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stylistiquements · 4 years ago

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There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride.

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day.

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice.

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated.

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow.

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human.

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have.

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace?

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty.

Every single time.

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat.

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others.

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that.

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule.

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them.

Look what the cat dragged in.

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang.

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back.

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …”

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away.

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ?

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile.

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions.

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways.

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it.

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind.

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin.

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long.

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach.

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself.

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear.

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job.

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one. “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically.

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes.

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness.

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.

He was so close.

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all.

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense.

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be.

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose.

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos.

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call.

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you.

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath.

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape.

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin.

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him.

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home.

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband fic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #among us au #corpse x you #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse scenario #corpse imagine #corpse among us #corpse fluf #corpse angst

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swiftgronmasterpost · 4 years ago

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Winter 2013 - The Beginning of the End and Dianna’s Private Tumblr

January 4, 2013 - Haylor Breakup

Taylor and Harry publicly split and leave us with this iconic picture:

January 10, 2013 - People’s Choice Awards

Haylor is done, Harry is back in the UK, but Taylor shows up with a hickey anyway. (Dianna is in LA at this time.)

Some time this month Taylor writes How You Get The Girl which is about obviously someone who comes back to get the girl. She references “standing in the rain” and “a long six months.” It’s hard to know if these details are more “fanfic” or actual autobiographical details.

This six months may actually refer to the end of bearding for a while (because it seems like Swiftgron did reunite in Paris in early October.) Exactly six months after Taylor started dating Conor Kennedy would be January 25th, 2013.

As for the rain...

It rained twice in LA this month according to weather reports on the 21st and on the 23rd:

Dianna is in LA at this point and has started a private Tumblr blog under the name whosirmesir (we verified it was hers over on @swiftgron-get-married - and you can click here for more on that if you’re curious and actually I did an entire podcast episode walking people through it if you’re like like to listen to an in depth breakdown of it click here for apple OR click here for spotify OR click here for google.

I also recommend searching the whosirmesir tag on @swiftgron-get-married because we’ve logged a lot of interesting moments and connections to Taylor (quotes, art, and other items that tie DIanna and Taylor together.)

On the private tumblr on January 25th Dianna reblogs this:

It reads “i think we’re just gonna have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that...”

This is also the time period it is rumored that Dianna proposed to Taylor. I’m not sure what to make of these rumors. I have not been able to get anywhere near confirming them. It’s entirely unsubstantiated - but I explored the rumor further in this blog post (click for link.) And also on the podcast (will link just a bit down in this post because it relates to something else we’re about to discuss.)

February 4, 2013 - Dianna recommends “Far Nearer” by Jaime on twitter:

The lyrics are essentially:

“I feel better when I, you feel better when I I feel better when I have you near me

You Me You I do, I do, I do“

repeated over and over again

February 9, 2013 - Neruda quote on Tumblr from Dianna

Dianna posts a quote to Tumblr. The translation is, “I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.”

It’s worth noting that Taylor namechecked Neruda in the Red album booklet.

February 10, 2013 - The Grammys

Dianna wants to make sure everyone is watching:

And Taylor posts:

“Look what happened! :)”

She won for Safe and Sound:

And she performs her circus themed rendition of WANEGBT (where she mocks Harry Styles on stage making fun of his accent when she sings the “so he calls me up on the phone” part of the song even though this song was written before she was even with him.)

The only other time Dianna tweeted about the Grammys was when Glee was involved the year before.

February 14, 2013 - Achele breakfast and The Inside Source at Glee Tweet

According to a Facebook user Cory, Dianna, and Lea have breakfast this morning (or around this time):

Later that day Taylor posts the infamous tweet:

The Glee Episode “I Do” airs and there is no Taylor song included. However Dianna and Naya’s characters hook up:

After the episode airs Taylor deletes her tweet.

As always I’m not entirely sure what to make of this but to me it boils down to three possibilities:

1. The fandom seems to think this proves that Dianna purposefully tricked Taylor into watching her “hook up” with Naya on screen. It’s completely possible that that’s the case but I think the next two options make a bit more sense.

2. It was a simple misunderstanding or a joke gone wrong. Taylor had a song earlier on that season of glee (Mine sung as a breakup song by Naya) and I have been told another song of Taylor’s was marketed for another glee episode later that spring. Perhaps someone got their wires crossed and misinformed Taylor.

3. Other nefarious parties:

a. It’s possible that Lea was behind this - she publicly had beef with Taylor at one point and she had been with Dianna that morning. Maybe she met up with DIanna, heard about Swiftgron being happy and back together and got a little jealous and decided to prank Taylor.

b. Ryan Murphy also seemed to despise both Dianna and Taylor around this time. He was also famous for stirring up drama with Gleeks on twitter and generally sewing discontent (particularly surrounding wlw ships and fans). Ryan seems to have a problem with women/lesbians in general. He treated Brittana as a couple horribly on Glee as well as their shippers.

He very publicly shaded Taylor in season one of Scream Queens and said in an interview that Dianna ruined Quinn for him because he said she made her sympathetic.

Not only that but in season 3 he destroyed her character - he made her have a mental breakdown - he had her try and steal a baby - he had her get hit by a car - and a huge plotline in season 3 was Quinn begging Rachel (Lea’s character so Dianna’s irl ex) not to marry Finn (played by Cory - literally the guy Lea chose Dianna over - this is like...emotionally abusive if you ask me.) After season 3 Dianna only appeared in 8 episodes of the remaining 55 after being in every episode and the top third billed of the cast in the first three seasons.

Furthermore in a show called The New Normal there was a bitchy actress character named Brynn who he wrote as high maintenance and unpleasant and then killed off.

So yeah...seems fair to at least consider that Ryan or Lea who publicly had problems with both Taylor and Dianna may have been trying to create problems for Swiftgron. One last note about Lea - there was not a single Achele interaction for the entire year of 2013. The most we got was Dianna liking a tweet about Lea’s album in December 2013 and when asked about one another in interviews they would vaguely say they were still friends. No tweets to one another, no birthday messages, no candids, no hang outs. Lea’s book was also written around this time and does not make a single mention of Dianna - her former roommate and “best friend” even though she spends plenty of time talking about others on the Glee cast.

I did a podcast episode on both the proposal rumors and the inside source at Glee tweet if you want more extensive takes on that!

While I’m not entirely sure Dianna had anything to do with this tweet Taylor references this date (2-14-13) by putting it on a dollar bill as a serial number in The Man music video:

At any rate Taylor deletes the tweet and replaces it with one about her dancers:

Dianna tweets 9 hearts that day (I don’t know if that’s significant but if they were together from March 2012 to July 2012 and then October 2012 to this point it would mean 9 months together...)

February 19, 2013 - Sad Charlie Brown Tumblr post from Dianna:

February 27, 2013 - Fitzgerald quote

Taylor listed this as a quote to live by in an interview with Marie Claire a few months later.

I’m not sure if it’s important but Dianna is very quiet this winter and spring in terms of showing up at events, parties, even being papped out on the street compared to other years around this time. She seems to disappear a bit.

February 27, 2013 - Taylor gives a bday shoutout to her Fiddle player Caitlin:

“Happy Birthday to my magical friend, fiddle extraordinaire @/caitlinbird”

March 12, 2013 - Weird tweets from Dianna “One of those days.”

March 13, 2013 - It’s the first day of the Red tour (is that why Dianna had questions?)

About the Red Tour - the last act of the tour seems to be circus themed which may have been inspired by Dianna’s 26th birthday the previous year and really interestingly Taylor has a white rabbit, which is a reference to Alice in Wonderland (Dianna’s favorite piece of media ever) follows Taylor around stage during the WANEGBT performance as she’s dressed up like a circus ringleader:

March 18, 2013 - Dianna goes on a Girls HBO rant (we know who also loved Girls the show and its creator Lena Dunham (Taylor))

End of March - Lena and Ashley show up at the Red Tour backstage

Conclusion - Swiftgron is on but completely underground. Dianna is blogging and tweeting romantic things about missing girls, Taylor’s interests, and secret love, all while watching Taylor perform at the Grammys and encouraging others to tune in. Something weird happened with the inside source at Glee tweet but who knows what. Dianna seems a bit restless and emo while Taylor leaves to go on tour.

Click here to keep reading!

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kunikiiida-kuuun · 4 years ago

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Against our will, wisdom comes. (KuniKatai)

Nothing was out of ordinary when Kunikida stormed into Katai Tayama’s house. He grumbled about his old friend’s usual untidiness, (and yet, rolled up his sleeves and started washing the unwashed dishes.) The room was still cluttered with take-out boxes, plates, bottles, books, and numerous wires ran across the room, connected to a hoard of electronic devices. Everything was the same except, the figure under the futon remained unmoved.

Kunikida should have known something was off when he saw that hung up expression on his face. (Yes, even more hung up than usual.) The Katai who would at least retort or hum in response was unusually quiet. He wondered whether he was ill.

Kunikida’s suspicions were confirmed when he placed a plate of Takoyaki, and Katai eyed it from under his futon, and after several moments, picked one up with the toothpick and nibbled on it like a mole. (Dated two days ago in Kunikida’s notebook: Katai craved for some street Takoyaki from Motomachi. He purchased some on the way to his house today.)

Kunikida sighed, placing his hands on his waist, he bent to take a closer look at his face, “What is it?”

“Huh?” Katai grunted uninterestedly, still looking at the plate of Takoyaki.

“Come on, what is bothering you? Are you ill?” Kunikida can see the lift of his eyebrows as a surprised expression takes over his face. He remains quiet and motionless, which elicits another sigh from Kunikida. He wonders if it’s something else, something he difficult to talk about.

“If it’s about that Yamato Nadeshiko again-“

“It’s not that!” Katai denies instantly and winces a bit. Kunikida’s frown deepens, “Then what is-“

"I'm having a toothache." Katai answers in a slightly begrudging tone, as a child would admit having eaten a sweet too many.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" before he can reply, Kunikida pushes another question, "Have you been following the proper dental care plan I explained to you? First you need to gargle properly-"

Katai waves his hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah I've done all that,"

Kunikida pretends to be unbothered by his careless answer, "Since when has it been paining?"

"It's been a few days," Katai frowns at the glaring screen in front of him. It takes him quite a while to recall as he confirms the day of the week with Kunikida. When one remained in the house for as long as Katai did, all the days seemed to blend into one, making it hard to discern whether he did something that morning or whole week ago. Meanwhile, Kunikida remains unconvinced about his friend's adherence to a strict dental care routine, when he couldn't tell even remember the day of the week or tell from night and day, shelled up in his futon all day.

"And how bad is the pain?" Kunikida inquired as if he were a doctor inquiring a patient.

"I've seen better days." Katai's hand absentmindedly brushes the left side of his cheek where a light stubble was growing. "It's particularly painful at the very back on this side...quite hard to chew. My jaw hurts too, and it just feels uncomfortable."

He gingerly picks up a Takoyaki and puts it in his mouth; his face morphs into that of a painful look, as he struggles to gulp the octopus ball down. While Katai struggles, Kunikida wordlessly whips out his phone, presses a few buttons and makes a brief call.

It catches Katai's attention only after Kunikida ends the call with curt pleasantries. "Who was that?" Katai raises an eyebrow at him inquisitively.

"The dentist. I've booked an appointment for you tomorrow." Kunikida pulls his notebook and pen from his pocket and writes down the details without wasting a heartbeat.

Katai gawks loudly at him, "You- you WHAT?" he pushes his futon aside and stands upright.

Unfazed by his reaction, he continues scribbling into the notebook, "The appointment is at nine thirty, and the clinic is about twenty minutes away from here, so-"

"I'm not going!" Katai declares defiantly.

Kunikida doesnt even bother to look up; he had expected such a reaction, "That's ridiculous. If you have a persistent tooth ache, the natural course of action is to consult the dentist. That's all there is to it."

Katai flops himself back onto the futon and whines, "I didn't ask you to book an appointment for me!"

The blond shoots an incredulous look at him, "It's for you own good, you idiot."

"I'll just take some painkillers and I'll be fine." Katai insists, he picks a Takoyaki indignantly and forces it down his throat, to calm himself down. Instead of calming him down, it reminds him of the terrible toothache. He wasn't the one to shy away from doctors when he had a serious ailment, but in his head, he was convinced that dentists were evil, and getting any kind of treatment from them was worse than the pain he was experiencing right now. He wasn't going accept any arguments, not even from his old friend.

"No, I doubt that. Besides from the kind of pain you're describing, it's probably a chance that it's a wisdom tooth." Kunikida explains with a serious look.

“Wh-What?” Katai splutters in confusion.

Kunikida explains to him about wisdom teeth and how some time ago, Atsushi had been complaining of the same. He also explained how the pain became worse and he developed a swelling in his mouth and had to have it extracted. Katai’s expression morphed from shock to fear and mortification in the span of the whole story.

“Well, by the looks of it, it seems that almost always, the wisdom tooth is extracted. So that’ll probably be the result.” Kunikida says nonchalantly, putting his notebook and pen away and proceeds to clear away the clutter in his room systematically. He couldn’t stand the sight of it any longer, even though he tried to ignore it.

He continues as Katai wails loudly in despair at his friend’s completely insensitive remark. After a solid minute, Kunikida lets out an exasperated sigh, “Katai, it’s not that bad, trust me. I drove Atsushi there myself. And he came to work the next day.”

"You're just saying that because you have a perfect set of teeth!" Katai spews grudgingly.

"I only make sure to follow a proper, well curated dental care routine from time to time. After all, it is essential to look after your teeth for a trouble-free and healthy life-" Kunikida continues to rant till Katai interrupts him as he declares once again,

"No! I won't go! Doctors, dentists, with all their equipment; people terrify me! I am not stepping out of his house, ever! I'd rather bear with this pain for the rest of my life!"

He couldn't do it. He didn’t have the courage to face all that alone. The sight of the cold reception, the beeping sound of the machine that displays the number, the smell of the clinic, the sounds of those torturous devices, he doesn't want to experience it. His heart sinks at the thought of his own childish behavior and stubbornness and wonders why Kunikida puts up with him at all. He couldn’t stand his pitiful self, unable to face the outside world like a normal person.

"Stop being so dramatic, Katai. Firstly, it’s just an examination. The doctor won't immediately whip out his tools and extract your teeth out. There's some protocol to that too."

Kunikida goes on talking, as Katai focuses with bleary eyes and furrowed eyebrows on the screen in front of him, mostly tuning out everything the blond says, lost in his own little shell, the futon wrapping around him like a protective shell.

"-The clinic. I'll borrow the agency's car, so you have to be ready at 8:45 am. Eat a proper breakfast and-"

Katai blinks, "What did you say?"

Kunikida gives Katai a cross look, "I said eat a proper breakfast because-"

"No, I mean before that-"

"I'll borrow the agency's car?" Kunikida repeats raising a brow at him as Katai continues to stare at him blankly.

Kunikida resumes decluttering the room, half done already. "Anyway, I'll get you some painkillers for now. Yosano-sensei is well acquainted with this dentist so everything should be alright."

"You're coming along with me?" Katai asks in a small, hesitant voice.

"Huh?" Kunikida stops for a second to throw him a confused look, "Of course I’m coming along. Why wouldn’t I?” he huffs in satisfaction as he puts away all the trash neatly into trash bags. “Besides, I thought while we’re at it, I might as well have my own teeth examined.”

Katai couldn’t describe the relief that washed over him upon hearing these words. It only came out as a strangled gasp and gibberish, which earned him another confused look from Kunikida.

"Oi Katai." Kunikida's voice calls him out in an irritated voice. “Have you been listening at all?”

“Yes.”

He looks pressingly at the black-haired man, before shrugging and lifting the trash bags. “I’ll throw these out.”

Just before he steps out, Katai calls him, “Kunikida?”

Kunikida halts by the door of the room and waits. “Thank you.” Katai murmurs, softly. If the man was confused as to why he thanked him he gives no such inclination; Kunikida simply nods in response, and walks out wordlessly. Katai figured that he understands after all. The two of them had a way to understand each other after all, after that many years of companionship.

Maybe he doesn’t have the courage to face the outside world yet on his own. Maybe he can’t throw away that shell yet. But maybe someday, he will. (And it doesn’t have to be by himself.)

Kunikida went along with Katai for his appointment at the dentist. Needless to say, he brought his futon, Yoshiko along, and attracted quite a lot of attention at the reception. He insisted to have it wrapped around him during the examination as well, but Kunikida managed to coax him out of it for a while. While he was being examined, some of electrical equipment in the room started malfunctioning as well.

(Kunikida suspects it was because of Katai’s ability, but it may not be intentional, and possibly due to his nervousness.)

It turns out that Katai was indeed in pain due to the emergence of a wisdom tooth. Upon further inspection, it was concluded that they did not need to be removed and was prescribed a few effective painkillers to get rid of his pain.

When Kunikida sat down to get his teeth checked, it turns out that he too, had wisdom teeth coming along, not one, but four, two of which were severely decayed and needed to be removed surgically. Kunikida didn’t hesitate to have it extracted the very next day, (as such a hinderance was not written anywhere in his notebook.) and immediately booked an appointment.

Katai couldn’t come along with him.

The only one who was free to take Kunikida to the dentist was Dazai.

Dazai to drove Kunikida to the dentist (upon his insistence that Kunikida must vocalize repeatedly, or his gums may weaken and the surgery would have to be cancelled.)

(It was a lie.)

He almost threw up on the way because of his terrible driving. The wisdom teeth were extracted successfully, although it was slightly complicated procedure. He had to be partly sedated and he had a huge swelling by the end of it.

In a state of sedation, Kunikida confessed guiltily, on the verge of tears the one time when he arranged a file in the wrong shelf, and another time he forsake cleaning duty because there was a limited sale on eggs and fish. He also threw a fit over the ice-cream which Dazai bought him to relieve the pain as instructed by the doctor, which he claimed wasn’t icy enough.

Dazai recorded everything, of course.

-x

Wisdom teeth grow in at the back of the mouth, behind your molars, crooked, sideways, or otherwise misaligned. As they grow in, they can push on other teeth, causing problems of overcrowding and misalignment for them as well. According to my non-existent medical opinion, pls don’t get it extracted.

#bungou stray dogs #kunikida doppo #katai tayama #kunikatai #bsd kunikida #bsd katai #bsd #bsd fanfic #i wrote half of this while i had a ice pack pressed to my cheek :')#but i love these two dorks #pls love them

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metinthehallway · 4 years ago

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It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Hello! Here is a simple little 3.5k fic! I thank @goldenbluesuit for hosting this spectacular fic challenge! I love what I've read so far and I can’t wait to keep reading. Also, thank you to @lilacobscure and @arrogantstyles for beta-ing and just being...awesome. I hope you all like it. :)

Warnings: mention of the word bloke from a non-Brit

Annie has had it. She’s holding two of her fluffiest pillows against both of her ears and has her white noise machine droning on at full volume. And she can still hear the sultry bass of Andy Williams singing his little heart out. She can hear him as clear as day, as if he were performing his very own live concert in the corner of her bedroom. Don’t even get her started on the Christmas lights. Annie had actually gone out and bought an eye mask in order to sleep, as her windows faced the neighbors front yard where Annie’s neighbor, apparently, was the sole reason their local supermarket was sold out of blow up decorations and string lights.

Harry Styles didn’t even have a lot of real estate to work with in terms of space. But he really made every centimeter count. One morning mid-November, whilst getting her mail, Annie counted about fourteen deflated pop-up corpses staked to the frozen ground, multiple candy canes lining his driveway that were about half the size of her, and masses of tangled lights strung up across every visible square inch of his home. If that wasn’t enough, he had a carefully crafted playlist he turned on every night at eight p.m. sharp that was approximately three hours and forty-nine minutes long before it looped back to the beginning song. She thought, fleetingly, that she should invest in ear plugs.

Annie prides herself on being a patient and understanding person. The only reason why she hasn’t held a covert operation at three in the morning to mercilessly stab a hole in each blow-up, or cut every single criss-crossed wire, or even ambush her neighbor while he walks out his front door in nothing but a fuzzy pink robe and no shoes, demonstrating that universal, oh shit the ground is cold, oh shit, oh shit, jerking walk, is because he only recently moved in next door. She was not about to be the one to ask him to maybe take it easy on the city’s power source, that she also needs electricity for her home, and also how do you fall asleep with this godforsaken music?

Annie is not prideful in this moment. All it takes for her to snap is hearing, “It’s the hap-happiest season of all,” for the forty-fifth time. With a loud groan, she tears off her beautiful, beautiful down comforter and stomps into her shoes, scaring Cindy, her sleeping Persian cat, off the bed. It’s two thirty-six in the morning, she realizes in a far off thought that doesn’t seem to make it to the forefront of her brain, and makes her way over to Harry’s front door. She has the immature urge to punch a smiling Santa sat atop a sleigh filled with presents as she passes it. All the lights are off in his house and Annie doesn’t feel a bit of remorse as she raises a half-asleep arm and slams it against the sturdy oak door of Harry’s house. For a full minute, it’s silent and there appears to be no movement from behind the door. A sliver of apprehension begins to worm its way into Annie’s bones.

There’s a better way to do this, Annie. Like, in daylight, during normal people hours.

She starts to turn on her heel, continuing her internal chastising and also external chastising, muttering to herself like a lunatic, when she hears the tell-tale creak behind her and a porch light flickering to life. Annie stands there, her right hand over her eyes, shielding them from the harsh yellow rays. She can make out Harry’s figure, dressed in flannel pajama pants that look like they were previously crumpled on his bedroom floor, a white T-shirt on backwards and inside out, and his signature pink fuzzy robe. His hair sticks up hazardously, sort of like a halo illuminated by the bulb behind him. His eyes are puffy, brows furrowed together and indenting a line in the center of his forehead. Lips as pink as a rose purse together as nostrils flare.

“Is there something I might be able to help you with?” Harry asks, a slight lilt to his gravelly voice. It’s a polite enough question, however it holds an air of carefully restrained annoyance. For a moment, Annie thinks she would be annoyed as well if someone pounded at her front door in the wee hours of a Tuesday morning. She quickly dismisses the thought, actually raising her hand in the air and waving it off as if it was a tangible thing. Harry raises one eyebrow.

“Good evening, well- morning, my name is Annie. I live next door, I’m twenty-two Ambrose Ave,” Annie starts. She doesn’t know why she announces her house number. She watches his eyes flick to his right where an engraved twenty-four lies, and back to hers. Annie shakes her head slightly before launching into a speech she never prepared.

“I’m here because I think the way you decorate is rude. Do you think, at all, of your neighbors? How do you fall asleep? Do you even have a job?! I never see you leave your house! Not that I’m keeping tabs, I’m just genuinely worried for your electric bill,” she continues, pausing to take a breath. “I have not had a single good nights rest since you started all of this, back in November. I have never hated the sound of Andy Williams’ voice more deeply than I do this holiday season.”

“Excuse me—,”

“Ah-ah! I’m not done, sir. Some of us are employed and have to work at eight a.m., some of us have cats that wake us up in the ass-crack of dawn anyway with their screeches and need all the sleep we can get. Do you know I had to buy a sleep mask because of you? Because of,” she pauses, a red rotating light from a candy cane passing over her face ominously as she turns around and gestures wildly to the commotion around her, “all this?”

“Can I just say—,”

“And the music. Are you eighty years old? The least you could do with this god-awful playlist is add some Mariah Carey, some Buble; even Ariana Grande has some sick Christmas tunes. The ones you chose haven’t been remastered since nineteen thirty-eight,” she finishes, eyes a little too wide, hair disheveled and falling in her face. Her hands are shaking and her heart is beating entirely too fast. Confrontation has never been Annie’s strong suit, evident of the lack of response from Harry as she cuts him off throughout the duration of her mini rant. He just peers back at her, face as still as stone as an uncomfortable silence falls between them. Frosty the Snowman rears its nasty head and Annie finds herself slowly closing her eyes and clenching her fists.

The second Annie starts to open her eyes, she hears the light closing of Harry’s front door and two locks click into place. She stands there, mouth slightly open as the early December chill works its way into her bones. She stares ahead of her and a murderous look takes over her face, cheeks red with the winter wind, lips chapped and tears starting to form on her lash line from the cold.

“What a fucking prick,” Annie mutters to herself. He can’t even respond to her? How childish. She turns around slowly, walking back through the winter wonderland, feeling defeated. She didn’t know what she expected to feel after finally expressing her thoughts, but she knew defeated was not it.

As she crosses the threshold into her home, she thinks, maybe I could’ve handled that better. Annie prides herself on her patience. She was not patient that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the month, Annie and Harry bump into each other way more than either of them would like. Once, when the mailman dropped off her mother’s monthly care package to Harry’s house, another when Annie had to begrudgingly ask to borrow his shovel when she found her car snowed in one early morning and a broken handle on her own.

They’ve even begun to see each other in the aisles of their local supermarket. Annie enters the store, unsuspecting and looking for ingredients to make her world renowned charcuterie boards for a work fundraiser. She stops in her tracks and almost drops her jar of green olives when she sees a familiar head of frizzy brown hair.

Harry is hyper-focused, reading the back of a spray cheese can. Annie tries to sneak by him and grab a box of herb filled crackers. Tries. She is unsuccessful, however, when her purse strap catches on a display and yanks her arm backwards, making her lose grip of the glass jar. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, as she watches the jar sail past Harry and hit the ground, glass exploding all over his shoes. The chattering happening around her ceases, as all of the blood in her body travels to her face.

“Clean up in aisle four,” deadpans a nearby worker dressed in a horrid shade of neon green. He sighs heavily, murmuring under his breath that he doesn’t get paid nearly enough to be picking up all of these olives.

Annie is mortified. She is unable to tear her focus away from Harry’s soaked suede shoes. It’s only when he clears his throat and shifts his feet that she raises her head.

“I see… that you’ve really got a vendetta against me,” Harry scoffs, eyes trained on his feet, where the olive juice has to be seeping into his socks. No one likes wet socks.

“That was completely on accident! I swear! Why is that display sticking three feet into the aisle anyway? That has to be a a safety violation,” Annie pushes out in a rush. There doesn’t seem to be enough air for her lungs in this store. Especially not with Harry now looking intensely at her, almost like he could see right through her. She folds under his gaze.

“It’s okay. I didn’t like these shoes much, to be fair,” Harry shrugs.

“Really?”

“No,” Harry says.

“Oh. Well, I can buy you a new pair. How much did you pay for those?” Annie asks, pulling out her wallet.

Harry raises a single eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth turning up and a dimple appearing out of thin air.

“Too much. Really, it’s fine. The juice is translucent enough. I’ll just use them as house slippers,” he says. He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the loud squeaking of a bucket skidding across the floor. The neon green worker returns, a dingy looking mop in hand and a frown on his face. His free hand makes the shoo motion to Harry, starting to swipe at the floor, completely ignoring the glass scratching the linoleum that’s mixed in with the olives.

“Do you want any help?” Annie offers, stepping forward to at least pick up the larger shards scattered across the floor. The worker, whose name tag reads Roger, holds up a single pointer finger in her direction and shakes his head. Annie takes the hint, while Harry just shifts his gaze between Roger and the mess on the tiles, mouth somewhat agape. She nudges his shoulder with her own and gestures with her head for them to leave the aisle.

Annie makes her way up to self-checkout, Harry following suit. They ring their items up in silence next to each other. They find themselves walking through the front door together, and it’s only when they’re outside in the sunshine that Harry lets out the deepest belly laugh Annie has ever heard.

“Oh my god, my toes are so wet,” Harry says in between breaths. “Did you see the way that bloke’s vein was popping out of his neck? I thought he was about to commit second degree murder right in the condiment aisle.”

Annie’s heartbeat starts to pick up and she begins to laugh along with him. Tears form in both of their eyes and they sparkle in the cold afternoon sunlight.

“I feel so bad! I don’t even like olives. They were just for my stupid charcuterie boards,” Annie says, laughter dying down. She sighs, wiping at her cheeks. She looks up, meeting Harry’s eyes. He looks down at her, smile fading slowly but his face still holding traces of warmth.

“Well, I should be heading home. See you soon,” Harry bids his goodbye. Annie nods her head in his direction and turns, palming her keys and unlocking her car across the parking lot with a chirp. She unloads her groceries into the trunk and slides into the drivers seat, thinking for a brief moment about the shape of Harry’s smile.

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The snow outside is falling. And it’s falling hard. So heavy and consistent that the power lines are drooping underneath the weight and the electricity in Annie’s house is flickering in and out. It’s Christmas Eve and all she wants to do is sleep the night away, then sleep the morning away, then sleep the weekend away. She draws back a curtain and peers at Harry’s lawn, the usual eyesore dark and covered in a blanket of sparkling white snow.

A sharp crack and the sound of something large tumbling to the ground close to Annie’s house makes both her and Cindy jump, eyes alert and tail all puffed out. She goes to open her front door to investigate and sees Cindy dart between her legs a second too late, a gray blur running into the stormy night.

“CINDY!” Annie yells, voice carrying eerily across the empty street. She takes off after the small cat, wearing only her pajamas and a pair of worn slippers. Annie loses her immediately in the snowfall. While outside, she sees the huge tree limb that fell onto Harry’s front yard, covering a third of his decorations, deeming a good chunk of them broken. She wonders for a short second why he hasn’t come out to check on the noise.

Annie’s heart starts to race as she tries to get a rein on her growing panic. Cindy is a strictly indoor cat, only having been outside for vet visits. She thinks of what would bring her cat back home, yelling her name sweetly and kissing her teeth loudly. She starts to walk towards the tree line, snapping her fingers and chattering her teeth.

“Annie?” She hears her name being called out from behind her. She throws her head over her shoulder and locks eyes with Harry, standing there in his infamous robe. He’s got his face turned away from the harsh wind and his face is scrunched up in confusion. “What on Earth are you doing out here?! Are you mental?”

“Cindy got out! I don’t know where she went. She ran in this direction. She never goes outside, I don’t know what to do,” Annie exclaims, feeling the urge to tear at her hair.

“Who’s Cindy?” Harry asks.

“My cat! She was scared by the branch falling and snuck right past me when I opened the door,” she explains, arms crossing over her chest as the chill of the night bites at her skin. She shivers, turning back towards the trees. They look like they’re beginning to come alive.

Harry looks her up and down and comes up behind her, wrapping that godforsaken robe around her shaking frame. She looks up at him, grateful for the extra layer. He has a serious look on his face, determined with a mix of compassion, and also curiosity. Annie is suddenly relieved that she has someone with her to handle the situation with more calm than she ever could.

“Why don’t you go inside and grab her favorite treats? And a blanket she loves? Something that smells like you would be best,” Harry says, listing off the necessary items as if he’s done this before. She looks at him, a bit puzzled, and he reads her expression easily.

“Our cats growing up were professional escape artists. I’ve done this once or twice,” he lets out a small chuckle. She nods and heads towards her house, grabbing everything they need and changing into a pair of winter boots and shrugging on a coat, shoving Harry’s robe towards him.

“I got everything. Here’s your robe,” Annie says, unable to meet his eyes. She already feels indebted to him, and they haven’t even found Cindy yet. “Thank you for helping me. I’m just… scared,” she confesses, tears starting to well up. She presses her fists into her eyes roughly as if she could stop them from falling.

Harry just nods, takes the garment, and starts shaking the treat bag. His deep voice carries into the night more than hers did as he walks around, zig-zagging across the snow. Annie holds Cindy’s favorite blanket that resides on her bed and wraps it around her. She follows Harry, both chorusing, Cindy! Cindy, baby! Come back! It’s too cold for you out here!

They walk the perimeter of Annie’s house, keeping to the tree line, when Harry shushes her. He stops in his tracks and listens to the silent night. Faintly, from the direction of Harry’s house, comes a small mewl. He walks briskly over, slowing his movements as he gets closer in order not to scare the small Persian.

“Cindy? Where are you girl? Come out for your mama,” Harry half-whispers, half-shouts. He’s still shaking the treats lightly, starting to open them. From their right they can hear a crumpling of plastic, a flash of gray shooting out from underneath the collapsed blow-up of Santa on his sleigh. Annie cries out in relief as Cindy comes running towards them at full speed, crashing right into Harry’s legs. He scoops her up swiftly with one hand and holds a treat out to her in his other.

“You had me so worried, Cindy! I cannot believe you. You want nothing to do with the outside world but decide to run out into the coldest night we’ve had so far! You’re crazy,” Annie half-sobs, holding the cats face in two hands. Cindy shakes the snow out of her fur and licks at Annie’s nose. Harry watches the interaction, feeling something unfolding in his own chest. He gestures for Annie to take her cat, picking long hairs out of his robe.

“I see everything’s all in order here, I’ll just—oh,” Harry lets out a grunt as this peculiar woman collides into his body, cat trapped between the two of them and licking at the pink fuzz surrounding Harry as if she were grooming a kitten. His eyes go a bit wide, arms frozen around Annie while she releases a string of, thank you so much, you have no idea how much she means to me, you didn’t have to do this but you did so I owe you, I’m sorry for what I said that night, I’m sorry about the olive juice, thank you, thank you, thank you, muffled into his chest. His hands find themselves resting on her back, stroking up and down in a means to calm her.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. I know what it feels like. I’m glad she was okay,” Harry soothes. Annie pulls away, and a strange longing passes through his heart. He frowns slightly and clears his throat.

“I’m going to go to bed now, and get this little gremlin inside. Thank you so much, Harry. I really do appreciate it, more than you know,” Annie says, a bit breathless. Snowflakes lay themselves to rest upon her eyelashes, lips pink from the cold and Harry has the innate urge to tuck a piece of unruly hair behind her ear. He blinks, forcing himself out of his head.

“Really, it’s no problem. I’ll be heading in as well. See you soon, Annie,” Harry declares. Annie realizes with a jolt that Harry just said her name for the first time. She’s suddenly overheating, and gives a single nod, holding Cindy tight to her body as she walks up the few steps to her front door. Harry watches her leave, only taking his eyes off her when he can’t see her anymore. He then turns around, looking at the demolition of his lawn. He inhales deep.

“Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry does a double take when he sees Annie outside his home the next morning, attempting to break apart the large tree branch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the remainder of the season, Harry and Annie spend an inordinate amount of time together. From binge-watching their guilty pleasure TV shows to roaming the streets downtown at midnight, sharing the same love for empty places. It seemed as though, somewhere in the universe, a story began to unravel itself.

As the last snowflake melts on the first stem emerging from the soft ground, Harry kisses Annie. He wasn’t even planning on it. It was like second degree murder. He found himself looking at her looking at the bluest sky, the sky looking back at her like it wanted to kiss her as well; so he kissed her first.

#GBSxmaschallenge #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #christmas fic #thank you for reading!

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frogs-spawn · 4 years ago

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it’s true lads, i have actually written something

(this was a prologue of a long canon fic that i’m writing/on hiatus on (oops) but i was thinking of changing the pov of it, so this doesn’t fit in it anymore) i may end up finishing the canon one, but it is long, so it probably won’t see the light of day, but we’ll see

anyway, here’s the ao3 link if you would like to read it on there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31116254

a tragic twist of fate:

summary: the lupin family are enjoying a quiet evening, when an unwelcome visitor shows up, changing all of their lives forever.

word count: 1.6k

The sun was setting, casting a burning haze across the sea, and subsequently over the unsuspecting cul-de-sac in the Gower. The pebble-dashed bungalows that hugged the road were quaint and uniform, with a meagre patch of grass out the front that barely constituted as a garden. All things considered; it was a very normal street. There were the Jones', with their tiny Yorkshire terrier, which was small in size but easily compensated with its tremendous bark. The Thomas', who were always out the front regardless of the weather, observing the street's comings and goings. The Liu's, whose windows were constantly filled with an assortment of different lights, illuminating the street, making it feel like Christmas every day. Opposite them, were the Lupin's. There was Lyall, who has a mysterious job that no one is quite able to figure out exactly what it entails; his wife, Hope, who made sure that the whole street was well and truly fed; finally, their 5-year-old son, Remus, who's usually found playing out on the empty street.

Remus, as expected, was having a game of tag with Julia from across the road when his mother called out from the front door. She had thick blonde hair, slightly greying at the crown of her head, which was tied up into a loose bun, the fly-always whipping the side of her face, which was covered slightly with gravy.

"Remus, it's time to come in now. Your father has just gotten home, and dinner's almost ready."

"But Mammy! I'm not even tired," Remus pleaded, shouting back, a little breathless. "Can we have a few more minutes? Please?"

"It's okay, Mrs Lupin." Julia panted, brushing her dark fringe from out of her eyes, it was a miracle she could even see. She was a few years older than Remus but was still somehow shorter than the boy (who was only slightly tall for his age). "I think my parents want me back soon anyway." She turned to Remus and smiled, "We're going to go out and play again tomorrow, aren’t we Re?”

"Yeah, okay then. I'll see you tomorrow! Bye!" Remus chirped back, with some newfound energy. He then proceeded to hurtle up the driveway and stumble through the front door.

“Not even going to give your old mammy a cwtch?” Hope laughed, following her son through the door, shoving her hands into her pockets.

He clambered onto his chair at the kitchen table and watched eagerly as his mother took a roast lamb out of the oven and began to dish it out on to mismatched plates. There were roast potatoes, which were crispy on the outside, but still fluffy and buttery on the inside, peas, carrots, and parsnips - that were roasted to perfection, and it was all smothered with thick gravy that was laden with salt and had the potential to clog up your arteries – but if it’s bad for you then that meant it would probably delicious. Remus’ mouth was practically watering.

"Now, as you've been running around all afternoon, I'll give you the extra roastie, how about that?" Hope smiled down at Remus, scooping a roast potato onto the plate.

Lyall stooped into the kitchen at that moment, placing his tattered briefcase down onto the splintered wooden counter and bent over to kiss his wife on the head. He was tall and lanky with brown curly hair that was just starting to thin. He wore deep navy robes over the top of a well-fitted suit, looking as if he had just walked out of a very important meeting. He could have been a very intimidating man if it weren't for the way his eyes lit up and his mouth formed a crooked grin when he looked adoringly across his small family, with an immense sense of pride.

"This looks wonderful, darling. What did I ever do to deserve you?" he laughed as went over to his son and ruffled his hair. "According to Mrs Thomas, you've been charging up and down the road all day! No wonder you look knackered." He fell into the chair next to him, as Hope brought the dinner over.

The family ate with easy conversation. Hope explained how she had heard from Mrs Thomas that Mrs Jones was apparently putting empty wine bottles into her recycling bin and Lyall explained his new case at work, but it seemed boring, so Remus didn't pay it much attention. He wolfed his food down so quickly, barely stopping for a breath, his poor mother thought he might end up with indigestion.

"Stay in your own lane, Lyall, that's what they said," Lyall explained in between mouthfuls, gesturing at no one in particular with his fork. "They won't believe me though, and that Greyback has been released again, the man makes my skin crawl." He used air quotes when describing him and huffed, as he took another bite out of his roast. "It's madness, I told them that. Did they listen? No. Cases of lycanthropy are going up and it's because of creatures like them. String 'em all up for all I care. Bloody werewolves.”

"Not at the table Lyall," Hope piped in, sensing that her husband was about to go on another one of his world-renowned rants. "I understand it's a pain, especially if no one listens to you at work, but let's keep dinner time a happy affair, don't you think?"

"Yeah, no, sorry love" he gave her a sweet smile, which she returned. "Anyway. Did you have you had fun today, Re?"

The boy looked up and nodded quickly. "Yeah, me and Julia played lots of games. We had a race to see who was faster. And I won!" he exclaimed, talking at the speed of a hundred miles per hour, he spread his arms for dramatic effect and sat up higher in his chair. "She said I was cheating, but I wasn't, I promise!"

"No, of course, you weren't." Lyall laughed and looked down at his son like he was the most precious thing in the world.

After dinner, the family were positioned around the small-rickety fire pit that was positioned in the corner of the patio, made up of broken slabs of concrete with weeds emerging like great vines through the gaps. The fire crackled and spat, specks of charred wood and the burning flame releasing swirling smoke into the atmosphere. They sat on wobbly wooden chairs, that they had gotten from the charity shop, which were starting to rot and covered in splinters. However, Hope had made some colourful and slightly garish cushions, so it was incredibly comfortable, despite the small risk of the chairs collapsing from underneath them. Hope was sat with a pair of knitting needles in hand, focusing on the burgundy jumper that Remus would undoubtedly get for Christmas in a couple of months time. Remus sat opposite and was looking eagerly at his father, who was making the little old wooden figurines of soldiers that Hope collected do an Irish jig across the uneven stone.

Then, there was a rustling in the undergrowth at the far end of the garden. The birds that had nested and settled in for the evening took flight, flying off into the rising moon, bright and beautiful.

"What on earth could that be?" Hope wondered out loud, staring out into the distance, squinting her eyes.

'I'll go check it out.” Lyall chuckled as he pushed himself out of the chair. "Probably just a fox, I shall go shoo it away."

He wandered to the end of the garden, managing to avoid the snail hotel Remus had built a year ago. He lit up his wand so that he could see at least three steps ahead of himself.

It was a surprise that it remained standing, despite the howling gales and torrential rain it had to endure, it stayed. For as long as he could remember, Remus looked after the snails in the hotel, gave them any leftover lettuce. They were his favourite magical creatures. It fascinated him, the way they could stick to the walls and go upside down, the only way that was possible, Remus decided, was magic. Lyall didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

"Ah, Lyall Lupin. Just the man I wanted to see." An unfamiliar voice snarled. The voice was deep and ragged as if it had been strained from screaming too loud "Fancy seeing you here."

“Fenrir.” Lyall cut back, voice curt but contained a small tremble. "Leave me and my family alone and take your unpleasant business somewhere else." He straightened his jacket and stood rigidly, making himself taller. But the figure, Fenrir, stood a head above him, despite his hunched posture.

"I don't think that would be necessary." He countered, his voice becoming more and more menacing. "How is your family? I'd love to meet them." He shoved Lyall out of the way, causing him to lose balance and he stumbled into the hedge.

“Hope! Remus! Get into the house and lock the door!” Lyall shouted, desperately, unable to keep up with Greyback, who was striding across the garden.

Hope quickly grabbed her things and ran, pushing open the back door with a creak.

“Remus, come on lamb, into the house.” Hope coaxed from the door, trying to sound as calm as possible.

But Remus stayed rooted to the spot, unmoving, fixed and waiting, staring into the monster before him.

Fenrir Greyback was a giant of a man, towering easily over 6 feet tall. He was unkempt and greasy, covered in black matted hair. His deceitful yellowing eyes emitting nothing venom. Remus scrambled off of the chair and edged slowly towards his mother. It was too late.

Their eyes locked. A deal had been struck.

Under the silver moon, Greyback's manic grin turned pointed and wider. Bones cracked, twisted, and popped. Hair became thicker, wired, and coarse. Tortured hands and feet transformed into gnarly claws. His previously crooked nose became a leathery, wet, snout.

Barring his teeth, Fenrir Greyback took a couple of paces forward, crushing the hotel under a monstrous paw, towards a terrified Remus Lupin.

And pounced.

#remus lupin #hope lupin #lyall lupin #fenrir greyback #young remus lupin #marauders era #marauders fic #hp fic #cait has actually written something #(don't worry i'm as surprised as you are)#sorry this is quite sad

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

Text

Souls in the Machine

Summary: Pidge and Keith go on a mission together and (as usual) things don’t go according to plan. One injury and a crashed ship later, Pidge confronts Keith about a problem she’s noticed since he joined the Blade of Marmora.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

I guess for this years Kidgeweek I’m just going to freestyle it and finish up a few one-shots that I’ve been working on. I won’t have something to post every day, but it’s a good incentive to finish up these fics that are just sitting around half-finished. Maybe it’ll get me out of my writing slump.

The title is the Goo Goo Dolls song “Souls in the Machine”.

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Souls in the Machine

Just for once, Keith would like it if things went according to plan.

When Kolivan assigned them the mission, it sounded like a simple thing. They would sneak in, hack into a terminal and obtain the information they needed, and get out. The entire thing would take fifteen doboshes at most and then they'd be soaring away back to the meeting point Kolivan set up, where they would hand over the intel and go their separate ways. Kolivan was so confident that everything would go right that he was willing to risk the life of one of the paladins, who had the skills needed for such a mission.

It was a shame that Keith was so bad at all covert missions.

He glanced over at Pidge, who was a little bruised after their rough landing but was otherwise fine. She was in the act of ripping out the wires she needed to build a communication array that was powerful enough to get a signal to the Castle of Lions, hopefully without alerting the Galra to their location. She already had the pieces of the comm system that he helped her break away from the dashboard of their dead ship and just needed a few more parts to get started.

While he hated that she'd been put in danger, Keith was glad she was there with him. Pidge was one of the most adaptable people he knew, able to adjust her plans on the fly to come out on top, and smart enough to make the best out of whatever situation she ended up in.

Pidge gave a triumphant cry as she yanked a handful of wires free.

“Are you sure you don't need a hand?” Keith asked, watching in concern as the panel sparked violently.

Pidge got away without getting zapped, though she did appear surprised by how loudly the spark cracked through the air. “Thanks, but this should be all I need. Now it's just a matter of putting it all together and hoping it works. Not much you can do with your arm like that anyway.”

Keith glanced down at his make-shift sling and bandages. He got hit by one of the Galra blasters while protecting Pidge and even though it meant his arm would be next to useless until it healed, he still thought it was worth it to keep her safe.

“You know we'll have to talk about it at some point. You shouldn't have jumped in front of me like that,” Pidge said as she sat down next to her pile of parts. She set aside the wire and began picking through for the pieces she needed first.

Keith frowned. “I did what I needed to keep you safe. I'm expendable, but you aren't.”

Pidge suddenly looked furious. “You- Excuse me?!” She demanded, glaring at him. Her hair seemed to puff up in a display of her rage. “Keith, you can't really think that!”

“Pidge, you are a paladin of Voltron,” he said firmly, refusing to back down.

“So are you!”

“Not anymore.”

Pidge opened her mouth but no sound came out. She struggled for a moment to find her words before giving up and noisily exhaling.

Keith thought the conversation was over when Pidge looked away and turned back to her work. She laid her tool-belt across one knee, sliding out each device as she needed it and replacing it once she was done. Beneath her skilled hands the piece of tech began to take shape.

He relaxed and watched her methodically attach circuit boards and wires inside of the box she build out of metal scrap, like some sort of technologically advanced MacGyver. He didn't have the first clue how any of it worked but he knew that Pidge would manage it. She always did. He'd heard all about her time in the junkyard and how she build a satellite capable of puncturing through a black hole to get a signal through to the Castle of Lions, which not only allowed the Castle to escape from said black hole, but was also able to track down all of the Lions across space so they could rescue them and their paladins.

Pidge stopped working.

She scowled hard at the box in her hands and then set it down on the ground. Her tool-belt soon joined it.

“Pidge?” he asked, feeling worried by the change. Was something wrong? Did she not have the right parts?

Pidge turned to face him and her expression was so fierce that Keith nearly took a step back. He swayed instead, fighting to stand his ground in face of her unexpected ire.

“You,” she began to speak, but her voice wavered hard as her lower lip trembled. She stopped and looked down, took a deep breath, and something in her expression broke as she raised her eyes back to his. A sadness that shook Keith to his core. “You are not expendable, Keith. Never. No, just listen!”

Keith snapped his mouth shut. He'd been about to explain why she was wrong, but from the sound of things she was working herself up into an unstoppable rant.

“It doesn't matter if you're working with the Blade of Marmora right now, that doesn't stop you from continuing to be a paladin. The Black Lion let you pilot her even before we lost Shiro and if that doesn't tell you how not expendable you are, I don't know what does!” Pidge threw up her hands and then stood up so she no longer had to crane her head back to meet his eyes. “And did you even stop and consider what sort of situation you'd leave me in if you got injured? I'm not nearly strong enough to carry you out of danger when you get hurt! And if the next words out of your mouth are to suggest that I should just leave you there, you had better rethink that, because I will never abandon a friend when they're in trouble.

“I don't care what bullshit Kolivan and the Blade have been teaching you, but your life is worth so much, Keith. You... you're important to me. To Shiro. To all of us. I – We would never forgive ourselves if we stood back and let something happen to you.”

Between Pidge's unexpected swear and the mention of Shiro, Keith was jarred enough that he could almost start to see the point she was making. Despite that he set his jaw, unwilling to back down. “I'm not going to just stand back and let you get hurt either. If I can do something to help, even if it means putting myself at risk, then I'm going to do it.”

“It's not worth getting yourself killed over!”

“I'm not trying to get myself killed!”

“I know about Naxzela, Keith. Matt told me.”

Keith guiltily averted his gaze and swallowed hard. He tried not to think of that day. They had nearly lost everything they worked so hard for from that single mission. He still had nightmares about it. He should have known that Matt wouldn't be able to stay quiet about everything that happened, especially with Pidge.

Pidge crossed her arms over her chest, but when she spoke again, her voice was much softer and less accusatory. “Talk to me? I just want to understand what's going on with you. Why did you try to do it?”

He breathed out and closed his eyes, reminding himself to keep his temper under control. If Pidge could manage to calm herself down and speak in a reasonable tone, then so could he.

“I didn't know what else to do,” he admitted. “Everything was going so well and then suddenly it wasn't. We tried everything to punch through the shield, but none of our weapons were strong enough to get through. I thought if I... If there was a strong enough blast it would weaken the shield and then the rebels could concentrate fire on that spot. If it meant saving you guys then it would be worth it.”

“Keith...”

“What would you have done?” he asked, forcing himself to meet her eyes again. “If you were in my place and knew that if you didn't take down that shield, then everyone you cared about would die. All of you were going to die, Pidge, along with the coalition and all of those other people. Who would have been left to fight the Galra then?”

Pidge didn't have an answer for that. He could tell by the way she dropped her gaze to the ground and fidgeted, her words failing her for a second time.

Keith took no pride in rendering her speechless.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do,” he told her and felt some alarm when she sniffled quietly. It was the only warning he got before Pidge scurried over and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly. He had the fleeting thought that she was so tiny for someone so fierce and smart and brave.

When it became apparent that Pidge wasn't letting go anytime soon, Keith returned her hug and felt her relax against him. They held onto one another, weaving the frayed ends of their bond into something stronger, and when Pidge pulled away after several minutes to and mumbled about getting back to work on the communication array, Keith's heart felt lighter than before.

He sat down next to her and helped out in whatever way he could, which mainly involved holding things steady so she could make sure all of the little pieces were correctly placed. Once it was finished and the distress signal was broadcasting, Pidge leaned against Keith with a soft sigh.

“I'm glad you're here,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Keith stretched an arm across her shoulders so he could support her better. “Me too.”

Pidge smiled.

There was nothing else to say.

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #fanfiction #I guess it's more platonic kidge than romantic #both are good #hi guess who's still not over Naxzela #it's me #I'm still not over Naxzela #this time I'm trying to see things from Keith's perspective

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snowdice · 5 years ago

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Gaps in His Files (Part 4) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Does anyone see the Easter Egg in here? Probably not. It’s pretty vague...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Patton did not like driving Logan’s “special car.” It didn’t matter what position he put the seat in, he still either couldn’t reach the pedals or he felt like he was too scrunched up; the radio was (somehow) only set up to receive the local news station as well as some weird station that only ran a program detailing crop growing strategies which Patton thought must be some sort of cover for a channel sending messages in code (at least he really hoped it was because otherwise its existence was an affront to humanity); and he’d accidentally zapped himself with electricity while trying to adjust the temperature twice in the past and he still didn’t know if that was a feature or faulty wiring and Logan had refused to give an argument that convinced him either way. Not to mention, the car didn’t legally exist. If Patton got pulled over in this thing, what was he supposed to tell the police? Sorry, my boyfriend doesn’t have insurance, I’m pretty sure he built this death trap himself out of scrap metal because I can’t even discern the make and model.

“The corn! THE CORN,” the radio spewed.

“Yes, the corn,” Patton spat back. “I know. I heard you the first time.” Unfortunately, today, listening to the corn channel was better than listening to the news. The local news station continued to discuss and theorize what had happened earlier that afternoon over and over until Patton couldn’t take it anymore.

A memory gun had hit Logan. It had been a theory at first considering the things Lightwave and Logan had said along with the fact that Logan hadn’t seemed to remember how to fly, and had been all but confirmed a couple of hours ago when news that the police had investigated the dropped weapon leaked. Which all meant Logan was out there floundering with no idea what was going on or who he was. Patton wondered how much was gone. Had it erased all of his memories? Did he even know his name? He’d known enough to be able to use his powers, but was that instinct and muscle memory?

The theorizing on the local news station just made Patton’s blood pressure spike more with every passing second. Not that turning off the radio and being left alone with his own thoughts was much better. So…

“Crop rotation!”

Patton was the only person who knew Bluebird’s secret identity (at least, as far as Logan had told him.) Well… Remy might have guessed, but he hadn’t been officially told, and Patton doubted he’d be any help anyway. So, Patton was the only person who could really look for him. Sure, he was certain the police were searching (as well as some doubtlessly more dangerous people), but Patton was the only one who knew Logan.

You don’t know this Logan.

His Logan would have gone back to his apartment or maybe Patton’s if he were injured.

Patton gripped the steering wheel tighter. Okay. Maybe this Logan didn’t know where his apartment was. Maybe he didn’t know who Patton was. But he was still Logan, and Logan was rational and, more importantly, predictable. Patton would bet that in a circumstance where he knew nothing about what was going on, he would default to general survival tactics and what had he ranted and ranted to Patton about when they’d watched that one survival movie? Follow the water. Water is where you find food and shelter and almost certainly civilization if you follow it downstream. Sure, that was for when someone was lost in a forest or something, not already in a city, but Patton hoped he’d fallen into that strategy despite that, at least until he thought up something else better.

That’s why Patton had been driving up and down the river for the past few hours looking for anything suspicious and listening to someone blather on about corn. He pulled up underneath a bridge. It was a little bit away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but near enough to get to a more populated area quicklym and it had some good shelter around because there were trees. Patton bit his lip. If he thought like Logan, this would be a good place to stop. He decided to get out of the car and go out on foot for a bit.

Before exiting the car, he checked to make sure the mask was still in place. It felt strange on his face; he never really wore one. He clicked the locking mechanism which made the lights flash once but didn’t beep. He turned and froze when he met eyes under the bridge. The stranger didn’t speak but watched Patton intently from what looked like a makeshift house under the corner of the bridge. Patton edged out from beneath the bridge and headed toward the riverbanks. His shoes sunk into the mud a bit. It was starting to get dark which made it hard for him to search for things that looked out of place, especially when he was unfamiliar with the area. He was just running on blind Logan behavior instinct at this point. It was also starting to get cold. Patton hoped Logan had chosen to wear the winter super suit or he’d found a coat or something.

He wandered, looking into dark places and listening for any sounds beyond the river crashing into the banks. Around 15 minutes into his walk, his eyes caught on a large rock in front of a drainage pipe. Perfect, Logan’s voice said in his head. Patton crept over to check it out. No one was there, but it looked like someone had been recently by a smear of mud near the base of the rock that looked like someone’s foot had slipped there. Okay. He peered around him carefully, walking back toward the river. He had the sudden feeling of being watched. Up. He looked up at a small ledge along the bank and sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

Logan stumbled back a step when he realized Patton had seen him and turned tail to run again.

“Wait, L-” he cut himself off. He couldn’t risk it just in case someone was listening. There was a reason he had the mask and the car after all. Patton was the only one who knew his identity and Logan wanted to keep it that way. He thought quickly, head latching onto a story he’d been told one night curled up against a half-asleep Logan. “I’m Devora the Mood Goddess?” he tried.

Logan paused and turned to face him. “You know me,” he said peering at him from behind the mask still on his face.

Patton nodded, shoulders dropping in relief. “I do.” He offered a hand. “Come with me?”

He looked at the offered hand and then at Patton’s face. There was a moment of silence and then he nodded slowly and took a few steps down toward Patton. Patton grabbed hold of his arm when he got close enough, loosely so as not to startle him even though he wanted to latch on and never let go. Something loosed in Patton’s chest at the contact.

“Who are you?” Logan asked, accepting the touch, though he looked at Patton’s hand on his arm in confusion.

“In the car okay,” Patton requested. He nodded after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I have body aches and from context clues, I assume memory loss,” he said, “but otherwise I feel well enough.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the car.”

They picked their way back toward the bridge through the muddy riverside. Patton groaned softly when there was an unmarked police car parked next to Logan’s car.

“What?” Logan asked at normal volume.

“Shh,” Patton scolded, but it was too late. A flashlight flared to light and turned to them the next second. “Hello Detective,” Patton said wryly. Patton had met Detective Silvia a couple of times, but of course she didn’t know that since Patton was wearing a mask. Logan knew her a bit more as Bluebird. She gave him a very suspicious look that grew almost hostile when she saw Logan was with him.

“Bluebird,” she said.

“So, I’ve come to understand,” Logan replied.

“I’m his friend. I’m here to help,” Patton said.

“Every villain in the city is looking for him, excuse me for not believing your word.” Patton sighed.

“He knows the code word,” Logan said.

She considered him and then shook her head. “I’d still be more comfortable if you came down to the station.”

Logan tilted his head at her. “No,” he said firmly. Then the detective yelped as her feet left the ground.

“Bluebird no!” Patton hissed. “The detective is our friend.”

“She is not my friend,” Logan replied with a frown. “I don’t know her.”

Patton rubbed his temples. “Just get in the car and put her down gently when you do.”

He went without compliant and Patton rounded the car. His eyes fell on the man he’d seen earlier, backed up against the wall with wide eyes. “Thanks for being concerned for him buddy,” Patton said.

They both got in the car and Patton drove away. He saw the detective being placed back on her feet in the rearview mirror. “Well, I’m going to have to send her a fruit basket,” he mumbled under his breath.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 5

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #tsss #superhero au #memory loss #past child abuse #past child neglect #emotional suppression #self deprecation #gaps in his files #labeled universe #relabeled; refiled #adriana writes #medical procedures mentioned

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bcrtonarrcws · 3 years ago

Note

Meta: Claire's relationship with Barney

HELLO, HI, YOU HAVE JUST UNLOCKED AN ESSAY THAT IS PROBABLY JUST A LITTLE TOO LONG, if I do say so myself and given that I wrote it, I would say you should listen.

Anyway, the Bartons are actually my favorite comic siblings to ever exist – probably actually my two favorite comic characters ever ever. Their relationship is so dysfunctional and a little broken, yet held together by shitty guardians and a rough childhood. It’s kinda beautiful, how after everything that happened to each other, they’re still close?? Like they trust each other, tease each other, they have each other’s back?? The relationship between Clint and Barney is truly one of my favorite representations of a pair of siblings who didn’t have the easiest life, mainly because, like without the superhero nonsense, their relationship is actually very similar to my own relationship with my siblings – a severely messed up ride or die that might end with one of us killing each other.

Yet, this question is what does Barney’s and Claire’s relationship look like, not Barney’s and Clint, which despite how little it would change, does change some things. To figure out what it changes though, I’d like to head to what their relationship is like, in canon, for me. I know that the fandom has it’s own view of Barney Barton – I don’t agree with it nor particularly like it, so it’s probably best if I explain how I look at their relationship.

So Barney Barton, born Charles Bernard Barton, is the eldest of the two – no ages because this is the comics and characters can’t have canon ages ?? I guess it’ll break the suspension of disbelief but like shrugs – and he showed up in the comics in 1969, before this, he never existed. Of course this is during the age of the 60’s so most superheros didn’t really like have a life outside of the comics they were in so it’s not that big of a deal, but like still, Marvel just creates this character to be Clint’s brother, tells us he’s a racketeer that’s been on the Avenger’s radar for a while, and then kills him in the same issue, only revealing at the end that he was an undercover FBI agent.

(yeah, they gave Clint a family and then killed said family right away, sounds so similar, y’know kinda like the movie-verse which gave clint a family with very little characterization and then snapped them – no wonder I love Laura so much)

Anyway, later issues of Clint’s will explain that their parents were abusive, they died and Clint and Barney ran away from the orphanage they were in when they were like teenagers – this would be retconned to young teenagers, then implied to be younger as of the Hawkeye (2012) series, which puts Clint sleeping under the tents at age 9 (src), which could or could not imply them being their already - it’s whatever, like it’s just gonna get retconned again. Running away to the circus always puts strain on their relationship no matter what age they are though, mainly due to Clint receiving training from their mutual “father figure” Jacques DuQuesne and Barney becoming jealous; a completely and natural thing according to all child psych I’ve read, it creates an environment that allows one kid to be the “golden child” and the other to be the “scapegoat” – now of course, we don’t know much about the dynamics of their full childhood, Marvel hates sharing any information like that, but we can extrapolate a fair amount.

(also, just so everyone knows, this jealousy did not pave the way for their relationship in later comics, namely Blindspot. In that it’s very clearly stated that Barney was found by Egghead to still be slightly alive. He was then held onto, for nefarious reasons, in a healing chamber, until he was found by Baron Zemo years later who then manipulated Barney against his brother so that Baron Zemo could get his revenge against Clint Barton. I’ll say it again, Barney was used against his own brother by an evil guy who hated Clint because Clint slept with Zemo’s wife; that is where the “Cain and Abel” dynamic comes from – not childhood)

Back on the tangentially related topic I was writing about. This jealousy grows until Jacques DuQuesne leaves after Clint finds out about his illegal dealings ( though the all new hawkeye actually kinda, maybe, a little, I’m unsure, retcons this with Clint finding out about it much earlier, when he finds out about Jacques having Barney stealing from people and places and finds the hidden cache of a gun, money and some other things under Jacques’ bed??? I don’t know, I’m now a little confused if Jacques still fucks off thanks to that comic ) - of course, this is after Jacques chases Clint through the circus, cutting the high wire Clint tried to hide on. Barney tells Clint, while his brother is in the hospital (and in literally a comic that got retconned basically) that he should’ve kept his mouth shut and stuck by Jacques no matter what (can we say that that sounds like trauma?? because guess what, psych 101 says that that’s kinda sounding like trauma since Jacques was trash to these kids, like literally, fuck Jacques DuQuesne – all my friends hate him – he’s an interesting villain but fuck the whitewashing of his bullshit).

This doesn’t sour their relationship at all – no seriously, it doesn’t which uh shows that neither of them really take each other at face value anymore – and they go back to the circus, Clint heals up, starts working with Buck (a man currently being written out of the comics world which is a shame because he’s kinda important but kinda not) and then Barney decides he wants out. With Barney in the army, Clint continues down the crime street and well, now that we’ve got a bit of background (over 800 words of background), let’s get onto what their relationship is really like for Claire and Barney.

Simply put, like in the comic relationship with Clint and Barney, Barney is a protective older brother, he taught Claire how to fight and aim, how to patch up simple bruises and cuts, taught her to drink her first shot (at like age fourteen, but like what do you expect when that boy was drinking much younger???). He was her first teacher, her best teacher – yes their relationship got complicated; it’s Claire when isn’t her relationships complicated – but at the end of the day, he helped shape her into who she was.

Less simply put…

He is her everything—in all the P L A T O N I C (I’m emphasizing platonic because please don’t take this in the romantic sense, they’re fucked up but not like that; I am not Marvel, I don’t ship siblings and pretend that shit is fine.) sense of the word—he was her guardian when all the guardians around her failed to properly take care of her; he was her brother who teased her and made fun of her; he was her best friend who understood what she went through, the only other person who did; he taught her as much schooling as she would sit down and listen to, he taught her how to cook herself some basic food.

He was a father, a mother, a brother, a best friend, a moral compass – which is why when he went off to the Army, Claire found it a betrayal. She hated him for the time that he was gone, though she forgave him not long before she first shot him because she could understand that to him (the little purple box in the third panel: Carnival of Death, of course this is how Barney would remember things) the circus was never a home, just another temporary place to stay.

(btw this is “shooting barney” thing that is part of my main verse, is canon. Clint shot his brother, who was working undercover as a bodyguard, while Clint was breaking into a mansion with the aforementioned soon-to-be-retconned-I’m-sure-of-it Buck Chisholm, which led to Buck shooting Clint in the shoulder when he refused to leave his brother’s body and pinning him to a tree – I don’t quite recall how Clint got out of getting arrested, I’m pretty sure it never explained, but I’m rusty and not really up for pulling out some old comics to read up on)

(I lied, here’s the comic strip: 1. 2. Clint “somehow” managed to get free, take his brother to the hospital and then leave??? yeah sure. )

Anyway, let’s get on with it. So if that was their relationship when they were younger, what is it like now?? Now that Claire has found a place – a sturdy, yet unsteady, comfortable, yet spartan, to call her own –

( and yes, this sounds angsty, but Clint has issues accepting that he is where he wants to be – Clint is always running, even when standing completely still. It’s a trauma response to his shitty childhood where they never stayed in one place for too long; even when their parents were alive, they moved from above the family butcher shop to the Barton farm. Barney had it too, but apparently a relationship helped with that (and okay, look I love Simone and Barney, but that part in All New Hawkeye rubbed me wrong as a fellow wandering child turned rootless adult; the guy needs therapy, not just a relationship – but then again, Barney Barton does not get agency or a personality outside of Clint Barton; his life must revolve around Clint Barton, even when he was on the Dark Avengers, it was about Clint – and yeah, they’re brothers, “two sides of the same coin”, and all that jazz but like I’ve got three sisters and a brother, I’m my own person at the end of the day – something Barney Barton cannot say, which means ending his story on the note of retirement and falling in love is just the best thing so they don’t have to keep finding a reason to try to remember that Clint has a brother I’ll stop with the rant, I’m sorry.) )

where does a man who no longer has to be a father, mother, brother, best friend, and moral compass stand when his sister has all that? Well, for the most part, he stands next to her – in my main verse at least. After he has come back wrong (Buffy much?), he finds his place standing beside his sister, no longer solely protecting her from the world (as he had always done because the world is not kind to lost little girls or boys), because he’s learned that she can, for the most part, protect herself, and Claire finds herself less on a lower standing (less of a burden in her eyes, less of a child in need of comfort) with her brother, but more like an equal, something that’s a bit of a new situation for the both of them.

In truth, Claire’s relationship with Barney is complicated and messy but it’s hers, and when you have something that’s complicated and messy, you have to figure it out, and that’s what, in my canon, she’s doing. Sure Barney isn’t around a lot - he’s got his own shit to figure out - but he’s her brother, and she loves him, and he loves her and they’re trying to get to a place where they don’t accidentally poke the trauma they’ve got and ruin a good thing.

......

Okay, so like did any of this make sense??? I don’t know. I guess, to sum it up really quick, in my main verse - and most of my canon - I’d say Claire’s relationship with Barney is slightly yet not really awkward – it’s awkward because once upon a time, it was simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a really important relationship because Claire was shaped by her brother (and of course all those shitty adults because there are no good mentors in the Marvel world, not for kids at least).

Idk, this is really just me rambling. Like I should just state that tis is just Mun taking all the retcons that Marvel stuck her babies through and trying to make sense of them along with a healthy dose of a smattering of psychology shoved all about because unlike Marvel, I have no desire to ignore the C-PTSD/PTSD that seems to follow both boys around thanks to their childhood – of course this crazy amount of words actually kinda ignores all the trauma they have as adults, but that’s a whole nother post for some other day

I also know that I carry some ~controversial ~ barney barton views - ie. he’s not a villain and that him and clint share a close relationship, that he isn’t dumb muscle (bitch got a 1350 SAT score with like minimal schooling, i’d like to see you do that) and that he wasn’t a shit older brother when they were kids - i’m not apologizing for them. not at all. i will never apologize for them. characters are more than one dimensional and if i gotta be the one to wade through all this vague ass bullshit to get those other two dimensions then i’m going to do just that, which i have done.

plus it doesn’t even matter because through all the retcons clint and barney has gone through, this is what their relationship is; a fucked up dysfunctional sibling relationship gone off the rails when Barney was brought back from the dead and manipulated/brainwashed into hating his brother. it eventually got better, how? we’ve got none of that, but it did and and at the end of the day, as clint said:

#murder-popsicle #/ i am so sorry this is so long #it's over 2000 words cause i couldn't shut up #long post #general trauma tw #child abuse tw #⤗ your friendly neighborhood wine aunt : bubbles speaks ❛ ooc ❜#⤗ the past is only a story : headcanons ❛ meta ❜#⤗ i am a leaf on the queue : queue ❛ claire barton ❜#⤗ sometimes your moral compass gets fucked up a little : barney barton ❛ brother barton❜

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mickmarstookmyheart · 5 years ago

Text

Life's a Sick Joke pt 7

Pairing: Mick Mars x Reader

Would like to start from the beginning? Great! Here is Part 1!

Sidenote: As this story is under construction, I would like to warn you that those chapters which don’t have a proper title are written in the main caharcter’s POV!! Be aware!!! Be awaaare! I hope you will enjoy this storyas I did writing it, have a nice day and feel free to leave marks!

7. “He is my brother.”

"Mass shooting at concert. On the cover: photographer who is rumored to be with guitarist Mick Mars, jump in front of singer, Vince Neil from the famous metal band, Mötley Crüe. There was a mass shooting..." You read it out loudly from the newspaper. "So what?"

"I understood that you saved Vince because I would've done the same...but you could've called me!" He ranted taking the newspaper from your hand.

"See, Mick? Everyone understands me except you." He just rolled his eyes.

"By the way, why didn't YOU called me?" Dylan turned to Mick. "If she was blacked out, you could've told me. I thought you are a grown-up. I trusted you to take care of her." Dylan was so furious, you haven't seen him like this for a very long time. He stepped closer to Mick who glared at Dylan. "I trusted you, man." Mick looked ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I... I just..." Mick started to apologize but Dylan cut him off.

"Don't apologize. It doesn't matter, now." He huffed and his face was crimson red. You put your hand on his shoulder to calm him down but he drifted away.

"Don't dare to touch me, right now."

"Dylan..." His hand swang so quickly you didn't even have the time to blink. His fist landed on the wall just beside Mick's head. He was just as shocked as Tommy and you. "Dylan, stop!" You walked closer to him and pushed him away from Mick. You stood between the two of them. You placed your hands on his chest but he pushed you away again and made you fell over. If Tommy wouldn't have been there you would land on the ground. He held your arms strongly and smiled at you.

"Hey there." How can he be this fucking tall?

"Thanks, Lee."

"Are you out of your MIND? You could've hurt her. It's okay if you hit me, but don't dare to hurt her like that again." Mick rushed to you and cupped your face with his hands. He brushed his thumb over your cheeks and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

"Yeah, and you?"

"Don't worry about me." You glanced at Dylan who had his hand on his mouth and his eyes were wide.

"(Y/N), I'm so sorry." He glared at his hands. "I don't know why I did that. I'm so sorry." He lowered his head, put his hands in his pockets, and ran away.

∆

"Anyway, do we know anything about the shooter?" You were laying on the couch with Mick, whom with you discussed everything, he also apologized for his behavior after Dylan's burst out.

"No, but I think everyone knows who was it. At least from which religion." Mick muttered with anger. He pulled you closer to him and placed a kiss on your forehead. It was his new habit. Not that you were complaining. He was sure the new album was the reason for the attack.

"Can I ask something?" Vinnie asked from the bed you were supposed to lay on. He was laying there and was staring at the ceiling. "Back at the auditorium, you said that you had been through worse. What did you mean by that? I mean, what worse could happen to you?" You sighed and instantly regretted saying that. Mick also glanced at you and Tommy and Nikki paid all their attention, too. You slowly sat up and ran your fingers through your hair.

"Do I need to tell you? Cause it's not my favorite topic." Thank Satan Mick realized that you don't like to talk about past stuff so he kinda let it go. He accepted as your present self and didn't care about your past. But now that you have a "new" friend who is curious as fuck, he will constantly piss you off with the smallest things.

"Yeah. We want to hear it." Tommy yelled and you felt Mick's hand on your back and was playing with the end of your hair.

"Goddamn, okay. So as I have already told or not told you I didn't have the most beautiful childhood. Just like you, Nikki." He glanced at you and gave a sad smile. "Our parents honestly didn't give a fuck about our wellbeing, or anything. When sometimes they realized about our existence they either hit us or yelled at even if we didn't do anything wrong. There was a night when Dylan and I looked after our sister...I was about 10 years old I guess, and Dylan was a bit older than me. Our parents slept at that time of the day. We managed to wake up Izzy and she woke up our parents, too. They were furious as hell and my dad even hit Dylan, even if he aimed me... Later my dad grabbed his knife and cut me with it." You sighed. That dream just brought up some memories you wished you could forget.

"What the hell?" Vinnie yelled. "Where are they? I wanna meet them."

"Let me finish it. The funny part just comes, I promise." You chuckled. "So, later, in the hospital I and Dylan had to lie that I fell over with a knife in my hands. They didn't believe it due they saw Dylan's bruise but both of my parents were joking about how clumsy I was." You lowered your head and played with the side of the blanket. They didn't say a word. They were both looking at you with open mouths. "Hey, but they are not part of my life anymore and I'm here and alive! And now I have a real family. You guys."

"Ohh we love you, too, Cooper." Tommy approached you and helped you stand up. He hugged you so tightly you were afraid your patch would bleed again. But fuck it. It was your moment and nothing or no one could ruin that. All the boys gathered and hugged.

"Okay, now it's enough." Mick spoke up and you burst into laughter. You turned to him and kissed his lips. He kissed you back more passionately than you expected. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I would've known..."

"Shhh. Don't worry." You kissed him one last time.

"Yuck. It's disgusting. Get a room, guys." Vince whined and you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

"I think he is right." Mick whispered so quietly that only you could hear it.

"Hmm. Agreed." You smirked.

"We can hear you guys, you know." Nikki spoke up and crossed his arms.

∆

"Is this Mrs. Mars?" The famous lady whom everybody talks about?" Izzy giggled on the phone.

"You are not funny. So, I'm not calling you just for small talk. Do you know anything about Dylan?" You got in the middle.

"Nah...why would I know? Why I supposed to know?" She giggled nervously.

"Don't lie to me, little miss. You know something."

"I don't."

"You do. Literally, I raised you so I know exactly when you are lying, even if I'm not present. So what is it? It's about his job or what?" Dylan's behavior scared the shit out of you. He never hurt you or was angry at you. Like, this angry.

“Err. Dylan will kill me if I tell you."

"Me, too if you won't tell me. Oh for the fuck's sake I will convince him that I forced you." You snapped walking around as the wire let you.

"Sooo... Dylan has been acting strange lately. And on the weekends when I'm at home he is out..quite often. And when I asked him where is he going he just sent me to hell and left the house."

"So he is going to parties?" You raised one of your eyebrows.

"Who are you talking to?" Mick asked who found you after you worried yourself sick about Dylan and searched for a phone to call your sis if she knows anything important.

"Just Izzy." He hugged you from the back and placed a kiss on your shoulder.

"Oh Hey, Mick!" She greeted the guitarist.

"Hello." Mick greeted back.

"So back to the story, please."

“Well, one night I asked my friend to spy a little bit. We followed him to a bar, where he just sat down and drank."

"So that's the big story?"

"No. He drank so much I have never seen anyone drink this much. He was completely unaware of his actions. He almost got into a fight, too." You bit down your lip and started walking again to calm yourself down. You felt Mick's eyes following each of your steps.

"Hmm. And then what happened?" You started playing with the wire of the phone.

"I told my friend to go home and I will handle him. When I approached him he shouted at me and was angry as hell. Although he told me to leave him alone I helped him walk home. We sat down and I forced him to tell me what the fuck is going on with him."

"And?" You were on the edge of crying. You leaned on the wall and shut your eyes. You squeezed your forehead with your fingers.

"I don't know even if I have to tell you this. Or how to say it." Isabelle was insecure about it. She knew that you would freak out, but maybe it was Dylan's only chance to get back to normal.

"Oh come on. If you started then finish it." You yelled on the phone.

"He has problems. Anger problems. Like our dad used to have. And he is coping with it with drinking. After he told me he started crying and shaking. I had no idea this thing could be inherited." Your chest was heavy and tears ran down your cheeks. Mick just looked sorry and he gave you an encouraging smile, not knowing the situation.

"It seems it can." You muttered.

"And he told me that he went out so often because he didn't want to hurt me. He pisses off of the smallest things, well at least that's what he told me. And we both know I can be pretty annoying. Anyway, what made you call me?"

"Because Dylan was here. And he was so outraged. He almost hit poor Mick." He took your hands into his and placed a kiss on it.

"Did he hurt you?" She asked.

"No. Well, he pushed me a little but Tommy caught me. Nothing serious. You know we always did that."

"Yeah, I can remember. You two beat each other like professionals." You smiled from the thought of it.

"Do you have any idea where he can be?"

"Well, there is one place you can find him, now."

∆

"No way you are going there alone!"

After you hang up with Izzy you told Mick the whole story. He eagerly listened to you patiently while you tried your best not to cry. "You are not even allowed to leave the hospital yet!"

"I will talk to Dr. Prince Charming and finally ask him when can I go. I think they have already done so many tests that I don't have much blood remaining and I feel good, too so it doesn't have any sense to stay here more. And I'm already fed up with this place. I wanna go home...well at least away from here, from these people." You complain Mick the whole thing under one breath. He just rolled his eyes but you hoped he now got it.

"So after you are free to go you really think you can find him?" He asked not believing you.

"Yeah."

"Then I'm coming with you. I won't let you there alone."

"He is my brother. He won't hurt me."

"Hmm. Really? Then he was just joking around yesterday?" He crossed his arms.

"You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that right?" You murmured.

"I know, babe. And that's exactly why you love me." He put his fingers under your chin and kissed you. "Dr. Prince Charming, huh?" He asked a few minutes later.

"Yes. But I'm more like a Dark Knight person." You smiled at him and wiped away his hair from his face and kissed him back.

∆

You were walking down the avenue along with all the boys since they wanted to go to a bar and neither of them wanted to leave you alone with Dylan. You told him you don't need them there because it's family business but they insisted.

"Then please behave, okay? And don't hurt him!" You scolded them but they just laughed.

"Okay, mom." Tommy saluted and looked at you with puppy eyes. Mick let go of your hands while you punched Tommy in the shoulder. While you were beating him, Mick walked farther and stopped in front of a pub. He looked at you and lowered his head.

"What? Oh no." You looked through the glass and then you saw him. Dylan was sitting at the bar and he had a big bottle of Jack Daniel's with him. Half of it already missed and he was pouring more for himself. He looked miserable and he supported his head with his hand. When you wanted to enter, Mick grabbed your hand. "Hmm?"

"Are you sure you want to talk to him...in his condition?" He looked deep in your eyes.

"I'm completely sure." You glared at him, escaping from his grip.

"Then ladies first." He opened the door and put his hand on your back to support, both physically cause your wound still hurt like hell and also emotionally. When you approached him you hesitated. You gave Mick a final look and cleared your throat. You didn't want to scold him why he hadn't told you, just help him handle this situation.

"Khm. Dylan?"

"What do you want?" Well, you were disappointed by this answer, but not surprised. He was devastated.

"Can we talk? Please." You tried to smile but he didn't even look up from his glass. "Dylan, come on. Don't be childish!" You poked his shoulder playfully.

"Me, childish? You are the one talking?" He huffed and pure more whiskey in his glass.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked crossing your arms. You started to get a bit annoyed. Mick pulled you closer to him. Nikki, Tommy, and Vince found a table in the back of the pub but they were all watching the scene.

"What? You tell me." He took a sip from his drink, but as soon as he put it down you took it and the bottle, too.

"Dylan Cooper, at least listen to me while I'm talking to you. And we will talk about whether you like it or not! So you don't have anything to say to me? Why you are drinking like it's the most obvious thing early in the morning?"

"Give it back." He needed the drink. He didn't want to hurt you and it was the only thing that was able to hold him back.

"Answer. Then I will give it back."

"I said GIVE IT BACK!" He shouted and stood up from the chair. His face was inches away and you felt Mick's grip tightening on your hand. The boys were approaching you.

"NO. And don't make a scene. Everybody is watching us."

"I don't give a FUCK if everybody's watching. I give them a show like your new boy does." He turned around and pointed at Mick.

"Leave him out of this! Let's go outside! Please." Finally, you made him come with you and were outside now. The others came along, too looking serious. If it wasn't this situation they might look funny. But this wasn't the time for that.

"So?"

"What do you want to hear? That I'm sorry and I won't do it next time?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That I hurt you. And your new pets come with you to save you from me. From your OWN brother who defended you from your parents and gave you the home you can live in and everything. I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!" As he let out his anger he started to cry.

"I don't give a damn if you hit me. And don't insult them. I told them to stay at the hotel but they came nevertheless. Please, Dylan, tell me what is going on with you! Let me help you. Please."

"Why are you treating me if I were a little child or a drug addict, huh? Do you treat them like this, too?" He gestured towards the boys.

"We are here and hear everything, you know." Nikki spoke up.

"Yeah man, don't talk about us like this. We have feelings, dude." Tommy added.

"Whatever. So let's make things clear, (Y/N). I don't have any problem and I don't need help. I'm an adult man who does whatever he wants. And if you can't accept it then leave me the hell alone! I don't want to see you or hear from you! Go around and kill yourself if this makes you happy. I don't care." He took a deep breath and walked away.

You heard a sound.

It was your heart. into a million pieces.

Next chapter

Tags: @cmft-jr-winchester @leatherandheels

Tbh that's not why I originally planned. But that happens when the characters come alive and do whatever the hell they want to do.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #80s music #80srock #mickmars #rocknroll #glam rock #life's a sick joke #life is a sick joke #mick mars x reader #mick mars imagine #mick mars #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine

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caligobeltrao · 4 years ago

Note

I for one would love 2 hear ur thoughts on the hannibal novel 👀👀 - bloodybrahms ☺

ahhh thank you BB!! <3 I’m gonna throw it under a cut bc I know people aren’t gonna want my ramblings clogging up their dash lol.

Edit after I’ve written it: Holy shit this turned into a monster but tbf I did say I was going to rant. I think I miss writing college essays...

Also, I would like to note bc I’m about to bitch, I do still love Hannibal and Clarice and all of the franchise. Hell, I even love book Hannibal because I’m garbage and want to be special. So yeah. It’s a fond bitching.

Okay where to fuckin begin man... This novel was a fucking Shit Show, my dudes. It was like baby’s first fanfiction.

Let’s just jump in, shall we?

So by now, having read both Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, I know Harris injects of lot of sexual shit into his novels, fine whatever, but the amount of pedophilia is insane. Like, Red Dragon with the grandmother threatening to cut his dick off by holding it in between scissors????? And then we have Mason Verger, worst human on the planet. Like jfc I’ll go into him specifically more later but just. Men. Why does it always have to be sexual.

Like that time Clarice wasn’t wearing a bra and she wanted to prove to Paul Krendler she wasn’t wearing a wire so she flashed him her tits?? Unnecessary, Harris. Bullshit on all counts.

Next, poor Ardelia Mapp. So he clearly wrote out her accent in Silence, which frankly reads racist since to me it seemed like he did it every time a character of color was met but he didn’t for Clarice’s Southern accent except for this book when she was talking to Ardelia. Now, that’d be a cool way to show how close they are, sure, but it just... She didn’t show up enough to warrant that reaction from me, plus all the other casually racist shit he throws in.

Ardelia’s literally there as the wise Black best friend to help Clarice along. She doesn’t feel like her own character, she’s only there in conjunction with her, or doing something for her. She was the fucking valedictorian for Christ fucking sake, she also works at the Bureau but if her department was mentioned it was only once in passing. She was not a full character which fucking blows because she could’ve been so cool.

And real quick before I forget, I hate how she’s treated in the end. I do like she gets a reference and that brainwashed Clarice sent her an emerald ring and a note saying she was okay, but Ardelia was abandoned by her best friend (that she had lived with) with not even a phone call and they will never see each other again and I think Ardelia knows it. It sucks and I’m heartbroken for this woman.

I’m gonna touch a little bit on the racism too. Now I’m white and not the most qualified to talk about this shit, but I do wanna mention it because it makes me mad. There’s just so many unnecessary slurs, any POC is more of a background helper character to Clarice than anything or a foil.

For example, Evelda Drumgo. She starts us off. Badass Black woman who runs a drug cartel. She chooses to shoot at Clarice and risk her baby’s life, and we have Clarice wash the baby off and save his life. Then Evelda’s mother is written as irrational when she slaps Clarice for visiting the baby in the hospital; I get Clarice’s impulse, but that woman just lost her daughter because Clarice killed her. I would’ve slapped Clarice too, even if it was a totally justifiable shot.

The baby himself is used as a foil throughout other parts, most notably to me when Clarice goes to visit Mason the first time. There are two Black boys from a foster home playing in a room with a camera so Mason can watch them, and it shakes Clarice up a lil bit because of the baby, but it says she’s getting more used to it.

Now this is half and half well written and shoddy to me. It’d be a cool moment, if the whole incident wasn’t nearly completely forgotten for the rest of the book shortly afterword. It could show growth, if Clarice had any growth to show.

And then the Romani people who are literally just used and thrown away. Sickening. Also very broadly used the stereotypes we hear which Sucks; the three we meet in any sort of depth are pickpockets, one was already in jail and Pazzi used his leverage as a police officer to get her to do what he wanted and threatened to have her baby taken away from her permanently, like it was just bad. And then the man got killed. Pazzi let him bleed out. Asshole.

The slurs. I could take out all of them and pretty much have the same damn thing. Like I get showing negative aspects of characters and just because a character’s racist doesn’t mean the author is, but with the characters already being as shitty as they are, fully didn’t need it to make them worse. Entirely unnecessary. Racism or the character being racist has no impact on the plot is the major thing, I think. And you can replace that with anything along those lines, like sexist, homophobic, transphobic. It didn’t impact the plot, they can still be shitty, you just don’t need to use them.

This also goes in reference to Margot being a lesbian. And the transphobia holy shit, it was disgusting. Harris had Clarice think something so cruel and unnecessary it’s like my guy why was that even remotely something we needed to hear. We didn’t. I wanted to stop reading because that’s not my Clarice, first and foremost, and second, this is supposed to be the character we LIKE. And now I don’t like ANYBODY in this damn book.

And he treats Margot like shit too, and Barney.

Their friendship was beautiful and great and finally for once something nice was happening in Margot’s life and I was happy reading it, and then FOR SOME REASON Margot goes to shower in the same room as Barney after a workout, which makes no sense, and then Barney tries to force a kiss on her (and he was hard, Harris made that very clear) and she had been sexually assaulted by Mason her brother and ruin the whole damn thing and none of it would have changed any other piece of the novel if you removed it!!!!!!!!! Entirely unnecessary!!!!!! And Barney had the gall to say well I couldn’t help myself like none of that was realistic in the slightest, she never would have went in the same room to shower with him.

Something you need to do is basically get some suspension of disbelief from your reader and maintain and stretch that as you go, right? Well mine was gone at that moment.

Also side note Margot is basically just there to show how shitty Mason is for the umpteenth time. Her whole thing is lesbian sexual assault victim.

Also heavily implied she was a lesbian because of the sexual assault. And we rarely see Judy, her girlfriend, so. Bad. Bad all around.

Circling back around to Clarice and how disappointing she is in the books as compared to the movies. Well, Clarice is also a poorly written character. She’s 1000x better in the movie. Hell, she’s even better in this book than she was in Silence, but that’s not fucking hard.

Pretty much all the characters are so flat they don’t even classify as two dimensional.

Like sure, maybe we wanna say Clarice didn’t really solve much in the first book and was just handed everything because she was a trainee and that’s what Hannibal wanted.

Like if you remember the John Mulaney sketch of Delta Airlines where he’s just going “Okay!” and running to the next place he’s told, that’s Clarice.

Okay so why does she get goaded into all this shit now? She should know better. She should know how to handle herself better. Like she messes up basic fucking shit like clearing a room before untying Hannibal, which was stupid, she seems oblivious to some of the politics at work even though she’s been in the FBI for like 7 years now, she would at least have more fucking contacts than Brigham who died in the beginning and Jack Crawford who died at the end by rolling over in his bed to his dead wife’s side and Ardelia who would be near the same level as Clarice I guess but I still don’t know her damn department???? Like you fucking network.

Plus after her final fall from grace with the FBI, we meet or are told of random side characters that go no where and do nothing just to say “hey look at my special little girl, everyone likes her and looks up to her!!” Why? Because she caught Buffalo Bill 7 years ago and then never got a promotion or even worked with the BAU? Again, it does not make sense. People may pity her? But a random girl in the lab wouldn’t be fangirling. Starling herself said her career had gone nowhere because of the politics and not sleeping with Paul. You need to show me why she’s likable in her actions not others words.

We spend more time away from her than with her anyways but Jesus.

AND HER IN THE ENDING. She was fucking BRAINWASHED????? Bull FUCKING SHIT. He completely ruined anything he even remotely might’ve had in this cluster fuck of a novel.

Case in point, difference from the movie, Hannibal spends weeks (possibly? it’s left purposefully vague and I’m guessing that’s because Harris didn’t know the ins and outs and wanted his novel done) meticulously brainwashing Clarice, he had stolen her father’s bones and she’s so far gone at that point she doesn’t care, and the whole scene where Paul is getting his brain eaten? Yeah, she happily indulges and when he insults her, she asks Hannibal for more. Fuck you, Thomas Harris.

And Hannibal’s a Gary Stu, fucking fight me.

In the movie he either is or he’s tap dancing on that line, don’t get me wrong, but in the novels it’s insufferable because it doesn’t seem earned. The pigs didn’t attack him because they didn’t smell fear on him. No. He’s easily able to drug and brainwash Clarice and take her as his lover. No. Go away. He’s so smart and one step ahead and can manipulate anyone and everyone into doing what he wants and blah blah blah shut up! A character being perfect isn’t interesting even if he’s evil!! We all know he’s never truly in danger because of how Harris writes him and that’s boring!!

And I personally have a pet peeve where the villain is described as a monster or unstoppable. That’s boring and I no longer care about your story. I know 9 times out of 10 your main character is going to find a bullshit way around the impossible and kill it. Or it’s just like a default personality and nothing else is added to it. And that’s Hannibal.

I’m on Hannibal Rising now and, spoiler alert, he’s very bland as a character. (Also Harris switched some details in the novel which kinda annoys me like get your own canon right my man but whatever.) The plot itself is pretty fun? I guess? Like there’s action and stuff and I’m enjoying that. But it’s the same set up where Harris’s Gary Stu always wins, like he was 13 in the book when he killed the butcher. Let. Your. Characters. Lose.

Also even more racist shit but what did I expect really.

Anyways, I have no idea who I’m supposed to root for in the novel because all the characters are just kinda shitty. It really just boils down to Harris not showing any redeeming qualities or actions from any of his characters. I liked Margot for a while out of spite but she never really went anywhere and the way she killed Mason (btw she sodomized him with a cattle prod to get his semen bc side plot and then stuffed his Moray eel down his throat and somehow I still don’t think that’s the worst part of the novel) just. No thanks really.

All the random little side plots were also pretty not great. How many time does Harris have to say Pazzi of the Pazzis? Like I fucking get what you’re going for, even if I hadn’t watched the movie I’d be like, “Oh this dude’s gonna get hung outta that window, dope,” the literal first time. Stop treating your readers like idiots.

And then Margot’s side plot was that the will their father left said she needed a biological heir to inherit because he was pissed she’s gay and we needed the homophobia I guess, so Mason got everything, and she was helping him with the Hannibal shit because he’s pretty incapacitated duh, and in return he would give her his jizz so Judy could be artificially inseminated and they could have a child and get some of her inheritance. I don’t care. It was all very gross, and Mason kept saying shit like suck me off you’ve done it before, I won’t be able to feel it anyway, maybe Judy’ll suck me off you think she’d like that. It’s all gross.

And I guess this is a good a time as any to finally start on Mason. So a great rule of writing to make everything work better and give your story more depth is to give everyone both positive and negative traits right, even and especially the bad guys? Like, rules can always be broken if you’re a good enough writer, but I believe I have established that Harris isn’t quite there yet, to put it nicer than I have.

Mason is one bad trait after another. It’s like when Harris was bored of constantly writing about plain ole pedophilia, he threw a dart at a board of horrible things and landed on topics such as: pedophilia but make it incest, extreme sadism, sadism but against children now, and good old fashioned racism! Fucking Cordell was supposed to collect the children’s tears after Mason would make them cry and put them in martinis for him. Realism went out the goddamn door real fast with this novel y’all. Like a fucking Scooby Doo villain over here.

And he loves talking about being a sadistic pedophile, he will literally not shut up about it to Clarice when she first gets there telling her about his trip to Africa and this portable guillotine he has and just. I get it was probably like trying to make her uncomfortable on purpose because he’s a Freak, but it went way too far if only because it was annoying, not even uncomfortable for me as a reader. I was bored real quick. Get to the shit I actually wanna know.

And it sucks because of the weird, over-the-top way of how he died, I got zero satisfaction from his death. I couldn’t even be like, “Well at least Margot got her revenge,” because that’s not how she originally wanted to kill him!!! She wanted someone else to extract his semen for the insemination but couldn’t find anybody to do it for her, and then Hannibal, whilst tied up, said use a cattle prod and you won’t have to touch him and when you kill him you can blame it on me, and I’m pretty sure even if she hit his prostate right every time and he COULD cum from that alone in addition to how his body is Fucked Up now, it would’ve been a lengthy, gross, and re-traumatizing experience for her because all she wanted to do was avoid seeing and touching her brother’s private parts again, which I think is a totally fair and rational desire.

So I have to live with the fact that she was desperate enough to not lose the house and business because of her homophobic father to go through her childhood trauma again. There’s no place in this book that has a somewhat positive conclusion.

Even the very last bit where Barney has a girlfriend and a ton of cash from Margot, all he wants to do is see every Vermeer in the world right? Well, because Hannibal and Clarice are in Buenos Aires where one of them is on display, Barney gets spooked and has him and his girlfriend leave before he can see it and it ends that bit with he never got to see it ever so he didn’t even complete his dream!!!

Also for good measure, Harris throws in that Hannibal and Clarice enjoy having sex regularly. For no reason. Just letting us know.

I know this seemed like just a bitch fest, because it was, but I kinda sorta enjoyed it? It kept my attention at the very least. It’s really disappointing because like I said, I love the movies, all of them, and have since I was little. To see the original not stand up to that image in my mind is a little heartbreaking. Especially Clarice. She was a strong female role model to me, but turns out she’s... just kinda there. And her ending is that of her no longer being herself and getting that agency taken away from her.

There is a reference to her waking up from a sleep, if she is asleep (that’s kind of how he worded it), that kinda let us draw our conclusions on whether she was just brainwashed into being good for him or if she was willingly going along with this and was in love with him I guess and it felt like a slap in the face. She turned from a hardworking, modest country girl working her way up to the FBI into a female Hannibal. Which on the surface sounds kinda cool because we love luxe serial killers, but that’s not what she wanted or who she was set up to be. And to insinuate that she would even remotely consider choosing that path for herself is at its best an insult to her and at its worst a complete erasure of her background, what little character Harris did set up. It also completely erases my own connections to her, as a girl from a small town myself who has bigger dreams than this and also... a good, strong set of morals. He just tossed that out the window.

Obviously if you’re on this blog, you like slasher x reader shit, and this is a novel with a slasher x a person, right? So why am I so mad about it? Because the whole point of this blog and reader insert fanfiction in general is that you are taken as you are and loved wholly as yourself and that you are worthy of that love (in a fictional setting, not really loving people who are like this, which I think we understand but I want to clarify). She was not taken as she was. He is not in love with her, she is not in love with him. She was transformed into what he wanted out of her. He couldn’t get her to be Mischa, his first plan, so he made her like himself. And the fact that he was so easily able to do it makes me upset, and even more so is that it’s not written like it’s weird or wrong. It’s written like they’re in love and this is a good thing.

He may have been going for the classic “everyone is capable of doing bad things” stuff we see a lot, but we got that from Margot already. And Barney, for stealing Lecter’s stuff and selling it. And Paul, and the entire FBI for turning on Clarice, and the kidnappers, and Pazzi, and random shitty side characters. And none of it was particularly well written or made some sort of strong statement. It just was. And that’s not a good enough basis for a novel.

Anyways, if you made it this far holy shit you’re a saint and I love you, let’s be friends?? <3 Have a good day y’all, thank you BB for giving me permission to ramble.

#bloodybrahms #ask #no joke i spent like 5-6 hours total writing this i had a Lot to say

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