#GIGGLING LIKE I JUST EXPLODED 4 PEOPLE WITH MY FAILED TRAP
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Make Me
Shizaya Week - Day Five (cigarettes)
Notes: Day 3 & 4? I don’t know her. Anyway, here’s this, because I actually had an idea for this one! One day I will make Shizuo the lee, I swear, but for now, I shall stick with self-indulgently wrecking Izaya’s shit once more.
“Hey!”
Shizuo glanced up in surprise as Izaya snatched the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. “What the hell?”
“These things will kill you, you know,” Izaya commented, his brows wrinkling in disgust. He waved it around idly as he spoke, casually walking away from the other. “You already have enough people in this town trying to kill you, I hardly think you need something else adding onto your sudden demise.”
“Are you forgetting all the times you attempted to do the same?” Shizuo dodged around passerby’s awkwardly, attempting to catch up with Izaya.
The two had met up at Simon’s that day on accident, mostly. Perhaps Shizuo had let the information slip that he would be there that afternoon, and maybe Izaya had decided that he was coincidentally in the mood for sushi as well. If anyone asked, it was happenstance, a random fluke of life. To call it a date would be ludicrous.
Izaya laughed, gracefully slipping through the crowd with an ease the other lacked. “You get hung up on the smallest things, Shizu-chan. Relax—I’m doing you a favor.”
“Give it back.”
“Make me.”
The words were a challenge, one Shizuo knew well. The urge to destroy Izaya hadn’t fled when feelings encroached on their territory, but instead had merely morphed into new and more intimate modes. There was a playful edge to their taunts now. The lines between fighting and flirting were flimsy, and Shizuo found himself crossing it unconsciously more and more as time went on. Not that he really minded. He was never one for change, but he had to admit, this was a nice one.
Shizuo narrowed his eyes, a teasing grin sliding into place on his features. Izaya’s heart leapt to his throat, as though his body already knew what was to come.
And then he was running.
Pushing past people on the street, Izaya leapt on top of benches, propelling himself forward with a chaotic ease that made others stare. Shizuo felt fire alight in his body once more, a familiar feeling. Only this time, instead of anger, the passion coursing through him was something else entirely—excitement.
“What’s wrong? Running away is the coward’s option you know—come out and face me like a man.”
Izaya threw a glance back only to find Shizuo much, much closer than he had expected. Shit. Giddy laughter built up in his throat, but he shoved it down, tossing back a breezy air as he replied, “Only fools play fair, my dear beast. I thought you would have learned that by now.”
Izaya turned into a corner at the last moment, hoping it would delay the other and give him a second to think. He clutched the cigarette tight to his chest; his fingers had crushed it a little in his haste, rendering it useless should Shizuo actually retrieve it. Not that it mattered. Both knew that wasn’t what this was about, anyway.
Seconds passed by slowly with no sign of the other man, and Izaya exhaled slowly. Maybe he had lost him after all? He turned around to shove the cigarette in his pocket, but before he could he felt a hand grab his wrists, pulling it above his head and pressing him against the wall. Izaya gasped, bracing his impact with his other hand.
“Gotcha,” Shizuo whispered quietly, casually plucking the cigarette from his hand and tossing it to the ground. He had him trapped, his torso bearing into Izaya’s back and his hand pinning him there. Escape would be difficult to be sure.
Izaya smiled, helplessly, closing his eyes and trying to conceal the nervous edge from his voice. “For now. And what happens when you’re in my position later on, hmm? What will you do when you are at the mercy of my will?”
Shizuo slipped his right hand under Izaya’s shirt, his fingers skimming across the trembling skin in unhurried exploration. “We’ll see if you last long enough for then, won’t we?”
Izaya choked on a stifled sound, biting his lip to try to conceal the other noises rising inside him. Nails, featherlight, traced incomprehensible patterns along his ribs that had him arching closer to the wall. “T-This is, e-entirely, ah, uncahalled for!”
“You stealing my shit is uncalled for.” Shizuo dragged his nails down, scratching lightly at his hips. Izaya yelped, his other hand reaching around to slap him away. Shizuo merely danced around the interference, targeting a new spot whenever he tried to protect it. “This, however, is simply the consequences of your own actions.”
“S-Stahap this, heh, y-ohou crehetin!” Izaya giggled, for it was giggling—that was unmistakable. He jumped and twitched underneath the other, his face flushing an embarrassing shade of pink. This was ridiculous. Of all the things Shizuo could choose to do to him, he never understood why tickling was his favorite. It was undignified, childish, and entirely beneath him.
And maybe, just a little, tiny bit, fun.
Not that he would let the other know that, of course.
“Is something the matter?” Shizuo teased, scribbling fingers under his arms to hear the accompanying shriek it produced. It was endlessly entertaining watching the composed man fall to pieces in his arm over something so simple. He never grew tired of it. “Does it tickle too much for the great Izaya Orihara? Is the famous info broker too ticklish to handle this?”
Izaya felt like his body would never be the same hue again at this rate. He wanted to hide his face in embarrassment, or at the very least cover his mouth to conceal the high-pitched laughter escaping him. Unfortunately, every time he tried the tickling would grow more intense and he would be forced to bring it back down again. It was an endless cycle, one he couldn’t help but participate in.
“Having some trouble getting your words out?” Izaya’s fingers had closed about Shizuo’s wrist, but they clung there uselessly, unable to prevent his hand from continuing its ticklish expedition along his torso. Currently, Shizuo clawed at his stomach, a spot that produced the most adorable sounds from the other, his body doubled over in an attempt at vain protection. “How about this—I’ll make it easy for you. Apologize and I’ll let you go. It’s that simple.”
Izaya scoffed incredulously through his laughter, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous proposition. “A-Ahahas ihihif Ihihihi wohohould e-ehehever, geh, ahahapologize to, aha s-shohort-fuhuhused lohohoser lihihike yohohou!”
“Loser, eh?”
Izaya squeaked as Shizuo latched suddenly onto his hips, his thumb pressing directly into the bone in a way that sent electricity shooting throughout his nervous system. He jerked back, his laughter exploding in frantic bursts as he squirmed desperately to get away.
“Ah! WAHAHAIT, SHIHIHIZUHO, NAHAHA!” He shoved uselessly at his hand, trying to dislodge it from the spot to failing efforts. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth splitting wide in an uncharacteristically genuine grin. “I-IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES, SHIHIHIT!”
“Say you’re sorry.” Shizuo was relentless, not letting up for a moment. The intense tickling on such a sensitive spot was quickly driving Izaya up the wall, and before he knew what he was doing, the words were falling from his lips.
“A-Ah, fihihine, fihihIHIHINE!” He jumped from foot to foot, his laughter dissolving into helpless cackling as he threw his head back. “I’m sorry! Ihihi’m sohoHOHOHORRY! A-Ahahaha, ShihiHIHIHIZUHUO!:
With a satisfied grin, Shizuo relented, releasing him. Izaya slumped back against the other, burying his face in his chest and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to support himself.
“Mean,” he mumbled, his words muffled from the position. “Shizu-chan is a mean and callous brute.”
“Is that so?” Shizuo replied fondly, brushing his hair back from his face. He felt Izaya soften against him, melting into the touch despite himself. He tilted the other’s chin up, leaning in to kiss him, but Izaya quickly turned his face away.
“Absolutely not,” he sniffed petulantly, releasing him to cross his arms stubbornly instead. “As if I would kiss an evil brute like you after what you did to me.”
“You say that like you don’t enjoy it,” Shizuo pointed out. Izaya blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. “Fine then. You’ve forced my hand.”
Izaya squawked, lurching backwards when Shizuo grabbed his hips again, sending him quickly back into a fit of giggles. “W-Wahahahait, ohohokay, ohOHOHOKAY!”
Shizuo stopped, pulling him in and stealing the remaining laughter from the other’s lips with a kiss. “You’re so cute like this, you know,” he murmured afterwards, pulling away to look into his eyes.
Izaya froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. After a moment, however, the smirk was back. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you. Don’t worry though—I’m sure one day you’ll grow into your looks.”
Suffice it to say, Izaya did not learn his lesson that day.
#tickle fic#shizayaweek2021#shizaya#tickling#izaya orihara#shizuo heiwajima#durarara#durarara!!#shizayaweek#fanfiction#drabble
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I love your sibling Jasonette so much!! If you don't mind, could you do Marinette's first meeting with the rest of the Batfam? Also, this is probably a stupid question but are the rest of the sibling Jasonette stories connected?
Not a stupid question at all! I wrote them so that if you read all of them, there are parallels so that they could be connected, but if people didn’t want to read all of them, they could also stand on their own :)
I also NEVER mind writing more sibling Jasonette ;) Hope you enjoy! @moonlitjiminie
Family Game Night
“What if they don’t like me?”
Jason stopped in his tracks, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Is that even a real question that you’re asking me? I’m honestly offended right now that you would even think they had an option to not like you.”
He dramatically placed his hand over his heart as if her words had fatally wounded him earning a small giggle from the girl. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, she managed to breathe a small sigh of relief as they made their way up the long staircase.
Jason didn’t even bother knocking as he threw open the manor doors, effectively dragging her in with him.
“Master Jason, what a pleasure to see you attend family game night and with a guest in tow, how lovely.”
An older man stood in the foyer, his sly smile warming Marinette to the core instantly. Jason narrowed his eyes playfully at the man, a sly smile of his own tugging at his lips.
“Marinette, let me introduce you to the only sane person in this household. Mr. Alfred Pennyworth. He likes to pretend he’s just a humble butler, but we all know that he secretly runs the whole thing around here.”
Alfred bowed deeply to Marinette to which she could only curtsey in return.
“It’s a pleasure, sir. I am sorry for invading your family time. I was under the impression that my presence was a known factor tonight.” Her narrowed eyes shot to Jason who simply shrugged, his smirk as arrogant as ever.
“Nonsense, a friend of Master Jason is a friend to all. You are by far the most pleasant friend he has brought to this event.”
Marinette almost wanted to ask about the context of his remark, but something in her gut told her she really didn’t want to know.
“Please, follow me to the sitting room. The rest of the family has already arrived.”
They walked in a comfortable silence down the hall, Marinette nerves slightly frayed now knowing that nobody expected her appearance. Alfred pushed open two oak doors, revealing a brightly lit room filled with many laughing faces. When Jason said he had a lot of siblings, Marinette thought two or three. Nothing could have prepared her for this.
“Oh my god, Jason brought home a girl!”
Instantly all sounds in the room paused as many heads turned their attention to where Marinette stood in the doorway. Hesitantly, she raised her hand in greeting, a sheepish smile gracing her face.
“Everyone, this is Marinette, the legendary designer MDC, and my sister. She’s flown all the way from Paris to meet you losers for some reason so be nice.”
Marinette mumbled a quiet hello as a few smiles broke through the room welcoming her. Instantly, a blonde girl jumped up to drag her back to where she was previously sitting, ignoring Jason’s protests.
“You just have to play on my team tonight! Are you any good at Pictionary? I mean I’m not great, but I can say with utmost confidence that I can beat most of the people in this room.”
“That’s not true!” Marinette’s attention was split as one of the men started an argument with her as to who was the better pictionary-ist. She didn’t even notice when Jason had sat beside her, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
“The rude blonde is Stephanie Brown. She’s Timmy boys girlfriend, who would be the dead zombie looking kid over there.”
Marinette’s gaze followed to where Jason pointed, a small giggle escaping at his accurate description. The poor boy looked like he hasn’t gotten a good night's sleep a single day in his life.
“The rude boy arguing with Stephanie would be Dick. He practically rivals your optimism except his happy go lucky actually disgusts me.”
The man paused from his argument, a horrified expression on his face.
“I like to think my optimism is a blessing.”
That earned a collective groan from the room to which he simply crossed his arms into a pout.
“Anyways, continuing, the redhead is Barbara Gordon-Grayson who unfortunately has trapped herself in the position of Dick’s wife. A tragedy really for such a beautiful woman, I mean she could’ve had me and instead she chose him? The world just isn’t right.”
Another protest came from Dick’s direction as he turned his pout into Barbara’s outstretched arms as her attempt to not laugh failed miserably.
“The one staring you down while trying to pretend he’s not interested at the same time would be your future husband Damian.”
Marinette felt her entire face flush red as she reached back slapping Jason in the stomach as hard as he could.
“Todd, I do not appreciate harassing this young woman. You are beneath her in status and beauty therefore you should not be allowed to get off with this insult to her self so easily.”
Damian stood from his spot, careful not to make eye contact with Marinette as he sped past her toward the room’s only exit. She wanted to call out and ask him to stay, but the pink on his cheeks caused her to pause. He probably was just as embarrassed as her and just needed some time to breathe.
“Jason, that was mean! Look at how flustered you made him!”
Jason simply laughed as he reached over to ruffle her hair.
“Trust me, he never gets ‘flustered’ that was all you.”
For the second time that night, Marinette felt her face flush.
“He’s right you know!” Her eyes turned back to the blonde from earlier who stared her down with a playful expression in her eyes. “Demon spawn definitely has a crush on you.”
The rest of the family took turns picking at her, taking jabs until she was sure there wasn’t one part of her that wasn’t bloodshot red.
“Alright, alright, give the girl some space. We want her to return eventually!”
Marinette smiled gratefully toward the dark-haired man.
“After all, I need to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”
She instantly regretted her friendly gesture as the room exploded once more, smiles and laughter filling the room. Why exactly had she let Jason talk her into this?
“Okay, okay, really though guys. It’s game night! Time to pick team captains.”
Stephanie’s devilish smile sent shivers through Marinette’s spine. It was purely chaotic, reminding her of another blonde that she had left behind.
“I vote Marinette and Jason, the ultimate sibling showdown!” Dick puffed out his chest as his voice mimicked what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling ref that her father loved to watch.
“I’m down, how about you princess?”
Marinette bit her lip as her eyes glanced around the room at their waiting faces. Her eyes caught sight of one brooding face that she couldn’t seem to pass by. He also seemed to be waiting, his eyes nervously glancing from her position to the door as if he might bolt at any moment.
“It’s game on Todd.”
They shook their hands defiantly, both wearing dangerous smirks. Maybe she could salvage her pride tonight; not just hers’ but Damian’s as well.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“Ladies first.”
Marinette and Jason stood on opposite sides of the room, both watching each other with an intense look that came from their competitive natures. She scanned the eager faces of his family thoughtfully. She had no idea what any of them were good at, but she wanted to maintain appearance for the psych of it.
“Damian.”
Everybody broke out into smirks as they shared knowing looks. She didn’t bother to pay them any mind as the pink-cheeked boy rose to stand with her.
“Wrong move princess, demon spawn hates game night more than he likes to win. My first choice? Stephanie.”
The girl pumped her fist in the air as she joined Jason on his side. Marinette leaned toward where Damian stood, hiding half her face behind her hand.
“Time to strategize, who is my best bet?”
Damian stared at her with a bewildered expression.
“C’mon beau garçon, I need your help if we’re gonna kick Jason’s ass.”
He nodded slowly as if that were a perfectly reasonable excuse to kick into gear.
“Grayson is the leading contender if you wish to win tonight.”
Marinette nodded as she motioned for Dick to join them as well. Jason raised an eyebrow at her as he called over Tim, challenging her to pick from the remaining two.
“Okay Damian, Barbara or Bruce.”
He didn't bother responding as he pointed at his father, leaving the redhead to Jason’s team.
It was five hours of intense games, Alfred keeping score as an unaffiliated third party,( after all, they had all agreed that he was the fairest way to keep the games moving.) They all sat in anticipation while he tallied the scores. She couldn’t seem to calm her nerves as she stared at Jason’s cocky smirk.
Marinette felt a warmth brush by her kneecap. Instantly her head snapped to where a hand rested before her gaze reached back up to his face, a light red dusting across her cheeks. Immediately his hand retracted.
“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate, your knee was just bouncing anxiously from the corner of my eye and it was a slight bother.”
Marinette muttered out a small sorry before they both broke their gaze, the blush evident on both of their cheeks.
“And with a final score of 5-4, the winning team is… Miss Marinette!”
Her whole team jumped from the couch in excitement. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Damian’s neck. Realization crossed her face as she quickly retracted her hug, her entire face as red as could be. God, she hadn’t been this much of a blushing mess since she was thirteen.
They all chatted idly for a few minutes before Jason finally intercepted, insisting he had to get her back to her apartment before it got too late. The whole family waved her goodbye, minus one red-faced teen who instead handed her a small piece of paper as discreetly as he could, ignoring the taunts from his family behind his back.
As they drove back to her apartment, Marinette couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.
“I don’t know why you were warning me so much, I think I’m in love with your family Jason.”
His familiar smirk sat on his face as he turned into the apartment’s lot.
“I told you they were going to love you, and what do you know? I didn’t even have to give Damian your number, you two worked it out on your own. I truly believe they are planning out your wedding right now.”
Marinette shook her head as she reached over the console to hug Jason tightly before stepping out of the car. She wanted to deny accusations of what happened tonight, but she knew it would just fuel his picking.
Besides, even she couldn’t deny that she was excited for the next family game night and if she saw a certain Wayne there, well, that really wouldn’t be so bad.
Permanent Tag List:
@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava
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What you are chapter 4
The weekend came far faster than Deceit would like, he felt like he was leading a death march as he and Remus walked down the dark halls of the Mindscape to the large door of the Imagination. It towered over the pair, like a black dragon, ancient and terrifying. Each piece of silver decor outlining it a scale on the beast.
It will devour Remus whole.
Deceit shook the melodramatic thought from his head. Granted there was a truth to it, he shuddered thinking about what might happen to Remus in there. He glanced at the side who was rocking back and fouth, heels-to-toes, heels-to-toes. Deceit checked his watch- 10 minutes left. Deceit turned to Remus and opened his mouth-
Remus immediately replied, “I know, you’ve been repeating it since I brought it up. I’m sure this is what I want to do. This is what Thomas needs me to do. I get that it’s risky but you have to trust me on this one.” His cadence was less bouncy than usual, his smile, less manic. The unease that rose in Deceit’s chest wasn’t lessened in the slightest by Remus’s serious certainty.
Deceit hesitated, he needed a mind unclouded by emotion right now, “It’s not that I was worried about you of course. I was worried about how this will effect Thomas’s overall mental health. Honestly this level of repression seems like a short term situation that will cause long term problems and...” He faltered over his statement his throat closing in on itself stupidly.
Remus leaned down and kissed the top of his head, “Hey, hey, it’ll only be a few hours, than I’ll be back in here,” He did a pose, “My usual ass-mazing self,” He slapped his own ass for emphasis, “and everyone will be better off for it!”
Deceit closed his eyes and nodded, he held his hands up a light yellow glow forming around his gloves. He checked his watch, 2 minutes. “Only a few hours... If you can and you need to contact me if you need to leave earlier.”
Remus gave a one handed salute, using his other hand to grab the slimy door handle to the Imagination. He pulled and the door moaned sexually, he couldn’t help his giggle at it, on a different day he would have spent hours teasing the door, but today he just stepped into his half of the Imagination. He heard another moan, followed by a click behind him. The door gained a steady yellow aura around it.
This was it. From now until Thomas woke up he would be stuck here. He could do this!
Immediately clouds started forming around him as his thoughts began to run wild, what if the Imagination created a monster that he couldn’t defeat? What would it even look like? OH imagine if it had long claws like a crab, but the rest of its body was octopussy- heh, octopussy, what if it had one that worked like a vacuum, sucking up everything in its path?
And as soon as the thought formed so did the cloud, and as soon as the cloud fully formed, so did the creature. It was the size of Mount Everest, and other than its bright red claws it was made of a strange, putty like substance. Its face- or lack thereof was a completely flat surface. It rolled towards him, claws outstretched ready to snap him in half.
Well this certainly was a great way to start the night.
He leaped away from the creature’s first attack, and tried to ignore how large the crater was, tried not to think about how it would feel if the creature managed to catch him, how he would first feel the sharp sides of the claws digging into his flesh, then feel them push deeper into his skin.
It grabbed him.
The creature was clever, it would play with him, slowly pushing those nubs into his skin, he cried as he felt a thousand needles dig into his skin at once. The blood trickled down his skin hot as a flame, each droplet touching another hold. It never touched the ground, swirling around him, burning him. He panted, both because of the extreme heat and the ache that had taken over his body. He wished something would get rid of the blood in his body, at least if he didn’t have blood the burning aches would go away.
The Imagination obliged him, the creature rolled onto its back, revealing the only hole in his body. Remus couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the perfection of his Yonic imagery. The way the sides folded in on itself and the round diamond-like shape. It was like a Georgia O Keef painting, Logan would be proud after all those lessons on anatomy...
Well he would be proud until it started to pull the blood from his body, his body arched back and he screamed, he felt like an inflated blow-up doll, limp in the air but still conscious. His heart continued to pound, giving the creature more blood, and it gained more size and power. He forced himself to think of a way out of this situation. The only thing that can beat one giant octopus-crab-vag creature... Was another octopus-crab-vag creature! And maybe he’d just be thrown off to the side so they could touch lips-
And so he flew through the air, watching the two octopus-crab-vag creatures roll away together and he easily thought of a cloud to make him slowly float into the arms of a group of small humanoid creatures, aspects of their faces each in different spots like a group of Mr.Potato heads in a preschool. Their hands were cold as ice and had the texture of snot. They gripped his wrists, the top of his head and ankles, that snot-like texture dripping against arms, head, and legs. He twitched under the touch- a twitch that would have been a flinch if he could properly move at the moment. He couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief, even though these guys were creepy and he was trapped in their grip they didn’t seem to automatically want to kill him. If anything, they were kind of cute, one of them had an eye on his chin how precious!
Remus giggled, “What’s your name little guys?”
One of them grinned from a smile in their hair, and the others started giggling, one of them loudly started shouting, “DING DING DING DING DING DING!” Another clicked on a record player which started playing siren noises, and a third created a stepping stool and stood over him, several knives in hand.
“SPIN TIME!” The one standing over him shouted, the ones holding Remus giggled started to spin him around and around the one standing above him began to throw knives at his body. Remus thought he would get sick and his mouth immediately started to taste like bile and his stomach heaved, he tried to throw up, but the one holding his head had an iron grip. He felt the bile rise in his throat and stop there, he coughed feeling the chunks getting stuck in his throat. His coughs became harsher as he tried to force them out but to no avail.
It was then that he started to feel the pinching, harsh stab of dull knives being thrown at his body, the first at his stomach, then his head, then two for each shoulder and two for each knee- and at first, he supposed it wasn’t too bad. He sucked in air through his breath as each one pierced through his skin, but it was only a few seconds of pain before he was gently set down on the ground. He took a moment to breathe, the creatures suddenly became silent as he stared at the sky; it was already filled to the brim with clouds of thoughts towards other people he’d had throughout this endeavor. Every second he wished someone else was here, every fly away thought he had while floating to the ground sat in that sky.
He almost thought it would be more painful for him to be stuck here, staring in horror at the future that Thomas had waiting for his mind and knowing it was his fault. The guilt weighed in his chest like a thousand bricks, and unsurprisingly at this point, several tons of bricks than fell from the sky and onto his chest, forcing the breath from his lungs. Something that looked like ash swirled around him. In his ears came the squelch of a knife being pushed into a body.
Oh wait, no, that wasn’t ash.
Those were his locust.
The first one landed on his skin and immediately the creatures that had captured him began to make noises that banged around in his head like the beans in a rattle. The feeling of every small leg of the locust against his raw, pained body felt like hammers banging against his skin. Their bits like needles pushing into his skin. One began to walk on top of his eyeball and he immediately closed his eyes, squishing it between his eyelids, feeling the guts in every pore. He put his hands to his ears but the sound only grew louder, he rolled around but failed to kill any of the locusts. They swarmed around him like a tornado of pain. He wished this would end, he wished he could just escape-
"Remus?" Remus could hear the sound of a voice above the whirlwind of noise noise NOISE around him. The screams of children as someone chopped off their fingers and used them to scratch a record playing Sweet Home Alabama slowly, far too slowly, the man's voice low and crackly and the SCREETCH of the nails against the record. How could he even try to focus on who this was?
" REMUS! "He struggled to hear the voice and recognize it. So familiar, so terribly terribly familiar. his eyes popped open and his vision filled with the twitchy, tiny leg of locusts. They started to gnaw on his eye, his vision slowly becoming black as they bit into his iris as easily as one might chew on a piece of a sandwich.
But Remus didn't need to see at the moment, he knew what he saw.
Roman. His brother, he could save him! Wait, he was supposed to be in here for a reason, wasn't he? Think Remus think! Why was he supposed to be here? Something about Patton? Thomas? The noise broke his brain, he didn't care anymore, he didn't care anymore! He just wanted to get out of this situation, to live for a few more minutes. He crawled out of the tornado and reached for his brother's hand.
Light flooded his vision and the swarm of locusts exploded into a swarm of butterflies. The creatures started to run towards Roman, who easily tore them down with a wave of his sword. He picked up Remus as easily as he might a small child. Remus watched as they walked through the black and silver door of his half of the Imagination, he saw Deceit, he was obviously saying something but his ringing ears couldn't understand a word. He felt weak and dumber than usual as he finally closed his eyes, deciding he'd focus on the consequences of his actions later. For now, he would let himself rest.
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What You Are Chapter 4
Warnings: Gore, body horror, genitalia mention, blood, Vomiting, insects, insects crawling on skin gonna be honest folks this chapter’s borderline Whump, ask to tag
@booklover223
@isaacoctosnake
The weekend came far faster than Deceit would like, he felt like he was leading a death march as he and Remus walked down the dark halls of the Mindscape to the large door of the Imagination. It towered over the pair, like a black dragon, ancient and terrifying. Each piece of silver decor outlining it a scale on the beast.
It will devour Remus whole.
Deceit shook the melodramatic thought from his head. Granted there was a truth to it, he shuddered thinking about what might happen to Remus in there. He glanced at the side who was rocking back and fouth, heels-to-toes, heels-to-toes. Deceit checked his watch- 10 minutes left. Deceit turned to Remus and opened his mouth-
Remus immediately replied, “I know, you’ve been repeating it since I brought it up. I’m sure this is what I want to do. This is what Thomas needs me to do. I get that it’s risky but you have to trust me on this one.” His cadence was less bouncy than usual, his smile, less manic. The unease that rose in Deceit’s chest wasn’t lessened in the slightest by Remus’s serious certainty.
Deceit hesitated, he needed a mind unclouded by emotion right now, “It’s not that I was worried about you of course. I was worried about how this will effect Thomas’s overall mental health. Honestly this level of repression seems like a short term situation that will cause long term problems and...” He faltered over his statement his throat closing in on itself stupidly.
Remus leaned down and kissed the top of his head, “Hey, hey, it’ll only be a few hours, than I’ll be back in here,” He did a pose, “My usual ass-mazing self,” He slapped his own ass for emphasis, “and everyone will be better off for it!”
Deceit closed his eyes and nodded, he held his hands up a light yellow glow forming around his gloves. He checked his watch, 2 minutes. “Only a few hours... If you can and you need to contact me if you need to leave earlier.”
Remus gave a one handed salute, using his other hand to grab the slimy door handle to the Imagination. He pulled and the door moaned sexually, he couldn’t help his giggle at it, on a different day he would have spent hours teasing the door, but today he just stepped into his half of the Imagination. He heard another moan, followed by a click behind him. The door gained a steady yellow aura around it.
This was it. From now until Thomas woke up he would be stuck here. He could do this!
Immediately clouds started forming around him as his thoughts began to run wild, what if the Imagination created a monster that he couldn’t defeat? What would it even look like? OH imagine if it had long claws like a crab, but the rest of its body was octopussy- heh, octopussy, what if it had one that worked like a vacuum, sucking up everything in its path?
And as soon as the thought formed so did the cloud, and as soon as the cloud fully formed, so did the creature. It was the size of Mount Everest, and other than its bright red claws it was made of a strange, putty like substance. Its face- or lack thereof was a completely flat surface. It rolled towards him, claws outstretched ready to snap him in half.
Well this certainly was a great way to start the night.
He leaped away from the creature’s first attack, and tried to ignore how large the crater was, tried not to think about how it would feel if the creature managed to catch him, how he would first feel the sharp sides of the claws digging into his flesh, then feel them push deeper into his skin.
It grabbed him.
The creature was clever, it would play with him, slowly pushing those nubs into his skin, he cried as he felt a thousand needles dig into his skin at once. The blood trickled down his skin hot as a flame, each droplet touching another hold. It never touched the ground, swirling around him, burning him. He panted, both because of the extreme heat and the ache that had taken over his body. He wished something would get rid of the blood in his body, at least if he didn’t have blood the burning aches would go away.
The Imagination obliged him, the creature rolled onto its back, revealing the only hole in his body. Remus couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the perfection of his Yonic imagery. The way the sides folded in on itself and the round diamond-like shape. It was like a Georgia O Keef painting, Logan would be proud after all those lessons on anatomy...
Well he would be proud until it started to pull the blood from his body, his body arched back and he screamed, he felt like an inflated blow-up doll, limp in the air but still conscious. His heart continued to pound, giving the creature more blood, and it gained more size and power. He forced himself to think of a way out of this situation. The only thing that can beat one giant octopus-crab-vag creature... Was another octopus-crab-vag creature! And maybe he’d just be thrown off to the side so they could touch lips-
And so he flew through the air, watching the two octopus-crab-vag creatures roll away together and he easily thought of a cloud to make him slowly float into the arms of a group of small humanoid creatures, aspects of their faces each in different spots like a group of Mr.Potato heads in a preschool. Their hands were cold as ice and had the texture of snot. They gripped his wrists, the top of his head and ankles, that snot-like texture dripping against arms, head, and legs. He twitched under the touch- a twitch that would have been a flinch if he could properly move at the moment. He couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief, even though these guys were creepy and he was trapped in their grip they didn’t seem to automatically want to kill him. If anything, they were kind of cute, one of them had an eye on his chin how precious!
Remus giggled, “What’s your name little guys?”
One of them grinned from a smile in their hair, and the others started giggling, one of them loudly started shouting, “DING DING DING DING DING DING!” Another clicked on a record player which started playing siren noises, and a third created a stepping stool and stood over him, several knives in hand.
“SPIN TIME!” The one standing over him shouted, the ones holding Remus giggled started to spin him around and around the one standing above him began to throw knives at his body. Remus thought he would get sick and his mouth immediately started to taste like bile and his stomach heaved, he tried to throw up, but the one holding his head had an iron grip. He felt the bile rise in his throat and stop there, he coughed feeling the chunks getting stuck in his throat. His coughs became harsher as he tried to force them out but to no avail.
It was then that he started to feel the pinching, harsh stab of dull knives being thrown at his body, the first at his stomach, then his head, then two for each shoulder and two for each knee- and at first, he supposed it wasn’t too bad. He sucked in air through his breath as each one pierced through his skin, but it was only a few seconds of pain before he was gently set down on the ground. He took a moment to breathe, the creatures suddenly became silent as he stared at the sky; it was already filled to the brim with clouds of thoughts towards other people he’d had throughout this endeavor. Every second he wished someone else was here, every fly away thought he had while floating to the ground sat in that sky.
He almost thought it would be more painful for him to be stuck here, staring in horror at the future that Thomas had waiting for his mind and knowing it was his fault. The guilt weighed in his chest like a thousand bricks, and unsurprisingly at this point, several tons of bricks than fell from the sky and onto his chest, forcing the breath from his lungs. Something that looked like ash swirled around him. In his ears came the squelch of a knife being pushed into a body.
Oh wait, no, that wasn’t ash.
Those were his locust.
The first one landed on his skin and immediately the creatures that had captured him began to make noises that banged around in his head like the beans in a rattle. The feeling of every small leg of the locust against his raw, pained body felt like hammers banging against his skin. Their bits like needles pushing into his skin. One began to walk on top of his eyeball and he immediately closed his eyes, squishing it between his eyelids, feeling the guts in every pore. He put his hands to his ears but the sound only grew louder, he rolled around but failed to kill any of the locusts. They swarmed around him like a tornado of pain. He wished this would end, he wished he could just escape-
"Remus?" Remus could hear the sound of a voice above the whirlwind of noise noise NOISE around him. The screams of children as someone chopped off their fingers and used them to scratch a record playing Sweet Home Alabama slowly, far too slowly, the man's voice low and crackly and the SCREETCH of the nails against the record. How could he even try to focus on who this was?
" REMUS! "He struggled to hear the voice and recognize it. So familiar, so terribly terribly familiar. his eyes popped open and his vision filled with the twitchy, tiny leg of locusts. They started to gnaw on his eye, his vision slowly becoming black as they bit into his iris as easily as one might chew on a piece of a sandwich.
But Remus didn't need to see at the moment, he knew what he saw.
Roman. His brother, he could save him! Wait, he was supposed to be in here for a reason, wasn't he? Think Remus think! Why was he supposed to be here? Something about Patton? Thomas? The noise broke his brain, he didn't care anymore, he didn't care anymore! He just wanted to get out of this situation, to live for a few more minutes. He crawled out of the tornado and reached for his brother's hand.
Light flooded his vision and the swarm of locusts exploded into a swarm of butterflies. The creatures started to run towards Roman, who easily tore them down with a wave of his sword. He picked up Remus as easily as he might a small child. Remus watched as they walked through the black and silver door of his half of the Imagination, he saw Deceit, he was obviously saying something but his ringing ears couldn't understand a word. He felt weak and dumber than usual as he finally closed his eyes, deciding he'd focus on the consequences of his actions later. For now, he would let himself rest.
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Klaine fic - “A Vision in a Dream: Chapter 4 - Ramping Up the Possibilities”
Summary: Struggling songwriter Blaine Anderson is trapped in a dull job writing jingles while trying to compose the one song that will help him break into the music business. He's on the verge of giving up when a chance encounter in a local park changes everything ... and nearly gives him a concussion.
Notes: So, yeah, this is the story I wrote for the @klainesummerchallenge 2016. Better late than never. This chapter written for the prompt 'outdoor sporting event'.
Read on AO3.
Blaine skates through the park, gliding leisurely along, the sun setting champagne gold behind him as he contemplates the many conundrums he currently finds himself in. He’d been ecstatic not too long ago talking to Will, full of plans and first steps and bullet points and goals. But now, rolling down the jogging trail through the trees, he feels stuck again – more so than he had before.
And to be honest, he’s getting tired of the frequency in which this happens to him.
When he’d first offered to help Will bring music back to Lima, the man had shot him down, repetitively and sincerely. Will wasn’t looking for Blaine to convince him. As wistful as he was over the prospects of getting the carnival up and running again, the music festival back on, he’d come to terms with losing it a long time ago.
“That’s very generous of you,” he’d said, “but you can’t. It’s impossible. I’ve been trying for years!”
But in contrast, the man’s eyes had shone with so much excitement, so much hope, Blaine continued to insist, swearing up and down that he would do it with or without Will’s help, until the poor, overwhelmed man couldn’t possibly say no.
And he didn’t. Because Blaine had convinced him. Thoroughly. He had faith in Blaine’s conviction.
Hurrah.
With that accomplished, Blaine felt the rest would simply fall into place. It was a done deal in his mind since convincing Will had to be the biggest hurdle to this whole undertaking, right?
Turns out … not exactly.
Actually, not at all.
Because at that point, he hadn’t properly factored Sue Sylvester into the equation. He’d kind of forgotten about her in his zeal to sway Will Schuester, caught up in the moment when he should have taken a few steps back and done his research first, seen if this thing he wanted had any real chance of happening.
Seen why it had been so difficult for Will Schuester when the man had been elbows deep in it for most of his adult life.
There was always the possibility that the woman in question was dead. In that case, dealing with her estate shouldn’t be too difficult. He couldn’t imagine too many lawyers would want to hold on to a dead woman’s grudge for long.
Blaine had had no idea what he was getting himself into.
As soon as Blaine and Will parted ways, Blaine found himself a park bench, pulled out his phone, and started Googling Sue Sylvester. Luckily, information about her wasn’t difficult to find. Articles regarding Sue seemed to fall into two categories – articles written about her by credible journalists, and vanity pieces written by the woman herself. By her own accounts, she was an actress, a model, a TV commentator, and she’d single-handedly put cheerleading on the map.
He couldn’t find any credible sources to back those claims up.
But the non-biased articles he read were damning.
Enough that he seriously considered going straight home, packing his things, and taking the first flight he could to Bali.
The more he researched Sue Sylvester, the more he realized the true extent of Will’s dilemma. Sue wasn’t just a bitter woman with an ax to grind. She was downright vindictive. Slashing tires and filling gas tanks with sugar were the tamest of her many infractions. She’d been known to break into people’s apartments and urinate in their hair products. The high school she’d worked at? She terrorized the children who went there, putting dirt in their lockers and throwing sticks at them for no reason. She forced the girls on her squad to stuff their bras with silicone breast enhancers, then made them pull them out and slap themselves with them when she needed a chuckle. She’d even stolen one poor family’s Christmas tree and presents Seussian Grinch style. How a woman with her track record for petty crimes and child abuse could go on to become a member of Congress …
… actually, that was the only thing about her resume that made any sense.
As far as the carnival was concerned, she hadn’t simply scrapped it, she’d purchased the rights to it – the name, the amphitheater, the land, even the concept. Plus, she didn’t seem to have any weaknesses. That’s not to say that no one had dirt on her – they obviously did. She just didn’t care.
To make matters worse, the woman was still very much alive (evidenced by several recent editorials published in the Lima Gazette regarding defunding PBS because the shows on it could be categorized as ‘hate speech’) so bypassing her and dealing with her estate isn’t an option.
Lawyers can be reasonable. Money and PR can grease a lot of wheels.
Heartless old hags bent on decades of sadistic revenge? Not so much.
If he’s going to get the carnival – and thus, the music festival - up and running again, he’s going to need to convince her.
And this is where Blaine shudders.
Because those articles, and the pictures they paint, have Blaine believing Will is right.
They’ve failed even before they’ve begun.
He loses himself in the run around of that thinking, not even noticing when the sun drops down below the horizon and the street lamps pop on down the trail. Nor does he notice the streak of gold zipping behind him, cutting the course through the trees with a stifled giggle.
It’s long past twilight by the time Blaine reaches the skate ramps at the far end of the park. Though much of the park itself is dim, this end is so flooded with light, it seems like daytime over here. At least a dozen kids are there on skates, boards, and scooters, practicing tricks and showing off for their friends. They congregate mostly at the steeper ramps. Blaine weeds his way through them to reach the flat area his skating instructor told him would be a good place to practice. It’s sunken, accessible by a gentle incline, perfect for beginners, which is probably why it’s empty now, with the more accomplished skaters (every one of them between the ages of eight and fourteen) over on the opposite side.
Blaine steps onto the ramp cautiously. It’s not steep, but he’s sure he could still pick up a decent amount of speed and hurt himself if he’s not too careful. He holds onto the railing as he goes, lowering himself down in sections. But before he reaches the bottom, he’s cut off by a familiar looking man with eyes blue as the sea, and hair that seems to defy gravity, leaving a streak of gold behind him wherever he goes.
Stunned by the man’s sudden appearance, Blaine lets go of the railing. He grabs it again quickly when he rolls a foot down the ramp. “You!”
“Me,” Kurt says, doing a lazy, inside edge spread eagle - a move that, while elegant, also showcases his strong thighs and his tight rear. Blaine does his best not to stare, not just because it would be rude, but because Kurt hasn’t taken his eyes off him, watching him like a hawk with those baby blues that never seem to stop smiling, as if Blaine struggling in rollerblades has become his new favorite form of entertainment.
Even though his cheeks burn from the attention, Blaine braves a bit more speed, managing to get to the bottom and stop without spinning out, flying backwards, and landing on his tailbone … the way he may or may not have done earlier.
“You’re getting better,” Kurt comments. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” Blaine’s voice wobbles, one kind word away from exploding at Kurt’s unexpected praise. “Do you come here often?”
“A-ha. I can practice my skating here.” Kurt transitions smoothly to an outside edge spread eagle, leaning back on his blades, face tilted to the sky, a position which not only shows off his legs again, but something else entirely, and Blaine almost falls without making a single move. “It’s usually pretty empty so no one bothers me.”
“You must live around here,” Blaine proffers, fishing for clues as to where in the world this gorgeous man keeps springing up from.
“Occasionally.”
“Occasionally? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m here today, but who knows about tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Blaine’s heart sinks, thinking that Kurt might disappear tomorrow and he’d never see him again. But as that hasn’t happened yet, he shoves it from his mind. “Why did you kiss me the other day?”
Kurt shrugs. “Because I wanted to. Why? Didn’t you like it?” The next time Blaine sees Kurt’s face, he’s pouting, but not all that convincingly with the smile in his eyes.
“I---I didn’t say that.” A small shock leaps in Blaine’s stomach remembering Kurt’s lips touching his. It doesn’t feel like a simple memory. His lips sizzle as it passes through his brain. “I just … do I know you?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I don’t think I do.” Blaine starts to glide, following Kurt as he meanders around in lazy eights to continue the conversation. “I don’t remember ever meeting you before, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember you.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right. And that’s another thing - how come we keep meeting like this?”
“Like what?”
“Out of the blue.”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“It seems like more than just luck to me.”
“You’re right.” Kurt chuckles. “Someone must be setting us up.”
“Who?”
“Don’t you know?” Kurt winks, confusing Blaine until he catches the implication.
“You think … me?”
“Possibly. I mean, you’re always here.”
“True …” Blaine no longer struggles to keep up, skating like a natural since he’s no longer overthinking it “… but I’ve been coming here for ages and I’ve never seen you, so wouldn’t that mean you’re the one setting us up?”
“I guess …” Kurt changes directions, almost colliding into Blaine when he does, frowning playfully when Blaine manages to hop out of the way. “But I think I’d know if I was, so my vote’s still on you. Yup. You’re doing all this.”
“You’re … you’re right.” Blaine follows Kurt as he ventures into an area that’s darker than the rest, shrouded by the shadows thrown by the overhanging lip of the wall blocking the light of the street lamp. He plays along, willing to agree with anything as long as he gets to continue this conversation. “That must mean I want to see you again.”
“Do you?” The farther Kurt goes, the darker their surroundings become, only the brightness of Kurt’s clothes and the glimmer in his eyes visible. “Want to see me again?”
“Yes! Yes, of course. Absolutely. I would love to see you again!”
“Why?”
“I want to get to know you. I find you fascinating.”
“What do I do that fascinates you?”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t stand still long enough for us to have a conversation!” The words fly out of Blaine’s mouth before he has the time to consider whether or not they sound offensive. They do to his ears. And by the way Kurt’s back goes rigid, he can only imagine he thinks so, too. Blaine holds his breath, begging with his brain for Kurt not to skate off in a huff, but he circles back around, eyes pointed thoughtfully toward the sky.
“Hmmm … you may have a point.” Kurt puts one foot behind him, leaning on the edge of his wheels and slowing to a stop. “There. I’ve stopped. Now, what do you want to know?”
“Who are you?” Blaine asks breathlessly.
“I told you. I’m Kurt.”
“Do you have a last name?”
For the first time since they met, the smile in Kurt’s eyes extinguishes slightly. “No. But it wouldn’t make a difference if I did.”
“What do you do?”
“I skate.”
“I mean, for a living?”
“I don’t.”
“What do you mean you don’t?”
“I don’t do anything for a living. The universe pretty much takes care of me. And in turn, I take care of other people.”
“Other people?” Blaine’s brow furrows. “Like who? Are you a nurse or something?”
The amused expression returns full force to Kurt’s face. “Do you need me to fit into some sort of box or something?”
“No. I’m just curious.”
“Can I ask you a question, Blaine?”
“Of course! Anything!”
Kurt leans forward till he’s only a breath away. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Yes!” Blaine answers too quickly, but he can’t take for granted that, for once, Kurt is standing still, has been standing still for a full three minutes so far.
Which makes his chances of getting another kiss good.
“Wow!” Kurt laughs. “You didn’t even have to think about that, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. Because I have been thinking about it. For a while. And anything I can do to make it happen … anything … I will.” Blaine glances at Kurt’s lips, desperate to kiss him, to relive the excitement, the rush from before.
Kurt licks his lips, staring so deeply into Blaine’s eyes, Blaine feels like he’s falling, his feet floating in the air as he dives into the sea that is Kurt’s eyes. But Blaine also sees fire there, traces of that molten light that follows Kurt around everywhere he goes. It swirls and dances, wrapping around Blaine like a lasso and setting him gently back to earth. Kurt pulls back, inching away from Blaine’s untouched lips, and smiles. “That’s good to know,” he whispers. He sidesteps Blaine, and skates away into the shadows.
“Wait!” Blaine shoots out after him, but before he knows it, the world becomes pitch black. Blaine’s eyes scan the dark, hoping against hope that Kurt is hiding somewhere, teasing Blaine some more. But Blaine feels the truth deep within his chest.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Kurt is gone.
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OUAT 3X06 - Ariel
Who’s ready to hear an amazing TAIL that only slightly FISHY?!
Yeah, yeah. They’re not all winners. Hit me up under the cut to read my thoughts!
Press Release
Back in the Fairy Tale Land that was, when Ariel saves Snow White from drowning in the ocean’s depths, Snow returns the favor by helping her new friend get acquainted with Prince Eric, with whom she has fallen madly in love with. Meanwhile, Emma, Mary Margaret, David and Hook attempt to save Neal, who is imprisoned in one of Pan’s encampments, and Regina and Mr. Gold begrudgingly team up to find a way to take down Pan.
Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness
Past
Ariel is the main focus of this segment. Her character introduction is the reason for it.
And honestly, that’s pretty great.
I think that’s pretty evident by how much the fandom loves Ariel as a whole. I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t love her and there’s a good reason why. She’s energetic, kind, has a solid introductory story that gives you everything you’ve ever needed to know about her character. Johanna’s performance is so enjoying to watch as she captures the innocence of the character of Ariel as well as the bubbliness that made the Disney version so memorable.
Present
So, we all agree, the main focus of this segment are the secrets. It’s not to say there isn’t more meat there (Ex. Rumple and Regina), but I cover more of it in other segments and my thoughts on the secrets is what you want to hear.
”The deeper the lie, the more truth in its echo.” I guess that means the more you deny the truth to yourself and others, the more true or big it really is.
And to be experimental and do something different (And because I don’t really feel like delving into the revelations that will come to pass in future seasons), I’m going to just focus my review of the present by tackling these secrets as they are and with that mindset in mind:
Killian: Killian reveals that he kissed Emma and that the kiss exposed that he can move on from Milah and love again. I buy this as a secret. To keep this short as to not get too shippy (You can find THAT bit of shippy goodness in it’s home), it makes perfect sense to me that with Killian’s redemption underway and that he’s at least willing to let Rumple live, the idea of him moving on romantically works as both a story concept and a character concept. I also like how he was apparently fighting it at every step of the way, only being fully convinced with last episode’s kiss.
Snow: Snow reveals that for as much as she loves Emma and their life together, she longs for the firsts that were denied to them and thus, wants another baby. I feel like Snow addresses David more with this secret than she does Emma and for the secret of ‘I want another baby/another chance,’ there are too many instances of “our daughter” and not enough “Emma”s for me. Now, with that out of the way, the secret itself is very in-character for Snow. I like it in terms of enjoying it as something very in-character. It’s a believable desire for her to have and Ginny really sells how badly Snow wants it. It’s also heartbreaking for Emma and that de-emphasis on her (Or rather, de-EMMA-sis -- holy shit, that may have been my best pun ever) as she tells it really sticks out because of it. It sucks that this is never brought back up too because this is sort of another case of Emma being told she’s not enough and by her own parents who she saved.
David: David, of course, reveals that he’s trapped on the island. There’s really nothing else to elaborate on here. I like how the focus is on Snow and her anger at the lie is hard and fast. It builds on what she was saying about secrets and honesty in both segments of the episode.
Emma: Finally, Emma reveals that while she’s never stopped loving Neal, the pain of losing him again caused all of the pain from long ago to return with a vengeance, and that rather than being forced to deal with the pain that their past together caused her, she wished that he’d died. Again, I’ll try not to talk about all of the shippy goodness here (Again, there’s more down below), but some will be delved into, so fair warning. Looks like I’m 4/4 because I like this one too. I get that wanting someone to die as their best self seems better than having to come to terms with the complications in their relationship. When Neal “died,” he had just apologized to Emma and made a heroic sacrifice for her and Henry. That was his last impression and believing him to be dead allows for Emma to close the book on the pain that was between them. Him being alive brings those problems to the present and makes them active again and Emma would rather that pain not be the thing that ultimately impacts her memory of Neal the most. I also love Neal’s response and fast forgiveness. For a few episodes now, Neal has been discussing all of his regrets concerning Emma and how he felt about her and that hug really says a lot about just how sorry he is.
Insights - Stream of Consciousness
-”Did you really think you could hide from The Evil Queen?” “Actually, yes.” This line never fails to crack me up! The shrug and surprise in Ginny’s voice really sells it.
-Look at the synchronized swords on those guards! How long do you think they practiced that?
-Damn, the water here is beautiful. The way the lighting is done paints something mystical and yet deadly af!
-”No. There has to be a way without going dark.” No, Emma. Anger does not necessitate going dark. Anger is an emotion that everyone’s entitled to feeling and it’s one that can be a force for good. The way Regina’s teaching you at the moment doesn’t go against that. Coming right after the stellar subplot in “Good Form,” this really is a disappointment to hear from Emma. Emma knows righteous fury better than anyone. That said, I completely agree with this scene for framing Regina as in the right because it’s completely warranted.
-YASSSS! Thank you, Killian for telling the truth about Neal!
-I’m fully with David and Killian here. Emotionally and strategically, it made the most sense to keep Emma in the dark about Neal being alive until they could confirm it.
-”Can you keep a secret?” Fuck no, she can’t!
-”Sorry. She deserved to know.” THEY WERE GOING TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, SNOW! PATIENCE. IT’S A REAL THING.
-Rumple, while trying to look into the future, looks like he’s either trying to summon a Final Flash from DBZ or the Doctor Strange magic hands.
-I spend a lot of time thinking about Rumple and his future telling abilities and why they never came up after this season. Like, I honestly don’t care that much about plot holes, but they can matter when they’re character-based. When a character has a power like that (One that’s been established since the pilot), there needs to be a reason for them not to use it, and Rumple, who has an over-reliance on magic as a major character trait, would use that as often as he could. In Neverland, Pan made it clear why he couldn't. But why not afterwards? Is the power just that vague that we can infer that he was using it? My personal HC is that they just went away after his first death.
-Okay, Pan is the one hell of a villain, but he’s also one hell of a chef, too! No wonder Fiona loved him!
-”You’ve lost your son Neal. Again.” You’re such an asshole, Pan, but it is like the greatest thing to watch.
-Okay, so real talk: I have misophonia and loud chewing and talking with one’s mouthful often enrages me. And Pan didn’t! I was ready to cringe when he picked up that egg in a basket, but he was fine. Pan, you may be the villain of this arc, but you’re the Savior to my ears! Thank you, Robbie Kay for enunciating properly as you eat!
-”That by killing you, all our troubles end?” Rumple: Sass Master Extraordinaire.
-Okay, so it looks like Rumple specifically has to die to kill Pan. Da fuq?
-”Have you forgiven YOUR father?” Wow, the writers of this show were just milking that twist with everything they had, didn’t they?
-”She looks fertile.” I repeat: Da fuq?
-I feel like I’d hate Snow a lot more in this episode if it weren’t for her tracking abilities finally being put to good use.
-I like Regina’s decision to leave the group from a character perspective. While the group should definitely try to save Neal, Regina, who doesn’t care about him would have no interest and after the second stop in their journey AND after talking to Henry, I can understand how all that frustration would just explode at the thought of another deviation.
-”It [the fork] is really not that valuable.” I don’t know. That is a really well made fork. XD
-”I may be heartbroken, but I’ll understand.” People, I give you Prince Eric: The only true unproblematic fave.
-Ooh! That mirror transition effect from the party to Regina’s castle was amazing!
-”Come home to Storybrooke.” Rumple, that’s as big of a red flag as there can be that that’s not Belle!
-”Are you really going to fall for this?” My sentiments exactly, Regina!
-You know, this is some great acting on Emilie’s part! She has to pull off a suffocation scene as the victim with no physical help from another actor. She really sells fake Belle’s desperation and panic!
-Speaking of good acting, look at Robert’s face when he discovers that Pan’s shadow was fake Belle. For the first time, we see a full display of the true fear Rumple has for his father!
-For as much as I’m apprehensive about Snow in the present segments, I’m LOVING her in the past. She’s so kind and supportive.
-”Thanks. For nothin’.” A little ungrateful there, aren’t you, Ariel?
-I giggled for a good twenty seconds at Regina saying “Ah-riel!”
-”You’re not gonna die at anyone’s hands but my own.” Honestly, Rumple dies at EVERYONE’S hands but your own!
-”Because I came here to kill him and die in the process!” Rumple, you are so fucking extra! Still bring the freakin’ weapon! You are so gloriously extra!
-Lana is having such a fun time playing Regina playing Ursula and I’m loving it! XD
-I took another five second giggle at “Dil-EMMA.”
-”I lost half my crew inside those rock walls.” Wow. This has gotta hurt.
-”He believes once we do [Reveal our secrets], we’ll destroy each other.” I love how this just doesn’t happen. It threatens to happen, but the strength of the group is strong enough to overcome them.
-Okay, so Snow’s a total boss during this Regina confrontation! Not only is she once again completely supportive of Ariel, BUT she decides to egg on Regina as much as she can before dying at her hands by saying that she’ll never be happy. For this point in Regina’s life, it’s an incredibly satisfying sight to see.
-SAME GOES FOR ARIEL! She fucking stabs Regina in the neck! WITH A FORK! Not even Snow or Charming could do that with a sword!
-”I don’t know the particulars. Only what I’ve been told.” So Killian didn’t go in?
-I love the video game that is the Echo Caves!
-”You know that’s not how this works.” Emma’s reaction to this line is just the best, her body screaming “can’t blame me for trying.”
-Anyone feel like if they were trapped in the Echo Cave that they wouldn’t know their own deepest secrets?
-REGINA! FUCK YOU! It’s an amazing evil plan and as a viewer, I’m loving this, but for breaking Ariel’s spirit, FUCK YOU!
-Real Ursula. Both powerful and kinky as all hell. <3
-”Storybrooke.” Regina’s so proud of the name, and to be fair, quite rightly!
Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?
The Mission to Save Henry - We have a way of defeating Pan! XD Once again, the main plot focuses on something else than this mission, but I don’t think it was a bad idea. The subplot keeps the momentum going quite nicely.
Killian’s Redemption - GREAT on Killian for telling the truth about Neal! That’s really the biggest point here, but it’s an important one nonetheless that speaks to how seriously he’s taking his redemption. He doesn’t hesitate telling her family and only keeps Emma in the dark temporarily as to spare her further pain.
Regina’s Redemption - Regina gets some great moments here! First, how she teaches Emma is fantastic! Like, I’m so glad that she showed the value of anger and how it and darkness are not necessarily one and the same! Second, she saves Rumple’s ass! Third, “maybe we can find another way.” The third way has been the heroes philosophy for a while and to see Regina trying that outlook rather than sacrificing Rumple is a nice bit of foreshadowing to her eventual fates and abilities! I actually think Regina may be in her best form this season! She’s still snippy and hates everyone, but she’s focused on doing right by her son. Because of that, she’ll use the darkness for the noble cause of saving him, and rather than waste time (As she puts it), she’ll look for faster means when working with those that are good isn’t making what she deems as acceptable progress.
Rumple’s Redemption - Despite Neal’s betrayal and his doubts from “Nasty Habits,” Rumple is still sincerely all in for his redemption, as much as he can be, at least. His self preservation habit is still eating at him, making him trust more in Shadow Belle, and it really works!
Favorite Dynamic
Regina and Rumple. Regina came to Rumple at just the right time. She dragged him fighting and screaming away from danger and self loathing and back to reality and the point of this mission. It’s actually a great relief to see Rumple again with someone who won’t take any of his shit. Characters like that challenge Rumple and with Regina, it allows for us to see just what happens when they combine their dark magic and few fucks together for a good cause. It’s as Regina says: “We’re the two most powerful practitioners of magic who have ever lived. The Evil Queen and The Dark One joining forces? I’d say we can find another way of handling some smug teenager.” And together, they’re effective at coming up with a real strategy to defeat that smug teenager!
Writer
Adam and Eddy are “Ariel’s” writers and I really like what they did here. All three stories are balanced well, everyones motivations are really understandable in the present and that fits the framing of everyone being sympathetic, and the material in the past is just engaging.
Rating
10/10. It’s a great episode! Ariel is a compelling character and watching her learn the value of honesty is a nice story that cleanly fits Snow and Regina into it. The present really delves into the further conflicts of the main characters and shows how honesty can be both an aid and a curse. The episode itself is given nuance because of that and the sets of interactions chose for the most part do a lot of good for expanding on the character’s mindsets. Also, as you’ll see below, this episode is FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH SHIPPY GOODNESS!
Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”
Captain Swan - I think it says so much about how Killian cares for Emma that he’s willing to tell her family immediately that Neal’s alive, only holding out on telling Emma herself so that they can confirm it and save her from more pain. Pan said it himself: There is a good chance Emma won’t return his affections after its revealed that Neal’s alive. But he does it anyway because he knows how devastated she was from his loss. Whether you believe he’s completely in love with her or not, that is what caring for another person truly is. Also, look at how Emma looks to Killian to confirm whether or not that’s true when the beans are spilled (Thanks, Snow). She really does trust him now! And on Emma’s side, she actually tells her mom she kissed Hook! “I was feeling good.” And she says it in such a gossipy practically bursting way! It’s not-at-all giddy, but still a little giddy at the same time! And when Snow asks her if it meant anything, she says “i-it was just a kiss,” but everything from her tone to the fact that she actually told someone about this kiss means that it definitely was more! Now let’s talk about the Echo Cave. Killian reveals his secret and Emma’s first response is “It’s just a kiss.” But just look at the vulnerability in her eyes! And the first panel comes roaring out once he reveals what it fully meant to him! Truth! And as Emma goes towards Neal, there’s this dark acceptance in him, but it’s a respectful possible resignation.
Swan Fire - I genuinely adore how soft Neal is with Emma. The entire time he’s in his cage, he gives Emma gentle nudges in the right direction and oodles of comfort. And Emma’s confession to never stop loving Neal was beautiful. Jen’s performance here is just beautiful, soft and tender features all around as she admits that. And even as she’s admitting that she wished Neal was dead, she’s crying, clearly wishing to herself that it wasn’t true because of the love she has for him. And what’s Neal’s response to this when he gets out? An IMMEDIATE hug. It’s a tender, desperate, emotional hug. I actually found myself choked up here. He completely understands what she means. Emma gives this genuine apology for how she feels and Neal just gets it. And he’s still going to fight for her.
Ariel/Eric - Damn, Eric is romantic af! He cares about no one’s thoughts but Ariel’s and it’s really charming. “If I want to dance, I can.” <3 I almost find it a touch too forward for him to ask her to explore the world with her after one date, but given that they’re going full in on the Love at First Sight trope and Ariel says twice that she wanted to see the world, it works! He’s also a full on gentleman, stepping back (Literally) the second he feels she might decline for her comfort and even says” “I’m pressuring you: That’s unfair!” The dude’s an honest-to-goodness heartthrob! And Ariel really cares about him too! She doesn’t want him to be forced to choose between her and his dreams. And together, they’re just a cute, optimistic, lovey-dovey pair!
Millian - Short blurb, but I think it really says something about the depth of Killian’s feelings for Milah that he could NOT move on from her for over a century and when he finally found someone, he had to kiss her to finally push the denial out of his system. Like, that’s some powerful love.
Snowing - “At least not with me.” Okay, so David definitely lied and that sucks, but holy shit. In this one line, David gave his blessing for Snow not only to move on, but to have another child with someone else. And that’s gotta hurt! Like, LOVE! That’s love!
-----
This review was admittedly much shorter than I usually make them, and I’m sorry, but not too sorry because ONCE CON!!!! If you want to keep up with my con adventures, I’ll try posting some pics to my Instagram, protochan44, and hell, maybe I’ll do a live video at some point! And yeah, I’ll probably post some shenanigans on my blog too! But yeah, I am so excited and also pretty relieved that I was able to get through all of these!
Thanks for reading and thank you to the beautiful folks at @watchingfairytales, at least two of whom I’ll be meeting either tonight or tomorrow! Next time, we hit up “Dark Hollow!”
Season 3 Total (59/220)
Writer’s Scores:
Adam and Eddy (19/60)
Kalinda Vazquez (10/40)
Andrew Chambliss (10/50)
Jane Espenson (10/30)
David Goodman (10/40)
Robert Hull (10/40)
Christine Boylan (10/20)
Daniel Thomsen (10/30)
Operation Rewatch Archives
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Morgan, Blending In
Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @xpegasusuniverse! I’m really glad with this one came out, so I hope you like it! :D
Summary: Morgan managed to follow her brother Owain to Valla and, under the alias of Linfan, now tries to blend in with the people of that strange and new world on her own Morgan-like way!
Commission info HERE and HERE!
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
After Morgan, now Linfan, was accepted in Corrin's army, not much apart from fighting happened -- or rather, could happen. That place called Valla was crawling with enemies, to the point that even the people keeping watch at night had to be armed to the teeth since they would most certainly fight a battle or two before the sun came up.
That upside-down world was vast and hard to travel -- they had to make sure they stepped on the right bridges after the area had been scouted by flying units. It seemed like their guide, some Anthony fellow, wasn't very well liked amongst the entirety of the army, so Morgan's arriving right after Anthony’s made things a bit complicated to her side, or at least they should be.
"COMBINED..." She took a deep breath, holding her Thoron tome with one hand, the other one pointing to the sky.
"SIBLING ATTACK!" Odin yelled at the same time Linfan did, they tomes' magical powers swirling around them before exploding at the group of enemies right ahead. "YEAH! That was soo cool, Linfan!"
"Heehee, that was actually fun, Brother!" The siblings shared a high-five. "And since this place is crawling with those things, we can try out a lot of different magic!"
Odin had to hold his cursed hand in an extravagant gesture. "Yess! That's what I'm talking about! This is the place where we can truly use our full powers!"
"With my trusty Thoron, no enemy shall be left standing!" Linfan winked, doing a side peace sign over one eye. Odin almost shed a tear of pride. Finally... finally someone who understood and enjoyed his antics!
"... Don't you guys feel any shame?" Selena approached, her battle stance completely drained up due to second-hand embarrassment. "This isn't a joke, you know! They're here to kill us!"
"You wound me, silver-tongued maiden! This is serious business, I'll have you know! Isn't that right, Lin-"
Linfan giggled, "why don't you try it too, Selena? It's so silly, it's fun!"
"LINFAN!" Odin fell on his knees. "Betrayed... by my own blood..."
"Hah! I knew Linfan wouldn't let me down like that." Selena nodded, putting one hand by her hip.
From their posts, Corrin and Leo observed the interchange, both of them smiling at differing scales. "It's really lively out there, isn't it?" Corrin commented after felling the last enemy at their premises.
Leo sneered. "Humph. It's like we got another Odin; I got my work cut out for me."
The dragon prince scratched the back of his head. "Haha, I'm sorry for dumping her on you, Leo. But I thought that since she's Odin's sister, making both of them be deployed side by side would be better for her to fit in faster..."
"Please, don't apologize for that, Brother." Leo dismissed Corrin's worry with an uninterested wave of hand. "She is... a bit too eager for my tastes, but I AM used to having the most eager one, after all." He bobbed his head. "Besides, her talent for magic is real. So much that even by looking at her from this far I can still feel her inane power, waiting to explode. Very intriguing."
Corrin smiled. He knew how much his little brother loved to talk about magic, AND how competitive he was. He would probably push himself harder so as not to 'lose' to Linfan. "Just don't overdo it, okay?" He let out part of his thoughts, making Leo raise one eyebrow.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, um, why don't you go talk to her, then? This can be a great opportunity to make new friends!"
"Hah, hear yourself, Brother." Leo scoffed, urging his horse to move. "I'm simply interested in her potential for combat, not in to suddenly invite her to our inner circle. Come, let's rendezvous with Camilla." He extended his hand to Corrin, who promptly took it so as to mount on the horse.
"Alright, but I still think that you two would get along if you wanted!"
"Yeah, yeah."
At the same time, Linfan, Odin and Selena arrived at the camp after clearing out their position. For the past few days, Laslow has been deployed far from Linfan, surely Xander's way of saying he didn't trust her yet.
At the entrance, Linfan unconspiscously looked at all sides, squinting as though she wanted to see something invisible. "Do you think he's here now?"
"Yikes," Selena shivered, "are you looking for ghosts or something? Aren't the invisible enemies we fight everyday enough?"
Without missing a beat, Linfan looked at the other side. "No, I mean the guy who likes masks Lord Corrin told us about."
"Oh." Both Selena and Odin cleared their throats, ever aware that the ninja could be anywhere around them at any moment. "If you keep being indiscreet like that, he'll stick around even longer!" The mercenary said, slapping her friend's back.
Linfan's eyes sparkled. "Will he?! Maybe this time he'll actually fall into one of my traps!"
Odin snorted. "You never even got Father to fall for them, Linfan!"
The apprentice tactician puffed her cheeks. "Well, YOU did."
Selena pointed and laughed as Odin retorted. "I was indulging my own blood, a-alright? The sacred vow of heroes always tells us to be kind to our kin!"
Morgan put one hand over her chin, her eyes wide in thought. "Will I have to marry him, then...?"
"WHAT? NO!" Both mage and mercenary yelled, slapping her shoulders. "Mor-Linfan, we need to play nice here, you understand? Stop digging these stupid pitfalls!"
"B-b-b-b-but," her voice trembled as Selena aggressively shook her, "but what if I dig deep enough that I can see the sky from below? I need to find out!"
"Linfan!" Odin exclaimed, making both women shut up in shock, the random passerby also staring unbelieving. "Don't do anything reckless, please..." He held her hand. "I won't bear if anything happens to you."
Feeling a bit guilty but also nostalgic, Linfan smiled. "That brings back memories, heehee." She brought Odin's hand to her face. "Sorry for worrying you, Brother; but it's going to be okay! This time, I won't bang a tome on my head or walk around looking up instead of down. I just want to catch him!"
"Aaand we're back at where we started." Selena groaned. "Listen here, Linfan..." She pulled her friend as they walked, leaving Odin behind.
He didn't follow out of pure shock, since Morgan had spoke not only of a new memory they made, but of an older memory of when they were children: She had the habit of looking up to the birds and clouds when she was very small, to she always hit her nose on trees, posts and walls, to the point of Owain needing to hold her hand at all times whenever they walked.
The feeling from way back then flourished inside his heart, making a relaxed smile sprout on his lips. She remembered more each day, and also learned more and more about their lives in this new world.
She would be fine. Sure, not without supervision, but would be fine nonetheless.
The sun took a lot longer than usual to set in that strange world since the sky was upward and downward as well, which only made it even more interesting! What would happen if Morgan started digging a pitfall during the sunset over her head while it was still bright under her feet? Would she be able to catch a glimpse of the blue sky all the while having the stars shining on her head? She simply had to find out!
And no, watching the sunset at the edge of an island did not cross Morgan's mind, nor would it: She was so focused on digging during dusk that she lost track of time. Although it was still clear out, she had dug so deep she leaned on the wall to catch a breather.
It was then that she looked up. "Oh, wow, that's my new record! Someone's REALLY gonna hurt themselves if they fall. Look at the sky wayyy up there, just a tiny round bit." A few moments of rest later, she placed one closed hand over her open palm. "Oh! I'm stuck!"
Laughing, Morgan slid down the wall to sit on the wet earth. "Heeheehaha! That's a first! I didn't know this island was so deep, whoops!" After calming down her giggles, she took a deep breath. "Welp, let's come up with a plan to get out of here! I won't disappoint you, Father!"
Morgan looked on her person for something that could help her up: her levin sword, her Thoron tome, a carving knife, a few samples of masks she always kept on a pouch and the shovel she was using to dig. "Aw, if I had brought a wind tome instead, I could fly myself out of this hole." She crossed her legs, looking at the items in front of her, trying to come up with a connection. "Father, I barely started and I already failed you... how can an aspiring tactician NOT walk around with a rope? This will haunt me to the grave!"
More worried about her lack of preparation than her own situation, Morgan kept thinking by herself, as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. She didn't notice the time pass by, mind, since she was too busy thinking of what her father would do if he were in her shoes. Faraway whispers could be heard from above a long time later, breaking her concentration.
"Look, Sakura! The sky is soooo bright because of all the stars!" Princess Elise twirled around herself, pulling the shy hoshidan princess with her so they could watch the stars under that big tree over the hill.
"N-not even in Hoshido did they shine so brightly," Sakura commented, huffing to accompany the eager princess. By her own nature, Sakura always walked looking down -- in contrast with Elise, who always looked up -- so she noticed a big enough hole to swallow them both approaching at a fast pace as Elise happily dragged her. "P-Princess Elise, watch out!" She pulled her friend back with all she had, making both of them roll away from the hole.
"Wah- Oof!" Elise fell on the grass right beside the enormous hole that was simply there in front of the tree they were going to watch the stars under. "Whoaa! We could've really hurt ourselves there! Thank you so much, Sakura!"
The hoshidan princess sat up, patting the dirt out of her white clothes. "O-of course... I'm glad you're alright, Elise."
"Weh? Is someone up there? Heeey!" Both princesses heard a voice from below.
"KYAA!" Sakura shrieked, hugging Elise with everything she had. "G-g-g-ghosts?!"
"Whoa!" Elise laughed, bending towards the hole. "Ghosts? From this hole? Helloooo?"
"Oh, there really was someone!" Morgan got up, fastening her sword and tome back at her belt. "You're Lady Elise, right? I can barely make out your face since it's so dark, haha!" She opened her hand, channeling the thunder from her tome to her fingers, lighting the hole she was in. "Do you happen to have a wind tome with you? I'm a bit stuck in here!"
"O-oh, so it was a real person..." Sakura breathed out in relief. "A-are you okay? You fell down from such height..."
"Oh, no, I dug this! Impressive, isn't it?"
"Oh, wow!" Elise put one hand over her mouth, her hair dangling beside her face as she popped her head into the hole. "You did all this? Amazing! But what's this 'wind' tome you speak of? I never heard of it!"
"Oh, so they don't have wind tomes in this world? Whoops..." Linfan bit her tongue with a smile, thanking the heavens that her brother wasn't there to scold her.
"What was that? I didn't catch it!" Elise yelled, lying down at the edge.
"Um, if you don't have it, then it's okay! Do you happen to have a rope or something? I think I can work with that!"
"D-don't you think we should get help, Elise? We shouldn't be having such a leisure talk while she's in such predicament!" Sakura gripped at her friend's sleeve, worried about the new girl.
"Oh, yeah! Wait here, Linfan! We'll call for help!" Elise sat up.
"Oh, no, no, no! Please, no!" Linfan laughed nervously. "If my brother and friends find out, I'll be in deep trouble! I need to get out of this on my own."
"B-but what can we do? I don't think both of us can pull you out by ourselves..."
"Oof, yeah, I can barely flex without getting tired." Elise concurred, feeling sympathetic to Linfan since she, too, didn't like getting in trouble with her siblings. "Maybe if I call my brother? Leo's super good with magic; he can think of a way to get you out of there!"
"L-Lord Leo? Oh no, if he finds out, so will my brother!"
Elise deflated. "Oh, yeah..."
"U-um, maybe my sister Hinoka can help? She's strong, so she'll be able to pull you out in no time!"
Linfan put her free hand on her chin in thought. "Hmm... And she's hoshidan, right? There's no need for her to be a snitch to the nohrians..."
"I-I don't know about 'being a snitch', but Big Sister Hinoka is responsible and strong! I'll bring her here!" Sakura got up too fast for her own legs to follow, her feet wobbling as they tried to get a proper foothold.
They found none, as she was too close to the hole. Elise widened her eyes and yelled a "watch out!!" as Sakura felt the ground slip away from her.
Morgan closed her eyes, scooting to the side to give Sakura room to fall, but she never did. When she looked up, the princess was safe on a ninja's arms.
"Hah... For how long will you two keep this up?" Saizo groaned, putting his princess on the ground. "I won't stand idly if you endanger Lady Sakura any more than this."
"S-Saizo!" Sakura managed to let out her voice. "T-thank you, thank you, thank you so much..." She trembled as Elise breathed out in relief.
"Pheew! That was a close one! Thanks a bunch, Saizo!"
The ninja glared at the nohrian princess, then downwards to the foreigner. "How long do you plan on staying there, woman?"
"Oh no! MASK! IT'S THE WRONG TYPE!!" Linfan yelled, the sparkle on her hand getting out of control and spiraling upwards before flashing out. "I thought it'd be covering the eyes, not the mouth!"
The ninja sighed deeply, getting tired of watching that girl run around in her own little world and staying stuck inside a pitfall for hours.
"P-please, help her out of there, Saizo..." Sakura grasped at his scarf.
Once again did the ninja sigh and, faster than the eye could see, he jumped into the hole, surprising all three princesses. He landed soundlessly besides Linfan, grabbed her by her waist and jumped out.
"Oh, wow, that was easy." Morgan blurted out, grabbing Saizo's scarf as he pulled away from her. "Wait! You're him, right? The Saizo fellow? Lemme take a look at your mask!"
"Unhand me, woman!" Saizo pulled his own scarf back as Linfan studied his face with scrutiny.
"Oh, that sounded familiar, heehee," she giggled, remembering Lon'qu from her world. "But that's not it! Lemme just do this..." with her free hand, she grabbed one of the masks she had made previously and stuck it on Saizo's face. "Aw, I got the size wrong!"
Saizo flicked the mask away, managing to whisk himself out of Linfan's hold. "Do not do this again, girl, lest my blade finds itself in your gut by accident." He said and disappeared into a curtain of smoke.
"So he really was watching..." Linfan crouched to get her mask back, deep in thought. "Guess I'll have to relearn how to make them, huh? Now, to cover the mouth instead!"
"Wow, did you make this yourself, Linfan?" Elise picked one mask up -- since Linfan's pouch wasn't properly tied due to the surprise, it fell down when Saizo pulled away from her. "This is so pretty! What kind of paint is that?"
"Oh, there's one here, too..." Sakura picked one that looked like a fox. "So cute!"
"Do you like it? You can have it! I need to make bigger ones to fit Saizo..." She smiled, gathering the remaining dozen so as to tie them back on her pouch. "I can teach you to make it, if you want? With three heads, we can come up with more designs than me alone!"
"Really? You'll teach me?!" Elise trotted to Linfan's side, the foreign girl only one head taller than the nohrian princess. "I'm very good with my hands if I may say so myself! I love to make flower necklaces and crowns!"
"I-I don't like handling knives, but if it's only to carve, then..." Sakura shyly wore the fox mask, her cheeks flushed under it.
Elise and Linfan laughed. "It really does suit you! You really should keep it, after all." The apprentice tactician said. "C'mon, I'll teach you two right away! Let's get back to my tent for some light!"
Both princesses giggled, taking Linfan's extended hands. Their older brothers had advised them to steer clear of that girl, but she looked like such a fun person to be around! They surely would get along well from then on!
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Breaking Free (I Feel Violent) pt.2
{Post-TPS Kastle fic written for @purelyfueledbycaffeine‘s birthday and Beta’d by @kteague. Don’t let the holiday timeline fool you, there’s plenty of angst to go around.}
{Part 1}
*
Thanksgiving came and went, and soon Karen was noticing more and more Christmas lights decorating shop windows. Small plastic trees with tiny ornaments on her co-workers’ desks and in the break room, shiny garland hung around the office, even Ellison had multi-colored lights around his door, and he was Jewish.
“Everyone enjoys twinkle lights, Karen,” he’d told her when she saw him hanging them up. She’d just giggled and walked by to get another cup of coffee.
Things almost felt normal again.
Almost.
She still woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of exploding doorframes, metal doors being wrenched from their hinges, the feeling of a solid arm and calloused hand gripping her head, her neck, tangling in her hair.
A sandpaper voice asking, “You okay?” through the ringing in her ears.
Karen was back to old habits and she couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Staying late at the office, going home and refusing to sleep until it was necessary to be able to function the next day. She was drinking too much coffee, eating too little, and when she wasn’t overloading her system with caffeine, she was having a glass of wine for dinner. The glass usually turned into a bottle on weekends, if she didn’t have anywhere to be the next day.
It was like looking in on herself from outside a window. She could see herself making the same choices—ones she’d once declared self-destructive after Matt died and tried to give up—but she didn’t have the willpower to stop herself.
At least she knew how to operate in these patterns. She knew this dance. She even knew how to cover up her missteps.
Her work never suffered. In fact, she thrived on the strenuous deadlines, the constant hum of adrenaline in her system. Thrived on it because she could hide in it.
You’re gonna break, you know, that voice warned. You’ll break, and no one will even know why.
Karen swallowed her tepid coffee, imagining that voice drowning in it, and got to work on her next story.
***
The company Christmas party was always on the 23rd, and Ellison demanded Karen take Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the following two days off. She’d been pumping out article after article and he thought giving her time off was a reward. But Karen’s heart started beating double-time, the edges of panic closing in. She didn’t want the time off, she didn’t want to be in her apartment, alone, for 4 full days. Foggy was up to his neck in briefings, and Karen’s fledgling friendship with Trish Walker wasn’t exactly to the level of ‘come distract me from myself over Christmas’ yet, which left Karen precisely in the Party of One category.
She tried, and failed, to convince Ellison she didn’t need the time.
“Nonsense,” he said, shaking his head in that way that could only be described as ‘dad-like’. “Take the vacation. You’ll be getting paid for it anyway, so it’s not like you really have an excuse not to.”
Karen opened her mouth to respond and then quickly snapped it closed. It felt like another trap, a way to get her to slip up and tell him what’s really on her mind.
“Alright,” she said, flashing a quick smile. “You’re the boss.”
“Don’t remind me,” he said, leaving her office to deliver edits to a couple other staff writers.
Karen was surprised she enjoyed the office party as much as she did. As she sipped her punch, spiked with something much stronger than she was used to, she absently thought if she was soaking up as much social interaction as she could, knowing she was about to be thrust into isolation come the morning.
Way to be a Debbie Downer, she thought, snorting at her own joke.
Maybe she should switch to water…
Karen and a few others were the last to leave, sharing a cab instead of marching through the snow and slush.
Warm from her buzz, but still in charge of most of her faculties, she made it up the 4 flights of stairs to her apartment with only a little swaying. Keys jingling in her hand, she took a moment to steady herself before attempting the lock, pressing her forehead to the door.
“Go, go on.”
“…Take care.”
A knot swelled in her throat, choking her.
She’d told him to go. She’d pulled herself away.
Maybe if she’d hung on a little longer, a little tighter… Maybe if…
Karen slid her key into the lock and twisted with such force she thought the key would snap, and was thankful it didn’t. Finding a locksmith two days before Christmas would be nearly impossible.
Flicking on the light, she dropped her purse on the entryway table, and shucked her coat, ready to fling it over the back of the couch. All she could think about were her warm flannel PJ bottoms and her fuzzy socks—a gift from Foggy for her birthday.
She left a trail of clothes and illumination as she moved through the apartment-- shedding her heels by the couch while she turned on the lights of her Christmas tree, her sweater over the back of a chair as she clicked on the lamp, her skirt and tights as she moved into her bedroom and turned on the reading light.
Before redressing, she dug a hair band out of her jewelry box and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She caught herself humming a Christmas song—Last Christmas, the Wham! version—while she searched for a sweatshirt to go with her sleep pants. Eventually, with only one dramatic tilt to the side as she pulled on her PJs, she was comfortable and warm and ready to crash on her couch with a bad movie playing on the tv.
She made it three steps out of her bedroom when she saw black boots, dark jeans, dark… everything.
Karen gasped, hand flying to her throat.
Lamp light and the reds and greens from her tree gave the figure dimension. And finally, she could make out the face under the dark hat and hood.
She’d know that nose anywhere.
“Frank?” She breathed.
Hands lifted to push back his hood, to remove his hat. A smile started to curve his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, Karen.”
She blinked. She blinked again.
He wasn’t disappearing.
“What… What are you doing here?” She could barely hear herself over the roar of her pulse in her ears.
He twisted his hat in his hands. “You didn’t close your door all the way…”
“How did you know my door was open?”
“…It’s not safe, Karen, you should know—”
“Frank, where have you been?” She snapped, cutting him off. She was suddenly feeling soberer. Shock will do that to a person.
Shifting on his feet, he glanced down, avoiding her stare. “I, uh…”
“I had business, Karen.” She expected to hear the same answer, in the same tone that made her cringe away from the prospect of prying.
Frank looked up at her, going still. “I’ve been around.”
Pinching her lips together tight, Karen inhaled steadily through her nose. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from a reunion with Frank, but this… this wasn’t quite it.
If she was honest, he was ruining her buzz.
“Around, huh?” She asked, fighting the urge not to sneer. Turning, she went into her kitchen for a glass of water. She felt him take a couple steps closer.
“I guess you-- you heard about what happened at the carousel,” he said, voice like gravel swirling around a glass of whiskey.
Karen nodded, chugging the tap water and refilling her cup. “Yup.”
“They, uh… They wiped my prints. My records. Gave me a clean slate… sorta.”
“Heard that too.” Karen said, turning to brace her hip against the counter so she could look at him.
Frank smirked. “You talked to Madani.” It wasn’t a question.
“Sure did.” She knew how she sounded. Knew her voice was cold and unforgiving, but any urge to be compassionate hadn’t quite caught up yet.
The sliver of a grin still on his lips fell, and his brows furrowed. “Karen, hey…”
“You wanna know how that meeting went?” She interrupted again, anger fueled by whatever clear liquor she’d spent most of the night drinking rushing to the surface. “We got to have a special sit down with Madani, got to see the inside of her place—nice apartment, by the way—and she tells us, first about the drugs being smuggled out of Kandahar and Billy Russo’s involvement and then she says you’re alive.”
There was a beat of silence as she gauged his reaction. He was frozen, watching her. Waiting.
Pushing away from the counter, she continued. “Not just alive, but free. You’re not being prosecuted. You’re not going to jail. You’ve been given a new identity and have been out in the world for days.” She set her cup down on the kitchen island, next to the white roses that were wilting from lack of sunlight. “And then she had the nerve to use our… relationship as a veiled threat to stay in our lane and not pursue the Cerberus story or anything about Rawlins. To keep quiet.”
An almost imperceptible wince made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.
Karen locked her gaze on him, refusing to let up. “And you know what my first thought was? How good of friends could we possibly be if I didn’t even know he wasn’t in prison?”
Frank sniffed. “Ghosted on you before,” he said, voice impossibly deeper. “Didn’t seem to bother you much then.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. “That was before, that was—”
“What? What was it, Karen?”
“That was different!”
“Different, yeah. You tellin’ me I’m dead to you now, that’s what made it different.”
“No, it was—”
“You just like gettin’ to call the shots,” Frank cut in, taking a step forward. “People can fuck off, but only on your terms, is that right?”
Karen’s face heated up, anger spiking her temperature. “That’s not what I’m saying!”
“No? No, then what are you saying?”
She stopped, taking a deep breath. “We were… Things changed, Frank. And I just thought…” She went to drag her fingers through her hair, only to remember she’d put it up. “I thought maybe if someone was worth a phone call, maybe it would’ve been me. But I guess… I guess I was wrong.”
Frank’s gaze softened, and she caught the movement of his lips as he mumbled incoherently under his breath before saying louder, “I wanted to. Thought about it. But…”
Karen braced herself for whatever explanation he was about to give her that would cancel her out of his life. Again.
“I… I wanted to get myself a little more right first.”
Confusion doused her anger and drew her brows together.
Frank looked down at his hat still in his hands. “Been goin’ to Curt’s group… It’s, uh… It helps. I think.” He shrugged one shoulder, glancing up. “Maybe what helps is that I want it to help… so…”
Karen’s lips parted. “I… I’m not sure I understand.”
“I wanted to tell you,” he said, with as soft of a voice as he could manage. “Thought about showing up with pizza and beer or some shit, like a surprise, but…” His head tilted, in that very Frank way of dismissing everything, even himself. “I, uh, I didn’t think… And then you started back at work—”
“How did you—”
“I’m a loyal reader of The New York Bulletin, Miss Page,” he said, tone a little lighter, a little jovial. “I saw you didn’t have any new articles for about a week, and then your name was on a front-page story, so I figured…”
Karen’s anger went from a rolling boil to a low simmer. “Still could’ve called.”
“Oh yeah?” He flashed a lopsided grin. “Wouldn’t’ve hung up on me, huh?”
Despite herself, Karen smiled. “Well, you did save my life. Twice.”
The tension from their argument evaporated, floating out of the room through the air ducts.
“You want something to drink?” She asked, feeling the need to do something with her hands.
“If you’re offerin’.”
“Beer?”
He grunted his agreement and she turned towards her fridge. Frank took to slowly wandering her living room, taking note of her decorations.
“Must’ve been a bitch gettin’ a tree all the way up here,” he said, jerking his chin at her Douglas Fir.
“Foggy helped,” she said, smiling as she brought him his beer.
Taking a swig from the bottle, Frank quirked an eyebrow. “Hm.”
“What?”
He shook his head and Karen could practically read what he wasn’t saying on his face.
She chuckled. “Foggy’s stronger than he looks.”
“For a suit, maybe.”
“He offered to help.”
“At least he’s got manners.”
Karen folded her arms over her stomach, still unsure of what to do with her hands. “You… wanna sit?”
She got to the sofa first, folding herself into the far corner as he took the opposite end, legs open in a wide V, back slouched just a little. She wasn’t used to seeing him in such a relaxed posture. It was… nice.
“The suit help you decorate too?” He asked, sipping his beer.
Karen shook her head, propping her elbow up on the back of the couch. “Nope, that was all me. So keep your criticisms to yourself.”
Frank grinned. “Nah, none of that. It looks great.”
They sat there for God knows how long, with Frank staring at the Christmas tree, and Karen staring at him.
He shifted a little on the cushion, resting the bottle on his knee. “Maria, she… She loved decorating for the holidays. She went all out too. Day after Thanksgiving it was like waking up in the North Pole.”
Karen giggled, and Frank turned his head to look at her.
“You… you got a favorite?” He asked, gesturing to the ornaments shimmering in the multicolored lights.
“Hmm…” Karen thought, looking up at her tree. “Maybe the fuzzy reindeer? Up there, near the top.” She pointed out the worn, handstitched reindeer.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, resting her head on her fist. “My grandma made it for me. She made ornaments for all the grandkids. The reindeer is mine, my brother got a snowman, my cousin got… um, I think she got a Christmas mouse—"
“A what?” Frank asked, bottle halfway to his lips.
“You know, a little Christmas mouse,” she said, trying to pantomime. “It’s a little mouse with a Santa hat.”
He arched a brow, looking at her like she was nuts. “A mouse with a Santa hat? Is that… that a Vermont thing, or…?”
Karen laughed. “It’s a thing, I promise.”
“Alright, guess I’ll take your word for it.”
“Guess you will,” she retorted, feeling warm again, but this time it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Did you have a favorite ornament growing up?”
Frank sipped his beer and thought. “Not an ornament… but my mom, she had this set of nutcrackers. They all were characters from the play, you know? I loved the Toy Soldier one the best.”
Karen laughed softly and Frank chuckled, glancing at her.
“Yeah, I know, some kinda cliché bullshit, right? The Marine loving the solider one the best.” He smiled into his beer. “I always got in trouble for sneaking it up to my room to play with.”
“I used to steal my mother’s best outfits to play dress up in,” Karen admitted, smile still on her lips. “The expensive cocktail dresses she’d have to wear to company functions, her designer shoes, her pearls…”
“Uh oh… Y’didn’t lose those, did you?”
Karen shook her head. “No, no, but I’d hide them under my bed and my mom would get so mad.” She laughed at the memory. “She’d ban me from her closet but the second she was out of the house…”
“Went right back, didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded, grinning at him.
“Seems like you’ve always been a tenacious one, huh?”
Karen lifted her chin with pride. “Since day one.”
“Atta girl.”
They stayed like that, chatting easily long into the night. Karen even got to tease him about how he was letting his hair grow long again, calling him ‘hipster’ a couple of times just to see him smile. Frank held onto his long-empty beer bottle, refusing to get off the couch for another, or to make her get him one. Soon Karen was drifting off mid-sentence (Frank’s or hers) and he started to excuse himself, telling her he shouldn’t have kept her up so late.
“Stay?” She asked without thinking. Her eyelids were half-down, but she would have sworn she saw genuine shock flash across his face. Straightening up a little, she decided to ask again. “Will you stay?”
He regarded her a moment, dark eyes catching the glow from the Christmas tree. “Not still mad at me, are ya?” He asked, tilting his head. “Don’t wanna wake up with my hand in a bowl of warm water or somethin’…”
Karen’s laugh exploded from her and she covered her mouth. “I’d never!” She said, still laughing. “Scouts honor.”
“You were a scout?”
“Um… no…?”
Chuckling, Frank shook his head. “Then that don’t mean much, does it?”
“I promise not to fuck with you in your sleep,” she said, as earnestly as she could. “So… will you?”
He was quiet, staring down at the empty bottle still in his hands. “Okay,” he said, nodding once.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
***
Karen awoke with a start—the sound of metal banging being too similar to the sounds from her nightmares. Blinking rapidly, she glanced around her room, remembering where she was.
She rolled onto her side, stretching as she stared out into the living room. Details from the night before started filtering back, just as another metal bang sound made her jump.
Quickly rolling out of bed, she hurried into the kitchen, bare feet instantly freezing on the cold linoleum.
“Frank?” She called, voice rough from sleep.
Standing up from where he was crouched, Frank turned to face her, holding a frying pan. “Hey, mornin’,” he said. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was gonna get breakfast going for you and then I knocked over the leaning tower of Pisa you got in that cabinet.” He pointed with the end of the pan.
Karen flashed a tired smile. “Oh, yeah… Been meaning to reorganize.” She finger-combed her hair back from her face. “Coffee?”
“Already made.”
She cast him another look, noticing he’d rid himself of his jacket and hoodie, and was only in a black henly and his jeans and boots. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she got a mug from her cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“You want some?”
Frank’s answer was to lift his own mug—one she hadn’t noticed—and quietly grunt. It made Karen grin.
“So what’s on the menu this morning?” She asked, leaning against the counter to watch him dice a bell pepper.
“You had a bunch of vegetables that needed to be eaten,” he said, gesturing to the selection next to the cutting board. “What, you go to the store just to buy stuff to let it rot?”
Karen pulled her mug away from her lips. “I’m busy, Frank, I don’t always have time to cook.”
“Hm. Seems to reason you shouldn’t buy food you don’t have time to cook then.”
“Seriously?”
He sniffed. “Just a waste, is all.”
“Someone woke up on the lecture-y side of the bed this morning.”
“Sofa. And… sorry.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think I’ve been around David too long.”
She sipped her coffee and smirked. “You didn’t happen to pick up any computer smarts did you? ‘Cause my laptop has been a little glitchy.”
Frank shook his head and she caught the corner of a smile. “Nope. You’re on your own.”
“Damn.”
“How’s an omelet with spicy sausage sound?”
Karen nodded, stomach already growling. “Sounds perfect.”
Frank gestured towards the lone barstool by her kitchen island. “Have a seat, it’ll be done shortly.”
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, watching him as she sat down.
“I’m a man of many talents, Miss Page,” he told her, graveled voice surprisingly sweeter. “I can also sew.”
“Fabric or flesh?”
“Both.”
Karen chuckled into her coffee.
“You sleep alright?” He asked, scraping the vegetables into the frying pan.
Flattening her lips into a line, Karen hummed a ‘yes’. It was the best she could do to deflect. She wasn’t sure she was ready to tell anyone—let alone Frank—about her nightmares.
“You?” She asked quickly.
“I’ve been sleepin’ on a cot about as thin as a sheet of paper for the last few months. Your couch was a cloud compared to that.”
“I’ll have to leave a review on IKEA’s website then. ‘Better than a basement cot’.”
Frank chuckled, turning the heat up on the pan and adding salt. An amenable silence enveloped the room, with Karen sipping her coffee while Frank cooked. Occasionally they’d catch each other’s eye and duck their heads, almost blushing.
It felt strange having Frank in her space, being so surprisingly domestic with a KBAR still strapped to his belt. But it was a strangeness Karen found herself wanting to get used to. Wanting more of.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she announced, breaking the silence. “Got any plans?”
She realized how ridiculous that question must have been, as if she expected previously-assumed-dead-Frank-Castle to turn around and tell her he was going to a Christmas party.
“Nope,” Frank said, graciously sparing her a sarcastic glance. “You?”
“Ellison gave me 4 days off from the paper,” she said, distracting herself with one of the shopping mailers she’d gotten with her stack of junk mail. “I was thinking of attempting a real Christmas dinner for myself. I make a mean Thai curry.”
“Thai food?” Frank looked over his shoulder at her, halting his sautéing. “How the hell is Thai food Christmas-y?”
“It can be,” she retorted, hands cupping her warm mug. “If it’s food you eat on Christmas, then it’s Christmas food.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Oh no?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Ya gotta have the real deal stuff. The… the ham, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, that nasty-ass cranberry jelly from a can—”
“I actually like that stuff.”
“’Course you do,” he said, looking over his shoulder again and smirking. It made Karen’s stomach tremble.
Or maybe that was the 2 cups of coffee on an empty stomach.
“Well I can’t make all that just for me,” she told him primly. “It would be a waste.” She arched an eyebrow at him when he turned to look at her again. Two can play that game.
She wondered if he’d catch her double meaning. She couldn’t make all that food for just her… but if he stayed…
“What about the suit?” Frank asked, cracking a couple eggs into a bowl to scramble.
“Foggy’s working and then spending Christmas day with his girlfriend—”
“Suit’s gotta girl, huh? Good for him.”
“Marci. She’s… Well, Foggy likes her, so…”
Frank chuckled, a sound Karen still wasn’t used to hearing. “Not a fan, I take it.”
“As long as Foggy doesn’t ask me to be her new BFF, we’ll be fine.” Karen hopped up for her third cup of coffee, and found Frank there, a little too close too quickly.
His large hand covered the top of her mug. “Need somethin’ more than just that,” he said, graveled voice even lower. “Here.” He handed her a water glass and nodded to the sink.
Karen flattened her lips in a line. “Didn’t realize I needed a babysitter.”
“Gonna make yourself sick, all the coffee on an empty stomach.”
“Well maybe if someone hurried up with the food…”
Frank pegged her with an unyielding stare. “Indulge me. One glass of water.”
Karen’s shoulders stiffened but she took the water glass. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
She filled it in tense silence and chugged it down. Walking back over to where he stood, she made it a point to turn the glass upside down on the counter next to him before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot and pouring herself more.
Frank shook his head. “More stubborn than a mule,” he muttered, barely audible but Karen still heard it.
“Pot, meet kettle.”
He grunted, flipping the omelet in the pan.
Karen returned to her seat, aimlessly looking over the holiday sale ads as she drank her coffee defiantly.
A plate of food appeared under her chin and she lifted her head.
“Bon Appetite,” Frank said, holding out a fork for her.
“Thanks—Wait, where’s yours?”
“Not hungry,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
She thought he’d sit with her, but he walked around the kitchen island and into the living room, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch. Karen watched, her stomach dropping. She’d run him off already, she’d irritated him into leaving, she’d—
“Where… where are you going?” Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.
“Told you, y’can’t have Thai food for Christmas dinner. Just ain’t right,” Frank called, yanking his jacket on. “Bet if I hurry I can find a decent spread for us, even if it’s all picked over.”
Karen blinked. “You… So you’re…” She swallowed thickly.
“Be back in a little while, yeah?” He held her gaze for a moment before offering a smile. Jerking his chin at the plate, he added, “Better eat before it’s cold.”
Relief flooded her system as she nodded weakly. “Okay.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said as he headed for the door. “Hate to have to pick your lock with an arm full of groceries.”
Karen laughed, and he glanced over his shoulder just before closing the door behind him.
***
She heard him come back in as she was getting dressed after her shower. Heavy boots and the rustling of bags, a grunt as he nudged the door closed. She scurried to close her bedroom door, a towel being the only thing covering her. It probably wouldn’t have been in either of their best interests if she accidentally flashed him before noon.
“Be right out,” she called, seeing his silhouette move into the kitchen.
“Take your time.”
Quickly digging out a pair of leggings and an oversized cream-colored sweater, she scrambled to find a pair of underwear that wasn’t terribly lacy… Laundry day was fast approaching if all she could find were her ‘date night’ panties.
She dug through her drawer, suddenly and intensely aware of the man moving around her apartment.
Jesus Karen, get it together, she thought, grabbing her last plain black pair and a bra and pulling them on.
“You got a package,” Frank called, making her jump.
Frowning, Karen looked at the door as she finished dressing. “Huh?”
“Left by your mailbox, so I brought it up.” She listened to him pace across the living room. “Not very big…”
She opened her door, working a comb through her hair. “Does it say who it’s from?”
Frank shook his head, holding the box out for her. His eyes drifted down to where she brushed her damp hair, but his expression was neutral.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it and going to the couch to sit. “So, I see you were able to get more than just a couple cans of beef and bean soup, huh?”
“Yeah, didn’t make out too shabby.” Frank wandered back to the kitchen to continue unloading. “Even found a decent sized ham to bake.”
“Ooh, with brown sugar?”
He grunted a ‘yes’ and she smiled softly, folding her legs under her. Looking down at the box in her lap, she stopped, fingers trailing over the familiar lettering.
“Need scissors?”
She didn’t answer, hardly heard him if she was honest. She was too busy deciding if she even wanted to open it.
“Karen?”
“Hm?”
Frank was a little closer, holding a can of green beans, brow furrowing as he watched her. “What is it?”
“Oh… uh,” she faltered, glancing down at the box. “It’s… nothing.” She set the box aside on her coffee table. “So are you one of those ‘no one is allowed in the kitchen to help’ kinda cooks or is there room for two in there?”
“Why didn’t you open your package?” He asked, completely blowing passed her attempt to change the topic.
Karen bit her lip, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Frank’s jaw ticked as he stared at her. He set the can on the counter and strode into the living room, sitting on the arm of her reading chair. He was staring her down, waiting for her to crack under the weight of his dark gaze.
“Really?” She scoffed. “It’s nothing, Frank, just drop it.”
She stood up, about to walk into the kitchen, when Frank grabbed her wrist. It was the first time he’d touched her since… Since the elevator.
Karen’s head whipped around, glare hot. “Frank.”
His only response was to lock eyes with her, thumb over her pulse point.
They stayed like that for what felt like ages until Karen yielded.
“It’s from my dad. And I don’t want to open it right now, nor do I want to talk about it, okay?” She looked to where Frank’s hand was still wrapped around her wrist. “Is that answer satisfactory enough for you?”
Frank’s jaw ticked again but his gaze was softer. After a beat, he released her, and her skin was troublingly cold from the lack of touch. Karen didn’t waste any time walking away from him, but Frank didn’t move from his perch on the chair.
She got herself a glass of water just to busy herself, and stood at the sink to drink it.
“You… you can, y’know…” Frank said, voice deep and raspy. “Talk about it, I mean. If… if you want.”
Karen swallowed the last of her water and smacked her lips. “Nope.”
Sighing, Frank nodded once before standing up. “Alright.” It was barely loud enough to hear over the clink of her glass in the sink.
He went around the kitchen island, picking the can of green beans up. “Ya got any objections to slivered almonds?”
Karen turned, frowning at him. “Huh?”
“On the green beans,” he said, rolling the can in his palm. “Only way I really know how to make ‘em.”
The knot that was tightening in her chest loosened enough for Karen to breathe. The topic of her father was dropped… for now.
“No, not at all.” She shook her head. “You want some help?”
“Nah, I got it,” he said, pulling out all her pots and pans from her cabinets. “How about you play bartender though.”
Karen arched a brow, smirk playing at her lips. “Do what now?”
“Can’t have Christmas Eve dinner without a little holiday cheer,” he said, tone lighter. “Check that bag over there.” He nodded to the paper bag he hadn’t unpacked.
Karen grinned as she pulled out two bottles of wine—one red, one white—and a fifth of top shelf whiskey.
Lining them up on the counter, she said, “Merry Christmas indeed.”
***
Frank Castle was a fucking lightweight.
One glass of wine had him pink at the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks. Two and he was smiling a lot easier, laughing a fraction louder, fine motor function not nearly as finessed.
Karen covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle as she watched him cook.
“That’s some strong shit,” he muttered, looking into his glass after another sip.
“You sure you don’t wanna eat something?”
“We’re gonna eat soon.”
“You gonna make it to ‘soon’?”
“I can hold my liquor, Karen.”
Smirking, she sipped her wine. “If you say so…”
She decided not to comment when she saw him nibble on the carrots he was cooking on the stove.
It was only three o’clock in the afternoon and they were both buzzed. Now this was a Christmas tradition Karen could get behind.
“We need some different music,” she said, jumping up from her bar stool to go pick a new Spotify station. She changed it from non-descript Christmas classics to a Rock Christmas station, in need of something with more pep.
“Y’really listen to this?” Frank asked, scrunching his nose as he tasted the sauce for the ham.
“Sure,” she said, turning. “And you don’t?”
“Can’t say I’ve listened to much of anything the last few months.”
The comment made her sad for reasons she wasn’t sober enough to really put together.
They chatted a little as he checked on the multiple dishes he had in the oven and as Frank drained his wine glass. She’d never thought she’d ever see Frank get tipsy… But then again, she never thought she’d be friends with the Punisher, of all people. Or having him cook her Christmas dinner. It was a holiday full of surprises.
The opening bars of Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” filtered through her computer speakers and Karen smiled. It was one of her favorites. She glanced up to see Frank bobbing his head a little as he stirred the carrots.
“Fan of the Boss, huh?” She asked, grinning.
“Who isn’t?”
She saw the shift immediately. Frank’s shoulders going rigid, his back straightening, hand gripping the wooden spoon like a vice.
Incoherent mumbling got a little louder. “Can… can you turn that off?”
“What?”
“Turn it—turn it off? Or change… Just change the station?”
Karen frowned. “I thought—”
“Ple-please, Karen?” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to for her to know the tormented look in his eyes.
As quick as her inebriated fingers would allow, she turned the volume down and changed it back to some jazzy Christmas station. She stood there, leaning on the table, running her fingers through her hair as she exhaled slowly. Her heart was racing, like she’d just kicked a grenade away from them.
Maybe she had…
She waited until she could breathe normally before going back to her seat at the island, clutching her wine glass by the stem.
“My… my wife…” Frank faltered, clearing his throat. “Maria, she… For my birthday, she got us Springsteen tickets.”
Karen didn’t dare move an inch or make a sound.
“’Sposed to go the week after I got back,” he murmured, keeping his back to Karen. “We, uh… That didn’t…” He shook his head.
He didn’t need to finish. Karen knew.
She knew too well.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” she whispered.
He nodded jerkily, stirring the pot.
They listened to the new station—a little too much Michael Buble for Karen’s taste—in relative quiet.
Finally, Frank turned to face her. “I have a confession to make.”
Karen’s eyes widened.
“I can’t bake worth a damn,” Frank said. “So I bought the pie.”
Karen had to bite the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t laugh. “I think I can forgive that.”
“Alright then.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she felt a swell of relief in her chest.
Some memories of Maria Frank welcomed, and some tore him asunder, bringing his very being to a screeching halt. Karen understood that implicitly. And she was more than willing to bear witness to both-- to listen or to change the station.
It was the least she could do, Karen felt.
***
“You didn’t!”
“All over the house,” Karen laughed, fork bumping her plate. “I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack.”
“Who was watching you?” Frank leaned on his forearm, eyes sparkling. “Was anyone watching you?”
“The babysitter was trying to get my brother to stop coloring on the walls.”
“You were terrors, both of you,” Frank told her, shaking his head and grinning.
“I thought it would be funny!”
“Cutting a hole in the flour bag and tying it to the dog is not funny, trust me.”
“It was a little funny,” Karen giggled, sipping her wine. “Besides I was 5!”
Frank took a bite of ham and shook his head again. “Poor Sparky…”
“I think he was more upset he had to have 2 baths just to get all the flour out of his fur.” Karen speared a carrot and gestured to Frank with it. “Alright, your turn. Worst childhood antic.”
“Oh man…” He chuckled, setting his utensils down and rubbing his right hand over his left fist. “Uh… Let’s see…” Tilting his head, he considered her a moment before nodding. “Alright. The time I filled the washer with bubble bath instead of laundry detergent.”
Karen nearly choked on her food. “Oh god!”
“I was trying to help,” he said, grin splitting his face apart. “I didn’t know they were different. Soap is soap, right?”
“No, no they’re not,” Karen shook her head and giggled.
“Yeah, well, I figured that out pretty damn quick.” He hid his face a little with his hands. “The laundry room is filling with bubbles and I’m, shit, I’m freakin’ out, right? I’m 8, standing there in wet socks and slippery from all the soap, and I’m about 3 seconds from losin’ my shit, and that’s when my mom comes in the house.”
“Uh oh…”
Frank shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “Ma… She walks in, hears the machine going berserk, calls for me, and when she comes around the corner and sees the gigantic mess I’ve made she…” He chuckles, hands falling to the tops of his thighs. “She just bursts out laughing.”
“What?”
“She’s doubled over, she’s cracking up so hard. And I’m standing there—probably with bubbles comin’ outta my ears—and I just…” He ducks his head, still grinning but obviously a little embarrassed. “I just start wailing.”
Karen covered her mouth, her ‘aww’ still very much audible.
“I… I guess I was just so overwhelmed, I just had a meltdown. And Ma, she just laughed even harder.”
“You poor thing.”
“She said I looked like the angriest bubble monster,” Frank commented, picking up his wine. “Looking back… I don’t—I can’t even remember half of it, or how we got it all cleaned up. But I swear, to this day, I remember the feeling of wet socks and soap bubbles up to my little bare arms.”
“Your mom wasn’t angry?”
Frank shook his head, swallowing the last of the wine in his glass. “Nah, she was… She took things in stride, ya know? A little bubble bath in the machine wasn’t gonna upend her.”
“And you were trying to help…” Karen added, smiling over her glass.
Mumbling in agreement, Frank tucked his chin. “I didn’t touch that washer again until high school.”
Karen laughed, enjoying how easy it was to laugh now. Sure, the wine helped, but it was more than that. It felt important to laugh with Frank. To embrace the goodness, the levity, because they both knew that things could change in an instant. And that they most likely would.
“You liked the yams?” Frank asked, nodding to Karen’s plate.
She looked down to the clearly vacant section. “They were amazing.”
“There’s more,” he murmured.
“We have to have left overs for tomorrow,” she countered.
“Ah, right,” Frank said, lifting his head. “You save room for pie?”
“There’s always room for pie.”
“Atta girl.”
Their knees bumped as he got up from the table to fetch the store-bought pumpkin pie, and at the same time the legs of his chair scraped sharply on the linoleum. She tried to hide it, but Karen flinched. Hard.
Frank hesitated at her shoulder, holding both of their empty plates, but Karen couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. She tilted her face away, pretending to stare at the Christmas tree, until he huffed and walked into the kitchen.
The plates clattered in the sink and she jumped again, but that time she was pretty sure he didn’t see.
Her skin crawled, sensing the impending questions about to pour from Frank’s mouth, and she dodged with all the agility of a scared rabbit.
“You want coffee with your pie?” She asked, already standing and making her way to the coffee maker.
Frank turned from where he was cutting a thick slice and watched her a moment before humming in agreement. As he finished serving, she made them a pot and leaned against the counter, listening to the gurgling noises.
“We should watch a movie or something,” she told him as he handed her a dessert plate. “You got a favorite?”
Frank shook his head, fork already diving into the hunk of orange. “Pick whatever you want,” he mumbled around the food in his mouth.
Biting her lip, Karen wandered into her living room, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning the tv on. She channel-surfed for a minute before finding A Christmas Story on a cable channel, already about 10 minutes in.
“This okay?” She asked without looking at him.
Frank grunted what sounded close to a ‘yes’, and plopped himself down on the end of the sofa. Going back for coffee for the two of them, Karen came back and handed out a mug to Frank.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking it from her.
Karen laughed softly at the title. “No need to be formal, Frank,” she said, curling up on her end of the couch. “You’ve seen me in my PJs now. We’re beyond ‘ma’am’.”
“Dunno about that,” he said, smirking as he took another bite. “Decaf?”
She shook her head, watching the television. “Regular.”
Frank’s silence felt heavy, but she didn’t react, didn’t comment. She stared so hard at Ralphie’s face on her screen she was certain she’d memorize every freckle the kid had. She would not budge.
Karen finished her pie and took their plates to the kitchen and refilled her coffee. She offered to do the same for Frank, but he declined.
“You plannin’ on stayin’ up to see Santa?” He asked after her second cup.
She pulled her mug away from her lips. “Huh?”
“Gonna be up all night drinkin’ that,” he commented, nodding to her coffee.
“Says the guy who lived on the stuff.”
His response was a quiet hum followed by turning to stare at the tv once more, dropping the topic. They watched the movie, chuckling lightly and steadily relaxing back into the way they’d been during dinner.
When Karen shivered slightly, Frank pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and unfolded it, tossing it over her knees without a word. She whispered a thank-you, tugging it higher around her waist and leaning back against the cushions.
A Christmas Story ended, and Karen found them another to watch—Frank vetoed Miracle on 34th Street so she put it on Elf.
“Never seen this one,” Frank commented, threading his fingers together behind his head, spreading his elbows wide.
“What? You’ve never seen Elf?”
“I was a little busy, Karen,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t have time to see every bad movie—”
“Okay well that’s your first mistake there,” she cut in. “Elf is not bad. It’s a classic.”
“That right?”
“Mm-hm,” she nodded, propping her head up on a pillow. “Just watch, you’ll see.”
Despite chugging nearly a full pot of coffee, Karen’s eyelids drooped and she caught herself drifting off to sleep during several scenes. She blinked, glancing over at Frank, but he didn’t seem to notice. Either that or he was purposefully keeping his comments to himself.
Just before Buddy saved Santa’s sleigh, Karen fell asleep with her head at an awkward angle and the throw blanket bunched around her.
In those few moments though, the noise came back—screeching, exploding metal. People yelling. The taste of blood in her mouth.
Different memories, different events, all patchworking together.
She jerked awake, bolting up from the pillow and ramming her foot into the coffee table.
“Shit,” she cursed, bending to rub the soreness.
Frank was next to her again, too close, too suddenly. His hand was on the middle of her back, the heat and weight of it grounding her.
“Hey, hey, you alright?” His voice was soft, a little smoother like cigar smoke.
She nodded, wincing. “Fine. Just… clumsy.”
“You want some ice?”
“No, no, I’m okay,” she told him. “Promise.”
She caught his slight nod from the corner of her eye and offered him a smile. “See? All better,” she said, leaning back.
He grunted, but didn’t say much else, and they continued to watch the end of the movie. The next one up was A Charlie Brown Christmas, and even Frank nodded off during that one a couple of times. He blamed the music—too mellow.
Karen glanced over at the clock and sighed. 2am.
“Guess Santa skipped us this year,” she joked.
“I’m shocked,” Frank murmured, voice rough from exhaustion. “I’ve been a very good boy.”
Karen laughed, and he tilted his head to look at her, grinning slightly.
Reluctantly, she withdrew from the blanket and stood up. “I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” she told him, dropping the throw back on the cushions.
“Karen…”
“G’night Frank,” she said, avoiding the topic once again.
His voice was quiet as he said, “Merry Christmas, Karen,” just before she closed her bedroom door.
***
Karen rolled onto her side, staring at the sliver of dawn outside her bedroom window.
She slept—she was sure she had—but given how her whole body ached, how unbelievably exhausted she still felt, she didn’t think it was very good sleep.
The nightmares still plagued her. They were a constant now, just something to accept. Taxes and death and all that.
She watched as the faint blue light turned pink, then orange, then yellow.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered to herself, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Through her door she heard the shower turn on and the clinking from the rod as the curtain moved. She thought about going out, asking Frank if he needed anything, getting him a couple towels and a wash cloth, but she realized he’d probably found all of that already if he was turning on the water.
She opted for 5 more minutes in bed followed by getting up to make coffee strong enough to strip paint. She didn’t think Frank would complain.
Karen was on her second cup when Frank came out of the bathroom, redressed and toweling his hair dry.
“Mornin’,” he said as soon as he saw her. “Hope you don’t mind, I—”
“No, no, not at all,” she told him. “I should have offered. You’re welcome to anything here.”
The small smile threatening to curve his lips made Karen blush and duck her head.
“Do you… need any extra clothes or anything?” She asked. “Not that I have a lot of men’s clothing lying around… And I don’t think yoga pants are really your style.”
Frank’s chuckle was deep, a little rough still from sleep. “I had a change of clothes in my pack.”
“Sure, right.” She nodded, lifting her mug. “I, uh, I made coffee.”
He glanced passed her to the coffee maker. “Smells strong.”
“It is.” She smiled but even to her it felt sharp.
Folding the towel in his hands, Frank wandered over to pour a cup. Something was different between them… Her stomach had taken to trembling when he looked at her. He was smiling more frequently. Her hands shook slightly when he was close. His gaze was warmer, softer. She didn’t quite feel comfortable in her own body, like she was a teenager again.
Inhaling deeply, she gulped her coffee and forced herself to remain still and calm, and to get a grip.
“Breakfast?”
His voice brought her head around. “Hm—uh, yeah.” She nodded so fast her neck popped. “Whatever you want.”
“Want me to do something with these left overs?”
“Those are for later,” she told him, reaching to playfully swat him away from the Tupperware containers. Frank chuckled and tilted his head.
“Alright, alright, eggs it is,” he said, pulling the carton from the shelf.
They fell into their familiar routine—Frank acting as chef while Karen sat on one of her stools, flipping through the paper and drinking coffee.
“You sure are giving my stove a work out,” Karen commented, reading the last bit of an article. “It hasn’t been used this much since I moved in.”
“That’s just depressing.”
Karen snorted. “You eat MREs and cold cuts, you can’t judge me.”
“I had an excuse,” Frank said, glancing over his shoulder. “But you?”
Looking up, she pegged him with a stare and rolled her eyes. That got him to laugh, which was worth the antagonizing.
“Merry Christmas, by the way,” he told her as he flipped the eggs in the pan.
She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
“Did… d’ya sleep alright?” He asked, poking the food with the spatula.
Karen took a sip of coffee and hummed. “Fine. You?”
“Oh yeah, dreamt of sugar plums and all that shit.”
Her laugh caught her by surprise. Covering her mouth, she muffled herself.
Frank turned, carrying a plate of fried eggs and toast. “Don’t on my account.”
“Huh?”
“Been in a basement with a neurotic spook for months,” he started. “Hearing someone’s… Hearing you laugh is… it’s nice.” He faltered as he handed her the food. “Feels nice. Normal.”
The confession slammed between her ribs, nestling in tight.
“Oh,” was all she could say before he turned away to get his own food.
They were quiet for a long while, eating and drinking their coffee, occasionally turning to look at the Christmas tree or skim sections of the paper.
“I forgot this part,” Frank murmured from behind his mug. “Christmas morning…”
Karen’s chest ached as images of what Frank’s old life must have been like, how Christmas must have been for him, with Lisa and Frank Jr, flooded her mind.
“I… I didn’t get a lot of them… With the kids. Y’know?” He sniffed, nose scrunching before he took another sip of coffee. “Deployments. Training. Lisa’s first Christmas… I was in a tent in the desert. Got pictures though. Lots of pictures. When… when Frankie was, God, 4? 5? We, uh… We did it up right. Full blown Hallmark Christmas. Big tree, family came over. We… There was tons of food, and…” He chuckled to himself. “So much fuckin’ wrapping paper you couldn’t see the carpet underneath.”
Karen had gotten accustomed to his reminiscences tumbling out, a little broken, a little messy, stalled in parts, faded and unsure in others, but still very Frank. Each word curled up in her lap, held there to be cherished by someone else who understood.
“Did… did you have a favorite Christmas tradition?” She asked softly, not wanting to push. His memory was like fractured glass—if you pressed the wrong spot, it all came crashing down.
Frank glanced into his mug. “I was hopin’ you’d indulge me a little,” he said quietly. “Tell me somethin’ about yours? You have a favorite?”
“As a kid?”
He shrugged, muscled shoulders shifting under black fabric. “Sure.”
Karen leaned forward on her elbows. “Well… We’d usually go to my Grandmother’s,” she started. “She lived outside of Burlington, so we’d all pile in the car and drive down to see her. And my mom would always fight with the radio to get a good Christmas music station, even though we had CDs.” She smiled, moving her hands as she talked. “We’d get there, and it was just like out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, you know? Wintry and the windows all lit up, wreaths on the doors, and you could see the tree from the street.”
She glanced at him and laughed to herself. “Probably sounds cliché, right?”
Frank shook his head. “Nah, it sounds nice.”
“It was,” she agreed, nodding. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued. “There were presents all over the living room, but we had to wait until after we ate to open them. It was torture.”
“D’you do the Santa thing? Opening gifts in your PJs?”
“We always had Santa and stockings at our house,” she said. “Mom would make waffles while we tore into our new toys.”
Frank nodded, seeming to enjoy her story. But he watched her like he was waiting for something, searching for something between her words.
Karen kept talking-- describing her family Christmases, her cousins running around making a mess, building snowmen while the adults finished cooking, taking their Santa-delivered toys out to play…
“Who’s ‘we’?” Frank asked, cutting in on her last sentence.
“Oh, uh, me and my cousins, and my brother.” She punctuated it with a long swallow of coffee.
“Did your dad cook?” Frank asked, catching her off guard. “He in the kitchen or was someone out there watchin’ you?”
Karen struggled to laugh through her bewilderment. “We were old enough to play by ourselves,” she said, getting up for more coffee. “It was Vermont. Unless there was a moose nearby, we were safe.”
Frank grunted, clearly feeling the urge to judge. Overprotective to a fault. Karen smiled as she brought the coffee pot over and topped him off.
“It was a nice way to spend Christmas. I… I miss it sometimes,” she told him. “But I love holidays here too.”
“Amid the garbage and the slush, huh?” Frank arched an eyebrow, teasing her.
“It’s not all bad.” Karen sat down, facing him fully. “There’s Rockefeller center—”
“Tourist trap.”
“And Central Park—”
“Crowded.”
“And all the stores and their window displays.”
He hummed. “Yeah, alright. Those are kinda nice.”
“So you agree.”
The curve of his lip over his coffee cup made Karen want to giggle. She felt buzzed and she was stone cold sober.
After a moment, Frank’s gaze darted over her shoulder to the Christmas tree. “Y’gunna open your gifts?”
“Don’t have any.”
“Says who?”
Karen frowned at him. “What are you…?” She twisted, looking behind her. She couldn’t see anything from where she sat, so she stood up, wandering over to the living room. Under the tree was a lone wrapped present—green paper and red ribbon shining under the twinkle lights. Karen blinked.
“Frank…” she whispered, emotion building in her throat.
“It’s not much,” he said. “Just something to… to say thanks.”
“Thanks? For… what?”
He was silent as he watched her pick up the gift. She shook the box gently, hearing the contents rattle.
“I didn’t get you anything,” she said it a little teasingly, but the beginnings of guilt churned in her stomach.
Frank shook his head. “Nah, don’t need anything. Shit, you kept me from sleepin’ in a rathole apartment for a few nights. That’s gift enough.”
Glancing down at the tag— her name written in his tight, neat script—she took a breath.
“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”
Sitting on the edge of the couch, she balanced the box on her knees, pulling the ribbon off and tearing at the paper. She read part of the label printed on the cardboard and her brows shot up in delighted surprise.
“You got me bullets?” She laughed, looking up.
Standing, Frank started towards her. “Figured you’ve been going to the range a lot—your aim is too good to say you don’t practice.”
“I practice,” she confirmed with pride.
“Thought maybe I’d get you something to help practice with.”
Smiling, she finished unwrapping the box and opened the lid, finger running over the shells. “No one else would ever think to get me ammunition for Christmas.”
“Glad I’m not someone else then,” he told her, tucking his hand in his pocket and sipping his coffee.
“Me too.” She said it quickly, earnestly, and with enough warmth to heat up her own cheeks.
Frank took a few more steps into the living room, hovering near the end of the sofa. “You… you gonna open your other one?”
“You got me something else?”
He shook his head. “Meant the one from yesterday.” He paused, waiting for her to catch on. “Said it was from your dad…”
Karen’s face fell. “Oh. No, I’m not.”
“Karen…”
“I don’t want to open it, Frank.” She stood up, placing the box of bullets on her coffee table and going to brush passed him.
“Why?” Frank tracked her. “Hey, hey, talk to me. Why--?”
“Because I already know what it is,” she snapped, pegging him with a hard stare. “I already know, and I don’t want to be upset on Christmas, so…” Pushing her hair out of her face, she turned to walk away.
“What’s the deal with your dad, huh?” He asked, tilting his head, eyeing her. “Does he… Is he bothering you? Did… Karen, did he do something to you?”
So much was implied in the question, she didn’t know where to start, and her frustration came out as a bitter barking laugh.
“Depends on what you mean.”
Frank was eerily quiet, watching her. The violent urges always simmering under Frank’s surface began to bleed into his features, the rims of his irises, morphing him into The Punisher right in front of her.
“No, Frank. He didn’t do something to me… not like you’re thinking.” She fully exhaled with relief as his darkness faded, Frank coming back little by little.
“Then what? What’s the deal?” He asked, jaw working.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you so concerned about this, Frank?”
“Because…” He mumbled incoherently for a moment before clearing his throat and saying louder, “I don’t… I don’t like seeing you upset.”
She didn’t mean to scoff, but the harsh sound erupted from her anyway. “Since when?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what, this has nothing to do with me being upset.” She gestured to him, emphasizing her words. “You just don’t like not knowing something—It’s driving you nuts that I’m keeping something from you, so you’re trying every tactic you can to get me to spill my guts.” She shook her head, anger beginning to boil. “This isn’t empathy, it’s an interrogation.”
“Hey, that’s not—Look, I am concerned, okay? Don’t tell me I’m not—”
“Then why does it have to be on your schedule, Frank? Why can’t you just accept I’m not ready to talk about it?”
He set his mug down on the coffee table next to her box of bullets. “’Cause it has nothin’ to do with being ready—”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“C’mon, Karen, you really want me to say it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Karen,” he said her name almost like he was chastising her. “C’mon… You— I mean, I’m not an expert but—”
She scowled at him. “Spit it out, Frank.”
“You… You’re not doing well, Karen.”
The laugh that erupted from her was like ice shattering on concrete.
“Oh, that’s fucking rich,” she snapped. “You’re lecturing me now, is that it?”
“’Course not,” Frank said, shaking his head. “You know I’m not, I’m—Look, this shit with your dad, whatever it is, it’s just one part, okay? What you went through… The hotel with Lewis… losing Murdock—”
“Don’t,” she warned sharply.
He didn’t even blink. “All the other shit you’ve gone through. You don’t have to carry all that alone.”
“Wow, a month of therapy and you’re Dr. Castle now, huh?”
She regretted it the moment she said it. Frank needed therapy, needed to connect with other people, needed to talk about his trauma. She was proud of him. But he had his calloused, unclean fingers pressed against a vein she was barely able to keep closed on a good day, and that pain had to go somewhere.
Frank’s lip curled, a little too vicious to be a sneer. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what, Frank?”
“This, this backbiting bullshit. This ain’t you.”
“Oh yeah?” She snapped. “And what if it is?”
He shook his head, starting to wave her off, when she grabbed him by the bicep, yanking him back.
“What if it is, Frank?” Wide blue eyes locked on his nearly obsidian gaze. “What if this is me now?”
“So you—You wanna spend your life runnin’ on coffee and no sleep, diggin’ that hole deeper for yourself?”
“Stop! Stop presuming to know me, Frank! You weren’t here, you don’t—”
“I watched you every night through that goddamn window, you think I didn’t see you??”
His admission brought Karen’s thoughts to a halt. “You… what?” She breathed.
Frank started to shake his head, looking to the floor. “I… nothing, I just…”
“Goddamn it Frank, for once just—”
“Alright, yeah,” he interrupted. “Yeah, okay, I watched you. I didn’t… It wasn’t like that. I just… I’d walk by every night, wait to see you in the widow, see that you were okay. For a while, you were… I dunno, it looked like you were okay. But then… That light stayed on longer. I’d see you still movin’ around. Sometimes you’d be up at 4am—”
Karen gaped, unsure if she should be horrified.
“You were putting out a story in every issue of the Bulletin. You were doing interviews. But you weren’t even fuckin’ sleeping,” he said, sandpapery voice an octave lower. “Then, I’m staying here, and I’m seeing… I mean, Jesus, the last 2 nights… all fuckin’ night you’re tossing and turning—”
“What?”
“You talk in your sleep, Karen, y’think I wouldn’t hear you? You’re 5 feet away.”
“I didn’t…” She released him, backing up half a step. “I didn’t know I…” Her hand went to her mouth, fingers trembling against her chin.
Frank took half a step forward. “Look, I’m… I’m not…” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Just… Who’s Kevin?”
Karen’s breath caught in her throat so painfully tears welled in her eyes.
“Y-you kept saying his name, over and over, you were crying it…” Frank’s voice cracked. “Is he… He important to you?”
Hand clutching her mouth, she tried to suck down air and couldn’t. She stepped around Frank, trying to get some space, some footing, something.
“Hey, Karen… hey…”
She waved him off, still battling the sobs lodged in her windpipe.
“I can’t…” She mumbled finally, shaking her head. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
She spun, marching into her bedroom. Finding her sturdy boots and thick socks, she yanked them on before grabbing her winter coat off the hook near her door. When she emerged, Frank was standing there, looking at her with concerned bewilderment.
“Hey, hey, wait, hold on,” he started, trailing after her as she searched for her purse.
“I’m going for a walk.”
“Karen—”
“Stop it,” she nearly screamed. Two tears streamed down her face as she blinked up at him. “Leave me alone, Frank!”
“I… Just—Please, Karen…"
She shook her head. “I gotta go.”
She could hear him call her name again, but the slamming of her apartment door cut off the rest of his sentence entirely.
. . .
#Kastle fic#my writing#my fic#LET KAREN HAVE HER MOMENT 2K18#Karen Page#Frank Castle#it might be Christmas time in this fic but the angst is REAL#Happy Holidays have some tears#gotta keep the heartbreaking holiday season going idc that it's Jan.6th#otp: ma'am#post-TPS
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Oh, darling. My beloved cup of coffee on a morning blessed with rain.
I love you, and I have since we were at the youngest of years. I care so much about you, and I apologize I must write to you like this. I am afraid, afraid that the next time you see me will be at my funeral.
I honestly have not been doing well, my medication is failing me. I am failing myself. I am ruining my health physically and mentally. It’s been a month since I’ve actually eaten something; it’s been two months since I’ve gone to see my therapist. I know I continuously tell you that I see them, but I can’t. The scars lining my hips are ruining who I am. People see them and comment on them. You always told me they were beautiful, and honestly, that’s how my shameful crush on you settled.
You saw past who I was and looked at who I am. You looked at my personality, my present. My broken past did nothing to make you run away. You held me in your arms when I cried, when I panicked, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I remember every detail of it. The soft scent of gasoline and sweat that clung to your sweater from your long day at work, it overflowed my lungs, causing my heart to explode. Your sweet, tired voice that soothed my soul one thoughtful “It’s okay..” at a time. The feeling of your arms wrapped oh so protectively around my dying hope. Thinking about it now, I cannot help but let the tears drip from my eyes.
As I am writing this now you are asleep on the couch beside me, your soft snoring being the inspiration for my words. Your colored skin shining peacefully from the light that radiated past the dim skylight. Years of life walked through the dark city alleys, and people without jobs slept sadly by storefronts. This is the city we grew up in, right? If it holds so much trauma in my past, why does the soft bustle of people soothe me?
Perhaps it is the knowledge that this is my last night. My last night here, in this world. Granting that this is also the last night I will ever be able to see your soft giggle in your sleep or to witness the warmth of your smile on a particularly hard day.
I could go on and on about your looks. The beautiful person that is you, and how you blessed my world. There are no words to describe your true beauty, although I can try. Your blonde hair, curled at the ends, like a sea of golden waves, or a halo rimming your freckle filled face. A smile, you contain such a remarkable smile. Something that could put the sun to shame, obscure the stars that shine so brightly.
God, your skin. Effortless, flawless, angelic. Anything you could hope for, summed into one person. Most nights I often wondered how someone so perfect could be with me. How someone so wonderful could laugh at my jokes, someone so outstanding could be excited to see me.
It forces me to believe that you care about me, even if I know you cannot. I dare not to tarnish years and years of friendship, for I believe I’ll ruin it, ruin the love that was there before. Even though every passing day as soon as you turn away, I feel my heart ache. It aches for you, and you alone. Everyone else vanishes when you smile at me. My debt in life and the people that grieve all leave, and it’s just you.
Even though I have repeatedly talked about your looks, I have yet to get to the best part. You. How you act and what you do amazes me completely. You would stop to help everyone and often come home with empty pockets, the cause of you handing too much money out. That has never bothered me, I enjoy seeing your sheepish smile peek from behind our apartment door. You’re equal to a kitten, that’s how I would describe you. The energy combined inside of you never seems to run out, and you’re always excited to do anything.
That is perhaps the part I love most about you; you’re a lot different than me. I am someone who cannot talk properly with others and despises going anywhere. My favorite spot is inside our home, in your arms. You are always happy to move around, and you never seem to be able to sit still.
Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I can imagine we’re a couple. I can imagine feeling your body against mine, our lips locked together and our hands wandering. I can think about the long days at work, coming home to you. I can think about the possibilities that lay before you. I often cry at the thought of waking up to your wrinkled and aged face, a dog barking in the background and birds chirping outside of our house. It makes me weep, for I know I will never acquire something so beautiful. Something so happy has never been in my life, and I can barely imagine it ever will be. That is my fate, and tonight I am accepting it.
You may be sad, but please do not cry. None of this is your fault, you cannot force yourself to love, or care, or see me as someone you could enjoy waking up to. This is my future, and I know I am meant to be in this spot, at this time. I am happy that you have not woken up to my sobs yet. This is truly hard for me to write, for the pain, I feel pouring out my feelings to you, feelings of honesty that have been trapped inside of me since my birth make me want to end it now. End the letter at this very last sentence. Although I won’t, why? I want you to remember me, remember your childhood friend that developed a crush that could never be fixed. I want to let you be happy whilst you read this. I am going to cramp my fingers to the point where I can’t even move them, as long as you smile at a moment of grief.
I want so badly to just lie down next to you on the couch, wrapping my arms around you and just sleep. Just me and you, sleeping together in the most innocent way. I just lacked the courage, and you were beautiful and I was gawky and you were endlessly fascinating and I was hopelessly boring. You were the hurricane and I was the drizzle, so much more powerful than me in so many ways it would shock others.
You are not mine, but sometimes I pretend you wish you were. I create this idea that you secretly want me; I often forget it’s just something I’ve made up. You do not want me, and you are not mine. I want you in the bluntest way, I want your lips, hands, arms. I want you the way the ocean wants the shore, constantly reaching for paradise, although running back. I want you the way rain wants to fall, sun wants to shine, the way words want to be read. No rain can douse the fire that I hold in me for you.
Although these are just things I want, these are not the things I have. Instead, I have sweet smiles of passing days, hugs that attempt to patch back up who I think I am, small talk on the couch in the morning, and deep conversations on the porch at night. Instead, I have a pain where my heart is. Did you know there’s a name for it? La douleur exquise, meaning the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable.
Do you remember when we were kids, we would always talk about partying until 4 am when we got older? It’s quite ironic because little did we know that at 4 am I would be writing a suicide note. I feel bad about this, about leaving you. I don’t want to, yet we can all agree to love you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction, although I regret none of it. I don’t regret the countless nights I spent blushing in my room, you the only thing on my mind, for you always looked at me like there was something in me worth looking at.
My life isn’t as enjoyable as before, and I don’t want it anymore. I truly wish I never fell in love with you, I might be living a happy life at the moment. Although do I regret meeting you? No, of course not. You have been there for me when no one else was, and I have been there for you when you couldn’t handle it anymore. We even each other out.
I’m going to end this very soon, for my body is accepting its fate and beginning to ache. It’s aching a rest, a rest with constant dreams of you. I will never stop thinking of you because I love you. I’m sorry I have so many scars, I’m sorry that I can’t go a day without crying, I’m sorry for hating myself all the time, for always talking about my problems, and probably being annoying as hell, I’m sorry for not being perfect, but most of all I’m sorry that I’ll never be good enough for you.
Please write back to me soon, love.
Dearly,
Andri
I wrote this for a community I was in for awhile that focused on creating love letters. They could be about anything you wanted, portray any feelings you wanted, and could contain anyone you wanted. It was a tad hard writing a love-filled suicide note, and incorporating different aspects of my style into a letter I feel too strongly for, even if I’ve never experienced a true heartbreak. The genders can be interpreted any way you want- and I just used my name at the end because it was the easiest.
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