Do you know what I can’t get over? There’s this feeling I’ve had in the back of my head, like an itch I just can’t scratch for months, a feeling I get whenever I think about the Washington Capitals– a sense that something is wrong, very wrong, and I’m the only one who realizes. I wasn’t able to figure it out until last week when the Caps instagram posted the photo of Nicklas Backstrom at the FBI visit and suddenly everything fell into place. The feeling I’ve had is the unnerving suspicion that Nicklas Backstrom will one day kill me, will one day kill all of us. Look at the man. Have you ever seen him as truly happy as he looks in that picture with Andre pinned underneath him, completely helpless? Have you ever seen a photo of Nicke smiling that big with his girlfriend or even his kids? No! The only thing that’s ever given him joy is this. Complete power. We’ve been fooled into seeing Ovi as the leader of the team, obviously, he’s the captain, but we all know who really runs the show. How many people are too afraid to dare go against Him? What threats has he silently given them to keep their silence? Does he sit there in the locker room with his unnerving, blank expression, his wild hair, those eyes that know too much, and keep them from leaving? Ever since I saw that photo I live in constant fear. Where will he find me? Will I be walking downtown through Gallery Place, rushing past the Verizon, no, the Capital One Center, to make it to the metro before anyone sees me, when I suddenly catch sight of him rising up from the deep on the escalator at the station? Will I turn and run, knowing well that I won’t be able to be faster than him? Or will I wake up one night in my room from a deep sleep to see him standing above me, wielding one skate like a knife? No. Not a skate. His bare hands. This is a man who will get the only joy he knows in life from reaching his cold, cold fingers around my neck and strangling me dead. He knows I know. He knows everything. It’s only a matter of time before he’s able to locate me and make sure I never
Freckled with brilliant (way too big whoops) green eyes Matt is my Matt man
I like to think that (credit to a fic whose name I forgot) Matt tried to seem more or less unassuming in Japan so he wanted to dye his redhead, and Mello just made him dye his hair bright, BRIGHT red and Matt’s just like “bruh”
not sure what this is about to be but here’s some batflash texting with hopefully hurt and comfort written on a whim! also, watch the time stamps! message me if you think i should make it a chapter thing? and/or put it on AO3?
[8:14]: Hey Bats!
[9:20]: Uh, just wanted to let you know I can’t make it up to the station for the meeting tonight.
[11:07]: Superman gave me your number, by the way.
[6:45]: Not much of a texter, are you?
[6:45]: It’s like you didn’t even try.
[6:46]: You’re probably a slow typer.
[6:46]: Unlike me. Heh, get it?
[7:35]: do u need something
[7:40]: Not really, I guess. Just thought it’d be cool to text? I text the others a lot. Wondered why we never did?