronger than me, and tell Leliana that I'm sorry I lied."
Josephine wiped her fallen tears from Tirena's face, a hopeless attempt because they only fell faster and a pointless attempt because water would never make Tirena uncomfortable again. Bloodied and burned armor snagged on her clothes and dug into her skin, but Josephine cradled her amor, her love, her broken heart, and wailed.
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‘Goodbye Lucifer Mane, burn in hell’
Should probably mention this was blurred on purpose
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A Newsies Fanfiction https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414000
Synopsis: There's a death in the Lodging House. Jack and Race try to deal with it the best they can.
Hey guys! This is... different for me. I wanted to try writing in a new style and I think it worked but am still not completely sure...
It's kind of a story wrapped up in a character study. Like I said, it'd different for me as I typically lean towards dialogue when writing.
Please let me know what you think! This took me way longer to write than usual.
Thanks to @assassin-in-a-hoodie for all her help!
Word count: 1,623
WARNING: Offscreen death of a minor, talk of death, aftermath of death, sadness
Death. It hung like a cloud. A thick, dark cloud. It made it hard to see clearly. The frigid January air matched the insides of each boy in the large bunkroom.
“Where’s Jack?” A broken voice asked. Crutchie, the youngest of the older boys, sat quietly, tears streaming down his face. His arms were wrapped around his knees, the lame leg slightly in front of the other.
Racetrack Higgins, only a year older than the sniffling boy, shrugged. “On the roof, I think.” He was one of the few boys with no tear stains. Some would argue that he didn’t feel, but those closest to him knew it was not a lack of feeling, but the overwhelming weight of them, that kept them from displaying.
“You gotta go get ‘im. He shouldn’t be alone.” The younger of the two leaned his head on his knees. “Please?”
Racetrack, or Race to his friends, sighed. “I don’t know, Crutch. I think he wants to be left alone.”
“Ain’t good for him. He’s takin’ it hard.” Crutchie knew Jack better than any other boy in the Lodging House, possibly in all of the state of New York.
The older boy pressed a hand to his temple, hoping the pressure would relieve at least some of the tension. He gave a quick glance around the room, noting the unusual silence. It was true that the boys often had a lively, rambunctious energy. Now, the only sound that could be heard were muffled sobs and soft whispers.
The room felt somehow emptier to the boys huddled together, however there were only two notable absences. The first, the aforementioned Jack, but the second was the cause of the tears, a boy known only as Pickit. The emptiness most felt on the outside, was very similar to the feeling Racetrack was experiencing on the inside.
“Please Race?” The young boy begged, redrawing the attention of his slightly older friend.
The boy in question let out a sigh. “Okay, jus’, don’ worry ‘bout it too much. He’ll be fine.”
Racetrack pushed open the window, letting in a cold gust of air that sent shivers down the backs’ of many boys. The roof, or Penthouse as some mockingly referred to it, was only reachable by scaling the fire escape. The temperature was nearly painful after only a few moments of exposure to the underdressed boy.
A loud, heartbroken, scream echoed throughout the darkened city streets. It was accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting brick. Racetrack flinched at the noise before he heaved himself up the final rungs of the ladder.
Jack Kelly was there, back turned to the intruder, palms pressed firmly on the risen ledge in front of him, his body shaking as choking breaths escaped him. He was the oldest of the boys at seventeen. He had inherited the role of leader at an undeniably young age, yet many agreed he was the best to ever rule Manhattan. He was a kind leader, taking the welfare of the boys as his own personal responsibility. He was cocky and arrogant and yet somehow so humble in the things that were truly important. Jack Kelly was an enigma few understand, but everyone who called him friend knew that he was highly, and sometimes overly, emotional.
Racetrack stopped, mindlessly picking at the cigar that hung from his mouth. His relationship with the Manhattan leader was complicated. They were friends, some might even argue best friends, but they fought often enough for it to be a well-known occurrence.
“You should come downstairs.” The voice was quiet, unusual for the often loud-mouth gambler.
Jack Kelly sighed, “No. I-I can’t.” The was a beat of silence. “How’s Crutchie?”
“He’s okay. He asked me to come get you.” Though the young boy in question was quite upset, the speaker knew that he was far better off than the Newsies leader who had just turned around to face him.
“I can’t. I couldn’t, I couldn’t help him!” While emotional, Jack rarely cried in front of his boys. He was more prone to stoicism or anger when pressed for emotion. That fact that he now had tears in his eyes unnerved the other boy. “I should have been able to do something! Get a doctor, get better medicine. There had to be something! I shouldn’t have let him-”
“It’s not your fault Jack. There’s nothing you could have done. He’s always been sick. An’ he was real bad off this time. Maybe it’s better that-”
“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence. He was eleven years old, Race! Eleven! He shouldn’t have had to worry about things like that! He should have had all the food he needed and warm clothes in the winter. He should be goin’ to school and playin’ with his friends instead of hawking papes in weather no one should be out in!” The tears that had once trickled, now poured unbidden from the older boy’s eyes. His voice had become more broken with every word.
Racetrack was never one for comfort. He preferred to remain the comic relief of the group, but there was no one else to help in this situation. “Jack, Pickit, he, he’s been sick from the beginning. We all knew it would happen sooner or later.”
“But it didn’t have to! We got Crutchie through! Everyone always said that he wouldn’t make it, but he did!” The voice could barely be called angry. It sounded as though a strong wall had grown a large fracture, causing any strength it may have once had to become irrelevant.
“Pickit’s not Crutchie. It happened, Jack. There was nothing you could have done.”
A slight breeze amplified the cold, sending a shiver down the younger boy’s back. “Jack, you can’t keep blamin’ yurself. He was sick. No matter how much you wanted to make ‘im better, you couldn’ve.”
“But, I-I coul’ve done something.” It was said on a breath, any signs of anger snatched away by a deep, heartbreaking, sadness. A deep weight had settled in his very soul, causing all other emotions to drain away.
Racetrack rocked on the balls of his feet, hoping to bring at least a minuscule amount of warmth with the movement. “It don’t work that way. You know it don’t. There was nothing you could’ve done. Come inside. It’s gettin’ colder and I forgot my coat.” There was compassion in boys heart. He cared for his leader, his friend. He wanted to help, but comfort was something he had never been able to properly give.
“You go on, I’ll be down later.” It was not hard to conceive that he was lying. It was something that came all too easy for the Manhattan leader. Lying was how he made his living, however, he always felt a pang of guilt when lying to those closest to him.
“No you won’t. If you don’t come down with me now, you’ll be here all night. I ain’t stupid Jack. If you won’t go inside then I won’t neither.” He crossed his arms, whether it was to reenforce his statement or ward off the cold was unsure. Racetrack Higgins was known for his stubbornness. He truly had no intentions of leaving his friend alone, much to Jack’s annoyance
The older Newsie sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He was only eleven.”
“You sure Crutchie’s okay?” The fifteen-year-old boy had been the one to find Pickit on the streets, dying on the streets. It had been rough in the beginning, but once the seven-year-old had regained his strength they had been nearly inseparable.
Racetrack shrugged a single shoulder. “I guess. Still think yous should go talk to him. He needs you right now.”
There was an extended period of silence before Jack sighed. “I just.... can’t.”
“You gotta Jack. The boys, Crutchie, they need you.”
“You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand!” The younger boy began to pace the small rooftop. “I know it ain’t fair, I know you should get a chance to grieve and be sad jus’ like everyone else, but you can’t. You can’t because all them boys downstairs is waitin’ on you. They’s waitin’ for you to come down and make everything better! Becuase yous there leader, Jack. You cain’t stay up here and cry no matter how much you want to because you got people countin’ on you! The boys need you! I need you!” He stopped, shaking his head. He realized too late that he had spoken from his heart, something he never intended to do.
Jack stood, momentarily stunned before wrapping his arms around his young friend. “I’m sorry Racer. I’m so sorry.”
Racetrack didn’t even notice that he had tears in his eyes. The boy stood unmoving in the cold, allowing the Manhattan reader to hold him closely.
A little bit of warmth broke through the bitter cold as the two boys clung to each other . After an extended moment, the older boy pulled away. Clearing his voice, he said, “Come on, we got a Lodging House to run. He offered a light punch to his friend's arm before a boy with the troubles that someone twice his age would barely be able to manage began his descent into the all too empty bunkroom. Racetrack brushed the tears from his eyes before following.
Death. It clung to the air in and around the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, amplifying the cold of the season. There was no denying its presence, but it was not alone in its appearance.
A small amount of warmth entered with the love and care of their leader Jack Kelly. It gave them hope that everything would be okay. Someday, everything would be okay.
So that's that!
Like I said, I tried a new voice, any thoughts?
I don't necessarily think that I'm going to change my writing style, but it was fun to try something new!
I now have an entire backstory for PIckit and am sad. I didn't even mean to. I just came up with the name and suddenly knew his entire life story! Do you guys want to hear more about him, or should I just leave it because... I mean we start with his death...
Please let me know what you think!
I really appreciate any votes/comments/likes/comments/favourites/COMMENTS/reblogs you guys are willing to give!
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