Powerpuff Girls Drawings

Powerpuff Girls Drawings

All of these drawings were traced from images that i found, so the credit is not mine

What Went Wrong

Gwen and Duncan get together, and leave Courtney to deal with the aftermath. She wonders were it went wrong, what was wrong with her ex-friend and boyfriend.  … she wonders if she was in the wrong.

“No matter how much you love something, an inability to accept their differences and faults can lead to bitterness and cruelty, and prideful attempts to change them can lead to their own destruction.” 

It was easy to blame someone else for your own shortcomings. Your own refusal to grow past whatever was holding you back. Your loss.

□ ● □ ● □ ● □ ● □ ● □ ● □ ● □

Season 2

"Ew. Duncan, stop it."  

"Why so uptight, hot stuff? What happened to that crazy chick who helped me raid the camp kitchen?" 

"Ugh, I'm over this stupid show. I lost the competition, my pathetic lawyer lost my lawsuit, and now I just want to go home, study for my LSAT's, and work my class president campaign." 

"Wow, hello downer. Come on, relax, it's almost over. I thought you'd be happy " 

"I AM HAPPY!" 

*static*

"You know you mean the world to me, but I-I can't let you hold me back. Sorry!" 

"Wait! You're leaving me here?! But I-I just wrestled an alligator for us!" 

"I know! But opportunities like this don't just fall out of trees!" 

   *static*

"Courtney wrote me a thirty-two page letter outlining all my faults and how to correct them if we're ever going to have a serious relationship. All of which she expects me to memorize. I think I would have preferred a night of alien probing." 

   *static*

"Don't worry, I forgive you… just like I forgave the other three hundred and sixteen minor transgressions I outlined in my letter. But, I expect you to memorize that letter so it doesn't happen again." 

   *static*

"After all, what’s more important — winning some stupid challenge … or making me happy?" 

   *static*

"Hey, I like Courtney, I really do, but I also like a million big ones. Best case scenario, I win the money and the girl. But if it comes down to it, I need the money more than I need some high-matinence chick with a superiority complex. Ha!  

… don't tell her I said that, okay?" 

   *static*

"What?! Duncan voted for me?!" 

   *static*

"Court's popularity is in the toilet. I can't have her dragging me down. But the real reason… a thirty-two page letter?! And people call me psycho!" 

   *static*

Season 3

"Well, if you just listened to me — !"  

"Oh, I'll start listening the minute you say something worthwhile." 

"You're insane, you know that?" 

"And you … are a monster!" 

   *static*

"You know what? NO! No, no, no, no, no, no! Three hours of these two squawking on this stupid pyramid in this stupid heat — and you want me to sing?! FORGET IT!" 

"Dude, you have a contract —" 

"Eat it, McLean! If you need me, I'll be in the plane waiting for a ride home — cause I'm out! Done! I QUIT!"  

   *static*

" — And how could you think it was okay to just … leave like that! Because it was not! Ugh! Abandon me again, and it will not be pretty. Now, get over here you big lug! I'm not really mad, I just missed you."  

"Every time I ran from the cops, I thought of you." 

   *static*

"WHAT?! How could you?! I thought we were friend-ish!? I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!!” 

   *static*

"Well, at least I broke up with Duncan on my terms. It was totally empowering. At least I still have my … pride …"  

   *static*

"Okay, let's hear it." 

"Hear?" 

"Your apology." 

"For?" 

"For what?! For Gwen!" 

"For who?" 

"FOR! GWEN! 

Ugh!" 

   *static*

"I need immunity — especially around Alejandro — but sticking it to Courtney feels so right! And that can't be wrong."  

   *static*

"I declare my husband to be an insensitive jerk, who thinks his piercings make him cool when really, they divert attention away from his lack of personality."  

"And I declare wifey here to be a stuck-up windbag. I also declare, she could use some mouthwash!"  

   *static*

"I want a divorce!" 

"Oh really? Cause I want to stay married to your sunshine-y self forever!" 

   *static*

“Smiling? Whistling? This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you!” 

“What can I say? It’s like all of my problems were shoved out of a plane.” 

   *static*

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand as I thumbed through the channels of the TV. 

Every stupid news host was talking about Total Drama, commenting on the seasons, talking about the new ship: Gwuncan. 

As if they had nothing better to talk about but the utter disgrace of myself on international television.  

Every channel was about me, about Gwen, about Duncan . Every interaction, every confessional, aired and analyzed by fans and reporters to look back and wonder where it all started for the new couple. Where it had ended for the old couple.  

What had happened? What had happened?  

What made Duncan cheat on me? What was wrong with him to not see that I only wanted the best for him? 

Was it the list? 

I only made the list for Duncan for him to fix out his flaws! No person would ever hire a guy with a green mohawk for a respectable career. And with his callus and brutish attitude no one would ever want him. 

Couldn’t he see that I … 

What did Gwen have that I didn’t?

“Why don’t we just … let things happen. No pressure, no planning, no pookums. ’Kay?”  

“See? That there is why I like you.”  

I slapped myself, reeling back at the memories. Duncan never looked at me like that, even in our best moments. Gwen’s hands laid on his chest like I once did, telling him things that I would never do and he agreed — 

I slapped my other cheek harder, until it stung. I wouldn’t break down, I wouldn’t. Hate and anger was better than hurt and grief, and I had already shown enough of those things on Total Drama. 

I had to be perfect, I had to be better, I had to be the best , because if I couldn’t, what would I amount to?

Just a spoiled uptight princess whose boyfriend cheated on her? A washed-up reality tv star who didn’t even win any contest? 

I didn’t even win anything and yet I lost everything. The competition, the money, my pride, my dignity, my image, my friend, my boyfriend … 

I flipped the channel again, and the tv played Duncan and Gwen sharing a kiss after my ex had thrown a shoe at me. 

Gwen.  

How can Gwen sit there and kiss my boyfriend without ever feeling an ounce of guilt? Didn’t she have any shame? Any dignity? Any self-respect to see what she was doing was wrong? 

I thought she was my friend. I thought I was her friend, but at the most opportune moment she went behind my back and kissed him in the confessional. 

I thought … 

I thought I meant more to her than that. 

I thought I meant more to both of them than that, I thought darkly as I flipped another channel to see the forsaken kiss playing on the screen. I glowered at the tv as Duncan grabbed her burnt hand and pulled her into a kiss. 

Duncan was a bad boy and I was the good girl — the princess, as he was so fond of calling me. I knew it wouldn’t last, but in some small, illogical corner of my brain I thought it would. I thought our feelings for each other would be strong enough, I thought that I could make us last. 

“Love does funny things to us,” I sighed happily and walked away, oblivious to the turmoil Gwen was feeling.  

“Yeah … love is hysterical,” I heard her mutter before slapping herself.  

I loved him. I really did. Everything I did on Total Drama Action was for his best interest.  

I wrote that letter so that he could correct his flaws and become better, for me and himself. I wrote all those corrections to make him better. 

How could I not see that everything I did would lead up to this? 

Every glare, every argument, every dirty look, every confessional, led up to this. 

He wasn’t even sorry, in the end. 

I thought … 

Back then, when I demanded his apology through the freezing cold, I thought we could get over this. I thought through enough begging and apologies to take him back, Duncan and I could get over this. Brush it off like any other argument and get back to the way things were. 

But he didn’t even care. He didn’t even want me back. He was happy that I was tossed off the plane like a piece of garbage! 

I really thought he loved me back. 

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes from the bright screen and standing up. I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, not even recognizing the young woman staring back. 

My hair was a mess, not perfectly combed like usual. I was in my pajamas, and my face was flushed and blotchy instead of smooth tan. The worst was my eyes, puffy and smeared with mascara and red with unshed tears. 

The young woman in the mirror looked like a messy collage of restrained hurt and anger and sadness. She didn’t look like Courtney, prim and perfect and driven to be nothing but the best. 

What had happened? Was the question I asked before. Looking straight into the mirror, Duncan and Gwen were the farthest from my mind as the answer stared right back. 

It was me.

I jerked back, and began slapping myself, again and again to rid myself of that twisted thought.  It was me.     Slap! It wasn’t me! How could it be me?! I was a C.I.T.! I did nothing wrong, nothing was wrong until Duncan cheated on me! Nothing was wrong until Gwen kissed my boyfriend!

      Nothing.

   Slap.

   Was.

   Slap.

   Wrong.  

   Slap.

I stopped, palms tingling and face hot as wet tears smeared across my stinging cheeks. My blood was boiling, burning, just as it had when Gwen stayed on the plane the night in Greece. 

Something twisted, dark and bitter and ugly, as I gripped the porcelain sink and stared at my reflection. Every fiber of my being trembled with the urge to ruin, and the seeds of sour hate had already grown and constricted around my heart the moment I found out Duncan and Gwen kissed.   

I would show them. I would redeem myself. I would be there to win, and nothing, no one would stop me. 

No feelings, no trust, no friendships. …

Courtney wonders where she went wrong. 

Probably when she signed her life over to that stupid show in the first place.

Sound the Alarm

Emma just wants to get some sleep, keep her little sister in check, and earn her law degree. Relationships are the last thing on her mind.

Her four mental goals are suddenly cut down to one once she meets her crazy next door neighbors.

And it starts by setting off the fire alarm.

(AKA: The Nemma Neighbor AU that no one asked for

This ship doesn’t get enough appreciation ToT)

Based off fic 2 am by shmulia

It was two am, and Emma is going to murder the person who set off the fire alarm. 

She rips the sheets off her body and opens the door viciously. If this was Kitty trying to cook anything but ramen, then Emma is going to kick her out of the apartment and throw away her key.

Emma slit her eyes, looking at the spotless kitchen that was free of her sister, and turns to see Kitty stumble out of her room, more tired than pissed off. 

It had been a long day for Emma; being a law student was a full-time job, with that on top of her other job— keeping her little sister in check. She had an essay that she spent hours writing on, and when it was finally over she had to finish the chores Kitty had clearly neglected before she had wanted to pass out. 

And now some idiot had set off the fire alarm. 

Emma is going to kill them.

Involuntary actions are free of ill will, Emma reminds herself as she stomps towards the door. Kitty crashes on the couch, trusting her sister to give the guilty resident a piece of her mind. 

Emma grabs the doorknob and yanks it open, the door flying open and slamming against the wall with a nasty bang. Emma is too furious to care — the damage would be morning-Emma’s problem. 

Then she stops. Stares. And stares some more, because she is tired and is pretty sure this was a hallucination. 

He is gorgeous. A couple inches taller than her, lean with brown skin and chocolate eyes that seemed extremely wide the moment she opened the door. His fist is raised, like he was going to knock on the door before she whipped it open.

Maybe she hadn't been that bad in a past life, Emma thinks as she takes in the guy in front of her, because God was clearly apologising for the fire alarm. Really, how often did good-looking guys turn up on her doorstep?

Not since her ex-boyfriend Jake, and Emma refuses to give him an ounce of thought this early in the morning and in the face of a guy easily more attractive than him. 

The two stare at each other and Emma waits for the guy to speak.

"Oh. Um. Hey— hi! I’m Noah. I live next door.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “I don't know if you heard the fire alarm go off just now— " he starts, before Emma cuts him off.

"Oh, I heard alright," she narrows her eyes. If Noah reveals that he was the one who set the alarm off, hotness be damned Emma would make sure his death was swift and painful.

Noah gulps nervously.

"Ah, okay. My roommate is kind of responsible for that, and he sent me over to apologise. So. Yeah. Sorry about that."

Emma folds her arms across her chest. "And he didn't come over to apologise because … ?"

Noah raises his hands defensively. "He's just clearing the air in our apartment. He said he'll come out in a minute, but wanted someone to apologise right away — and then he shoved me out of the door before I was even awake!”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “No way. You slept through that alarm?” 

Noah shrugs, a small smirk working its way up on his lips. “I could sleep through the apocalypse if I wanted to.”

Emma laughs, and finds herself surprised how genuine it was. She leans against the doorway and notices Noah’s eyes flicking down her body before looking away, his cheeks reddening. 

She realizes she is in her pajamas, consisting of her extremely short shorts and her orange oversized sweatshirt that says The Best Lawyer Sister that Kitty gave her. Emma is unable to stop the small grin growing on her face, and he coughs.

Noah cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to distract them both. "Anyway ... Sorry about the fire alarm," he says.

Emma nods and represses a yawn. "It's fine," she says. She rubs her eyes as a wave of exhaustion passes over her, washing away her anger and replacing it with the desire to sleep. "Just try not to do it again, okay?"

Noah nods. "Sure, no prob— " his reply is cut short by the opening of an apartment door. A big blonde boy emerges from the slightly smoky doorway and his eyes light up when he spots Noah. He bounded across the hallway, coming to a stop next to Noah. He must be the roommate, Emma assumes. 

She is a bit surprised, to be honest — the two were quite the contrasting pair to look at, and it wasn’t just physically-wise. The blonde was literally bouncing on his feet and looking incredibly awake while Noah stood still, looking bored and tired. 

Emma stifles another laugh — it is exactly the same expression she wears when Kitty was being too exuberant. 

"Hi! You must be Emma! We're your neighbours!" the blonde says happily, gesturing between Noah and himself. “I’m Owen, and this is my little buddy, Noah!” 

Another contrast. If Noah was like outer space: deep, dark, and endless; then Owen was like the sun — bright, light (metaphorically speaking), and a big ball of energy. Emma wasn't really sure how to deal with someone this energetic at two in the morning. 

"Er, hi," she says. She frowns slightly as a thought occurs to her. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

"We know Kitty," Owen says. “She’s your little sister, right?”

Emma blinks in surprise. “Yeah, but— how do you know her?" Emma racks her brain to remember if Kitty had ever mentioned the two guys standing opposite her.

"We're in the same photography class," Owen smiles, and a glimmer of remembrance filters through Emma’s memory of Kitty mentioning a boy in her class who was ridiculously nice. Emma could see where she was coming from.

She turns to Noah and he answers her unspoken question. “She’s just a friend of a friend to me. I can only deal with one extrovert at a time.” He rolls his eyes and Emma can’t help but giggle. Oh, she can definitely relate. 

Noah’s eyes glint with satisfaction when he hears her laugh and his gaze flicks to something behind her. "Speak of the devil," he says dryly, and Emma turns around to see her little sister walking towards them, rubbing her eyes.

"Did I hear that right? You guys set off the fire alarm?"

Owen beams, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I was just cooking a late night snack because I missed dinner, and as I was cooking, I realised I hadn't called my Izzy all day! So I thought, hey, the food will take a while, so I'll just call her now! And Izzy’s phone calls usually last hours, and I guess I forgot that I was cooking until the whole kitchen was on fire!”

Noah nudges Owen, somehow still looking deadpan while Kitty and Emma are enraptured by the story. “Go ahead and tell them the worst part, Big Guy.”

Owen's face twists, his mouth turning downward as his eyes turn watery. "And … I … burned the food! It’s gone! Ruined! Never to be eaten again …” Owen sinks to the floor and covers his face, sobbing quietly. 

The sisters stare at the cheerful blonde on his knees, not sure how to comfort him. Emma stares at Noah. This guy has just sent the most enthusiastic person Emma has ever met to tears in a few words, and he still looks unfazed as Kitty begins patting Owen’s shoulder sympathetically.

Clearly, he has a vicious streak when his sleep is interrupted. 

The lack of sleep must be messing with her mind, because Emma finds that extremely attractive.          

"Anyway, we’re sorry the alarm took so long to turn off," Noah tears his eyes away from the scene. "There was a lot of smoke, and we had to fan the air out of the window to try and clear it."

Emma shrugs, holding Noah’s dark gaze. "Like I said — don’t do it again, and we’re all good.”

For some reason, Noah seems to cringe. “Yeah … Well, I think I should warn you ahead of time, but Owen’s girlfriend, Izzy, is kind of …” he taps his finger against his lip thoughtfully, and Emma can’t even tell if the action is sarcastic or if he’s genuinely looking for the right word. “ … eccentric. Like, psycho-hose beast eccentric. We got kicked out of our last apartment we shared with her because of noise complaints, arson, and fire alarms at ungodly hours of the night.”

Emma stares at him, hoping that she conveys the sheer amount of disbelief in her gaze. “Tell me you’re being sarcastic.” She says — no, more like demands. 

Noah looks back, deadpan, but Emma can tell that he is genuinely sorry. She groans, banging her head on the doorway. God, if every other night was going to be like this, Emma might actually murder someone. 

Noah watches her with something not quite bemusement, but something else entirely. “Don’t worry, I keep her in line.”

Emma looks up from her head-banging, and he continues, flushing a little. “I make sure to watch out for Izzy and keep her from going too crazy. Need to make sure the best lawyer gets her beauty sleep.”

Emma ignores the way her heart jumps; that last part was definitely sarcasm, even though it didn’t feel like it. For some reason, Kitty and Owen have stopped whatever they were doing and are staring at Noah like they can’t believe their eyes. 

Kitty’s gaze in particular flick towards Emma, and she scrupulously avoids her eyes. Her sister knew her like the back of her hand, and Emma didn’t want Kitty to think … certain things. 

Emma is about to respond to Noah, but tiredness suddenly overwhelms her. She attempts to suppress a yawn, but couldn't quite prevent a sigh coming out. She presses her head against the doorframe, blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. 

She doesn’t realise that Noah is still watching her until his voice pulls her away from the slight daze she finds herself in.

"C’mon, Big Guy, it's time for bed. " The smaller boy nudges him with his elbow and nods towards Emma,whose dependency on the doorframe is becoming more obvious by the second.

"Oh, right. Sorry for keeping you two up!" Owen said earnestly. "Is there any way we can make it up to you?"

Emma is about to request "let me go to bed" as her response, but Kitty gets there first.

"Why don’t we hang out?"

Emma straightens up immediately, glancing at Kitty in surprise and warning. She knew she was busy, but Kitty’s eyes flick pointedly to Noah, then back at Emma. She winks slyly. 

The little brat was setting her up!

A blush formed on Noah and Emma’s cheeks, and Owen’s face split into a grin. "That would be awesome! We can go out to eat and hang out — all four of us!" 

Kitty crosses her arms, smiling. "You owe us dinner for waking us up at two in the morning for your dinner. I love a free meal, and Emma needs to get out more."

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong, Miss I’m-married-to-my-law-degree-book?"

" … No."

"Exactly. So, you guys game?" Kitty asks.

Noah’s eyes met Emma’s, and his cheeks reddened further. "Dinner... would be nice," he says, breaking eye contact with her. Owen nodded enthusiastically, grin unwavering.

"Awesome. We'll figure out the details tomorrow. I think Emma’s gonna pass out if she doesn't get in bed asap." Kitty says, pulling her sister out of the doorway and into the room. "See you guys round!"

She shuts the door as the boys say goodbye, and immediately turns around to give Emma the widest smile she’s ever seen.

"So ... you and Noah, huh?" she asks, smirking at the usually unflustered girl.

"Goodnight, Kitty," Emma says, waving as she turns her back on her sister and walks towards her room. 

"You're welcome!” Kitty calls to her retreating back. “And you owe me one!”

"For what?" Emma asks, confused.

Kitty winks. "Trust me when I say that you and Noah are going to get on reeeeally well," the younger girl says, before shutting her door. 

Emma shakes her head and goes into her room to curl up in her bed. As she tucks the duvet around herself, Emma realizes that the smile she wore around Noah hadn’t faded in the slightest as she fell into blissful unconsciousness.

Kidnapped Princess Coliel AU

Seliel is a princess of kingdom, and amongst the glamour and champagne of a party hosted at her palace, she meets a man named Cole that explodes with chemistry and mystery. Everyone said curiosity killed the cat, and by God, is she paying for that mistake. Being hungover is like a dream right now.

Tags: Kidnapping, Swearing, Mentions of Alcoholism, Tension (Hatred and/or Sexual)

Chapter inspired by, Blades That Sing (And Love That Burns), by Chimiiko

When Seliel wakes up, its like her head was full of stars and her mouth was filled with soft, fluffy cottonballs. Her brain was still blanketed by the confines of sleep, and she forces herself to swallow. Water would be nice, but for some reason her body hurt and she can’t really move her arms quite yet — they must still be asleep. 

Seliel wanted to fall back asleep into the comforting darkness behind her eyelids, but for some reason she stayed conscious. 

 Why was she so sore? And why were her arms not moving? Waking up has never felt so exhausting, even on her most strenuous days when she pushed her body to the limit when she trained. 

With a soft groan, Seliel opened her blue eyes, sight going hazy from being shut for so long. Then she stopped. Stiffened. 

Holy fuck. 

She’s been kidnapped. 

Seliel wasn’t in her comfortable room and in her bed. She wasn’t even passed out on a roof with bottles of alcohol and a hangover. 

No, she was in a cell. She was in a goddamn cell, stone-walled with no window in sight. She was strapped to a chair, and her arms were bound to the back of it while her ankles were tied to each leg. 

Her wrists ached from how tight the ropes were laced, and they screamed for help when Seliel tried to give an experimental tug. Whoever locked her up like this had clearly never tied up a human being before. 

Or they just simply didn’t care who she was. 

Memories resurfaced: there was a party, one of the big fancy ones with flutes of champagne and shaking hands with people who you pretended to know. Seliel was bored out of her mind and was looking for a way to escape when she saw him — Cole. 

He had intrigued her, and when they spoke he acted coy, charming, mysterious. Seliel hadn’t minded, she had always liked a good mystery, but there had been a delicious chemistry brewing between them, and Seliel had almost been hoping that her night would end better than she even anticipated. 

But then she had been whisked away, called to shake hands with people she could care less about. Cole was gone when she managed to escape, leaving nothing but a single note of where to find him the next day. 

Seliel violently strained her wrists against the scratchy material tying them behind her back. The pain does nothing to overshadow memories of what happened that next day: breaking out of the palace to find him, spending hours searching for him the next morning, and then — 

Fuck. 

Cole — that fucking asshole, Cole — and hers’ little escapade . She had found him, and then they were kissing, wildly and desperately, as Seliel’s hands traveled up his shirt and Cole pressed her in the wall. Thoughts of Cole’s body, Cole’s lips, leaving a mark against her throat and his quiet whisper of I’m sorry before his arms came crushing down her throat rushed in so fast Seliel felt like she’s gotten whiplash. 

Fuck. Fuck! 

All because she wanted to get laid, she was in this fucked up situation.

Without even realizing it, Seliel’s breathing had gotten ragged. She closed her eyes to try and calm down, but the darkness only made it easier to picture the way Cole had kissed down her neck one second then squeezed the life out of it the next. 

Her blood boiled. No doubt wherever she’s tied up is that jerk’s fault too. Seliel sucks a deep breath, trying to control her breathing into a more regular pace. 

She wouldn’t escape anything if she was panicking. She needed to get a grip or else she would fucking die here — wherever here was, anyway. Control and negotiations weren’t really her strong suit — she preferred to have her fists flying and her temper loose — but she need to play smart seeing as she was at a serious disadvantage here. 

Maybe — 

Her thoughts cut off when the metal door began screaming as it opened. Seliel’s heart stopped; she hated to admit it, but she was scared of what was about to come out of the door.  

She wasn’t ready. 

Shit. 

She should pretend to still be asleep, to see if the person said anything useful, but it’s already too late. Footsteps echoed, then —

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” 

That voice. 

Seliel’s lip curls. Adrenaline swiftly returns to her body as memories and emotions burst under her skin tenfold. 

“Cole.” She spat out the name like it was something vile. As soon as she speaks, the person in question steps into view. Unfortunately, he is still as annoyingly attractive as she recalled — but now that image is splattered with burning rage and hate; even the worried frown on Cole’s face as Seliel nearly tugs her arm out of its socket can’t change that. 

“Seliel, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He steps forward worriedly, but pauses to peer at the ropes threatening to cut into her skin. His eyes grow dark. 

When he speaks again it was almost to himself. “Those idiot guards, I told them to treat you respectfully — ” 

“Why do you care?” Seliel sneered, and the suddenness of the question startles him. Seliel’s struggling made her breathing irregular again, and gulping down so much dry air only succeeded in fanning the fire in her throat. 

“You have —” Seliel coughed. “ — absolutely no right to say anything about me being disrespected.” Every angry emotion she’s ever felt is nothing compared to this; if she wasn’t strapped to a chair right now, Seliel would already have her fists flying. 

Over the past twenty-four hours she’s been betrayed, taken from her home, tied up like a dog, and has felt more powerless and weak than she has in her entire life. How dare Cole just stand there and talk about disrespect when he was the one who struck the first blow and where to hurt?

“You might have forgotten, so I’ll fucking remind you: you were the one who disrespected me first, Cole. You were the one who betrayed me, kidnapped me, tied me down like an animal in the middle of God-knows-where, and you think you have the right to tell people how I should be treated? If you’re the one giving orders here, I should be lucky I haven’t gotten my throat slit!” 

Seliel’s voice had risen into a shriek by the end of her rant, her screaming ringing through the air like a crack of lightning. Cole actually flinches back, stumbling around for a response, an excuse. 

Seliel sees his face and wants to scream and punch. Everything hurts, and her heart aches for reasons she doesn’t want to know, and the pain she feels fuels her anger beyond reason. Seliel’s eyes sting, but she grits her teeth. She’d never forgive herself if she started crying right now. 

“What? Can’t think of anything to say? How about, ‘I’m a lying, spineless coward who likes to takes advantage of people for fun’?” Seliel sneers cruelly.

“Watch your mouth,” Cole snapped. The demand carries the strength of somebody with years of experience in handling power. His own anger visibly flared at the words, and he shoots Seliel a sharpened look. “I have my reasons, and if you’d give me a chance to explain —” 

An incredulous scoff bursts from her mouth, and if Seliel was a smarter person, she would have just shut up and listened to the warning in Cole’s tone. But she wasn’t smart, and she never was good at listening. 

She was hurt and pissed off beyond belief, and she wanted Cole to feel that rage, that infuriating self-loathing that boiled under the skin and made nails dig into palms until they bled. To scream and scream until the throat was raw and realize that no one heard the whole time.

She wanted Cole to feel what she felt, and she would ruin all of her chances of escape just to see that.

“If you seriously think that I’m gonna believe a word you say to me then you’re not half as smart as you think you are.” Seliel spat. Her ferocity manifested itself in the form of words since action isn’t an option. She had a wicked tongue and an even more wicked temper, and if Seliel was going down she was damn sure she was going to drag Cole along with her. 

Cole bristles, and Seliel can feel the tension rising in the stone room. Nothing can escape here, not her or the emotions or Cole’s actions. There is enough intensity to send electricity flying in all directions. 

“I didn’t want to do any of this to you, Seliel, but I had to. I had no choice.” He looks a little desperate when he says that, but with all the emotion clouding the air Seliel can’t tell if it’s actual desperation or just an excuse. 

If it is an excuse, it’s a pretty shitty one. 

“And maybe you should be a little more cautious about meeting strange men in alleyways.” Cole adds defensively, and oh , what a shitty excuse. 

“Oh, fuck you , Cole.” 

“Yeah, well, yesterday it was ‘fuck me, Cole,’ so you better make up your damn mind.” 

Seliel’s jaw hung open. She can see that Cole regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, but right now, Seliel could give less of a shit about Cole’s feelings. 

“How dare you,” Seliel hissed, and the venom in her tone is enough to make Cole flinch as she lunges forward. “Say that shit to me when I’m not tied up, and you’ll regret the day you were born.” 

“Seliel, please —” 

Cole cut himself off, looking like he wanted to reach out to her and withdraw in himself. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. He looks exhausted, Seliel suddenly realized — he had dark circles under his eyes, and the way he was standing is different than the night of the gala; he’s curled in on himself, almost as if he’s afraid. 

Seliel shouldn’t notice these things, because they were making her anger swell down and leaving her with bone-deep exhaustion, and an ocean of hurt she isn’t ready to dive into. She just wants Cole to leave, to let her stew alone in regret, to wish that he really was just this man that drew her in like a moth to the flame, no ulterior motives. 

But she does, and when Seliel speaks next, it lacks the venom and hatred she was going for and leaves her voice empty and hollow. 

“Just screw off, Cole. Go stab some other naive girl in the back — I think I’ve had my fair share for today, thanks.” 

Cole’s expression splits in several different directions, and for a moment he looks absolutely crushed .  

But then he straightens, looks away from the defeated Seliel, and walks back towards the door. 

The door screams and creaks as it opens and closes, and the heavy clink as the lock sets echoes in her chest. Seliel is pretty sure that’s where her heart is. 

Seliel keeps quiet, making sure Cole is really gone as her own ragged breathing fills the space he was in. 

Then she cries. 

Traitor Lloyrumi AU

Here is something to shed some light on the situation: Ninjago City was taken over. It was overrun by someone called the Quiet One, also known as Harumi. But she didn’t single-handedly take over Ninjago City. No, she had the help of someone else. Someone named Lloyd Garmadon. 

Tags: Toxic Relationships (it’s Harumi), Self Harm, Harm

Chapter inspired by Act Natural, by the-modern-typewriter on Patreon

Lloyd’s new purpose in life was to be entertaining. 

He was locked away in Harumi’s penthouse while she went to work . He was just supposed to be there — warming her bed, waiting for her to get home, cooking her meals, ect. 

It was like a sick version of playing house, with Lloyd as the lovesick husband waiting for his dear wife to get home. 

Lloyd would have preferred torture to this. He supposes this is why Harumi chose this to begin with. 

Here is something to shed some light on the situation: Ninjago City was taken over. It was overrun by someone called the Quiet One, also known as Harumi. But she didn’t single-handedly take over Ninjago City. No, she had the help of someone else. Someone named Lloyd Garmadon. 

Lloyd was a civilian in Ninjago City, but he was friends with the Ninja, the protectors of this city. They had raised him when they found him on the street, and had loved him as one of their own. He wasn’t an Elemental Master like them, so as soon as he was old enough he went on to lead a civilian life — go to school, get a job, ect. 

That was until Harumi came into his life. Looking back, Lloyd should have known that having such obvious connections to the Ninja would lead to trouble. Draw in the wrong types of people. 

The Quiet One was a dangerous figurehead in Ninjago City. They had a name, but Lloyd was finally able to put a face to it one dark night when Harumi slid into his life with dangerous eyes and silky threats. 

She used his fear. She made him her pawn, and used him to betray his family. With inside information from Lloyd, Harumi was able to hit them, hit the city, where it hurts. 

Because of Lloyd, Ninjago City was sent crumbling to its knees and the Ninja were left reeling. Nobody knew if they were dead or alive or if they had found refuge in another city. 

And Lloyd?

Harumi picked him up in the middle of the night, praised him, and then stole him away.

Harumi was away now, dealing with running her new city. Lloyd got out of the shower, steam curling the air as he dried himself on his towel and put on his clothes when — 

Hands seized him from behind, clamping over his mouth before he could yelp and slammed him to a wall.

“Easy, Lloyd. We’re here to rescue you. Easy.”

Lloyd froze. Blinking, stunned, Lloyd whipped around and faced one of the brothers’ he betrayed. 

Kai . 

He looked older than he did when he last saw him. Wearier, more tired, and he had a new scar under his eye that wasn't there before. Lloyd swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He did that. 

It was his fault that Kai was so worn, so battle-torn and rough. Lloyd had betrayed Kai and his family because he was too afraid, too cowardly. 

“What are you doing here?” Lloyd asked. It suddenly occurred to him that Harumi would be back soon, and if she saw Kai standing in their bedroom she would kill him. A sharp spike of fear shot through him. 

“Rescuing you,” Kai said. “You’re our friend, remember? We’re family.”

Another spike shot through him, but it wasn’t fear. It was pain, lancing through his entire being and stealing his breath away. 

“But I betrayed you,” Lloyd hissed. A sudden bout of anger hit him. Why was Kai risking his stupid life for a traitor like him? Lloyd had single-handedly destroyed the city that he and his friends so dearly loved just because he was afraid of dying at the hands of Harumi. Why didn’t Kai get it that he should hate him, that he didn’t deserve to be saved?

Something in Kai’s face shifted, pulling back a little bit to stare at Lloyd’s face. His eyes were soft as he reached forward and put his hand on Lloyd’s face, daringly. The only times Harumi did that was to see his reactions, to bask in every flavor of emotion flickering across his face. 

“We don’t blame you, Lloyd,” he said. 

His heart stopped. “What?” 

Kai put both hands to his face, staring Lloyd straight in the eyes so he could understand. “We don’t blame you. None of us do. You aren’t made to fight monsters like us, Lloyd, you aren’t trained like we are. You weren’t prepared when Harumi came after you, and that’s on us ; we’re your family, and we should have known that relations to us would have consequences. We — you shouldn't have gone through that alone.”

Lloyd blinked rapidly, tears stinging his angry eyes and falling unhindered. 

That had to be the kindest thing anyone had said to him in the months of Harumi’s care. All of Harumi’s kindness and honeyed words had an edge, but Lloyd could deal with that. This kind of kindness — Kai’s kindness — only made him feel unworthy of the sweetness after everything he’s done.

He flung himself at Kai, burying himself in the comforting embrace he had missed. “ I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do — she said she'd kill me all if I didn’t tell her — she said you died — ”

Kai soothed him, rubbing his back like he did when Lloyd was a kid and pulled away. “I know, it’s okay,” he said. “C’mon, we have to go before Harumi gets back. The others are waiting for you.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Lloyd nodded, locking his emotions behind a steel wall. 

Then he followed Kai. 

***

When Kai and Lloyd made their way to the warehouse where everyone was camping out, the first thing he saw was his family. 

Nya, Zane, Jay, Cole, and PIXAL were standing in the dreary surroundings like beams of strength, all dressed in their Ninja gear. 

The minute Lloyd stepped into view, Nya put away her weapon and flung herself into his arms, burying her head into the crook of his neck. She didn’t say anything, but Lloyd could feel her trembling as she squeezed him so tight he hurt. 

Lloyd didn’t do anything but close his eyes and squeeze her back, but he still felt the sharp pain lace his heart as Nya pulled away and wiped her wet eyes. After pulling away Jay took her place, then Zane, then PIXAL, then Cole. 

After his family drew away did Lloyd wipe his tears, feeling more emotion than he had the past few months. 

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd mumbled out. It seemed like he would never be able to say those words enough and not stop the wave of guilt. 

Cole shook his head. “It’s not your fault Lloyd. Not entirely. We should have noticed. You were forced into this. You didn’t have a choice.” 

Lloyd swallowed the bile in his throat. He did have a choice though. He could have chosen to be more brave. He could have chosen to say no to Harumi’s lethal eyes. He could have — he could have — 

He must have seen the millions of thoughts dashing across his expression, because Cole shook his head, eased his grip off his shoulder.

“There’s no time to explain everything,” Cole said. “We don’t have long before The Quiet One gets back.”

Lloyd’s stomach twisted with unease; palms clammy with sweat at the thought. He couldn’t be sure, but he couldn’t help but think that things were going all too smoothly. Harumi was a cold leader, and a calculating strategist. She controlled the city, had eyes everywhere. 

“We had to make sure you were safe,” Jay said, hollow. “You were in the city, and we heard that she took you. We had to find a way into the city. So we studied her. Her strengths. Her weaknesses. And … that was you. Harumi — the Quiet One — she’s … obsessed with you.”

Lloyd swallowed, shifting his feet. He … didn’t know what to think with that. Sure, she was … she was … Harumi, but Lloyd didn’t really think she cared about him that much. There was some level of strong feeling, but Lloyd always thought that was just her being cruel. It didn’t mean anything, not really.

She had always coveted him, desired him for sure, but never as an equal, as an actual person. Harumi doted on him in the way one might treat a beloved pet or a favourite tool. 

Harumi pressed feathery kisses on him, ran lingering fingers over his body, and had always breathed that they were kindred spirits in his ear, but that wasn’t love . 

Right? 

PIXAL spoke up, snapping him from his thoughts. “You are the only thing, beyond her own power, that she seems to care about. That makes you the perfect bait. It might be our only chance to —”

The words cut out with a gasp. PIXAL’s green eyes flashed in the darkness and it took Lloyd a second too late to see what she saw. 

A knife was thrown, deadly and precise as it plunged in Jay’s shoulder. Jay screamed and went down, the sound chilling Lloyd to the bones as blood poured out the wound, turning the cement slippery and red. His blue gi stained dark as it seeped through the fabric. The knife thrown had pinned Jay’s shoulder straight to the ground.

“JAY!” Nya screamed and went to his side, breathing unsteadily as the blood pooled around her. 

“To what? Kill me?” Harumi’s echoey voice rang through the silence. 

She slithered from the shadows, one of her knives spinning in her hand with the utmost grace. Her white hair was the brightest thing in the warehouse, and the warpaint smeared under her eyes was the same shade of Jay’s blood. 

But she was different. Her face was twisted with rage, eyes blazing, looking nothing like the cool and calculating calm that Lloyd had grown used to seeing. Harumi was something wild and savage coiled up in a human shape.

She stalked forward like a wrathful shadow, bent on the destruction and blood of his friends. Her hands were trembling, shaking with fury, and she looked almost feral with the need to kill.

“Hardly. Not when you think it is possible to get away with taking what’s mine.”

Cold plunged through Lloyd. He was on their feet in an instant, heart lurching as he moved between his captor and his friends, arms wide.

Her eyes flicked to him. “And now,” Harumi said, “once again all of your friends will die. Slowly. Painfully. Because of you .”

Lloyd cringed. His breathing turned shallow. He became acutely aware of his friends behind him, desperate. Of Jay bleeding out, shaking. Of all the open spaces where Harumi’s men could take them out.

She lunged forward with bloody intent, knives swinging, but Lloyd moved quicker.

He snatched the blade hanging from Kai’s belt and pressed the sharp edge into his own throat. 

“STOP!”

Harumi froze.

Lloyd took the moment to survey his surroundings: half of his friends had drawn their weapons and the other half were crouching by Jay. He was bleeding, but the knife lodged in seemed to stop it from spilling all out. It was nowhere fatal, thank God — Harumi wanted them to suffer, to have their hearts carved out and leave their corpses soaked in blood. 

Lloyd has never felt so terrified in his life. Not when Harumi first rolled up to him in a limo with her sharp smile. Not when the reality of what he’s done for her came crashing down with the screams of his friends. Not in the moments where there was the quiet before the chaos; when Harumi would wind her arm around his neck, whisper that he was hers, and kiss him senseless. 

But amidst the terror, there was resolve. Lloyd had done a lot of bad things, but maybe this could make up for it. His fear was what led Harumi to manipulate him, his own cowardice leading to the demise of the city and his family. 

Lloyd wouldn’t stand aside and let the same thing happen this time. 

“Let them go,” Lloyd said. Harumi had never told him that she loved him, and he had always thought that her wayward affectionate behavior was just to be cruel, but… “Let them go right now , or I’ll slit my throat.”

But he had to try something.

Harumi’s fingers flexed, ready to pounce, but didn’t move. Her eyes were laser-focused on the dagger by his throat. Her men burst from the darkness, but she held up a hand, stopping them. 

“You wouldn’t,” Harumi hissed. She was furious, but if Lloyd didn’t know any better, he would say she looked almost desperate. Lloyd shifted the blade, and he swore he saw fear in her eyes. 

She lowered her voice, making it silky and velvety. Trying to conceal her obvious desperation. “You wouldn’t do it,” she continued softly. “After everything you’ve done? All that you did to save your own skin? You value your life too much to — ”

The knife sunk into Lloyd’s skin, and blood dripped down the stinging wound.

The silence following that seemed like the loudest thing in the warehouse. Harumi shut up, hands lowering. Her and Lloyd never took their eyes off each other, not trusting each other to not do anything. 

“Go,” Lloyd said. He didn’t allow his voice to shake. “Get out of here. Now.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Cole and Nya were crouched next to Jay, frozen. Zane, PIXAL, and Kai were stuck too, staring at Lloyd and Harumi. The Quiet One radiated more fury than Lloyd had ever seen. His fingers ached with how tightly he was gripping the dagger, but he didn’t dare loosen his grip. 

The silence smothered the building, the anticipation suffocating. They were all waiting for Harumi to let loose, to snap and order the guards to kill them all. 

 But she didn’t move. 

Harumi stood still, breathing deeply as her eyes fixed on Lloyd and his dagger. Nothing else really existed at all between them. Harumi wanted Lloyd alive. Lloyd wanted his friends to survive. Harumi wanted them dead and Lloyd would kill himself if she was the cause of their last breath being drawn. 

That left the two of them at a stalemate, at an equilibrium. A new battlefield stretched across the space between them. 

Finally, Lloyd heard the sounds of Nya and Cole hoisting Jay up and dragging him away. PIXAL went after them to scout and protect, but not before looking back with a regretful gaze. 

It hurt Lloyd more than he thought that he wasn’t able to get a final look at his family. This could be the last time ever he was going to see them, but Lloyd didn’t dare look away from Harumi, ready to slice his neck open if she so much as twitched. 

“Lloyd,” Kai sounded pained. Lloyd wanted to close his eyes. Of course, Kai wasn’t one to leave his family. He was willing to die for them. It was probably killing him that he would have to leave him. 

“It’s okay, Kai,” Lloyd said. “Go.” 

The lie burned his tongue and made his stomach roll. There was silence, then the shuffling of feet as Zane dragged Kai out the building to escape. 

Lloyd didn’t move the knife away from his neck. Harumi didn’t move any closer.  The two didn’t take their eyes off each other. 

Time dragged on, the minutes dripping by and the hours dangling between them.

Eventually, confirmation came that the Ninja had left the city limits. Proof came in the form of pictures.

Lloyd closed his eyes. 

Harumi was on him in an instant. Lloyd let her knock the blade aside, and felt the familiar indent of her fingers on his throat. She drove him back into the wall, eyes wild. 

Too many emotions were flickering by too fast: rage and fear and hate and something else. Something powerless. And it made Lloyd feel powerful. Smug, even, because never in his life had he seen Harumi lose so much control. Never seen her show so much as she wanted to show. 

And now Lloyd knew what his greatest weapon was: himself. 

“What are you going to do now?” Lloyd shoved her back, grinning a crazed thing. “Kill me?”

Harumi’s fists clenched, but she didn’t lunge at him again. She looked like she wanted to tear him limb from limb; she looked ready to shred the world and torch its ashes. Harumi lurked close — not as close as she usually was, but closer than an average person would. “Death is not nearly enough punishment for thinking you can walk away from me. You care for them? You’ll spend the rest of your life listening to them scream.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Lloyd began. “You always threaten everyone else. Never me. It’s almost like you don’t really want to hurt me.”

“You are absurd,” Harumi spat. “You really think I’d let you do away with yourself? That pleasure is reserved for me alone. I will kill you for what you’ve done today.”

“No you won’t,” he smiled. It was a cruel thing, but Lloyd didn’t care. After so long of feeling powerless, having power over someone like Harumi was addictive. “No you won’t. You know why?” 

Lloyd takes a step closer, and cups her face. Harumi’s eyes are blown wide as he gently tucks a lock of white hair behind her ear and leans down to whisper in it. 

“ Because you love me.” 

Harumi jerks, slamming her hands against his chest and reeling back. Too many emotions are flying across her face. Too many words were clogging her mouth, choking her. 

It suddenly occurred to Lloyd that their roles were switched; that Harumi was acting like Lloyd and Lloyd was acting like Harumi. Something in Lloyd twisted, but he didn’t care. 

Harumi was right when she called them kindred spirits. They were. And after so long, Lloyd wanted to make Harumi squirm, he wanted her to feel uncomfortable, exposed. Revealed. 

It was wrong, and sick, and some may even call it — him — evil, but Lloyd didn’t care. He was doing this for his family, his friends. Before he was too scared, but he wasn’t anymore. He was doing what Harumi had done to him — using the knifed tongue, and using it where it hurt. 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Lloyd said. His voice had changed, growing lower. He didn’t know if the tone was mocking or genuinely soft. “I’m not yours , Harumi. Pawn I may be to you, but I was always theirs . I was the Ninja's first.”

Harumi’s voice shook, but was no less deadly. “Just because I won’t kill you doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. It doesn’t mean I can’t make you wish you were dead.”

Lloyd laughed. “You think I don’t wish that? I do, with every second I spend with you, my monster.”

Harumi stopped breathing. Words seemed to leave her in an instant. She stared up at him with wide eyes, a hand to her chest. 

She didn’t look hurt, exactly.

For a long minute, they just stared at each other.

“We really do deserve each other, don’t we?” Harumi finally whispered. Her voice was tentative. She looked — sounded — so young. For the first time, Lloyd realized that they must be the same age. 

“You have no idea how cruel you are when you want to be. One of these days we might just kill each other.”

Lloyd’s heart seemed to break. 

“You first, Harumi.”

She closed her eyes at that, and Lloyd felt himself sagging. 

What had the two of them become? 

Lloyd opened his eyes and saw Harumi take his hand, locking their fingers together. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s head back.” 

Lloyd let her walk him back, into the car, until they reached Harumi’s penthouse, his prison. 

Was he seriously going to just walk back in there?

Lloyd came to a stop outside, still linked to Harumi’s hand. He stared up at the tower, then looked down at the girl, who was watching him. 

Then he kissed her. 

It was a sweet kiss, one that mimicked a lover kissing their beloved, and Harumi’s breath seized. She put her arms around his neck, drawing him close as he put one arm around her waist, tangling another in her hair. 

Lloyd wonders when he got so cruel.

As he kissed Harumi, Lloyd knew three things: 

The Ninja had escaped. They were free to try again, and everyone would know they had successfully infiltrated Ninjago City and survived. The people of the city would doubt.

Harumi was in love with him. Or at the very least, she cared about him. What she felt for him was mad, obsessive, toxic, crazy … love. It was wrong, but so were they. Lloyd and Harumi were kindred spirits, two sides of the same coin. They deserved each other. Harumi was in love with Lloyd, and she wasn’t about to let him go. 

Lloyd had and was more than he ever could have imagined. 

All the ways Zoey says "I Love You."

"Multiples just means there's more Mike to love!"

Zoey loves Mike, even though ... he isn't always Mike. But that's okay, because she loves the different people who live in his mind just as much.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mike — Touch

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when, because it had crept up on me — Mike had crept up on me — and the love I had for him left me breathless. 

It hit me one day when Mike and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie that I didn’t really know when I fell in love with Mike.

I never forgot that moment on Total Drama, when Mike had held my hand, my heart beating faster than a hummingbird as he looked at me with his beseeching eyes as he told me the truth about him and his alters, about how he really liked me and how he didn’t want to lose me. 

I held his hand, my eyes soft and understanding as he told me somethings he’s never really told anyone before. I think what really shocked him was how I understood. I didn’t look confused or freaked out, I didn’t tell him to back off or slap him. 

I had merely laughed at how silly the situation was, because I really, really liked him and he really, really liked me and I had leaned into him telling him how much I loved oddballs. 

Maybe that’s why I fell for him, because he was so different. 

Mike was one of a kind. 

I love him. 

I’d do anything for Mike; as long as he’s here with me, as long as I can hold his hand and smile back at him, I’d go to the ends of the earth for Mike, and he’d do the same for me. 

I turned to look at Mike, who’s shoulder I’ve been using as a pillow during our movie and he turned to look at me with that cute grin of his. I smiled back, my thoughts slowing as our faces moved closer and closer, until our foreheads were touching. 

It was quick, only a short moment where I leaned over and pressed my lips against his, but it felt like all the love just rushed through my body in a single flash. I sighed against his lips, trying to emulate everything I felt through touch alone.

“I love you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chester — Acts of Service

I won’t lie — Chester was hard to talk to. 

Chester only came out when Mike was frustrated, so usually meant the old man would complain about whatever circumstances and groan about today’s youth whenever I would talk to him. 

However, I was determined to get through to the old man and actually get him to enjoy himself.  

“Are you having fun, Chester?” I asked as I struggled to secure a wriggling worm to my fishing pole. 

“Eh, fun is for the youth.” Chester swatted his hand irritably. “Back in my day, it was either work and survive or shrivel up and die. We didn’t have any time for this “fun” nonsense ‘cause we were always working so hard. You lazy youngsters are havin’ fun all the time ‘cause you ain’t workin’ as hard!”

I cringed, not sure how to respond to that, before I decided on optimism. “Well, you never know, you might have fun fishing! This was my grandfather’s favorite hobby when I was a kid.”

“And where’s your grandfather now? You dump him in an old folk’s home?” 

I went quiet, staring at the hook and worm in my hands. “No. He— he died. When I was a kid.”

Chester, fortunately, seemed to somber at that, making no more complaints as he dropped his line into the water and let it sink. 

“Sorry.” I shook myself out of the memories of my lonely childhood. “I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I just … miss him.” Looking at Chester, I smiled. “You know, I think if he was still alive, you and him would be good friends.” 

“Friends?” A spark seemed to light in old Chester’s eye, before he quickly extinguished it with a grumpy scowl. “Meh, I don’t have any friends. Those silly things are for young whippersnappers just like yourself.” 

“I don’t know, anybody can be friends with anybody. I, for one, would like to be friends with you.” 

Chester stared at me with his one eye, not quite glaring and not quite scowling, before he turned away with a huff. I bit my tongue trying to keep away the hurt. It’s just one day, I reminded myself. It’s only been one day. You’ll get through to him. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I saw a tug on the fishing pole. “Chester! You have a bite!” I gasped. 

Chester began reeling in his line, and for a minute I thought I saw something like excitement in his eye.

It went on like this for months. 

I would take Chester out and would try to help him enjoy himself and have fun, even if all he did was complain. I would always help him out, even if he was suspicious of my niceness. 

It took a lot of perseverance and patience on my part to get him to open up to me. Every act of service I would do for him was regarded with suspicion, and every smile was met with a glare. 

But slowly, Chester stopped grumbling and seemed to appreciate what I would do. Granted, he would still grumble and complain, but whenever I would offer him help or a way to have fun, he seemed to make less of an ordeal than before. 

One day Chester came up to me when I was laying on my couch reading a book, hand gripping the wooden cane I bought him and scowled at me.

“Yes, Chester?” I asked primly, closing the book. “Do you need anything?” 

Chester had glared at me, and in his usually wheezy voice, told me that there was a ventriloquist performance in town and he wanted to go, where I would then tell him about myself and my grandfather — but if there were any youngsters and their “rock and roll nonsense” there I could forget about it. He told me that he would absolutely not have fun and that we were definitely not friends. 

I was smiling the whole time, even though the puppet was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen and that it told the most corniest jokes in the most horrible voice I’d ever heard. I was smiling the whole time because Chester was laughing the whole time, having fun. 

It was like a turning point in Chester’s and I’s relationship. The empty gap I felt since my grandfather died was always a bit fuller whenever I was with Chester. 

The old man seemed to appreciate the effort I would put into every act of service I did for him, saying that it was good that “a young whippersnapper such as myself was respecting my elders”.

I leaned down to hug the old man with a smile, feeling myself glow with happiness. “I love you, Chester.”

Chester seemed to stiffen, at the contact or what I said, I didn’t know. “Eh, you ain’t too bad — for a youngster.” Chester grumbled, but couldn’t help the smile from growing on his grumpy face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Svetlana — Receiving Gifts

Svetlana was — by far — one of the easiest alters to get along with. 

She was so bright and cheery, enthusiastic and fun it was impossible to not like her. The first time Svetlana and I hung out I was surprised how easily we clicked. Apparently, she had always wanted to meet me, seeing how happy I made Mike. 

I grew up as a lonely child, so Svetlana was like a breath of fresh air, the girl friend I always wanted. 

We hung out all the time, watching those sappy romantic movies that make the guys gag, we went shopping — but the thing we did together most was gymnastics. 

I’ll admit that the first time Svetlana saw me climbing the trees in my backyard, I purposefully showed off; doing more flips than nessacary as Svetlana stared in awe. 

“Vhere did you learn something like that?” She’d gasped as I climbed down the tree. I shrugged, trying to keep the blush off my face. 

“Just something I picked up,” I waved nonchalantly. “I was always a bit of a wild child growing up.”

“Oh, you must try gymnastics!” Svetlana gushed, and of course I said yes because I was an absolute people’s pleaser; and if I knew Svetlana, she wouldn’t stop asking until I said yes. 

Besides, how hard could gymnastics be?

“Ah, hah … Svetlana … can we please take a break?”  I panted days later, drenched with sweat. “My legs are about to fall off.” 

“Rest after success!” Svetlana declared cheerfully, looking as perfect and polished as she did before practice started. “Now, complete zhe triple point axle!” 

I groaned, nearly folding into myself as my knees weakened at the thought. Svetlana was a brutal coach, having me perform all kinds of complicated flips even though she insisted they were “beginner”. 

Yeah, right. 

Sighing, I got into position and took a running leap — only to fail miserably as I twisted wrong and promptly faceplanted in front of my coach. 

“Hmmm … perhaps you can use a little break.”

I merely groaned, wallowing in my misery as I heard Svetlana leave, then return a moment later. 

Something cold touched my shoulder, and I turned to see Svetlana holding out a water bottle with a kind smile. “You are not so bad, for an amateur.” She said. “Svetlana is sorry if she has been … overzealous. None of the others has shown an interest in gymnastics.”

I smiled and unscrewed the bottle. “It’s okay. It must be hard to be the only girl in a brain full of five guys.”

Svetlana scoffed. “Oh, you ‘ave no idea.” With that, she launched into a full on rant with me listening patiently, our lesson forgotten. 

Months later, Mike told me Svetlana had a big competition coming up — only the best of the best would be there. And she wanted me to come. 

Svetlana won the whole thing and got a perfect score. As the cheers rang out, Svetlana flounced over to me, practically glowing from her victory as I flung my arms around my friend, clutching the flowers I was going to gift her. 

I laughed, beaming. “I love you, Svetlana!”

The words slipped out before I even realized it, but Svetlana didn’t seem to mind as she seemed to press me tighter into the hug.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Vito — Words of Affirmation

Out of all the personalities in Mike’s head — besides Mal — I got along with Vito the least.

It was just … he was just so …

Vito didn’t get a lot of time out of Mike’s head, so he was sure to make it count.

When Vito came outside, he wanted to do what he wanted. He wanted to live, to meet people, to experience as much as he could before the shirt was pulled on once more and he had to be crammed into one head with multiple personalities.

I’ve tried to talk to Vito, I really have, but most of the time he would treat me like a pest he couldn’t get rid of. Every time I try to talk to him he just ends up hurting my feelings somehow. He’ll tell me I’m not that pretty or that I’m annoying him, and sometimes I would have to storm off to stop myself from punching him in the face. Honestly, the only reason why he didn't have a missing tooth by now was because he had Mike's face.

And for a while I thought that was all we were going to be. A jerk to me, and a nuisance to him. 

Until …

Vito stormed into the room I was in, looking ticked off with a dark look in his eyes. I looked up from the book I was reading on the couch.

“Vito, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep the right amount of concern in my voice. Too much and he would tell me to back off and shove my pity somewhere else. Too little and he would think I didn’t care. 

“Nothin,’' he shrugged. “What could possibly be wrong when you’re this sexy?” As if to prove his point, he started to flex his muscles in a way that was … admittedly distracting, yes, but I refused to be swayed. 

“Vito …” 

“I don’t need ya pity, Red,” He told me casually — and yes, there it is. How can it be that he’s so good at reading me like I’m with him, but we still don’t get along?

“It’s not pity, I’m just worried about you.” I said, closing the book I was reading to give him my full attention. “Can’t I be worried about you?”

Vito glowered at me, looking at me with a mixture of annoyance and mistrust, before turning away. 

Thinking quickly, I said, “You know, we’re not too far from the beach. Do you want to go swimming and work on your tan?” 

That seemed to catch his interest a little. “I could go for some rays. But don’t ya think this makes us all buddy buddy or anything!”

“Of course not,” I stood up and patted his shoulder. “I’m going to go grab the surfboards. Can you start the car?” 

I walked away to hear Vito’s surprised exclamation of knowing I could surf and smirked.

From that day forward, Vito and I became friends … sort of. 

He would still get on my nerves like no other but … I think we reached an understanding, one can say. He made me competitive, wanting to prove myself and him wrong. We went back and forth when we conversed, but not in a bad way, but in a fun way. 

But for some reason, there was still this underlying tension between us, one that would make my stomach knot for no good reason. It confused me, and I could tell Vito could feel it too. 

The way he would flirt and flaunt in front of women when I was right there, the way he was always obsessing over his self-proclaimed “hotness”. For some reason it bugged me to no end, just like it did back on Total Drama when Vito was with Anne Maria. 

But I didn’t want to dig into it. Vito and I were finally getting along, and I didn’t want to complicate things and make us go back to the way things were. 

“So, how come you’re with a dorkus like Mike when ya can be with someone much more attractive, like me?” Vito asked one day as he drove us to the beach. Vito kept insisting that I needed to work on my tan even after I repeatedly told him that “I don’t tan, I burn.”

Vito smirked and did an eyebrow wiggle that made me snort into my hand. “You share the same body, genius.” I roll my eyes and giggle. “Besides, I’m more of a substance-over-style type of girl.”

“A dying breed.” 

“Maybe, but one that does not fail.”

“The Vito can’t be held down by any broad,” he boasted.

“That’s because you haven’t met the right one yet.” I countered.

Vito seemed to pause at that, and I fell quiet. Right. How could Vito ever meet a girl when Vito wasn’t even out? It would be hard to find a girl and settle down if you weren’t even in control of your own body half of the time. Would Vito ever find his girl? Did he even want a girl?

I remembered that first day Vito and I hung out, he had quietly told me how he had gone to see Anne Maria, and that they had gotten into a huge fight because she thought he was choosing me over her. She wouldn’t listen — or couldn’t understand — that he was Vito, not Mike.

I turned to look at him and felt my stomach clench. Vito … 

He would need someone to understand him, to know when he was sad or angry. Someone who could keep up with him, someone who wasn’t afraid to call him out, someone who knew —

I stopped cold. Someone like me.

When I told Vito “I love you,” it was quick and quiet, slipping out between my breath as we slammed the car doors shut. It’s noise should have drowned the words out, but I knew he still heard from the way he stopped.

Vito went quiet and still, and that freaked me out like no other because Vito was never those two things. He was cocky and obnoxious, always instigating conflicts and preening over his looks in his loud Italian accent. 

He was always moving, whether it was to flex for the ladies or to slick his hair back or to mess with his golden necklace and to tap out the beats of music that would thrum through the car.

I instantly slapped a hand over my mouth the moment those words escaped, berating myself for possibly saying the stupidest thing of my life in front of Vito …

… when he did something unexpected.

Slowly, Vito reached over, cupped my face, and kissed me. 

It was thrilling, warm and soft with a hint of spice. Vito was a master at kissing, from his warm lip-only kisses to his more heated tongue-centric kisses. He was good, leading me with such skill that I found myself giving back as much as I received.

Vito pulled back, gauging my reaction with his dark eyes as I stared back, vulnerable and lightheaded from the kiss. An unavoidable blush rose to my cheeks.  

My mouth worked, opening and closing as I tried to find my voice. “... you just kissed me.”

“You just said you loved me.” Vito challenged back. 

Touché, I thought. 

I contemplated what just happened in my still-fuzzy head, weighing my decisions before finally settling on one.

Face still flushed, I asked, “If I said I loved you again, would you kiss me again?”

In response, Vito pulled me closer and my heart flew out of my chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Manitoba — Quality Time

One of the things that enraptured me first about Manitoba Smith was his thirst for adventure. He spoke of stories that … normally wouldn’t make sense, given that he was an alter in Mike’s brain, but still spoke of dangerous adventures and freedom and wilderness that I wanted to experience. 

Manitoba offered to take me one. 

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” I gasped as Manitoba and I hiked up the steep side of the mountain. My legs felt like they were about to collapse with every step I took and my breath had left me miles back. 

“Come on now, Sheila, we’re almost there. You were the one who wanted to go on an adventure with me, remember? Not that I blame you, of course. Manitoba Smith is the best adventurer of this century.”

I looked up to see the said Australian holding out his hand, smiling. Gratefully, I took his hand and he hoisted me up. “There we go.”

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” I huffed. “This is exhausting.”

“Now, now. I have years of experience with exploring, and you’re just a beginner. Only time has bearing on a man’s skill, should he be one or one hundred.”

“Or woman.” I added. 

Manitoba only smirked crookedly and we continued climbing in peace, while I looked back on the memories. 

This wasn’t the first time Manitoba and I had gone on one of his adventures. It had happened a while ago, when I had offhandedly blurted out how I wanted to go on one of his adventures. I was more than suprised when he agreed to take me. 

That was months ago, and since then, Manitoba and I had gone on multiple travels together. He had been kind enough to show me the ropes, even though it was through multiple flirting attempts. 

It was nice though, I mused as we reached the destination point, to spend time with Manitoba. There was a lot more to him than met the eye, and on every trip we made I was uncovering more treasured pieces of him that made up the whole. 

We finished setting up camp and both sat on the edge of mountain, precariously dangling our feet over open air. We were both quiet, just enjoying the moment and the quality time together when suddenly—

“Why do you make it so hard for me to flirt with you?” Manitoba asked. 

“Well, if I made it easy then you wouldn’t flirt with me at all,” I replied without thinking. There was a beat of silence, and it quickly dawned on me what I said. With a flash of horror and embarrassment, I whipped my head towards Manitoba to see his surprised gaze reflecting my own. 

For once, Manitoba Smith was at a loss of words. 

I smacked a hand over my mouth, turning away. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud.” I mumbled, almost to myself. “Sorry, forget I said anything.” 

Before I could fully close off from him, Manitoba grabbed my chin and gently guided it back so I could meet his eyes. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” He chided. “Don’t pull away.” 

I puffed my cheek out, annoyed and embarrassed. Manitoba merely grinned, cocky and bright-eyed as he took in my reaction. 

“So, does this mean you like it when I flirt with you?” 

I refused to answer, knowing he was only asking this because now he knew the answer. As if I would inflate his ego anymore than I had now. 

 Manitoba’s eyes glinted and he leaned closer, until he was right in my face. No doubt it was the color of my hair. “It’s okay to admit it, sweetheart. I rather like flirting with you too.”

I pushed his face away. “Well, you’re certainly a better flirt than Vito. All he does is flex his muscles.”

Manitoba smirked crookedly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I rolled my eyes.

A couple hours passed, with Manitoba staring a fire and cooking us dinner before we were both back on the ledge, watching for the sunset. 

Manitoba dangled his feet over the ledge, eyes trained on the dying sun as it cast shades of red and gold. 

I found my eyes slowly being drawn away from the view, turning to look at Manitoba Smith. He was quiet, taking in every moment of the sunset’s beauty. I felt my heart in my throat. 

Oh. 

He looked— he looked — 

I didn’t just like Manitoba, I realized. I loved him. 

It was the accent that caught my attention at first— an Australian one, that held a certain cockiness in the voice

Then it was his bravery, facing whatever challenge came to him head-on. 

Then it was his kindness, his selfless nature, his confidence. It was all of that, all of him, that made me realized how much I loved spending time with him, how much I loved his company, how much I loved him

I wasn’t one to hold back from telling the truth, and he wasn’t one to shy away from what he was feeling. So with that in mind, I plucked up my last strand of bravery, swallowed back my nerves, and said, “I love you.” 

There was a split second of silence, then—

“I was wondering when you would get around to saying that.”

I whipped my head around. “Excuse me?” Was he seriously taking my confession as a joke? Something to boost his own ego? Well, then—

I froze, biting back the verbal lashing I was about to give him when I saw his face. 

There wasn’t the usual confident glint in his eyes or the cocky grin on him. Instead, Manitoba Smith was looking at me tenderly with a gentle smile on his face that looked so different, but at the same time, so right.

I swallowed the heart in my throat. 

Oh. 

“That’s seriously all you have to say to me? ‘What took you so long?’” I rolled my eyes in fake exasperation, trying to hide the amusement in my voice and failing. 

“Well, of course! I happen to be an Australian heartthrob for the ladies. I’m impressed you managed to hold off for so long.” Manitoba winked. 

“You’re a lot of work. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m worth it.”

I snorted, even though I couldn’t exactly deny his claims. I leaned my head on his shoulder and we sat in silence, both of us just enjoying each other’s presence as the sun sank behind the horizon. 

“So, uh, think you’ll be going on any more adventures with me, Sheila?” Manitoba asked sheepishly. 

I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I just might.” I said, smiling.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mal — ?

Sometimes on cold nights Mal would come out.

He had toned down since Total Drama All Stars, but his reputation had preceded him so at first I was always cautious and kept my distance whenever he would appear.

But Mal was different. Quieter. He didn’t burst into fits of rage or go on a streak of vengence like all of us expected; instead he was more mellow.

Granted, he was still Mal — he would still threaten bodily harm whenever I annoyed him (which was a lot), he still had a cruel sense of humor, and perhaps he did still have a sadistic edge to him – but it wasn't like he was trying to drown me or anything like he did during the finale, so I figured it was okay to try and talk to him.

And ... strangely enough, it was.

Mal was tight-lipped and short whenever I would pry for conversation, and oftentimes would respond with scathing remarks that would hurt my feelings or pride.

But he never physically hurt me. Ever.

Months passed, and slowly ... oh so slowly ... he opened up.

Mal talked to me.

He told he about his past, how he would fill in Mike's memory gaps from his childhood. He told me about juvie, about how he had to stay in control because someone of Mike's caliber would have been chewed up and spit out in a place like that. He told me how the others came to be, why they came to be, through awful, awful stories that made me sick to my stomach because that happened to Mike, and the people I loved didn't know, and Mal had to remember.

I think the thing that shocked Mal most was that I listened. I stayed. I cared, even though at the beginning he thought it was fake. I tried to understand him, I listened to his problems, and tried to help him through them.

The funny thing was, I wasn’t even in love with him at the time I was doing those things.

Sometimes Mal would say he wanted a break, so whenever he was out and at my place I took him to my rooftop to let him breathe.

It worked better than I thought, because on some days when I wasn’t even home he would just break into my house and sneak onto my roof.

On cold nights like tonight, Mal would come out onto my rooftop and draw. I sat down a couple feet from him, since I knew he liked his personal space. The cold tiles bit through my jean bottoms as I wrapped my arms around myself. My misty breath floated in front of my face and into the night sky.

I peered over at what Mal was sketching and had to stop myself from giggling. A menacing tower was etched on the page. Overlooking a volcano. Bats and skulls flew from the paper.

I watched him with a smile on my face. Mal was absorbed with his art, occasionally blowing his hair out of his eye as his pencil worked across the page.

"You're staring," Mal startled me out of my daze with his low tone.

"Sorry." I laughed a bit nervously. "I'm just a bit distracted today. I’m happy."

Mal didn't say anything for a bit, before he said without looking up, "You're always happy."

I chuckled. "Yeah, but today I realized something that made me really happy."

There was a brief silence, and I could feel him prompting.

I took a deep breath. This is it, I thought. Like ripping off a band-aid.

"I just realized that I loved you."

The sounds of sketching stopped, and I determinedly stared up at the star-speckled sky before I looked down and began fiddling with the worn red sleeves of my hoodie.

My stomach started twisting itself in anxious knots as the silence dragged on, and I can feel Mal's eyes set me on fire as I avoid his gaze.

For once, I can't read his silences, and that alone was making me nervous. Before I could get up and excuse myself, something warm and lean pressed up against my side.

"Huh?" I said, because I have genuinely never been so confused in that moment.

Mal ignored me and continued to lean against me as he drew. I was completely baffled as he began whistling his signature tune with a small smile/smirk – the one he always used whenever he was in –

I gasped. My heart skipped a beat and it suddenly felt like a million tons was lifted from my shoulders.

"You –" I stopped, because natually he wasn't going to answer.

I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding as an exhilarated smile split my face. I bit my lip to control my giddy grin as I gently twined my fingers with his, squeezing once as he stiffened, then relaxed.

Mal squeezed back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~