#I would like to remind myself and everyone that he is canonically (as far as we know) just a voice

[lo-fag]

kevan knew exactly what he was doing during the voice lines for the countdown ending. trust me, the sadistic pleasure of seeing someone who has wronged you suffer is a hard thing to fake.

[hintsofhoney]

His Favorite Meal

Pairing(s): Rhysand x F!Reader

Summary: Rhysand hears your dirty thoughts while you're at dinner with your friends. It goes as expected.

Square(s) Filled: free space for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Tags: 18+, smutty smut smut, oral sex (female receiving), light dom/sub dynamics, use of magic, p in v, unprotected sex, light spanking

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hi, I just finished A Court of Mist and Fury and this is my new hyperfixation now. Funnily enough, I wrote this before I got to any kinds of sex scenes between Rhys and Feyre, and when I did finally get to Chapter 55, I was impressed with myself for how close to canon I wrote this 🤣 Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

MAIN MASTERLIST

You can’t stop thinking about him, not for lack of trying.

Rhysand and his stupid dark hair and violet eyes and the way the word darling rolls off his tongue and makes your thighs clench. 

You would even let him take you here and now, if it meant that the thoughts of him would subside.

He raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, Mor and Az and Cassian too caught up in their own conversation to notice. 

Really? Right on this table? With everyone watching? he sends down the bond. 

You shoot him a cold glare. Get out of my head.

If you didn’t want me in it, Y/N, darling, I wouldn’t be.

He isn’t wrong. You both know it.

I can make them leave, if the table is truly where you’d like me to fuck you. Personally, I find the bed —

Shut up, and eat your dinner . If you had said it outloud, it would have been through gritted teeth.

Rhys cocks his head to the side, briefly taken aback by your bite, and then smiles. Careful, darling , you hear in your head, if I have to take you over my knee, I won’t be asking anyone to leave first.

You squeeze your thighs together at the threat, the heat building between them becoming uncomfortable. You’re desperate. You need him.

That bad, hm? he asks.

You watch as he takes a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours.

Say the word and they’re gone, or continue to torture yourself. Up to you.

The prick wanted you to ask for it. Beg for it. As if your thoughts hadn’t been enough.

That “prick” will not hesitate to punish you in front of our friends. 

You feel yourself clench around nothing. 

Please, Rhys , you give in. 

He smirks, taking another sip from his glass. Please, what?

You swallow your pride. Not that there’s much left of it. Please fuck me.

Please fuck you, where?

This ass— 

His eyebrows raise — your final warning — and it stops your thought dead in its tracks. You take a deep breath. 

Please fuck me on the table, Rhys.

He grins. All you had to do was ask.

You put your shield up for a brief second so you can mentally roll your eyes in peace. When it comes down, Az, Cassian, and Mor are getting up from their seats.

“We eat here,” Cassian reminds the both of you as he stands.

Rhys is looking at you with hungry eyes as he replies, “Who says I won’t be eating?”

“Eugh!” Mor groans, making her way towards the exit. “At least wait until I’m out of earshot.”

Cassian snorts before following her out, Azriel having been the first to leave. 

And now it’s just you and Rhys and the table between you.

You blink, and suddenly his face is inches from yours, leaning over you with his hands resting on your thighs as he smirks at your shaky breaths. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. He places a curled pointer finger underneath your chin, his thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip, letting out a low chuckle at how your mouth begins to open ever so slightly.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a gentleness that doesn’t quite match the lust in his eyes, and you know you’re in for a long night. It could be hours before you were going to feel the release you had been begging him for.

“As far as I’m concerned, I shouldn’t let you cum at all, considering the names I’ve been called,” he murmurs, as he kisses your way up your jaw line, down your neck. 

You whimper at the notion, at the thought of being left reeling, wanting, on the table. Right now, you can’t imagine anything worse. 

“That’s very dramatic,” he whispers, his voice lined with a teasing smile. You watch him drop to his knees in front of you, slowly pushing your long gown up to your thighs. “But if you truly cannot imagine anything worse, then I suppose I’ll give you what you want, my darling girl.” 

You tense at his words, at the way he grabs ahold of your leg and places it over his shoulder, at the way he licks his lips, as if he’s about to dig into his favorite meal. 

He stops. “Of course, I had forgotten,” he says, and there’s a flash of darkness before you find yourself lying on the table, with Rhys kneeling at the end of it. His hands are gripping the underside of your thighs, pushing them upwards and outwards. In one fell swoop, he rips off the black lace covering your core, baring you to him. “I eat my meals at the table.” 

You let your head fall onto the hard surface underneath you. Fuck .

“Oh, I plan to,” he replies, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “But I’m going to have my fun first.”

You swear his tongue has magic of its own with the way it moves between your folds, pulling short breaths from your lungs as he circles it around your clit, never staying in one spot long enough to grant you the release that you so badly crave. When he adds two fingers, your back arches off the table, and you whimper as you feel his magic pinning you down in response. 

“ Please , Rhys,” you practically sob, your thighs quaking as you try to remain still, trying to keep your orgasm at bay. 

“You’re not going to cum already, are you, darling?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question you can say ‘yes’ to. You know you’re his . You won’t cum until he tells you to. 

He chuckles at your thoughts. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers curling inside you at just the right spot, and the combination of the two almost sends you over the edge. Almost. Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. You find yourself on the precipice of release too many times to count, having to take deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Eventually, you accept this new tortured existence.

Very dramatic , Rhys teases.

You yelp as he stops his ministrations and pulls out of you too abruptly for your liking, standing up before pulling you to the edge of the table and flipping you over by your hips, your bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. It only takes seconds before he’s dragging his cock through your soaked folds, teasing you even further. You wiggle your ass — a silent plea — and he spanks it in return — an audible warning to be still that echoes through the dining hall. 

“Ow!” you whine, forcing your body to comply with his demand. 

Another smack, on the other cheek this time.

“Rhys!”

“Do I need to gag you? Or are you going to quit your whining?” 

Another hit, harder than the others. A test. You remain silent and still.

“Although I must admit… I do love watching your ass change colors.” You brace yourself for another hit that never comes. Instead, you get no warning as Rhys thrusts into you in one swift motion. “But I’ll save it for the next time you feel like mouthing off.”

You grip the edges of the table as he pounds into you, his hand coming to wrap around your shoulder for leverage, his cock filling you up, hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. Your moans are unsteady and never-ending, only interrupted by the expletives falling from your lips.

“Oh m-my —  fuck — Rhys!”

He smirks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you up off of the table, your back flush with his muscled, tattooed chest. You start to wonder when his shirt came off before you realize that his hands are holding your bare breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. Magic has a number of uses — making clothes vanish off bodies being one of them. 

He continues to thrust into you as one of his hands makes its way down to your core, swollen and throbbing. When his skillful fingers find your clit, you throw your head back onto his shoulder. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you chant. You’re unsure of how much longer you can take it. Five agonizing seconds pass — then ten — and then —

“Go ahead, darling, I’m right behind you,” he orders, and you practically scream as your orgasm washes over you, as you feel his cock twitch inside you, filling you up. “Fuuuuck,” he rasps, his hands holding onto your hips now as you fall forward onto the table from exhaustion, letting the cold surface cool your skin. 

Moments later, Rhys collapses on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms, caging you in between them. He’s still inside you as he trails soft kisses from one shoulder blade to the other.

I love you , he sends down the bond, still catching his breath.

A tired smile creeps onto your lips. I love you, too.

[angelwishess]

—⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THEORY TIME : Crowley Summoned Yuu ?! ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Before I begin, I’d like to give credit to @cheshiresaf on TikTok for inspiring this theory! Seeing their thoughts on the matter made me want to dive into the topic myself and give my own thoughts and opinions on the matter !

Reminders, this is all just speculation ! I have no concrete proof of any of this being canon in the slightest ! This is just a theory to make some sense of things, or atleast try to.

This theory will be cut into two parts, one focusing on the Opening scene and the second focusing on the Prologue.

Without further ado, lets begin !

Ever since I first downloaded TWST, the opening scene always bothered me. It was never really the scene itself, it was the fact that it was never brought up in the game afterwards.

The closest thing we get to a character acknowledging what happened was Yuu mentioning to Crowley how they remember “Seeing a horse with a scary face” / “Passing through a dark forest” in the prologue.

But after that, its never really brought up again. I had always wondered, ‘Why?’

I waited, played through the game wondering if it would ever be mentioned— But it never was.

Eventually, even I forgot about it. But after seeing that theory on TikTok, my curiosity flared up again.

Now, I was finally able to redownload TWST since I recently just got a new phone. So, I paid much closer attention to the opening scene.

—₊˚⊹ Part One : The Opening “Mirror” Scene.

Ill be talking about these two shots of dialogue first. What interests me is the way Crowley is speaking. Although you can obviously tell it is Crowley, it isnt seem as playful nor as dramatic as he usually speaks. He spoke somewhat more seriously than usual here, and, it seems like hes speaking directly into the mirror— or, more specifically, he is speaking directly to us, as Yuu.

With no one else in the room, Crowley speaks without his dramatic flair, with no room for playfulness. He speaks directly into the dark mirror— speaks directly to the person behind it. The person he knows hes talking to. The one hes trying to summon.

The definition of “Benefactor” is a person who gives money or other help to a person or cause.

Though, its pretty well known that Yuu is always helping around NRC (whether by will or not) and Crowley is almost always the one to take advantage of this— I doubt that is what he is referring to.

No, Crowley knows something. This was all on purpose, Yuu coming to Twisted Wonderland, to Night Raven, it was all on purpose. Ill research more into Crowley later, but for now lets focus on whats being said in the opening scene.

He definetly has plans, and he knows Yuu has more capabilities than what is known so far.

What interested me the most, though, is the wording right after referring to us as his “esteemed benefactor”.

“My proud, beautiful flower of evil”. This one sentence truly had me thinking, because what did he mean by this?

Well, the only thing I could think of is the vague hint that Yuu is much, much more than they seem. When you think about it, Yuu is strange in many ways. Not only do they come from another universe entirely, they get dreams of the past which warn them of future events— directly parelleling Levan/Revan (Malleus’ father).

I wouldnt be surprised if it somehow turned out that Yuu has either had magic this entire time and it just being hidden from everyone in the cast (including themselves), or theyve been absorbing the magic of people around them after being exposed to so much magic, especially from the overblots.

What im thinking, is that the true nature of Yuu and their capabilities is yet to be revealed, and will “bloom”. Just like a proud flower. And, flowers need to be nurtured to bloom ever so beautifully, do they not? Who would be a better fit than Crowley?

Now, Crowley may be somewhat immature and unreliable— But that does not make him stupid, nor does that make him oblivious. Many of the staff respect him greatly, and its a no-brainer that he must be quite powerful. He definetly knows more than he leads on, hes extremely mysterious despite being the first character (after Grim,) to be introduced to us.

Its clear to me that he knows what hes doing. He has plans, whether for better or for worse, and i think its safe to say that those plans include Yuu in some way. Perhaps theyre the final piece of the puzzle Crowley so desperately needs. ← keep that in mind. Hes desperate.

(As for the “evil” part… Man idk leave me alone)

“O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat…”

Remember what i said earlier? About Crowley being desperate? Dire, even?

Well, the definition of Entreat is to plead with especially in order to persuade. ask someone earnestly or anxiously to do something.

He is earnestly, pleading the Dark Mirror for answers, for wisdom regarding the “Visage he seeks”.

“Reveal onto me the visage I seek…” Once more, this further proves that Crowley is speaking and seeking out someone specifically. He is seeking out the visage, the face and appearance of the benefactor he is requesting for.

“You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth…”

Here, Crowley once again speaks directly to us/Yuu. Later on in the Prologue, when the Dark Mirror states that no dorm could possibly suit us/Yuu because our soul is “empty and colorless” due to the lack of magic, Crowley objects, saying that its impossible for the Dark Mirror to summon a student without any magic, as the system has never once erred from the beginning of NRC being established.

(Crowley ure not slick i know what u are)

So, in NRC’s 100 years of being established, why would it’s seemingly very stable system of retrieving students fail? How would the Black Carraige retrieve a student from an entire different universe, putting aside the simple fact of Yuu not having magic? Well, its simple.

The Dark Mirror did not summon Yuu. Crowley did.

Crowley was the one to bring Yuu into this world. The Dark Mirror did not beckon forth Yuu for the sake of the school, rather it was because Crowley requested for it, for whatever reasons he has.

(Alright, now this is where i will be getting into some delusional territory but i will try to remain as logical as possbile pls have mercy on me ໒꒰ྀིっ⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ྀི১)

This scene has always bothered me. Not in like, an uncomfortable way— but ever since first downloading the game, I have always wondered what this scene meant.

“If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.”

Although Crowley is obviously the one summoning us— it is not his hand extended out to us. Rather, it is one of the characters we meet later on. (The sleeves are quite obviously the ceremonial robes, too)

To take the hand of the one reflected into the mirror… Why is that? Why do we need to take someone’s hand? And, furthermore— the hand of a specific character? Though it is a clever way to introduce the cast of characters and give us our first card of our chosen character— why this way if it doesn’t have any significance in the game other than to serve as a “baby’s first card!” scene? We already have the later free gacha, so what was the point?

(I may be overthinking this guys someone help me)

Ive always been curious, since the game never seems to mention this part, and in none of the mangas they have never shown this, either. So, whats the purpose of it?

My guess is that Crowley himself cant summon us himself. Though Crowley must be powerful— summoning someone from an entirely different universe must be difficult, almost impossible seeing as this has probably never happened before.

See, no matter who you are or how poweful you are, I have no doubt summoning someone from a different universe is an incredibly strenuous feat that near no one average could ever do. To break past the bonds of reality, and peer into another, that is something that is beyond imaginiation.

So, what if us taking the hand of our chosen character was the last nail in the coffin for us? The last thing needed for us to be brought into Twisted Wonderland.

To establish a connection.

“If your heart bids it,” why else would you take the hand of a complete stranger? One that mysteriously appeared before you in an extremely strange situation, you can’t even see their face in this scene. Yet, we still take their hand. Why? I couldn’t think of any other explanation other than an already existing connection between us and the character that we chose. Why else would your heart tell you to trust?

Now, i have absolutely zero proof of this being true, its mostly just a little guess, a situation i like to daydream about but hey, its better than nothing.

Anyways, what if Crowley needed the assistance of one of the characters to finally bring us into Twisted Wonderland? Yes, as i mentioned before he is alone in the room when speaking to us— but perhaps theres some ‘magical’ explanation to the figures of our beloved characters standing before us and not Crowley himself, despite him actually being there.

My guess is, that Yuu and whoever they chose have a strange connection. And i dont exactly mean this as strictly romantic, it could be platonic or hell, even more than both of those bonds (maybe even hatred LMAO)— but im talking about a bond and a connection that somehow transcends the borders of realities and their universe itself. They would not be aware of this— neither would Yuu. But it is there. Perhaps its a kind of “soulmate” situation (once again, i do not mean this strictly romantically, you may interpret this however you please!!)

This furthers my suspicions that Yuu needs that connection with your chosen character in order to be brought into their world.

The sound of dragging chains could be somewhat like symbolism or a physical embodiment for Yuu being tied down to their original world. A last effort of their universe to keep them there, but yet Yuu fights against them and is “freed” from those chains after taking the hand of our chosen character.

Only when you take the hand of the character you chose are you able to start the game, both literally and figuratively. (I like to imagine the characters js pull Yuu in after they take their hand i think its funny HAHAHAHA)

The mirrors and coffins at NRC are used as gateways. But it seems Yuu is the only one who needed that extra help to actually be sent into NRC through said gateways. Yuu needs that law-defying, reality bending connection with one of the characters to be able to even step foot into their world. And honestly? I think its super cute HEHEHEE🤭 (fanfic writers, feel free to use this i live to serve content)

(Unfortunately, I have hit the photo limit here. So, I’ll have to settle for typing out all the dialog for the lasst few screenshots ! So please bare with me ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა !)

────୨ৎ────

“As flame reduces even the stars to ash

As ice seals away even time itself

As great trees swallow even the sky

Fear not the power of darkness.

Now— demonstrate your power.”

────୨ৎ────

In the next views of dialogue, Crowley is obviously foreshadowing to the kinds of magic the player will have to get used to during battle scenes— but what interests me is the very last part of the dialog. The last thing Crowley says before the mirror brightly flashes and the game sends us into our first battle against the overblot Grim.

“Now— demonstrate your power.”

Yuu is magicless, so what power could he be referring to? This could be taken both literally and figuratively, as “power” is not only strength, it can come in many forms, and Yuu has obviously shown to be quite cunning themself, and that could be considered a power.

But, what if Yuu DOES have powers, in a literal sense? What if that power has been secretly sleeping inside of Yuu this entire time, waiting for the right moment to burst forth and bloom like a flower? Their power could be much more than just being a peacemaker or a beast tamer, who knows?

────୨ৎ────

“To me. To them. To yourself.

The hour grows long and time is scarce.”

“Keep steady your grip, no matter what may come…”

────୨ৎ────

This final piece of dialog paired with the earlier “As ice seals away even time itself” statement from when Crowley was speaking of the elemental forms of magic, it really does feel like its hinting at a time loop.

Perhaps that is why Crowley had summoned them, and why he seems to not be even trying to look for a way to send them home. Not just because hes “lazy”, but he very well may have a plan for Yuu. He is purposefully trying to keep Yuu in NRC.

Maybe he is aware of this timeloop, and out of desperation seeks out the wisdom of the Dark Mirror, trying to find a way to put a stop to it— and who better than Yuu to be that final piece he needs? His dear, esteemed benefactor… His fair, beautiful flower ready to be extorted for whatever purpose he had summoned them for.

Nothing is a coincidence. Everything happens for a purpose, good or bad. And Yuu just happens to be in the middle of every messy situation that happens at NRC.

“For them”, who is “them”? The one whose hand we took? Or perhaps the friends we meet later on? Whatever i means, its obvious theres a certain danger lurking in the shadows that has not made itself known. Atleast, not yet. And for some odd reason, it is up to us to “show our power” and keep it from happening. (If it has something to do with Grim, maybe that “Beast Tamer” title was hinting to that all along lol)

“Time is scarce.” An absolutely chilling line that is never really explained. Time has always been an element that seemed infinite, yet in some cases thats still too little. Time is something no one can have enough of, no matter who they are. Yet what does it mean in this context? Why is our time running out, and furthermore what are we trying to prevent? For Crowley? For them, for our friends… And for us? I’m sure Crowley himself must know, if he didn’t why would he be asking the universe to bring him a helper so desperately?

“Keep steady tour grip, no matter what may come…” This, paired along with the earlier dialog of “Fear not the power of darkness,” could be foreshadowing the later overblots that we face in the game. Crowley knows that we will face hardships, and says to keep steady our grip. To not let the darkness consume us or our friends. To not fear the “darkness“. Crowley could be aware of the challenges we are to face, not even bothering to help in the midst of Riddle’s overblot (very responsible of you, Headmaster). Almost as if he expected it?

That is the final line of dialog from Crowley before the Prologue actually begins.

And now, speaking of the prologue, lets talk about some dialog from Crowley in the actual prologue!

—₊˚⊹ Part Two : The Prologue

“Ah, I’ve found you at last. Splendid.”

Crowley’s wording here, “I found you at last.” Is pretty sus, he speaks like hes been keeping out an eye for a specific someone. And the fact that he went out of his way to find Yuu is also pretty telling. After all, from what we know of Crowley its obvious that hes not the type to do that kind of thing. If Yuu was just any other student, Im sure Crowley wouldn’t have gone out of his way to look for them for the sake of the ceremony.

Furthermore, judging by his tone and expression, he doesn’t seem very surprised to find a student where they aren’t supposed to be. Yet he playfully mentions that most other students usually wait for him to open the lids of their caskets before running off. Making Yuu differ from the rest of the student body once more.

Later on in the prologue, we have the infamous “Deuce throwing Ace at the chandelier” scene. (I giggle everytime I hear Ace’s scream. Its so funny i cant)

When Crowley comes over and discovers that our little group had broken the chandelier and expels us, Ace tries to reason with Crowley saying that surely, he must be able to fix the chandelier himself with some fancy pants magic.

“Even magic has its limits.”

If Crowley can’t fix a magical chandelier without it having any circumstances— Then surely there must be some very… Specific conditions when summoning a person, let alone one from another universe.

Magic itself is limited in certain scenarios. Later on, Deuce mentions that if you can’t strongly visualize your magic, it isn’t going to happen.

Which must be why Crowley went to the Dark Mirror for wisdom. “Reveal onto me the visage I seek,”

It could be that Crowley himself didn’t exactly know what form or appearance his dear benefactor would take, and because of that could not properly ‘visualize’ who he is seeking out. Out of desperation, he seeks out the Dark Mirror for wisdom to finally be able to summon this benefactor he desires so greatly, and it just so happens Yuu fits that role perfectly.

After the fiasco at rhe Dwarfs’ Mine, Yuu, Grim, and the Adeuce duo all return back to NRC safely and recap the story of their little journey to Crowley in the privacy of his office where he promptly bursts into tears after.

He begins to ramble about how the students of NRC, as talented as they are, have egos bigger than mt. Everest and this is the first time in his decades of working at NRC where the students have finally joined hands to defeat a common foe.

“I am convinced that people like you are necessary for the future of this school.”

This line of dialog caught my interest greatly. Though he was already going on and on about how Yuu’s “mundanity” is great for the students of this school— for some reason this line simply seemed to stand out to me.

“People like you”? But, there has never been a magicless student at NRC before Yuu, atleast as far as we know. Could this possibly hint to the Yuuniverse? People like you being the countless of other Yuus that were summoned in a past timeline— perhaps each one restarting after the last Yuu fails, and Crowley summons another in an attempt to stop the constant loop of each timeline resetting after every calamity that falls upon NRC.

Perhaps Yuuken failed during Leona’s overblot, and that is why he’s replaced by Yuuka in the Savanaclaw manga volumes? Maybe Yuuka failed during Azul’s, then Yuuta was summoned forth? And then so on, so forth.

Perhaps that is why Crowley is so desperate. Continuing to try and summon the perfect benefactor, the right flower to nurture in hopes that they would survive and deal with each and every calamity accordingly, in order to stop the timeloop.

Why he doesn’t get off his lazy ass and help Yuu himself? Who knows, I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and say theres a completely understandable reason of him not helping the students hes supposed to be protecting— but then again, it is Crowley. You really never know with him.

Right after he accepts Grim and Yuu as students, he immediately foists upon another job for Yuu. Gifting them a Ghost Camera, which captures the Memories of the photos taken by the photographer.

The photographer and the subject are then considered “Soulbound”, which apparently just means that when the photographer and the subject’s bond deepens, the Memories captured in the photos come “jumping out”. Crowley says it enables the user to not only photograph the subject, but parts of their soul itself.

(I want to relate this to the part where we take the hand of our chosen character but i cant think of anything so …)

He then tells Yuu to take the camera, and make a record of their campus life. But why Yuu, specifically? And only Yuu? Surely, he could’ve given such an object to the Housewarden of each respective dorm— yet he gives it to Yuu and Yuu alone. As if he knows that they’d get involved in all sorts of trouble, face the unthinkable. And he brushes it off saying how much more convenient it would be instead of documenting everything himself, but how could he be so sure that Yuu would come across such events?

“As a prefect, consider it your duty to maintain a sharp eye on your surroundings and record them.”

Yuu and Yuu alone has been given full freedom to mettle in whichever dorm they see fit and “beast tame” them. They do not have the restriction of the Housewardens, where they only keep an eye strictly on their dorm and dorm mates. No, Yuu has been given full and complete freedom to keep an eye and ensure that everyone is in line regardless of their dorm due to Crowley’s blessing upon Yuu to do just that.

While Housewardens are only limited to their respective dorms, Yuu is allowed to discipline and punish whoever they see fit regardless of which dorm they belong to.

It is because Yuu is magicless that they alone have this privledge of overseeing every dorm— even being able to tell off the Housewardens themselves.

It is because Crowley has given them this role that Yuu is constantly faced with so many challenges from each dorm as a result of their meddling.

He pushes them to meddle in the business of other dorms, making it their “duty” as a prefect (A job that he forced unto them). In a way, this is isn’t just Crowley extorting Yuu into looking after the students instead of him despite it being his job and not theirs, perhaps it is him also trying to ‘nurture’ Yuu. Putting them into these situations, in hopes that they allow Yuu to unlock their true potential and stop the timeline from resetting.

It is because of their job as a prefect that they get into these situations. And it is because of this meddling that they face such challenges. Yet, they wouldn’t have had to if Crowley just didn’t appoint them as “Prefect”. (Well, I suppose Ace was the one that started it— but shh lets ignore that for now!)

Thats all the dialog that stuck out to me for the Prologue.

—₊˚⊹ Conclusion !

In conclusion, I think that Yuu was not brought to Twisted Wonderland by mistake, but on purpose by none other than Crowley himself.

Perhaps each character has their own “Yuu”, and that connection between a character and their Yuu was what enabled Crowley to bring them into their world.

With each Yuu failing at a calamity / overblot, the timeline resets and Crowley summons another Yuu to try again to stop the timeloop, hence the Yuuniverse.

Crowley alone remembers every reset, perhaps not all of it which is why he has given Yuu the Ghost Camera in hopes that the Memories in the camera remain. But, he is aware that the timeline resets every time a Yuu fails— yet it is only a Yuu that can stop the calamities due to the mystery of their true nature.

Yuu is Crowley’s “esteemed benefactor”, the one summoned specifically to aid Crowley in his agenda, whatever it may be. Yuu was brought to NRC to assist him, and Crowley seeks to nurture Yuu until the time their true powers are revealed.

Crowley was desperate to summon Yuu. And it seems the worst is yet to come, and for that reason he summoned Yuu.

With Yuu’s mysterious background and even more mysterious ability to see the past through their dreams— Yuu must have some sort of secret power. The true nature of their being, perhaps they themselves have some sort of magic, or are destined for something great. Whatever it may be, Yuu is not a normal, everyday person. Though they are magicless, that does not make them average at all.

To summarize: With every calamity that falls upon NRC, the timeline resets to the night before the Opening Ceremony. Crowley, being the only one who retains any memory of every reset, desperately seeks out the Dark Mirror in search of wisdom, and a benefactor who can help him and the rest of NRC and finally end the loop. That benefactor being Yuu. Yet, because of the limits on magic— it is difficult to summon such a person, let alone the right one. Conveniently enough, there are a select few of students who have some sort of connection with the one Crowley may be looking for (ex. Yuuken paralleling Riddle, Yuuta paralleling Azul, ect.), and it is because of that law-defying connection that Crowley is able to summon each of their respective Yuu’s.

Yuu’s true abilities have not yet been revealed, and still remain veiled in mystery. But, Yuu may have powers of some sort, or a destiny that they are to fulfil. One greater than they can imagine.

— Phew! That was a lot, wasn’t it ? Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be so long ! (Thats what she said)

Anyways, if you’re still here and managed to make it to the end— Thank you so much for reading my little yap session !!! I appreciate it, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on the topic !

If I got anything wrong, please feel free to correct me! After all, I don’t have the best memory and I may be remembering things wrong. But once again, thank you so much for reading !

Don’t forget to drink water, and take care of yourself, pretty ! See you next time, bye-bye!~ ♡

[lovelytsunoda]

proud mary // han lue

summary: now living a quiet life with their daughter, han and y/n reflect on how they got there, and all the good moments that are still yet to come.

pairing: han lue x wife! reader

warnings: this is a big one so listen up: mentions of post pregnancy mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and starting a a family, weddings, ignoring tokyo drift canon because I fucking can, (actually I ignored a lot of canon) han is about to activate a shit ton of daddy issues

I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day and I never lost one minute of sleeping, I was worrying 'bout the way the things might've been.

big wheel keeps on turning, proud mary keeps on burning. and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling down the river

2009, tokyo, japan.

the garage was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the small lamps atop the workstations. han lue had closed up hours ago, and everyone was gone save for him and his lover.

“han, what are you doing?” y/n laughed, sitting at a table scattered with nail polish bottles and a shellac brisa light. “it looks like a smudge.”

“it’s a drifting car!” han laughed, staring through the large magnifying glass that was allowing him to see the design he was attempting to paint on his lovers thumbnail. “see, there’s the spoiler and those are the headlights!”

friday night manicures had become somewhat of a tradition. y/n hated painting her nails with her non dominant hand, but she also didn’t speak enough japanese to venture out and get her nails professionally done. when she and han started dating, he offered to do it for her, easing the aggravation that sometimes came with doing mail designs yourself.

“well, now that you’ve pointed it out.” she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

they had been together coming up on two years. two long, wonderful years. she was a mechanic and he was drifter, it was almost meant to be. she stopped him from getting himself killed, and in return, he loved her unconditionally.

they were sympatico like that. she loved his sense of humour, his protectiveness. he loved her smarts and the excited way she talked, animatedly and with hand gestures.

“what do you say we get out of japan for a bit?”

han should have known this question was coming. y/n was a restless spirit, never meant to stay in one place for too long. in a way, han was as well. he could tell that his lover had been more restless than usual, either from missing home or needing a change of scenery.

“a friend of mine, his name is dominic torretto, he’s got this place down in the dominican republic.” han started slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to involved her in. y/n was his whole world, and what dom and mia would be running was far bigger than street racing in shibuya.“he called me the other day wondering if I would run a job with him. but it’s not entirely legal and I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part in it.”

“baby,” she frowned, placing her hand inside the blue light machine. “of course I’ll go with you. I never pass up a chance to go somewhere sunny, and you know that I’d go anywhere with you. what we’re running here with twinkie and sean isn’t exactly legal either, you know. I’m a big girl, seoul-oh. I can handle myself.”

“I know. I just want you to know what you’re getting into. you’re important to me, y/n.”

“I know.” she said softly, running her hand up his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. “so when does our flight leave?”

“whenever you want it to. I haven’t even bought the tickets yet. are you ready for an adventure?”

“fuck yeah.” y/n smiled, pressing her lips to his. “but you have to paint my other nails first.”

han laughed, the kind of laugh that would always set loose the butterflies in y/n’s chest, the kind that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t think I have it in me to paint another drifting car.”

“then what are you going to paint on my thumbnail?” y/n laughed back, looking down at her nails and realizing that her lover had actually done a very good job painting a drifting car manicure.

“I don’t know,” han shrugged. he would deny it if asked, but he actually loved painting y/n’s nails. he thought it brought them closer together, built up intimacy in their relationship.

they were moments he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’ll just do like a checkered flag or something.”

“but you did that on my index finger!”

laughing, y/n turned her head to kiss him. “come on, you big dork. the sooner we get my nails done, she sooner I can model that new lingerie set I bought last weekend.”

“sold!” han laughed, knocking over bottles of gel polish as he searched for the bright pink he had used to paint the car on his girlfriends other hand. “drifting car? f1 car? whatever my gorgeous gorgeous girl wants.”

“I love you, han lue.”

“love you more, pretty girl.”

2010, monte carlo, monaco.

it was set up to be another sleepless night without her lover by her side, and y/n was having none of that as she wandered the deck of the comfortable yacht, looking around at the decorations that the crew had spent the day putting up.

she was just praying that it wasn’t going to rain.

nothing was about to spoil her big day.

she scurried below deck, past a half open door through which she could hear roman pearce’s guttural snores. fingers curled around the door knob, she tried not to make any noise as she eased the door open, slipping into the cabin.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” she laughed, looking at the king size bed where her fiancé lay, phone in his hands as he texted his mother, who the crew was picking up in the harbour in the morning before the ceremony began.

“got a lot on my mind.” han shrugged. “fucking tej won’t shut up about the reception and the playlist and I’ve told him a million times that it’s not going to be some crazy rave kinda thing.” the man sat up, gesturing for his soon-to-be wife to come closer. "it's doing my head in. seriously, he wants to do a club mix of 'i would do anything for love'."

y/n snorted. han thought she looked like an angel in the low cabin light, a halo glowing around her head and shining off her white silk pajamas, the ones with the tiny shorts and 'bride' embroidered on the butt. "how the fuck do you turn the best meat loaf song in existence into a club rave song?"

"the fuck if i know." han shook his head, hands sliding up her thighs as she came to stand in between his legs. "jagi, sarang-hae."

honey, i love you.

"mhm." she hummed, a smile on her lips as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. "i love it when you speak korean. it's so fucking sexy."

the last year had been stressful. the dominican job had been way more complex than y/n had expected, and it took a while for han's old crew to warm up to her. it took a while, but eventually she managed to crack dom toretto, and two weeks later, han got down on one knee and asked y/n to marry him.

hence why they were on a yacht off the coast of monaco, the entire thing decked out in fairly lights and tulle.

"if you think tej is bad, you try getting in between letty and those large plastic ribbons on the back of the deck chairs." y/n laughed. "who knew letty ortiz was so serious about weddings?"

she was practically sitting on his lap now, head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the boat rocked back and forth.

han seoul-oh was her home. her safe harbour. she always felt safe in his arms, at his side, even when they were plunging into almost certain danger like they had in the dominican.

"i brought you something." y/n hummed, reaching into the pockets of her shorts and withdrawing the small cardboard packet.

"fake nails?"

"help me put them on? for old time's sake." she passed him the glittery white french tips, no doubt chosen to match her dress for the ceremony tomorrow.

"i can't wait to spend my life with you. and believe me, there will be plenty more manicure mondays."

2014, monterrey, california.

"daddy, where's mommy?"

"i don't think she's feeling well, poppy." han lue frowned, looking over at his daughter, who was perched in her little kiddie chair at the kitchen table. "i'm going to go check on her, okay? stay right here."

how do you explain depression to an infant? poppy jae-i han had been one of the best things to have ever happened to han seoul-oh. but in the almost twenty-four months since their bundle of joy had been born, something had felt off about his wife.

everyone hears about the mental health complications that can come with childbirth, but no mother ever thinks it would be her.

every husband fears it, too.

"y/n, jagi?" han tried to keep his voice level as he eased open the bedroom door. the couple had bought a ranch house in monterrey when they learned they were expecting. it was one of the few things they used their ill-gotten gains as a part of dom's crew for. "poppy's asking for you."

it broke his heart to see his wife like this, hair messed and greasy, red splotches under her eyes from where she had been crying.

"am i a bad mother, seoul-oh?" she asked, voice small. she seemed so tiny and fragile underneath the layers of blankets on the queen bed. "she always seems to cry when i'm around, but never with you. poppy loves you more than she loves me."

"what?" it was all han could do to stop himself from crying as he sat on the bed, gently running his fingers through y/n's hair. "sweetheart, what's brought this on? poppy loves you. you're her mom. she needs you."

"mia makes it look so easy." y/n sniffled, pulling herself up to a sitting position. she's lost weight. not a noticeable amount, or even an unhealthy one, but enough that her husband knows. there are many things that you can hide from the man you share your bed with, but han knows. he knows she's not doing well. "and i'm fucking shit at it, han."

"look at me, pretty girl." han encouraged, reaching for her hands. "you are such a good mother. i know you're struggling right now, and i know you're hurting but you need to know that poppy loves you so much. she was asking about you over breakfast, you know."

"i don't know who i am any more. i've lost my sense of self."

han frowned, brushing a few strands of greasy hair away from her forehead before leaning down and gently kissing her hairline.

"listen, i was talking to brian last night-"

"of course you were fucking talking to brian."

"-and he thinks you should talk to mia. they're passing through town today on their way back from dom and letty's, brian and i are going to take the kids out to the zoo or whatever, and you and mia should do something." he suggested, running his hand comfortingly up and down his lover's back. "go to the mall, get a coffee. i think she could really help you. she's been through this before."

y/n inhaled shakily, pulling away from han. "what if something happens to poppy and i'm not there?"

"y/n, everything is going to be okay. i promise. brian will be there, the kids will be in great hands. go do something with mia, darling. find yourself again, yeah?"

"okay." y/n nodded, still clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. "i can do that."

"mommy?" a small voice called. poppy had managed to get herself all the way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, where han had left the door ajar just in case poppy needed them. "are you okay?"

"oh, sweetheart, come here." y/n said, tears beginning to fall.

because how could she ever think that her little bundle of joy didn't love her as much as she did? poppy waddled over to the bed, and han hefted the toddler onto the mattress so that y/n could pull her close.

"you know that mummy loves you, right?"

"yes. i love you too, mommy."

"see." han smiled. "you're going to be okay. we're going to get through this."

2017, monterrey, california.

"i genuinely can't comprehend that roman pearce is getting married."

the family of three was walking down the nail care aisle at walmart, a welcome addition to their weekly shopping trip as y/n scanned the packages on the rack for a set of acrylic nails.

han laughed, one hand around his wife's waist and his chin on her shoulder as he leaned against the shopping cart. "it's not going to last. they may be getting married on saturday but i bet that by christmas roman is going to call and tell us she asked for a divorce."

"don't be so cynical." y/n laughed, kissing her husband softly before holding up a small white box. "do these go with my dress?"

"they'll go with anything, babe." han said, moving to whisper in her ear “they'd look even better wrapped around my c-"

"i want nails like mom's!" poppy han's shout cut him off, the little girl looking at the array of disney princess nails on the lower shelves.

laughing, han knelt down next his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. "which one do you want, princess? do you want frozen, tinker bell? mulan?"

"i want the ariel ones." poppy smiled, reaching for the pack of little mermaid nails. han helped her get them off the hook before lifting her up, carrying the six year old securely against his chest.

"seoul-oh, she's like six, you're spoiling her by carrying her all the time." y/n laughed, dropping both packs of nails in the cart.

"what, she's not heavy, sweetheart." han grins. "besides, i have to stay in shape somehow."

y/n rolls her eyes. "sweetie, it's bold of you to assume that you were ever in shape. but i loved you anyways, didn't i?"

back at home, they settled in the living room, near the large bay window. y/n watched contentedly from the kitchen as han sat at the coffee table across from poppy, delicately brushing nail glue across his daughter's tiny nails, dropping the glittery little mermaid nails on top.

it had taken a while to get to this peaceful, quiet part of their life, but y/n han was so glad that they had made it. that she had seoul-oh and that she had little poppy.

"be careful with your nails, they might come off. now, go get your homework done before we make the pizza, okay?"

poppy scurried off down the hall to her room, and y/n padded across the shag carpet, looping her arms around her husbands neck as she gave him a kiss.

"i'm so lucky, you know that. i'm happy and healthy again, and i have you and poppy. that's everything i could ever ask for." she said softly, resting her head against han's chest as the man tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

of course they both missed the good old days. the days of adrenaline and adventure. but brian and mia had left, and then y/n and han, and soon after was letty and dom. they were moving on with their lives, a chapter of glitz and glamour coming to a close.

"i want another one."

y/n froze, pulling back from her husband. "what?"

"i want another baby. and i know what we went through last time, and i fully understand if you're not willing to take that chance again, but god, y/n, i want a big family with you." han explained, holding his wife's hands. "poppy is growing up. soon she's going to be too cool for dear old dad. and then there will be boys-"

"or she'll be like you," y/n cuts him off with a laugh. "in which case there will be lots and lots of girls."

"god help us all. my little girl is going to break a lot of hearts one day."

"and you want another one?"

"honestly? yeah, i do."

"then i guess we'd better start trying. multiplication isn't that hard, so poppy's gonna be looking for us within the next hour." y/n hummed, kissing her lover softly.

han smiled against her lips, hands slipping into her jeans pockets to cop a feel of his wife's ass. "i only need half that."

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @mignonricciardo @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @monzabee @scuderiamh @daydreamingleclerc @diorleclerc @oconso @cl16version

[eco-lite]

Finally making more progress on the pile of ST books I own but have yet to read. Here’s some good stuff from The Vulcan Academy Murders by Jean Lorrah.

[Image ID: The cover of the book The Vulcan Academy Murders. The background has lots of dark purple tones. In the foreground, Spock stands with a phaser pointed at a Vulcan creature with green skin, a cat-like face, a fin down its back, sharp claws, and a long tail. The creature is hissing down at Spock from a rock. End ID]

First of all, what is going on with this cover? Nothing like this happens in the book.

[Text ID: “Kirk recalled that all male Vulcans were married—had to be—and glanced at Spock. His First Officer, however, was very busy inspecting the almost un-touched wine in his glass.” End ID]

Interesting interesting. 👀

[Text ID: “Kirk had been given Spock’s room (underlined red by me) and McCoy the guest room in Sarek’s house—a house far from anything Kirk would ever have imagined as the home Spock had grown up in. He had envisioned either a sterile, unadorned ‘environment,’ or a castlelike ancestral residence. Instead, the house on the outskirts of ShiKahr was a simple single-family dwelling.” End ID]

This book is way too casual about Kirk sleeping in Spock’s childhood bedroom. Also, there’s no mention of where Spock is sleeping while they’re there???

[Text ID: “He remembered forcing Spock to control his emotions when he was five, and his schoolfellows taunted him for being ‘different.’ Under his father’s tutelage, Spock had refused to cry when the others shut him out of their games, calling him ‘Earther’ and ‘half-breed.’ Amanda had hidden her tears from their son, and Sarek had hidden his anger. Or had he? Perhaps I directed it at my son instead, he realized. He had intended to prepare Spock for whatever lack of acceptance he would face in life. And the message Spock received was that his own father did not accept him as he was, had to mold him into something he deemed acceptable.” End ID]

We love reflecting on our past mistakes. 👏🏼 We love character growth. 👏🏼

[Text ID: “’A computer cannot lie,’ said Spock. ‘Nevertheless, this one is giving false information.’ ‘Why don’t you try playing chess with it?’ came a voice from the doorway. Sarek turned to find Leonard McCoy, bouncing on his toes and grinning.” End ID]

I love them. I can picture this so perfectly.

[Text ID: “’What dost thou know of Surak?’ she asked finally—but her voice spoke more of perplexity than challenge. ‘What everyone knows: he was the founder of Vulcan philosophy. I know he is a personal hero to my friend Spock, the way Abraham Lincoln, from human history, is to me.’” End ID]

Kirk will bring up Abe Lincoln whenever he has a chance. That’s canon now.

[Text ID: “’You are not only anything, Spock. You are more, not less, because of your dual heritage. It is fruitless to wish now that I had made that clearer to you when you were a child.’ ‘You wanted me to be Vulcan.’ ‘That is true,’ Sarek agreed. ‘And you are Vulcan, representative of IDIC in its fullest sense.’ Spock studied his father. ‘You never put it to me that way. The last time you and I spoke as father and son, before I went to Starfleet Academy, you reminded me of how important it was that I think of myself as Vulcan. Do you remember your words, father?’ Sarek remembered. ‘I am Vulcan by birth. Your mother is Vulcan by choice. You are Vulcan by both birth and choice.’ ‘And then I disappointed you by making a different choice.’ Sarek searched his memory, trying to recover the logical reason for what now seemed completely irrational. Finally, he said simply, ‘I was wrong.’” End ID]

Yes! Let’s talk about our feelings! Let’s resolve those daddy issues!

[Text ID: “He went back to his room—Spock’s room, really. Kirk had brought with him a sturdy suit and boots, for Spock had suggested they might go camping in the mountains after the summer heat abated. (Last sentence underlined in red by me.) He put on the boots and the trousers to the suit, but decided the heavy shirt would be far too hot—" End ID]

Spock wanted to take them camping. 🥹

[Text ID: “‘He will recover, though?’ asked Spock. ‘Yeah—you can see him later, Spock,’ said the doctor. ‘He’s gonna be in considerable pain—you’re probably the only person he’ll be able to stand. Your son would’ve made a good doctor,’ he added to Sarek. ‘I don’t know how he does it, but he’s really good with people in pain.’ Spock’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected compliment from the man Sarek usually saw him trade barbs with. Then Leonard left them to go back to his patient, and Spock turned to Sarek. ‘May I ask you something, Father?’ ‘What is it, Spock?’ ‘When Mother became conscious, you called her…?’ ‘Beloved.’” End ID]

Spock being very concerned about Kirk’s injuries. Bones saying Spock is the only person Kirk would tolerate while in pain. Spock asking his father about expressing love for an outworlder. It’s a lot.

[lily-radiance]

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Exciting update: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!” - Currently 25 chapters completed: 973.1K Words; Rated: Mature

__________

Exciting Update: The number of chapters for this fic has been increased from 30 to 40!

Before I explain why I increased the number of chapters, I would like to say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU 😊🤗😁💕 to everyone who has been reading my massive multi-chapter fanfic and I would also like to say WELCOME to anyone who would like to begin reading it. I really appreciate everyone's supportive and encouraging words and please know that I read every AO3 comment that's posted and I respond to all of them.

This fic is Buck's and Eddie's FANON EPIC LOVE STORY and IMO, it has taken them places the show refuses to go!

I've loved every minute I've spent writing it and I'm looking forward to writing even more of it. Currently it's at almost 1 million words but when I first started writing it last year, I had no idea I would be this far along with it because my initial plan was for the fic to only be 12 chapters. Then I changed the amount in AO3 to undecided (?) but after I posted chapter 9 or 10, I decided 30 chapters would be sufficient.

However, after I completed chapters 24 & 25, I took a week or so to review all the things I want to include in it going forward. Once I did, I had to be honest with myself regarding the 5 remaining chapters because I realized they won't be enough. Therefore, I outlined everything that's still to come and decided to increase the fic by 10 more chapters so the Diaz family's story along with Buck's, Eddie's and Chris' individual stories will get the attention I believe they deserve.

At the end of 2023, I posted on Tumblr and indicated my plan was to finish the entire fic before the start of season 7 but that's not going to happen. Also, for those who have been reading along, I want to assure you that just because the new season is set to begin in three days, that doesn't mean this fic is over. It's NOT FINISHED because there's so much more I have planned for the characters and I will continue writing it until I've posted all 40 chapters. If my timeline works the way I'm hoping, my new plan is to complete it during the hiatus after season 7 ends but before season 8 (if there is one) begins.

There's so much more to come for Buck, Eddie and Chris and a quick reminder, just because Buck and Eddie are married and Buck has adopted Chris, all three of their stories will continue.

Here are of the things that still need to be completed.

Eddie's still working towards obtaining two more paramedic certifications so he can become the Critical Care Paramedic of Los Angeles County.

Chris still has to complete the video game he's working on with his classmates.

Buck is still on medical leave and after they returned to L.A.; he told Eddie he didn't know if he wanted to go back to the 118. The question is will he or is he going to find new employment? 👀

Furthermore, Buck and Eddie put a bid in on a house while they were in Italy. Are they going to get it? 🙃

Chapter 25 ended with a massive cliffhanger and the person who sent Buck the package still has to be revealed. 🥹

Finally, their vow renewal ceremony is scheduled for May 2024 and they're going back to Italy for the entire month of June. Adriana's sons are going with them but Buck and Eddie still have to talk with Chris about the University of Florence's summer program when he returns home and they still have to talk to Adri and Tonio to see if Chris' cousins can go too.

So, please believe me when I say there's so much more in store for them and that's why I believe adding 10 additional chapters will allow me to continue to tell their story in a way that's not rushed and I won't have to include any time jumps to fit it all in.

Thank you again for reading, commenting in AO3 and for reblogging the posts about this fic. I really appreciate everyone's support and encouragement.

AND REMEMBER... THIS FANFIC WON'T BE FINISHED UNTIL THE LAST CHAPTER HAS BEEN POSTED!

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This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-25 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[bookwormbynight]

that sounds like misa is raping light and we're making fun of him for not pleasuring his abuser tbh

Oop I've reached a level I think.

I'm going to answer in good faith, although admittedly I'm fairly wary because my friends (REAL PEOPLE) have gotten really serious hate (SOMETHING THAT AFFECTS THE EMOTIONAL WELLBEING OF REAL PEOPLE) from anons once we've gotten into this territory. But the topic is important and should be treated with actual gravity for at least a minute.

Serious, real life bullshit:

Yes, rape and abuse are serious issues and real survivors of that deserve all of the empathy and respect they can get. I myself have been in incredibly toxic situations (both parental and romantic) that have fucked with my boundaries, sense of self-worth, and perception of reality. And rape - especially coercive rape - is a crime that goes dismissed and unpunished way, way, way too often. This is plain fact and I will fight with people over it.

However.

We're all adults here, correct? My blog is a page intended for 18+ users who are generally in the same circle of the fandom as I am, meaning, in broad terms, that they ARE aware of the social issues and nuances and general things about consent and morality. And with this assumption in mind, that we all understand that this is FUCKED in real life, we're enjoying a show in which we understand that the two main characters are a genocidal serial killer and a selfish man who has no qualms with literal torture in order to get his way. Death Note is not a story intended to be enjoyed for its moral character! It is a story where we watch terrible people be assholes and monsters and its fucking entertaining!

The acceptance (not condoning) of murder and torture as themes are inherent within the fabric of the fandom itself - as is Light's canon onscreen abuse of Misa and Misa's literal stalking and jealous threats of murder that would legitimately victimize Light if he was a real person. (Quick reminder that he is not.) Do not treat real people like this!! Just as you shouldn't treat real serial killers like your pathetic meow meow babygirl!!!

If rape in this fandom is a step too far for you, I can't blame you, everyone has their triggers and boundaries (the amount of horror movies I've had to walk out on because of pet death triggering memories of an incredibly traumatic event for me is more than zero), but you would be better off blocking me and moving on with your day than attempting to start some sort of ethical debate with me about the morality of joking about a mutually abusive couple from source material that is entirely fictional. Everyone needs to know, the block button is not a bad thing! It is a useful tool for disengaging! If you don't want to go that far, I am absolutely open to suggestions for trigger tags I should put on my posts that you can block. I myself have tags that I've blocked, which keep my bubble safe from some topics that my friends enjoy.

Take care of yourself and others out there.

Unserious response:

I'm not making fun of Light for not pleasuring his abuser, I'm making fun of him for being really bad at being in the closet (relatable), being a misogynist (icky), and staying in an abusive heterosexual relationship he hates when he canonically has zero qualms with just killing her and no longer has an obstacle stopping him (plothole).

[skreebs]

Thinking about the ableism toward Jouno in the BSD fandom and it genuinely pisses me off so badly I want to hit people. I’ll be perusing the tag and looking at stuff and then I’ll see some random pop ups for AO3 and get shit like this

Now I don’t 100% know the context of this screenshot, for all I know this fic could be about him before he lost his sight, but either way it got me thinking and thinking got me angry and being angry means i need to complain. Jouno is already pretty shit blind rep, I’ll be honest. He’s the basic stereotype of “blind character has super senses because they’re blind” but can we give blind people literally ANYTHING else??? jesus christ. I’m pissed how BSD writes his blindness so as per usual I had to attempt to fix all of that myself, but attempting to fix it and removing it entirely are NOT the same and one is VERY MUCH SO WORSE. Again, not talking about this fic specifically but other ones I’ve seen that do this, or those “Jouno if he could see” edits. Spoiler alert, blind people can open their eyes.

I dont know why BSD and every other piece of media is so adamant on not giving visually impaired and blind characters white canes and just giving them "super senses" to get around it. It’s incredibly stupid and abelist to portray stuff like this. Disabilities are not super powers and thank GOD they didnt make that his ability but they still gave him that aspect and I guess it can be excused with SOME lore stuff like maybe he got really good senses from his surgeries but it just sucks that it happened that way at all? And then they don't even touch on how horrible having incredibly hightened senses to the point you can HEAR blood would be?? can you imagine hearing everyone internal organs around you 24/7 EVERYDAY? No one talks about that at all. That would be so fucking overwhelming its genuinely insane. Jouno is such a dear character to me, but genuinely when I remember him in canon without any of my headcanon explinations it’s just really sad that all I can say about him as representation is "well.. it could be worse".

I know there’s going to be at least one person saying “theres good blind rep in other shows though!!” Yes! I know! I’m super glad about that! But ignoring the bad ones doesn’t help much. You need to point out the issues to get good results. Recently, and by recently I mean about 17 hours ago, I watched/listened to the first episode of Daredevil, once with audio descriptions, and then after I watched without AD and had captions. I’m super glad that things are more commonly getting AD—it’d be a bit pathetic if the show with a blind main character was not accessible to blind people—but even with Daredevil, Matt still falls a bit into this stereotype.

Don’t get me wrong, seeing a character with a white cane has me absolutely elated, but from the single episode I’ve seen and what I’ve heard, he apparently also has some sort of super senses, and I know in the first episode he can hear heartbeats. I think super senses as a power is fine, but it’s just the fact they always give it to the blind characters. I, myself, am not blind, nor am I really visually impaired, I just wear glasses. However, as someone with a special interest in disabilities and also as someone that is disabled in other ways, seeing disabled rep fall into stereotypes over and over just really bums me out sometimes.

I think Daredevil is great so far from this one episode, I’ll probably be looking at more of it, but that is definitely just one gripe I have with it. I think Charlie Cox putting a bunch of effort into the role with the method acting and talking to people in the blind community and just all of that is amazing, I love to see that in anything, it’s just urrghh that it’s so hard to find a blind character that doesn’t have some kind of insane superpower senses with things. It reminds me of when characters with autism are so frequently portrayed as geniuses or their autism is only acceptable if it helps the neurotypical cast with “gadgets” or something. I dunno. Hard to explain, it’s 11 at night and I’m tired. Just don’t be ableist in any fandom or in real life. I shouldn’t have to even point out why this shit is disgraceful.

[usernamesarehard1]

Most of the time, I completely ignore Magisterium canon to the point where I forget it exists. But every now and then a reminder of it comes up and it hurts me so much inside.

I hate the canon so much. I am one of those autistic people where I am lower-empathy when it comes to real people, but have hyper-empathy for fictional characters. Especially certain fictional characters. Because some characters become a part of who I am. It's like I absorb them into my emotions and I care about them so so deeply.

And the Magisterium characters are that for me.

But the canon treats them like garbage! First of all, most of what happens is such lazy writing and doesn't even make logistical sense (ie, why is Call getting injured on the log his fault? Why would anyone believe Alma that Call is the EOD?? Why would the Magisterium TELL everyone Call was the EOD, etc????)

But secondly, shit just happens to the characters for no reason over and over and over again. They do nothing to deserve it. They don't do anything wrong! All they do is try to help and be good people and save the lives of other people. They, as CHILDREN, take on responsibility that the adults won't because they care more about people than the authority does, but yet shit just keeps happening to them!

And I hate it so damn much. It causes me such deep emotional pain. It's like what Bones did to Zack and it's hard for me to handle.

It's just so unfair! And it's not even a good story.

It's literally bad writing. First of all, it's lazy. Second of all, I feel like I can say it is like objectivley just bad writing.

I remember in my senior year of high school, we read Aristotle's break down on what makes a tragedy in literature, and it summed up exactly what was wrong with Magisterium so perfectly.

He said that in order for a tragedy to work, you need a character who is flawed but not evil, and relatable but not overly likeable. That way the audience feels bad for his ultimate demise, but also feels it's justified.

He said that if the character was just evil, we don't get sad, we instead are happy when he meets his demise. We feel that he has gotten his "just desserts"

And that when a character is too good, and hasn't done anything to deserve his downfall.....

We get angry.

That if a character is punished despite not doing anything wrong, we will want justice for that character.

THAT is the problem with Magisterium.

Call is told he is a "punishment" at 12 years old solely for distrusting an authority that killed his mother. He falls off a log that he was SUPPOSED to fall off of and gets punished for getting injured. Master Rufus automatically assumes Call would use an anti-scrying stone to cause trouble despite him not having caused any trouble at the Magisterium thus far (the only time he did anything that broke the rules that Rufus knew about was to sneak out of the school and save their precious Makar, Aaron). He gets thrown into literal adult prison at 14 for a murder that he didnt commit of his best friend (slash boyfriend) with no outside contact with Tamara or his own father for SIX MONTHS. He is then kidnapped by Anastasia at only 15 and forced to create chaos ridden. He then returns to the Magisterium at around 16 and everyone still thinks he murdered Aaron and treats him like a murderer. And then his dad, the ONLY person who ever loved him 100% uncondionally and didn't hate him at some point in his life, gets turned into a fucking devoured as a "punishment" for not wanting the very last person in his life to die at the hands of the people responsible for the deaths of everyone else in his life.

That is so fucking bad. That is so fucking bad. That is so fucking terrible.

And the authors don't even fucking care.

I am so fucking mad. Typing all that out literally HURTS me.

THIS is why I need to make the Magisterium movies someday. THIS is why I'm mad at myself every day for not making more progress on getting filmmaking experience and learning about how to make money so I can buy the film rights. THIS is why I'm driving myself crazy every day.

Because I love Call. Call is so fucking real to me and I can't let this be his life. I just cant.

[clangenrising]

abijiwsnskenandjekz you scared me with that scene on the thunderpath, was worried about poor Floodstrike for a second. Love how much he adores his apprentice, those two are so sweet together and if anything happens to them istg /lh,,, also Luna!! I think she and Flood could def be a cute couple, though potentially a purely romantic one if I’m reading into your writing right and Flood’s ace-spec (which as an aroace personal myself I would love to see!! canonically ace characters are so few and far between even these days), but even if I’m wrong I love your work and can’t wait for the next update <3 especially curious to see how this potential war with Sardine goes, I doubt it’ll be as big/organized as the one with Razor since he’s only just come into poor and there’s still some doubts about his leadership, but his personality is also quite different from Razor’s so he could possibly be planning to conduct his campaign very differently (which we’ve already seen a bit of with him killing Bella and her friends and framing/blaming the clans for it)

Haha I'm glad I managed to scare you even though there wasn't a heavy content alert so nothing too dangerous could have happened. I take that as a big compliment.

And as far as Flood goes, I don't think he's aspec, or at least I'm not writing him that way. There are several aspec cats in RisingClan but Floodstrike probably isn't one of them (although like headcanon away, I don't want to shut down anything like that in my fandom). In my mind there are some very specific reasons Floodstrike suddenly felt uncomfortable about the idea of being with Luna and he doesn't understand them because there is still that attraction there.

I think there's a sentence like "he struggled to find an excuse as to why he was suddenly uncomfortable with such an enticing scenario" or something which was meant to read as "this is very appealing to him but hes also feeling uncomfortable and can't explain way exactly" but I can also see how it could be read as asexual tendencies.

As far as Sardine goes, we'll just have to see what he gets up to >:3c I'll gently remind everyone that our next death is this month.

[skyselfships]

i read Disney Mirrorverse Pure of Heart

i read it because someone posted about snow white and hades' dynamic in the book. anyway heres my rambling about the book (not just hades lmao snow white is the main character here) under the cut. by the way, i never played disney mirrorverse all i know is that its a canon-divergent alternate universe crossover. and kermit is there

The way the book makes references to the characters' lives pre-Mirrorverse is woven rather than ham-fisted in a way that makes the reader go "hey! reference!" which is neat. It's less of a "hey! reference!" and more of a "they are part of this world".

Snow White

She is the focus of the story. Otherwise we'd get a different title and plot.

The book highlights her good traits. She develops bravery in face of what happens and got as far as she has thanks to her friends' support. When push comes to shove, she will take action. She is kind to everyone even to Hades, remains optimistic which is good for morale, and she has emotional strength. While she didn't believe that she had the strength to fight, she helps the Guardians through their conflicts. She is merciful with the Huntsman and gives him a chance to start a new life, just like he did for her. Snow is built up to be "pure of heart" and it's established that her "heart" will come into play... kind of. She is the heart of the group after all.

The prince does appear in the story and he hosts a ball for morale which thankfully isn't a trap or a lead-up to an unnecessary "stay or go" dilemma but it is nice to see the world outside of the Queen's castle, the forest, the cottage, and check out what he's up to. He wasn't in the film much because the animators had trouble drawing him so here's a chance of giving him and Snow more time together.

The Guardians

The supporting characters: Tiana, Rapunzel, Sulley, Stitch, and Hades. Hades has a very prominent characterization so he gets his own section. Either the book puts more focus on him than the others or my internal bias towards Hades is showing. There was a point where I forgot that Sulley and Stitch were there but the book makes sure the reader doesn't forget anyone.

Some Guardians get arcs that give them some sort of conflict. Sulley gets separated from the group and attacked by Fractured goons. (I honestly forgot that he had an arc and had to go back to check. It was so short too.) Stitch gets one with his size-changing ability and Snow talks him into recalling certain senses that help him shrink down to normal size when he couldn't. Tiana gets poisoned while mining for gems (which is one ingredient for health potions) which puts her in a state that keeps her mining until Snow White cures her via one of her potions. The narration goes into her internal struggle: She is the healer of the group which means the mission and everyone's survival hinges on her. If she mines many gems, they won't be in short supply of potions. As long as she can heal the group, she can't let anyone down or else they would hate her. Rapunzel's conflict is that during a cave-in, she is reminded of where near-death-experience where she and Flynn/Eugene almost drowned and gets a panic attack(?) to which Snow helps her through. Hades' conflict shows up when the gang encounters Fractured copies of Zeus, Poseidon, Hestia, and Hercules.

Hades

Hades, out of all the supporting characters, really makes his presence known throughout, his witty commentary doing a good chunk of it. And there's his interactions with Snow White that have this Hades and Persephone energy based on what little I know of them in mythology. It doesn't help that Snow White is associated with the forest. A good summary of their relationship would be "I've only known Snow White for a day and a half and if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself." I love it.

His introduction is a witty statement and being met with the other Guardians arming themselves, not too different from his introduction in "Hercules" or Maleficent's in "Sleeping Beauty". The Guardians don't really trust him but he's fighting alongside them so they have to work together, like it or not. Snow White doesn't know him yet but she doesn't do the same or let their opinions of him get to her. She remains as kind to him as she is with everyone else. And Hades has moments of thinking of her as a good kid, especially that part where Snow almost dies and even though he chooses to focus on fighting Fractured copies of his family members rather than help her, he does have enough of a heart to think about making it up to her if she does die.

She was a mortal, her life a bare whisper compared to his roar. When she showed up in the Underworld, he'd give her a nice spot in the Elysian Fields, maybe, in apology. He wouldn't let anyone torture her with hot coals. He would let her rub Cerberus' belly. That was pretty generous, for a god. (p. 223)

The only reason he didn't stop to help was because he would miss out on one-upping Zeus (even though that isn't really Zeus). Yeah, family grudge is the #1 priority for Hades. I know the "Will Hades save Snow or not?" conflict exists because Hades is a villain but... the rest of the gang were going over to save Snow White while Hades was busy fighting. If Hades switched gears, who would fend off the Fractured copies? Nobody. And Sulley and Stitch end up saving Snow. It's not wrong for them to dislike that Hades refused to help Snow when she called for him but that would put everyone at risk. Okay, maybe he could make a barrier out of fire- wait no, that would cause a forest fire.

If he didn't like Snow, he would not have tossed his heart like a bomb at the Evil Queen before Snow could take out her heart. He's a god. What's he going to do? Die? (The gang minus Hades made self-sacrifice speeches offering themself up but none of them even suggested for Hades, the immortal one, to sacrifice himself. Obviously they wouldn't do that and he wouldn't go along with that. He'll do what he does because he wants to, not because someone told him to.) Maybe that's his way of making it up to Snow White when he prioritized fighting Fractured copies of his family rather than saving her. He's not the type to apologize or admit to being wrong. But looking at his nice streak to Snow White...

Hades' dialogue when he takes the Fractured Mirror and betrays the Guardians stands out to me so much it has to be quoted:

"I feel like I've done my civic duty, ... And maybe I finally found my purpose. Look, you guys are okay. Not great, but okay. We had some fun times. But I think this mirror is going to be a lot more fun. I can make my own friends. And they'll never argue with me ... Because goons only say exactly what they're told to say. Bye!" (p. 271-272)

Remember how Hades always draws the shortest straw in life? Remember the fight with the Fractured copies of Zeus, Poseidon, Hestia, and Hercules? Remember his introduction in this book? Yeah, he and the Guardians only have the whole Fractured thing as common ground or else they wouldn't be together. Snow White? What about her? Obviously she'll stay with the Guardians. She'll get along with them better than with him. Yeah, she's nice and has no animosity toward him but unlike him, they're good and nice and not evil. Chances are that his plans for the mirror involves making a family/friends that doesn't hate him, that he can get along with, that... what was I saying?

The book goes out of its way to flesh out Hades who most would know as a hot-headed snarky fast-talking villain who makes good comedic moments but is a legitimate threat when the story calls for it. But that's pretty surface-level. The story touches on what makes him tick and bring out the villain we all know and love- or in the Guardians' case, distrust.

The Evil Queen

The final boss of the story. Why is she doing all the Mirrorverse-related things? To challenge and test the Guardians to see which is pure of heart even though it's obviously Snow's she is after and once they reach her, she gives them a sadistic choice: one has to sacrifice their heart to save everyone else or else she kills the dwarves who she has hostage. The reader would expect that Snow White offers up herself and something happens that has her survive in the end because there's no way she would get killed off... AND HADES COMES IN WITH A STEEL CHAIR! The Queen would have to know that Hades is there with them or else Fractured copies of his family members wouldn't be fighting them, but I don't think she'd expect him to offer up his heart. Oh yeah, she wanted someone pure of heart to give up their heart so she could use it to heal herself of the poison in her caused by the whole Fractured thing or whatever. Hades' heart kind of works but it's a slow-acting antidote rather than a cure. That's one way of saying that Hades is a villain but not an irredeemable monster- wait this is supposed to be about the Queen. At least she got what she wanted in the end. And the Fractured Mirror corruption thing is no longer plaguing the land. Yay?

The Guardians heal her. They bring up the possibility of her being a Guardian if she works for it but she refuses. Meanwhile Snow is so against the idea that she silently objects to it which no one seems to notice.

After years of a rocky relationship, Snow stands up to her abuser. The Queen always had power over her. In this situation, the Queen is down and Snow won't face retaliation for speaking out. I'm putting all that in a very long quote.

That was something Snow White had never considered before- standing up or even talking back to the Queen. As a little girl, she'd first tried to please her stepmother, then tried to avoid her, then tried not to anger her, then had to run from her. But now the Queen was on the floor, weak and alone, unprotected, and Snow White realized that while she would absolutely not be sticking around to play nursemaid, she did, in fact, have something to say. "When you came to the castle, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen," she said. "After the portraits of my own mother. And I wanted you to like me. I thought you would take care of me and love me, and that we could play dress-up together, and you would teach me how to be a gracious ruler. But instead you were jealous of me from the start, cruel and belittling and stern. It was as if you found every soft, tender part of me and struck out, trying to hurt me in any way you could. But no matter how terrible you were to me, I never gave up hope that I could have a life where I was liked for who I am. Despite you, I found friends, and I discovered skills and abilities that I never knew I possessed. Not because of you- but despite you. And now I tell you this: I pity you. You could've had love, and instead you chose wickedness. And now you have to live with that, alone, in a castle that could've been filled with laughter and happiness." Snow White looked all around at the dirty stone, the grimy windows, the empty, empty tables. "So enjoy that." (p. 279-280)

The Queen is a horrible mother and there is no way she and Snow will ever have a healthy relationship. She will never become good. She will never let go of her jealousy.

Could one compare the Queen's interactions with Snow White to Hades' interactions with Snow White? Maybe. The Queen is the way she is because jealousy and takes it out on Snow. Hades is the way he is because he got the Underworld and family. Yes, he targets Hercules back in the film but that's because he's an obstacle in the takeover plan. He hates Zeus the most. Hercules is his son and also in the way. Snow is not in Hades' family and she is unconditionally nice to him. He has no reason to dislike her. Hades isn't a nice guy but he has moments of being nice to her. The Queen would never. Aaand Hades hijacks the section that isn't his again.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 5, Poll 5

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Mille Roper-The Arcadia Project

Qualifications:

She has BPD, which is a rarely represented disorder as it is, and is also a quadruple amputee, and she's one of the best characters with BPD I have ever had the pleasure of reading about. She is also canonically bisexual!

Propaganda:

GODDDDDD Millie she is one of my favorite bisexual, borderline, and amputee characters ever and when it comes to bi and BPD rep, she reminds me frankly of myself....I love her so much I need to reread borderline

Wen Kexing-Faraway Wanderers / Tian Ya Ke

Qualifications:

1. The LGBTQ+ part: he is canonically a gay man. (Though he does not identify by this specific word due to being from, yknow, fantasy ancient China, he is very vocal about only having interest in men / not having interest in women.) He is also one half of the main (canon, mlm) couple in the book. 2. Disability part: he has complex PTSD, with dissociative symptoms being most prominent. It's not articulated as clearly as the gay part, but there's a lot of textual evidence. For example, for his bouts of dissociation, he has a clear trigger - thinking or talking about personal loss (mostly his initial traumatic event, brutal murder of his parents when he was a child, but at least once it was fear of losing his partner), - and there's a very distinctive way the author describes it: "far-off gaze", "blank" expression or eyes, being "in a daze"/"dazed" were all words used more than once in those situations. He also exhibits symptoms of depersonalization, especially in contexts of violence. The one that made it click for me was a moment when someone was striking to kill him while he couldn't defend himself, and he was described as being calm "as if the one about to die was not himself", but there are also smaller hints, like several times he is described as 'fighting as if he doesn't notice pain and exhaustion' - which I would not take as evidence on its own, but tied in to other dissociative moments of his... yeah. 3. Last thing, in case you aren't sure PTSD/dissociative disorder should count as a disability, I want to make my argument that it should, as it noticeably impacts the character's quality of life. Both continuously (he mentions, for example, sleep problems/insomnia - that clearly stem from his traumatic experiences) and at specific moments (like that time he started dissociating in the middle of the battlefield, nearly resulting in him getting killed........)

Propaganda:

Okay, imagine a classical Chinese martial arts story. Young orphan meets a mysterious master, who imparts all his knowledge upon him; the boy trains hard and challenges various villains, until making it all the way to the final boss who was behind everything. Now, imagine if, in the very beginning of this story, the final boss accidentally ran into that mysterious master. And became suspicious of him. And began following him under pretense of falling in love with him at first sight. And then fell for him for real. And then they had adventures and also started co-parenting that young orphan.

THAT is the plot of Tian Ya Ke. And the final boss in question? Well, that's Wen Kexing I'm submitting! And yes, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu - the aforementioned mysterious master and the main character of TYK - are a canon couple. Wen Kexing in particular is very, ah, out and loud gay. Gay and making it everyone else's problem even. So that's the LGBTQ+ part. (Also they are SUCH a couple. They're so funny! The whole circus! And then they do something and you are like oh yeah right. each of them is a villain of a different story. Good thing they decided to play house instead.) On the disability front, Wen Kexing has mental health stuff - to be specific, complex PTSD with signs of dissociative disorder. I'm not gonna describe his wide array of traumatic experiences on the form because it needs SO many trigger warnings, but the important part is how those impacted him. For example, he mentions having sleep problems/insomnia due to fear. (Which made the fandom lose our shit once we connected it to the earlier moment where he, in a vulnerable state, drags himself to Zhou Zishu's side and falls asleep on his lap. The! Trust! That! Shows!) He also dissociates frequently when thinking/talking about his initial traumatic event. Which is my favorite part of the portrayal of his PTSD because... you know how there's this trend in media with superpowers/magic when the character's trauma response is portrayed through their powers, like their powers going out of control? And TYK went 'yeah, no, when /our/ OP final boss has a ptsd flare up, he just dissociates like a normal person'. (and I, a normal person who also copes by dissociating, was like 'i owe u my life'.) Also, I think it's great that not all of his episodes are plot relevant. Like, in four out of five cases it's just something that happens (the narration / pov character makes note of it), and then the scene moves on - so it feels like a feature of his character, as opposed to a plot devise for creating situations. And the one case where it does happen in an action moment - when Wen Kexing gets revenge on the person responsible for his initial trauma and promptly starts dissociating in the middle of the battlefield, and someone else has to step in to prevent him from getting killed by other enemies - kinda highlights the disability aspect, imo. Like, it shows that PTSD creates barriers for him where a person without it wouldn't have any.

Anything Else?:

1. It's a Chinese novel, so character names are written down with surname first. So Wen Kexing = surname Wen + given name Kexing. 2. There's a live action adaptation of this novel, called Shan He Ling / Word of Honor, but it's uh. well. The portrayal of Wen Kexing's trauma and PTSD in it is. Bad. 'Completely butchered everything I thought was refreshing about it in the novel' bad. (please understand i hate everything about the adaptation and am barely refraining from infodumping about how much I deplore it here) So if WKX makes it into the tournament and none of the images I sent work for u, pls at least don't use the live-action version? He is practically a different character there!

[farfromstrange]

Austin: Prologue [Owen Sleater x F!Reader]

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read Me on AO3

Chapter Summary: You receive an ominous letter from Enoch Thompson. It brings back memories of your past, memories you would much rather forget because they could get you into a lot of trouble, and you find yourself backed into a corner that you have to find a way out of.

Chapter Warnings: Murder, blood, canon typical violence, assault (not sexual), alcohol consumption, organized crime, flashback

Word Count: 6.4K

A/n: About damn time I started writing for Owen. I fell in love with him from the moment he first appeared on screen. This idea was a lot more complex than a simple One Shot in my head, even though I thought about writing one first, so now you're getting a series. Because I just can’t help myself. The Boardwalk Empire fandom seems fairly small, but I hope my fellow Charlie-obsessed people on here appreciate this story regardless.

Set from Season 2 episode 9 onward!

This series is rated E for explicit! 18+ only!

The evening sun relentlessly burns down on the cemented sidewalks from the magenta skies above. Not a cloud is to be seen. Cars roll over the paved asphalt roads leading through the city, past the many pedestrians peeking through the many storefronts, always looking for something new to buy. 

Every once in a while, a swarm of birds breaks free from the trees and wanders to the next. It’s a small glimpse of nature that lies behind the city center of Austin, Texas, but a small glimpse is better than none. 

Each dollar bill that slips through your fingers feels like paper gold. In a patriarchal society, all everyone ever sees are men sitting in their ivory towers and spitting at those who dare to threaten their position. They can’t imagine themselves to fall lower than the rest. 

You are far beyond any of that. You’re not insecure in your power. You don’t need to show it off to know that you have succeeded. Your anger may burn brighter than the force of a thousand suns, and you may be far more powerful than any man could ever fathom to be, but you would never see yourself above anyone else. 

One thing almost all men seem to have in common, you have come to realize, is that they underestimate the power of a woman scorned. And that is a very dangerous thing to do.

The windows in your office are open, allowing a gentle breeze to cool down the summer heat that has stuck itself to the walls. As you count the money in your hands, you can’t help but watch the sun slowly set over Austin.

You take another sip of Whiskey. The label on the back of the bottle reads Mr. Austin’s Finest. Only about a quarter left. 

You trace the condensation with a finger along the crystal of the glass. The brown liquid shimmers in the fading sunlight. You will have to supply your own office with another shipment soon enough, but for now, you have enough to enjoy the flavor just a little longer—the one flavor that will always remind you of being a little girl in a small town in the middle of nowhere, who made it to the city of Austin against all odds. It tastes like home, in a way. 

To you, Austin is more than a city. It’s more than your mother’s hometown, more than the capital of the State you were born in and have never left for more than one week at a time, and it’s more than the home of the most valuable business you could ever run. It’s who you are. It may have been a name of convenience, and not even a very creative one at that, but it saved your life. 

Your eyes scan the books spread out before you. Production. Distribution. Expenses. Profit. Names. Two notebooks, three tables, five columns. You count each dollar bill with precision, fold the stacks into neat packages, and wrap them up with porous rubber bands from the first drawer in your desk. The rest, you place into an envelope. 

The floorboards creak, and you divert your attention from your work to the doorway. “Beth,” you say.

She offers you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss, but I just received a letter from you that wasn’t with the earlier correspondence,” she says.

Elizabeth Brown. She was the only person in all of Austin who, when you first got there, showed you that she understood the real meaning of discretion. Now, you would trust her with your life, and you value her opinion more than that of your associates. There is something about a good heart worth so much more than ruthlessness, even in a business that requires your heart to be made out of ice so you won’t get hurt. 

But even Beth has her secrets. 

You exhale audibly, swallowing the last sip of your drink before setting the glass down on the deep brown Mahogany. 

“That’s unusual,” you state. “Where’s it from?”

Beth takes another step into your office, her heels transitioning from the wooden floorboards to the soft carpet. “Um,” she holds out the envelope in front of her, “It’s from Atlantic City. I haven’t opened it yet, so I don’t know if it’s important. I can still put it with the others if you’d like.”

You carefully observe her body language. She isn’t lying, merely confused. 

“No.” You pat your desk. “Leave it here.”

She crosses the threshold and places the envelope next to your hand. “Is there anything else you need, Miss?”

Looking up at her, you shake your head with a smile. “I want you to finish up and take an early evening. Go home, see your children,” you tell her. “You shouldn’t waste your time in this office when you could be with your family.”

Something about the way her face lights up with the gratitude that wraps her fragile heart in a warm hug makes you feel a little better about yourself. 

“Thank you so much,” she says. “You really are incredibly generous.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. You’ve been working so hard, you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

She sighs happily. With a gentle, “Have a good night. And thank you again,” she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your office to gather her things in the foyer. 

You are well aware that her job—working with you and getting caught up in whatever criminal chaos you engage in—puts her future at risk every day, and yet every day, she comes back to work. 

Not that she has much of a choice, anyway. You loathe yourself for being incapable of offering her one. Beth stays because she believes that she owes you, and that alone adds another hundred tons of weight to the bricks that are already weighing heavily on your heart. 

You reach for the envelope. The paper feels expensive underneath your fingertips. You turn it around to see who sent it, and the name strikes a chord before it has even been fully processed. Your body knows that something isn’t quite right. The sense of doom that fills you hangs over your head like the blade of a guillotine, ready to separate your head from your body. 

Enoch Thompson.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He is a man whose reputation precedes him. County treasurer. Bootlegger. The man who used to run the city. And definitely, a man who knows how to make a dime or two in ways that leave even the actions you had to take in the past year shaking in their boots. You may be a quiet contender, but you always have your eyes and ears everywhere. 

The letter itself feels just as fancy as the envelope. You put down the blade you used to open it. Never before had someone rubbed their wealth in your face quite like Enoch Thompson just did.  

With a heavy heart, you begin to read his delicate handwriting. It seems shaky, in a way, as though his dominant hand was injured when he wrote it.

Dear Mr. Austin,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. You may not know me because so far, we haven’t had the pleasure to make each other’s acquaintance. From what I’ve heard, your reputation precedes you, and I went to great lengths to find a way to contact you. 

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Enoch Thompson, and I have reasons to believe that we were both once acquainted with the same man. 

Seeing your late father’s name on paper, your blood runs cold. The oxygen escapes your lungs and refuses to return. You skim over the letters over and over again until your head is spinning.

I was deeply saddened to hear about his passing. And I was even more saddened to hear that his only living relative—a daughter, for all I know—passed away suddenly a year later. That family left a great legacy behind.   

Your vision blurs. With every line, with every statement, and with every well-concealed jab, you feel like you are being led to the slaughterhouse. 

I remember him well, though it has been many years. He came to me in Atlantic City with a dream, and I couldn’t help but invest in him. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw his name on the back of a bottle of Austin’s finest rum. A fine spirit, I must say. 

I am glad to see that his legacy has found a way to live on in a great mind such as yourself. 

In your father’s journal, he always portrayed Nucky as a trustworthy ally. A friend. After moving to Austin, you studied every word he wrote, and the few times he mentioned Atlantic City, he never lost a bad word about Enoch Thompson, which, considering his reputation, always surprised you, but you had never felt the need to doubt your father’s judgment of his friends.

Now though, you are slowly coming to realize that you may have underestimated the secrets he took with him to the grave—that his judgment may not have been as infallible as you thought it was—and your veins flood with pure, unbridled fear. 

Fearlessness is a myth, but you usually have better control over your emotions than this. 

I understand that you are a man of influence in the southern regions, and your business ventures have not gone unnoticed. In light of recent events here in Atlantic City, I believe there may be an opportunity for us to help each other. You see, due to recent events, I have chosen to step down from my position as treasurer. The landscape of this city is changing rapidly, and I could use a man of your resources and capabilities to help me rebuild.

I know you prefer to keep a low profile, and I am aware of the risk involved in such endeavors, but I assure you, a meeting would be of great benefit to both of us. Besides, I would love to finally meet you in person, Mr. Austin. 

One hand washes the other. It’s a concept as old as time, but it is also incredibly fragile. In a case such as this, a chance of leaving even a speck of dirt behind remains, and then one person is bound to lose. You have seen it happen more times than you can count.

You ought to be careful, playing with fire; Enoch Thompson could bring on an inferno that you may not be able to counter with your own. 

I encourage you to think about my offer, and I hope I will see you soon in Atlantic City. 

Yours sincerely,

Enoch Thompson.

The force with which you rise from your chair causes it to slide a good few inches back against the wall.

“Beth?” you call out into the silence. Into the darkness. 

For a moment, it seems like she has already left, but not even half a minute later, she pokes her head into your office.

“Miss?” she answers. 

You let out a sigh of relief. “I know I said you can leave early, but I need you to call Leo and tell him to find out as much about Enoch Thompson as he can and bring it to me,” you say. “Tonight. I don’t care what he has to do to get the information, I need it in the next five hours.”

“Of course. Right away. Do you want me to ring Mr. Johnson as well? It sounds rather urgent.”

“No, I’ll take care of Anthony. Right now, I just need Leo. Can you do that for me?”

The desperation in your voice leaves no space for arguments. Beth nods, and she quickly turns away to tend to her new responsibilities with careful urgency. When the storm in your eyes becomes visible, she knows that no one in your vicinity is safe. 

Another silent curse passes your lips. You reach for the bottle of Mr. Austin’s Finest again. It was your father’s recipe; you merely adjusted it to fit the needs of the general public. This particular brand was his idea, his legacy, as much as the rum was. 

If someone hadn’t tried to steal all your family stood for, you wouldn’t be standing here, but right now, you are not so sure if it is something you should be happy about. You made mistakes, and if there is even the slightest chance that he know, you are beyond fucked.

The desk almost splinters underneath your fist when you land it on the tabletop. 

You touch your neck. Most physical bruises don’t last for longer than three months, but as you place your hand against your throat, you can feel the blood pulsing underneath your fingertips. You can still feel the indentation of his fingers that faded a long time ago. And you can still feel his hands around your throat, applying an inhuman amount of pressure to your fragile windpipe. 

Every breath you take burns like a thousand wildfires, rivaling the adrenaline that is threatening to burst your veins.

You can see him clearly when you close your eyes. It’s not liquor. You are not drunk. The letter on the desk before you triggered a chain reaction of memories, and you are not strong enough to tune them out. 

You remember that his blood stuck to your skin like corn syrup, running through your fingers and onto your dress, painting the wooden floorboards a deep maroon. You could have sworn you could even smell the faintest hint of copper in the air. But your senses weren’t that powerful.

He was just lying there—a man you’d known since you were a child in a pool of his blood with a golden pocket knife buried deep in his chest while you were cowering in the corner as if the knife had never been in your shaky hand in the first place.

Your father raised you to be an independent woman in a world where women have always been seen as property. You made peace with the fact that you would never be able to take over the family business because at least you knew that your father believed in your ability to fight your own battles. Still, he died, and a few months later, the Prohibition Act took what little you had left at that point away from you.

You had never planned to come back to your little Texas hometown. You’d had a good job working for a good family, saving up to leave the country behind for good; you had always wanted to go to Paris. 

The only thing your father had left you was your childhood home, and you cherished it with all you had. Until the father of the family you worked for lost his job, and they had to let you go. You were no longer able to pay the expenses of the house, so you had to let it go. It took only a few days for your entire life to crumble. You had been miserable, but the thought of killing a man had never crossed your mind until it happened. 

You had come back to your hometown to say goodbye. To clean out your childhood home and start anew somewhere with what little money the house would have brought you. But Henry Boyd had other plans that night.

One moment, you were on your way to the only speakeasy in town, wanting to check out what it was all about, and the next you found yourself at home with bruises around your neck and blood on your hands.

“I want to thank you all for being so patient with me,” he had said as he stood high on one of the tables in the golden establishment. “It is an honor to be here today, with you all, and announce that your favorite brand of whiskey and rum is officially back in business!”

As blurry as the night is in your mind, you still vividly remember watching him lift the bottle with the emblem that had become so eerily familiar to you because you grew up seeing it on every bottle on your father’s shelf. But the bottle in front of you had someone else’s name on it—someone who promised you that he would keep what he knew in confidence after the government shut down the business your father left him—and it dawned on you like a gray cloud threatening to break down on you in strikes of lightning. 

The crowd around you erupted in applause. And from that moment on, your entire world started to blur. The anger that consumed you was new, unbridled, and before you knew it, you were storming out of the building into the crisp night air.

How much can a person possibly bleed after having their throat slashed? You had never asked yourself that question up until that point. To be fair, six pints in a human body don’t sound like a lot until all six pints are right in front of you.

Six pints of blood on your living room floor, and in it, the corpse of Henry Boyd.

He came to your house. He threatened you. You had known this man for over two decades before that, and he still disappointed you because once it benefitted him the most, he turned his back on you and your late father’s legacy as if it had never meant anything to him other than means to make money. 

You had no choice. Your father gave you his favorite pocket knife with the golden handle when you were sixteen, telling you to always carry it with you in case you would ever need to protect yourself.

“You never know when you need to stab a man, kid,” he told you. “You should be able to defend yourself. I won’t always be around, and you shouldn’t have to rely on anyone other than yourself.”

You had to do it. You had to kill Henry. If you hadn’t, he would have killed you. 

When the realization settled over the fog, it was like someone slapped you across the face and injected you with cocaine.

You remember rising to your feet. Every step you took squelched with the blood stuck to your soles. It is a well-known fact that blood doesn’t easily wash out of clothes. You never thought it would be the same for skin.

You scrubbed your hands wildly, but the water kept turning redder and redder. It has settled underneath your fingernails and the depths of your cracked knuckles. 

A sob broke out of your throat when you caught a glimpse of Henry’s body in the living room, and it hit you again, stronger this time. Like a jolt of electricity. 

He had promised you to keep your father’s legacy safe after they shut down the factory. He had promised he would tell the truth, always because you were your father’s daughter, after all. He had promised, then turned his back on you and betrayed you anyway. 

You couldn’t let them arrest you. You couldn’t allow them to put you in prison. And you couldn’t disappoint your father like that, not after all that happened and the things you had to do. 

In a split second, you made a decision that would haunt you for the rest of your life, but it was the only right one at the time. You had to burn your bridges if you wanted to make it out of this. You already knew back then that you were going to hell one day; you could confess your sins another time. 

Reading books and educating yourself all of your childhood taught you a thing or two about how to deal with a seemingly impossible situation.

Your dress landed together with your undergarments next to the body. In the bath, you scrubbed yourself down until not a trace of Henry’s blood was left on you. By the time you were done, your skin was red and breaking out into hives, but at least you were clean. 

There was nothing left holding you there. Everything you once held dear had gone with the wind. Died. Passed on. 

You were never destined for this kind of life. Always the only child despised by everyone but her own father because she never acted appropriately enough. Because she had never been girl enough. Because she refused to conform to what was expected of her. Because her father had not cared about anything other than raising a smart young person who could fend for herself. 

You cleaned out the hidden compartment in your father’s bedroom that held all the journals he kept on the business. You were the only one he ever told about it. And you took the bottle of Whiskey you hid underneath the mattress together with all the money Henry had on him when he came to you.

You felt like you had somehow violated his corpse by stealing from him—you remember the feeling as clear as day—but you just followed mere instinct that night. You had to do whatever it took to survive. 

You tipped the bottle of liquor and poured it over Henry’s lifeless frame. It mixed with the blood, liquifying it again. You could barely feel it, even as it stained your fingers for the millionth time that night. You were going to scrub it off again, and then you were going to burn this last bridge for good.

You didn’t want to have another choice. That was the terrifying part. Part of you liked what you did. You truly believed, for the longest time, that the devil had possessed you that night. You could not stand idly by and watch your castle crumble down at the hands of a man who had never dared to think about anyone but his miserable self.

The lighter in your hand clicked. Your nose filled with the scent of gasoline. One advantage of living in the countryside was the visible distance between the houses. If there had been a fire in the neighborhood, it would have taken hours until someone reported it, and by then it would already have been too late. You used that to your advantage.

For Henry, it had been too late ever since you slit his throat, but he wasn’t the only bridge you had to burn.

“Forgive me, Father,” you remember whispering, but not to God or a priest; you were saying it to your father’s lost soul, in the hopes he would be listening.

The lighter slipped from your fingers with a little push, and the liquor on the floor reacted instantly with the spark of flames. As your childhood home burned to the ground, you turned your back on the past. You turned your back on your sins and all you had ever loved, and you built a wall around your heart that you swore no one would ever be able to get through again.

“I’d like to purchase a ticket, please,” you told the man behind the counter at the train station the same night. Well, it was early morning by then. 

“Where to?” he asked.

The postcard in your coat pocket had a very distinctive postmark on it. You still keep it locked in your desk. It was the first letter your mother ever sent to your father. 

“Austin,” you said, looking up from underneath the hat you were wearing. “I’m going to Austin, sir.”

“Really? You have business there?”

“You could say that.”

But, looking at the letter Enoch Thompson sent you, now, eighteen months later, the small flicker of hope that reignited when your train rolled into Austin that night burns out in front of your weary eyes.

“Boo!”

Your head snaps toward the doorway again. “Jesus, Leo!” You press a hand against your chest. “You just scared the living daylights out of me.” 

The fourteen-year-old boy smirks at your reaction. “Since when are you this jumpy?” he asks.

“I’m not jumpy,” you retort. “How about you learn how to fucking knock?”

He raises his arms in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I just thought that, since you asked me here, you would be expecting me.” 

“I gave you five hours. And don’t call me ma’am.”

You don’t usually smoke, but when your pulse is racing and you feel sick to your stomach like you do know, it is all you can do to get your mind back in order. You grab the pack from a drawer in your desk, instantly overwhelmed by the stench of tobacco, but you light it anyway. 

Leo approaches you. He’s a lot more confident than Beth is. She always acts as though she were stepping into a lion’s den, and maybe in a way, that’s true. Leo sees himself as part of the pack. A cub. He’s a teenager with too big of an openness to getting in trouble. You would call him a rebel, but even that would be an understatement. He’s much more than that, with a good head on his shoulders. 

“It only took me two. Not that it matters,” he says. “As it turns out, a lot of people have opinions about Nucky Thompson that they have just been waiting to share with someone willing to listen.”

You frown, looking down at the watch on your wrist. “It’s already been two hours? How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t study the way time works. I haven’t even finished school yet.”

“Did I ask for a smartass answer?” you snap, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. 

“No?” Leo pouts. “At least I don’t think you did.”

“Then don’t give me one. Jesus! How long have we known each other now?”

“Long enough to know that you only get mad like that when you’ve had a rough day.”

You scoff. “Rough is an understatement.” Another breath of nicotine fills your lungs. The words you’ve said repeat in your mind, and your heart cracks a little. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, kid. You’re just here to do your job.”

The cigarette lands in the ashtray on the top right corner of your desk, your tongue still filled with the bitterness it tainted your body with. Walking over to your mini bar to replace the empty bottle of Whiskey with some rum in your glass, you clear your throat and decide to change the subject to what concerns you.

“So, Enoch Thompson. Nucky.” You open the fresh bottle of rum. “What did you find out about him?”

“Well, he’s one of the leading powers of the liquor trade down there, but you probably already knew that. Or well, he was. That’s the important part. Apparently, the people he used to work with have turned against him, and he had to step down as County Treasurer.”

“I’ve heard as much through the grapevine. What would interest me is why he did that.” 

You finish pouring your glass. 

“May I have one of those?” Leo asks and points at your drink.

“When you’re older,” you answer.

“So your employees don’t even get to taste the, uh, merchandise anymore?”

You roll your eyes. “They do when they’re older than fourteen. Now, answer my question.” You turn back toward your desk and take a sip. “Why did Nucky Thompson step down as treasurer? Surely there is a reason his…empire started turning against him.”

As you sit back down, Leo steps in front of you. He isn’t very tall, but what he lacks in height he makes up in attitude. 

He reaches out and takes the glass from you, completely ignoring your previous words. You’re so taken aback, you can’t even be mad. You’re not his mother, after all.

His features contort at the taste, but he still swallows it. “Ugh,” he grunts. “The, uh, District Attorney’s office filed charges against him. And not just for bootlegging.”

You take your glass back, straightening up with a sudden spike of curiosity. “Do tell,” you press on.

“Violation of the Eighteenth Amendment under the Volstead Act, voter fraud, solicitation, and—hold onto your seat!—murder. They think he killed his current…let’s say lady friend’s husband–” he looks down at his little notebook, “His name was Hans Schroeder or something. The lady’s name is Margaret. Two kids. Irish.”

“So, he went for the woman whose husband he killed or had killed. Wow.”

Leo’s eyes switch between you and his notes. “Well,” he says, turning back to the subject at hand, “US Attorney Esther Randolf is looking to prosecute Nucky Thompson, and it seems she has very compelling evidence that might put him in prison for the rest of his life.”

The realization settles over you like a dark cloud, and lightning strikes you as the only pillar in an empty field. “That bastard,” you mutter under your breath. 

“I know, right?” Leo scoffs. “Can’t even do his job right. Thank God he ain’t our problem.”

He’s about to sit down, but you raise your hand with a warning look. “Don’t push it.”

He stops in his tracks, nodding. “Right, sorry.”

“You’re my informant. Your job is to inform me. And everyone who’s connected to what we do in any way can become our problem, don’t ever forget that.”

“There is something else,” he says.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you ask, and it sounds a bit more sarcastic than you intended. 

He doesn’t take your attitude to heart. Leo knows you well enough by now to know that you are not an irrational person.

Connecting the unveiled truth to the letter you received, it all makes a lot more sense now, and you almost want to applaud the man for his audacity to pull all possible strings to get out of whatever hellhole he dug for himself. Almost. Right now though, you’re fuming, and you’re scared, and for the first time since coming here, you are not quite sure what to do or what choice to make. 

Enoch Thompson can rot in hell for all you care, but your father’s words won’t leave your head and the looming sense of doom that is threatening to rain down on you like a guillotine continues to consume you. 

Who knows; if you were in his shoes, maybe you would have done the same with the people you know who might be able to wash your hands in return for something else. The world of trading liquor for profit has become a dangerous game in America ever since Congress passed the Volstead Act. 

There is a reason that legally, you don’t exist anymore. Legally, you’re dead. You burned alive in your childhood home, the one you set on fire. No one believed that you could have been cruel enough to orchestrate such a thing, and you are glad it ended that way. The town mourned you. It was sad. But you found a way to salvage all of what Henry ruined. 

You may have killed a man in self-defense—you may have committed murder, stolen from his corpse, and burned your life to the ground to fake your death and start anew somewhere else like a criminal and as a criminal—but at least you didn’t stand idly by and let a man far worse than you ruin everything you had left. You know you’re not innocent, and you’re no angel either, but the ice that surrounds your heart makes it easier not to let it break you.

Mister Austin was born out of spite, but spite is as good a reason to claim the power of an undeserving man. 

The things that need to be done are not always something you can be proud of, but your options are zero to none. To make money, you have to bend the rules a little. And sometimes, you have to break them clean through. You learned that the hard way. 

You stop tapping the brim of your glass when Leo calls your name. Looking up, you meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask. 

He clears his throat. “I said that his brother is in protective custody,” he says. Again, Leo checks his notes. “Eli, that’s his name. And I heard that James Damody has taken Nucky’s place. He used to be his protégée or something. I don’t know.”

“Hm.” You empty what little rum that’s left from the portion you poured yourself.

The sticky liquid is eerily similar to the consistency of fresh blood. You rub it between your middle and index finger, and for just a second, your eyes make it look like it’s scarlet.  

In your peripheral vision, you can see Leo moving his hat back onto his head. “Well, that’s all I have. Not everyone hates Nucky Thompson, and not everyone loves gossip as much as old ladies peeking out of windows in Atlantic City.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, reaching for the envelope with the leftover dollar bills from earlier. “That helped a lot.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, “that’s my job.”

“You’re right, but I’m still giving you an additional fifty to buy something nice for your mother.” You count the bills that fit his rate, sliding them over to his side.

The boy takes them with a smug grin on his face. “So you’re giving my mother a raise but not me, the one who’s actually doing the dirty work for you?” 

Rolling your eyes, you add another twenty. “Don’t waste it on something useless,” you warn him. “Our last deal may have been a financial miracle, but I can’t go around giving bonuses to everyone every week.”

Leo counts the money you gave him, and he seems rather satisfied with the fruits of his labor. “I’ll take it,” he says.

As he makes his way to the door, your eyes flick between the envelope, Nucky Thompson’s letter, and the telephone. You’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble, but you have reached a dead end. He forced you into a corner that you could only get out if you faced him. All the scenarios in your head end with a disaster. The only point of escape is the one Nucky forced you through. 

You should think this through, but every second you spend thinking is another second closer to losing it all. 

“Wait,” you stop Leo in his tracks. “How much would it take for you to look after the farm for…let’s say a week?” 

He raises his eyebrows. “A week?”

“Yeah. Feed the cattle, take the horses out, make sure the chickens don’t starve, that sort of thing.”

“Twenty bucks an hour,” he says.

“Fifteen,” you counter, “and you get to take all the eggs.”

“Nineteen.”

“I’m not negotiating with a child.”

“Eighteen and the eggs.”

“Fine. Seventeen. Last offer.”

Leo’s lips curl up. “I guess your animals won’t have to starve after all.”

“I’ll tell Beth to make sure you get your money on time,” you state. “And I’ll let you know if my plans change.”

You pick up the receiver of your telephone, pressing the button to connect you with the operator. 

“Where are you going, anyway?” he inquires. 

The line rings into your ear with every breath you take. You know it’s a decision you shouldn’t make. You shouldn’t run toward danger without knowing what you’re getting yourself into, but there is nothing you wouldn’t do to assure the safety of the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Atlantic City,” you finally answer, and it dawns on Leo at the same time the weight becomes a reality on your shoulders. 

The operator asks to know who you are calling for, and you repeat the number that is more than familiar to you back to her. Again, the line rings as it starts to connect. 

“You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, aren’t you?” Leo asks again.

He’s too curious of a child for his own good. Sometimes, you want to curse him for it. 

The lump in your throat feels significantly bigger than it did five minutes ago. You nod, but that’s all you can do.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

With a bitter chuckle, you shake your head. “I wish I did, but no,” you say. “I have no fucking clue.”

Leo flips his hat back onto his head. “Well, at least try to stay safe out there,” he tells you.

“I will. Thank you.” But you know that it’s a lie.

The line finally stops ringing and clicks when the door has fallen shut behind him. 

You tear your eyes away from the empty spot before you and focus on the piece of paper on your desk. Enoch Thompson’s name sticks out to you like a million candles on a pitch-black midnight. 

“Andrew,” you greet him. Your fingers fiddle with the envelope. “It’s me. Listen, I have to tell you something, and I hereby ask you not to murder me.”

You’re going to Atlantic City to meet with Nucky Thompson, that much you have decided, and there is nothing in this world anyone could do that would stop you from doing what you believe is right.

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! Starting after this chapter!

[selfship-confession-box]

I selfship with a character from an infamous webcomic that I found when I was middle school... I'll admit when I first found said character I wasn't super far into the webcomic and mainly fell for him due to his aesthetic, nice fanart, and really amazing fan content of him in general. Then I finally met him within the comic itself.

He's... not a good person. At all. But the ways in which he's not a good person are fascinating to me. He's fascinating to me in general. And despite all this, I found myself smitten. I've been in love with him for a good, long while now and he is a massive comfort to me. I know within canon he never received any character growth and mainly existed to be an example of a really awful person and also be somewhat of a joke... but I like to imagine that he could change. That he could grow. I saw a bit of myself in him I guess... some of my own neuroses... the version of him I selfship with therefor is the version of him who's reflected and grown and become better. It doesn't erase all the horrible things he did or the people he hurt, but he's genuinely trying to improve. This is all rambling I suppose but... I'm proud of him. He reminds me I can still grow and improve as well. He loves me and accepts me for all my flaws and mental health issues. But I cannot look at tags related to him anymore because they all focus on how horrible he is- not just that- but how stupid and idiotic anyone who could possibly like him is as well. Is he terrible in canon? Yes. I know this and I won't defend his actions. But I hate the implication that if you like him, find him interesting, or (god forbid) think he could ever change then you condone all those horrible things and are a horrible person by proxy. I have horrific moral OCD as well so seeing that stuff can send me spiralling. I know at the end of the day everyone is allowed their opinions and interpretations so I just avoid the tag and block where I see fit... but it still stings I guess... to have it so clear that people find those like me idiotic at best or condoning the behavior at worst just because I like to believe he could grow and because I characterize him with a bit more nuance than I think canon allowed him. He and the majority of the characters in his group are all rather one note at times so I don't understand why the others are allowed the ability to be fleshed out in fan interpretation but he isn't...

Sorry again for rambling, I just wanted to get this off my chest because I felt like I would be seen as stupid for posting about it elsewhere. He's just... a comfort to me... and I like to believe he (or anyone really) has the ability to grow and change and improve with time. Again, not condoning or excusing his in canon actions!!! But, he's special to me. I'm sure people who know the webcomic will get who I'm talking about. He's a very divisive character after all. That's all. Thank you. 💜

.

[zaritarazi]

okay listen i was talking to ki about constantine in legends and we ended up on "zari and behrad and astra but in constantine" and let me tell you. this idea is delicious

astra kind of already has a set plot we can come back to her if we'd like bc i, tumblr user zaritarazi, would, surprisingly, love to talk about the idea of zari & behrad tarazi and how they would fit and act in this universe instead of the legends one

now you're going to have to walk with me a bit because i am, for all intents and purposes, kind of hot glueing parts of dc magic canon together- in fairness, this is also what dc comics does and i am objectively more valid- so we have black adam who never actually shows up in this imagined second? third? season of nbc's constantine, he's allowed to be bi in this one, but basically zari and behrad are minor characters that flit in and out to be like hey. just a reminder there's way bigger things out there and some of them, at some point, will be either your fault or your problem. also did you kill doctor fate you stupid fuck

so like in my head zari is a mix of comics canon, archeology adjacent, very heavily zari tarazi, outside presentation of a very bubbly socialite (THIS IS A TRICK) actual personality of like, extraordinarily clever, too sharp-witted, cares about humanity, but also feels very detached from it by this point. and she's aware of that and she's not thrilled about it. she and john have a deeply antagonistic relationship, and she's right, they flirt constantly and only through negging.

essentially both consider the other a con-person and a professional liar and King or Queen Not to Be Trusted, any time john's flirting gets too friendly zari threatens to tell teth-adam and any time she does that john asks her why he's never actually around (this is a complicated plot point i haven't decided on. i'm writing an imaginary third? season of a show that didn't get a second. bear with me)

actually everyone shut up i'm a genius bc felix faust is a big antagonizer of black adam and john constantine, had a super gross plot when he brought adrianna back to life that we will not be using, but he is a common enemy even though john kills him once or twice a season. bringing the tarazis in as signifiers of the far-off black adam circling in the distance bc john can't kill faust well enough is like... kind of brilliant of me, actually,

also zari is very very good at getting rare items, either because she's rich or very charming or both. i don't think she's a celebrity in this one, i think the tarazis are just rich, not sure how or why, roll with it, but she's a very good finder of things, and also she can still talk to dragons. this is mentioned once and never explained

okay this post went on way longer for zari than i expected- i'm sure you knew this would be the case but you know me better than i know myself- behrad but in nbc's constantine, he's allowed to be bi in this one, post to follow at some point soon