#back at it again with ivy and the short hair… i am obsessed with it here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-broken-truth · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do yandere bully damian wayne with fem reader how is a 🐺🔥🥋 🛡 🏹 🏠 she is like demon Hunter in Gotham and sometimes batman call for her help with joker/villains and goes to Gotham academy

They Heated each other guts and she tolerated him for her best friend Jonathan Kent

Damian was dating raven how was using him as cashcow

one day in park damian get drugged and kidnapped and reader saw all the and follow there car to save him after killing his kidnappers and heal him she comfront him and tell him everything is going to be alright and give him her jacket (which he will keep it for eternity) she dropped him to his house after buying him something to eat when damian get to his father house he sees the no-one care of what happened to him they saw the he got kidnapped and they didn't care at all but reader did and the how the obsession began

*STATIC*: An Obsessive Love Born From Loathing Hate? A Golddigger, as well? Quite an interesting request we have here, Broken.

Broken Truth: That we do, so let's see what words weave together from this.

Quick Note: The name of the reader shall be Kacela - The name means 'Huntress' and is of African Origin. Just like Damien, she is a rich kid but not because her parents are rich - her human parents abandoned her and she started her own business; it's well-known but not on the same level as Wayne Enterprises.

Broken: SORRY IT'S LATE! I'VE BEEN BUSY!

- THE RUNED HUNTRESS -

[On Top Of Gotham's Rooftops - Across from a besieged Research Facility]

[The Joker was at it again but this time he wasn't working alone - he enlisted the aid of Clayface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Riddler, and Penguin to take hold of a Research Lab that contained something each member of the crime group wanted; how Joker knew this and managed to use to persuade the villains into working with him is something The Dark Knight couldn't quite figure out. What he did know was that he was going to need some help.]

[At the moment, Damien (Robin)., Dick (Nightwing), and Barbara (Batgirl) were the ones of the Bat-Family that were with him at the moment but the 4 of them weren't going to be enough and - as much as he hated it - he needed aid from a power beyond what his gadgets and training could do.]

Damien (Walks over to Batman, who is standing on the edge looking at the facility): Father, why are we still waiting while those criminals are making a mess of the place?

Bruce: Because we're waiting for someone.

Damien: Who? We have enough people, we can take them.

Bruce: Don't be foolish, Damien. It's the four of us up against seven of Gotham's Worst, plus they have hostages and have access to unknown tech or substances that could put us at a disadvantage. The person I called has abilities unlike our own and can help us a great deal.

[Damien opened his mouth to protest when a smell hit his nose - it smelled like something was burning.]

Dick (Sniff-Sniff): Does anyone else smell something burning.

Barbara: It smells like brimstone.

Bruce: She's here.

[Nightwing opened his mouth to question who 'she' was when a burst of red light from a ball of fire came shooting upward from the edge of the building before falling and landing in the clear space. The ground was scorched from the fire impact and cinders flowed around the air and lined along with the black marks up everyone looked at the person - or creature - that caused it.]

[The creature was large and muscular the body of a wild canine - a wolf - but it stood on 2 legs; except, wolves didn't have 2 horns on their foreheads. The forearms of the beast were scarred with runes that were glowing red against the black fur. The creature began to stand on 2 legs - its height towered over Bruce - and opened its eyes to reveal eyes made from hellfire. The humanoid wolf opened its jaws - letting the hot smoke out - as it began to speak to the Head of the Bat-Family.]

Wolf Creature: Dark One (What she calls Bruce), I'm answering your persistent summons. Why have you decided to bother me this time?

Barbara: Summons? (Looks at Bruce) Bruce, what is that thing?

Wolf Creature (Glares at Barbara): I am not a 'Thing', I am a Wolf Demon while you are the daughter of a cop - playing dress up just to spite him and stick your pointed head where it doesn't belong.

Barbara (Points at the Wolf Creature): Hey, don't call me a...

Bruce (Raises his hand): That's enough. (Looks at the Wolf Creature) Runed Huntress, I know you told me that you're not interested in helping me but this is important. Those criminals have many innocent people captured and are trying to access some very dangerous information and products. Our gadgets can only get us so far but your power is limitless. We need your help.

Runed Huntress (Snorts - making smoke shoot out her nose and blow in Bruce's face): Very well, I shall aid you once again but - as I said before - do not make a habit out of this; you are this city's protector, not me.

Bruce (Nods): Noted. (Turns back to the building) Now, let's get a move on.

[The Bat-Family & The Runed Huntress leaped across the building rooftops until they reached the last roof that sat at the edge of the street that separated the distance of the buildings and the facility. The Bat-Family watches as the large humanoid wolf clapped her hands together and slowly brought them apart - bring a bow that looked as if it was forged from hellfire itself. The Runed Huntress took the bow in hand and did the motion of drawing back an arrow - Damian's eyes widen as an arrow materialized in her clawed hand before she releases it. It goes soar across the street and crashes into the glass dome but doesn't shatter it - it melts it away and forms a large hole, big enough for the rescue party to get inside.]

[The villains looked upon the hole of melted glass as the Bat-Family glided in and stood before the corrupted 7. The Ringleader - The Madman known as Joker - began to chuckle and clap his hands.]

Joker (Clapping): Bats! I knew you would be here! A little late to the party, don't you think?!

Bruce (Glares at Joker): I don't have time to deal with your demented mind, Joker. Release the hostages and turns yourselves in or we can do this the hard way.

Joker (Pouts and shakes his head): Oh, Batsy... Always the party pooper; no cake for you. But in case you have noticed, I outnumber you so...I don't think you can win.

[Just then - the monstrous roaring howl of the Runed Huntress echoed in the hall as she leaped through the giant hole and landed on all fours between Joker and Bruce. She glared at the villains as her jaws opened as lava leaked from the cracks of her fangs, making 2 pools on the tile floor that began to rise and form into 2 clones of herself.]

Runed Huntress (Rising to her feet as the lava clones did the same): Now...it's an even playing field.

[When Killer Croc let loose a hiss, Runed Huntress barked back at him and the two of them charged at each other - fighting as beasts knew how to. Bruce dealt with Joker, Barbara took on Harley Quinn, Dick took care of Riddler, Damian attacked Penguin, while the other two clones took on Clayface and Poison Ivy.]

[The fight ended with the villains in cuffs and loaded into Transportation Trucks, Barbara found the scientists locked in the safe - all accounted for and unharmed, but mentally scarred - Bruce was talking to Gordon while his family looked on. Damian looked off to the side and watched the large wolf walking away and ran after her as she turned into an alleyway.]

Damian: Hey, where are you going?

Runed Huntress (Looks over her large shoulder at the Wayne Family Heir): What do you want, boy? I have aided your leader, that doesn't mean I need to stay around for his talks with the Commissioner.

Damian: Just what the hell is your problem?

Runed Huntress: My 'problems' are none of your concern, Rich Boy.

[Damian opened his mouth to speak but the large beast was engulfed by a flammed vortex that erupted from the ground around her feet and covered her until it exploded into cinders - leaving Damian alone in the alley, looking at the charred circle in the ground.]

- RAVENS LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE -

[The Next Day: Gotham High School - Courtyard]

"I gotta go to the library to do some last-minute reading before class starts but before I forget, can I get some cash, Bae?" The Indigo-Eyed Girl asked as she looked upon the Wayne Heir.

"More? I gave you $700 just last week." Damien said as she looked at his girlfriend.

"I know but there's a sell on some rare spell tomes and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on them. o, can you give me some cash?" Raven asked with a tilt of her head like a cat; making the heir exhale.

"Okay, I send another $800." Damien exhaled, earning a kiss on his cheek from the girl how had his heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, Damien!" Damien turned to see his friend Jonathan Kent walking up to him, but he wasn't alone.

Beside Jonathan was a dark-skinned female around the same height as him with golden eyes in a constant glare, She had short black hair in an undercut - only on her right side. She was wearing the Gotham High School uniform but the man one - she wasn't in comfortable skirts and she had the money to allow this. On her wrists there 2 golden bracelets - long ones that start at her wrists and end further up her forearms - that had some kind of writing on them that Damien didn't care to translate. Why didn't he care? Because he didn't like her.

"Hey." Damien said as he looked in the direction of his friend and...tolerant.

"You good, Bro? You seemed stressed out." Jonathan said with concern in his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine - Father was telling us that there is some large event tonight and he wants all of us there; no questions asked." Damien said.

"Large event? What's that?" Jonathan asked.

"He talking about Gotham's Angel Award - it's when all of Gotham's CEOs and Walking Wallets gather in one room to see who's been recognized as the most giving and kind." Kacela said as she looked at Jonathan with her arms folded.

"Funny the stray (That's what Damien calls her began she doesn't have parents, relatives, or even a surname.) knows what it is, even though you would never step foot in that place, much less get to hold an invitation." Damien said with a smirk on his face. Imagine his shock as Kacela pulls an invitation to that event from her pocket.

"You were saying, Bird Brain?" Kacela asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Damien began to get mad and Kacela glared at him when Jonathan stepped between them.

"Whoa. Whoa. No need to fight! Just relax, guys." Jonathan said as he looked between her friends. Kacela exhaled and stepped back.

"Fine. I won't fight because Jonathan asked me to." Kacela said as she glared at Damien.

"Same here, Stray." Damien glared at her too before turning back to his phone.

"Whatcha doing, Damian?" Jonathan asked.

"Sending some cash to Raven's card." He said.

"More? Didn't you send her a lot just a few days ago?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but there was a book sale and she didn't want to miss out on the rare tomes that were for auction." Damian explained.

"Is that the song she sang to you? For someone so brilliant...you can't even see when you are being played." Kacela said as she placed her hands in her pockets and began to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean, Stray?"Damian glared at her.

"Just remember - Ravens are fond of things that gleam and shine but they are also creatures that sing songs of deception." Kacela said before she entered the building, leaving Damian and Jonathan standing there.

- THE RAVEN'S DECEPTION & TRAPPED IN THE LION'S DEN -

[After Highschool]

Damian wished his friend a good evening before getting on his motorcycle and driving out of the school's parking lot. He knew that the normal route he would take was going to be caked in traffic for the event tonight and decided to head the long way. He was coming up on the red light at the intersection of 4 famous restaurants/cafes sat at the 4 Corners. He was the first vehicle in line when a familiar voice was heard from the right - he looked and the eyes under his helmet widened when they landed on his girlfriend sitting at an outdoor table with shapeshifter of the Titans - Beast Boy a.k.a Garfield. They were sitting at the table, holding hands and smiling at each other - as if they were in love.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?" Raven asked.

"I wanna go to the new exotic animal show but tickets to that places are stupidly expensive." Garfield said.

"Don't worry, babe; I got the money from that walking piggy bank, Damian." Raven said.

"You got more? I thought he gave you some a few days ago." He said.

"Yeah, I just told him I spent the money on tomes and he gave me $700 more. All I have to do is pout and he'll give me whatever I want." Raven smirked at the notion and Garfield laughed.

Damian felt so bad about what he just heard - when the car behind him hooked their horn to let him know the light was green, he floored it and began driving down the main streets before the tears in his eyes began to blind him and he stopped on the edge of the park, took his helmet off and hid his face in hands - sobbing; showing the weakness of the Al Ghul.

His heart was broken - the one he loved was using him for a wallet for the shapeshifter and he was too blind to see it. The words Kacela said before she left that day - she was warning him that Raven was disloyal to him. The one he hated was the one who warned him.

He was so caught up in his crying that he didn't see the hooded figure sneaking up behind him and smacking him off the bike with a metal pipe in the back of his head. His world got dark when he heard the words.

"We got Wayne's Brat - we're in for a huge payday, boys." the fading voice chuckled until Damian faded into nothingness of mind.

[Around 2 Hours Later]

"Wake up, pretty boy!" someone commanded as he slapped the Wayne Heir wake - he was tied to a chair in the center of an unknown warehouse with 6 Thugs surrounding him - all of them with weapons in their hands.

"What? What the hell do you want from me?" Damian demanded as he glared at the man who slapped him - only for the same man to punch him in the face; Damian could taste the blood on his tongue before he felt it flowing out of his mouth as he tried to shake the daze from his head.

"We don't want shit from you, brat; we want a payday from Wayne and I know he'll pay huge racks to get his little boy back." The leader said.

"Boss, we've been calling Wayne but he ain't answering." A good said.

"Then keep calling! The sooner we finish this, the better." The boss order. Damian hung his head down - he was done for: his father wasn't answering the phone, his love breaks his heart...just what was he to do

The answer came as the window of the warehouse came crashing inward and a familiar Lycan-Shaped Figure came crashing into the room and landed on the ground on all fours before rising to its hind legs with a very pissed off glare in its eyes - the runes on its body shining in the light.

"What the hell is that?!" One of the Goons said as he tried to get his gun - only to have his head bitten off by the creature's jaws, letting his body hit the floor.

"Kill that thing! Fucking kill it!" The Boss said as he made Damian get to his feet and used his as a human by holding his arm around his neck and hold his gun at the creature that jumped around, slaughtering his men before turning to face him.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his brains out!" The boss said as he held the gun against Damian's head.

The Runed Huntress looked at a long metal nail that was sitting between her feet and reached down to gather it in her large clawed hand. Damian and the boss watched as the large wolfish creature twirled the nail between her fingers before flicking it on its head and sent it flying like a bullet - hitting the boss in the center of his head, making them lose his grip on Damian and slump to the ground. The Huntress ran over to Damian before he could fall and gathered him tenderly in her large arm before using the other one to cut his ropes - even free, the boy didn't move, he was too...cold.

"Damian, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The Runed Huntress asked him as she looked at him with concerned eyes. Damian opened his mouth to speak but he noticed the bracelets on the creature's wrists - he saw them before, he saw them every day during school.

"K...Kacela?" Damian questioned as he looked into the creature's eyes again - there was a sparkle, a smile, then a small vortex of fire that revealed the human face of the one he hated at school.

"I always told you that you were brilliant, just weren't wary of the right people."Kacela said as she took off her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over Damian's, "Wear this, you're freezing." She said.

"You... You saved me? I thought you hated me - after everything I said and did to you." Damian said as he looked into her eyes.

"I never said I hated you, Damian; I said I hated the way you acted. As for saving you, I may have a beast's soul and form but I'm not a heartless monster to just let someone get hurt; not even someone who tries to me." Kacela explained before she turned back into the Runed Huntress, gathered Damian in her arms, and rose to her feet, "Now, let's get you home; you are too cold, you might be sick." she said as she turned on her heel and leaped back through the window she came through with the Wayne Family Heir in her arms.

- THE ONE YOU HATE IS THE ONE WHO CARES THE MOST -

[Wayne Manor]

The Runed Huntress landed in front of the door to Wayne Manor, using one of her hands to knock heavily on the door - it was soon opened by the Wayne Family Butler - Alfred Pennyworth.

"Hello, Madam Huntress, is there something I can help you with?" He then noticed Damian in her arms, "Is that Master Damian? Did something happen?" He asked.

"He was attacked and held for ransom but Bruce never answered the phone and he was harmed." Runed Huntress said.

"That's understandable - Master Bruce and the others are currently getting ready for the event and have asked not to be disturbed." Alfred said, making Kacela's eyes widen in anger.

"What?" She growled out. She pushed past the butler and followed Bruce's scent up the stairs to a meeting room - she barged in and - sure enough to what Alfred said - Bruce, Dick, and Barbara were all there, dressed in elegant attire; they all looked at the large wolf who barged into the room.

"Huntress? Is there something you need?" Bruce said.

"Are you serious, Bruce? Your son is in my arms, beaten & possibly sick, are you're asking me if I need something? Why didn't you answer the calls from Damian's phone?" Kacela asked.

"As Alfred told you, we're busy getting ready for the event." Bruce said.

"He's your son, Bruce Wanye - he was attacked, held for ransom, and beaten up and all you care about is this event? He could be sick, he's as cold as a block of ice." Huntress growled.

"Well, you got to him and saved him before he was hurt too bad, but since he can't come to the event, take him to bed and we will deal with him in the morning." Bruce said as he began walking do the door, past the wolf and his sick son, with his other 2. Kacela growled at him before looking at Damian.

"Where's your room?" She asked, her eyes widened when his hand grabbed her fur and held her close.

"Please... Please, don't leave me here." Damian pleaded - begged - as he tried to hold more tears while shivering.

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here. I need to get you some warm clothes." She explained.

Damian told her where his room was and she when there - placing him on the bed for a moment as she gathered pajamas and a new school uniform into the bag before closing it, picking Damian back up, opened the window, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

[Kacela's Loft]

*BEEP - BEEP - BEEP*

"Yeah, just as I thought - you're sick." Kacela said as she pulled the thermometer from the boy's lips and looked at the numbers. Kacela placed it on a napkin on the nightstand that was beside the bed Damian was laying in and the chair she was sitting in. "It seems to be a simple head cold - some medicine and rest should get you and running again, not to mention a good night's rest." Kacela explained.

"How come...you didn't go to the Gotham's Angels Award?" Damian asked as he looked at her with a warm feeling on his face - it must have been the cold.

"That place is full of people who just wanna get seen, not for doing right." Kacela explained before she reached on the nightstand to her phone, "You have to eat something before taking your meds and I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I'll order something. What are you in the mood for - Pizza or Burgers?" Kacela asked.

"What? You're letting me choose?" Damian asked.

"Sure, I don't usually have guests, so why the hell not?" Kacela gave a smile...and the warm feeling returned but it was stronger this time.

When the pizza arrived, Kacela helped Damian sit up, and the two of them ate while having conversations - turned out they had a lot of things in common, from their love of books to their outside activities. Damian asked Kacela a few questions about her knowing Raven was cheating on him and why she didn't tell him directly - she explained that it wasn't her place to speak on another person's relationship, plus he made it very clear that he had a dislike for her so what reason would he have to believe her? Damian apologized for his words but Kacela said she heard worse and wasn't bothered. Just before bedtime, Kacela gave him cold and sleeping medicine so he would be alright in the morning; she stayed with him until he fell into slumber before she went to sleep herself.

When the morning sun rose - Damian woke to the smell of pancakes. Kacela made them breakfast and even made sure Damian's phone was placed on the changer. Damian got dressed in a fresh outfit and went to eat with Kacela; who informed him that she got his bike and helmet from the park after he went to sleep; he thanked her, finished his breakfast, and left out the door...with her jacket.

- NOT SO BLIND ANYMORE -

"What do you mean we're over?!" Raven yelled as she stood before Damian.

"Just as I said - I'm done with you, Raven. You're nothing but a gold-digger and a liar, and you only see me as a mess to keep that green boyfriend of yours happy. I'm not giving you anything else but a hard time if you ever show your face again." Damian glared at her, causing her to huff and march away to the school building.

"Whoa, Damian." Jonathan said as he walked over, "You really broke up with her?" He asked.

"I don't have time for gold-diggers and liars." He looked around, "Where's Kacela?" he asked.

"She called and said... Wait, did you just call her by her name? I thought she was a stray?" He said but swallowed when Damian glared at her.

"Never. Call. Her. That." Damian growled.

"Okay. Okay, man - sorry." He said.

"Now, what did she tell you?" Damian asked.

"She said she couldn't come today - there are some major investors that are interested in her company and want to make a partnership, so she won't be in today." Jonathan said.

"Really? Then, I'll speak to her later." Damian said.

"Talk about what? Wait, isn't that her jacket?" He asked.

"Yes." He said, 'But it's more than just that. It's the start of what Kacela and I shall be...together.'

#yandere damian wayne

65 notes · View notes

akimmito · 5 years ago

Text

They thought they won #1

"Ok. So, this is a fanfic that follows the directions posted by @chocolate1721. I liked it and wanted to write it, so here it is.

I divided it into two parts because it had 7546 words and I had only written about Gotham, I was still missing Paris. So, to allow a more pleasant reading I separated it.

This is a Timinette fanfic because I think there are very few of them and I want more content from these two.

So, let's get started.

--------------------------

Taggued: @elmokingkong

-------------------------

A trip to Gotham did not go as badly as Marinette thought it would. And they were talking about Gotham, a city so dangerous that you cannot set foot on the streets without suffering an attempted assault. She can only think that Ladybug's luck allowed them to pass the two weeks of the trip without any incident that attempted against the life of any of their companions (although the class screamed to be attacked with Lila spreading scandalous lies). So everything was fine ... Until his last night in the city.

A quiet night, if they could ignore the screams that were occasionally heard (Damn it, Bustier, why so close to the Crime Alley?). The class dined as if there was not a three-front war brewing between the students, it was a time when Lila's lies were hardly heard. It was a great night for Marinette... but then again, why so close to the Crime Alley?

As soon as they left the small restaurant they met two well-known Gotham villains, causing panic in almost all the members of the French class. Only two girls saw that there really is no danger, too many injuries to pose a threat. Harley and Ivy barely can see the students, they can't even stop.

Marinette, sweet Marinette, approaches them to see their wounds. She's not going to let someone bleed to death in front of her, not if she can help it.

Chloe follows her closely; each taking one of the women to identify the wounds and see how to get them to the hospital. However, Marinette believes that if she lets them bleed freely it won't do to take them anywhere; She began tearing her clothes to make makeshift bandages with the pieces for the most bleeding wounds ... That was until the class stopped being a bunch of screaming and inconsistency.

"Oh, I didn't want to believe it, but you're working with villains!" Lila's comment sparked the class hostility, Chloe just huffs mockingly.

"Damn it, Marinette. Don't you get tired of being such a bitch? "

"Joining Chloe, what did they expect? If they both work for Hawkmoth, obviously they would for the villains here." Someone, Marinette doesn't want to identify the voice, accuses them (again) of working with the Parisian villain, when clearly the man has put a target on her back to corrupt her and turn her into an Akuma. Anyway, idiots.

"You suck, Marinette!"

"What a disappointment, Marinette, you would know better that you must be a good example for class."

"Fools. " Chloe curses under her breath at her teacher's comment.

"I'm. No matter who the person is, I'm not going to see them die if I can help avoid it. ”Marinette frowns at the teacher. There was a time when she thought it was amazing, but those were childish thoughts of a thirteen year old girl who thought the world was divide in black and white. The world is more than that.

Everyone is so engrossed in the uproar that they are not alert enough, Marinette gets mad at herself for not being more careful. The Joker, FUCKING JOKER, is in front of them with a stuffed animal? Marinette isn't going to question it, as far as she knows, it could be a bomb. Even so…

The class doesn't wait a second when they run away, Joker just laughs at the reaction. Chloe stands in front of the two wounded women, waiting for any sign of her best friend, whether to flee or fight.

Marinette scans her surroundings without taking her attention from the madman in front of her. Her first option would be to run, but she's not going to leave Harley and Ivy helpless in the face of the brutal clown-themed killer (all fully justified childhood fears). A moment of silence when the class screams are lost in the streets, it almost seems like a dramatic moment from an action movie.

Joker is excited. The two girls stayed behind to protect their toy and the redhead. He might be impressed; not just anyone would stay to face it. No one is so crazy. His gaze falls on the dark-haired girl, she looks too calm and in ambient. He smiles when he sees her walking to face him and bends down to grab a lever too convenient in the middle of the sidewalk. She's a fun girl! Before she does, he lunges for her. It will be a fun game between the two.

Chloe watches Marinette fight the Joker with a crowbar, take and hit. She can tell he wants to knock him out, but, well, he's not doing it. Brutal would be a good word to describe the little Parisian drawing blood from the man as he laughs as if he had been given the top prize in the lottery (Chloe firmly believes he really feels that way). And it seems he really likes Marinette, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. Chloe bends quickly towards the two women trying to get up, the more time passes the more possibilities there are for that crazy man to become obsessed with her friend and she will not allow it (Kagami will dismember her with her katana if she allows it).

Harley and Ivy barely manage to stand up, but lean heavily on Chloe. It does not bother her, her training has allowed her to support a little extra weight and as long as she does not have to carry them, there's no problem.

"If you don't hit harder, you won't win," Joker laughs with each comment, wanting to force the girl to be more brutal, even though she is too calm and his comments don't seem to reach her.

"Who said something about winning?" It's the first time she've answered him, he smiles. Marinette bites her tongue to containing any other comment, if she opens her mouth she will get the maniac to follow her to Paris and a madman behind her is enough.

Somehow, while fighting, he has cornered the group in a corner. Marinette berates herself for worrying too much about useless things and now she must win, but give him that satisfaction. Her hair stands on end, a bad blow and her weapon goes in the opposite direction and away from her. Now she only has a clean fist. She can work with it, even though her brain screams at her to run. She swallows thick when he lunges at her again. His mind is a constant alarm of: there's no cure, there's no cure, there's no cure.

But at that moment dark figures leap from the surrounding buildings and confront him, Marinette backs down without letting her guard down until her mind focuses enough to recognize them. The city vigilants.

From there everything is a whirlwind of thoughts and Marinette does not realize when the Joker has been placated and has them close, to the surprise them, she launches herself towards one totally random and remains in the arms of Nightwing who only smiles kindly at the agitated girl about to cry with relief.

"I, help ... them, yes ... wounds, that." Marinette can't hold a coherent sentence toward Nightwing.

"What he meant is that they are injured and need immediate medical attention." Chloe stands firm and will never admit that her legs are shaking, or that being held by Red Hood was welcome help. First dead than looking vulnerable.

Marinette lets herself slip into Nightwing's arms as all the adrenaline leaves her. It's been a long time since she felt this way helpless towards some danger, but she was just Marinette and there was no chance of Ladybug showing up. Thank heaven for the arrival of the vigilants.

"Robin has already alerted the police, he should be here soon." Batman looks at both girls for a moment, but turns to watch the unconscious Joker.

"Everything is fine. " Nightwing whispers to the little girl in his arms, he feels her tremble against him and he is no longer sure if it is the fear or has another origin.

In a short time the police are there and the two Parisian girls have to give a statement (unfortunately the loss of blood left the two women out of action).

"How it happend?" Chloe takes the initiative, Marinette doesn't seem to be ready to leave Nightwing or say something more coherent than a barely audible babble, clearly struggling to stay together between anxiety and guilt, because yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng can't help blame herself. Sometimes, Chloe thinks, want to shake her until she regains her senses (but that doesn't work, Luka's melodies, on the contrary. Oh, they're magical).

"To begin with, this is the fault of our teacher's incompetence to choose a restaurant so close to the Crime Alley. Second, I am very surprised that it did not happen before because our companions were struggling to get the attention of a madman. They said so many stupid things." The vigilants raise an eyebrow at the girl's words, if they didn't know better they could believe that the girls didn't suffer a close encounter with the Joker. "And third, Dupain-Cheng is too good to let someone bleed to death in front of her and I too good a friend to see her jump into danger alone. This leaves me with the experience of never going on a trip with that band of incompetents. "

"Can you relate the incident?" Commissioner Gordon is tired, with each passing day new characters appear in the city and he is never ready. The girl hiding in Nightwing's arms and her friend who seems ready to declare war to anyone.

"They appeared bleeding, our companions being stupid, the madman appears and they all flee leaving us behind. Ha, surely they would have thrown us towards him if they had not been so afraid" Chloe doesn't miss the opportunity to make a dismissive comment to her class, Marinette is out of combat to reprimand her for being too cruel with her sincerity. "Dupain-Cheng being so sweet as an acid candy defends us, is done with a lever and gets into a fight with the madman. Somehow we ended up in this horrible place and well, they came along and Dupain-Cheng falls apart in her standard nervous form. It will be fine, it just tends to over-think. The only thing recorded is the split lip, the rest is her realizing a thousand possible scenarios where everything went wrong. "

That said, the four women are rushed to the hospital (Nightwing accompanies them because the young woman in his arms refused to release him and also didn't have the heart to leave her alone when it was obvious that she needed comfort). As soon as they arrive they are checked and Nightwing leaves, giving the girls a brief look before leaving.

"We will stay here, we want to make sure they are okay." Chloe takes control of the situation, refusing to abandon the women. Anyway, after the act on the street, he doubts that they will be well received by the class. She is sure they are not worried and can almost hear their irritating voices speaking nonsense about it.

The doctors allow it stay there with the endorsement of the police, they fall asleep on a sofa in the room where Harley and Ivy are locate. Marinette calmed down throughout the trip to the hospital, muttering apologies to the caretaker who accompanied her for sticking like a koala to his person. And her rest is very calm, without nightmares or anything; Maybe it's the emotional exhaustion of the experience, but there are no dreams riddled with deaths or with the Joker, there is only a deep black who embraces her like a good friend.

The next morning they are awakened by the voices of Harley and Ivy talking to the doctor, Chloe also recognizes the voice of the officer who took the statement yesterday.

"They were very daring and their classmates abandoned them, even the adult with them. "

"You should do something, Jimmy!"

Gordon notices the looks of the two girls and approaches to talk to them, being much more rested can better appreciate the mettle of the two young girls. Especially the dark-haired one, last night was a bunch of inconsistencies and today she looks completely calm, looking towards Harley and Ivy looking for confirmation of their health.

"Good morning, ladies. "

"Good morning, Officer. " Marinette greets with a friendly smile, focusing her attention on the officer. She knows that they must return to their class and return to Paris.

"No one reported two girls missing, but you mentioned they are on a class trip. Can I know the name of the person in charge to call them?"

"Claine Bustier from Paris, France. College Françoise Dupont, we stayed at the Gotham Royal Hotel. Our room is the 155. "Marinette enters all her data, but she also decides that it is better that she has absolutely all of them. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17 years old. My parents are Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, they have a bakery. Tom & Sabine Boulangerie."

"Chloe Burgeois, I reside at the Hotel Le Grand Paris. My father is the mayor, André Burgeois, and my mother is Audrey Burgeois, the Queen of Style. "

Gordon takes note of all the information they have given him, if he cannot contact her teacher he has two pairs of parents to call for their daughters. And for them to be giving that contingency, he can intuit that they know that perhaps they imagine that it will be the case.

He immediately retires and leaves them alone with the two women. He has a job to do.

Gordon spent the whole morning trying to locate the teacher, according to the hotel they left him early in the morning and they have no idea about anything. He doesn't want to alarm the girls' parents yet, so he will first talk to them to find out if they know where they could be, he sends them to bring to the police station to facilitate the whole process, and he also asks for food for the girls. It's almost lunch time.

"Welcome, sit down." The two girls obey with slightly worried expressions, they seem to be fearing the worst. "I have been unable to locate their teacher or class, according to the hotel, they left early in the morning. "

Marinette holds her breath, reality hit her in the face. Chloe's not much better. It was their last night in Gotham, today they had to take a flight to Paris... they didn't it because they are sure that they abandoned them. They start muttering in French at Gordon's confusion, they look alarmed.

"Sir, we are supposed to go back to Paris today. And... well, lately our teacher hasn't been taking roll. Also, she take what our comrades say as fact." Marinette panics again, but this time there are no saviors and they are trapped in another country. "I just hope they didn't go to Paris without us..."

"Don't be innocent, Maribug." Chloe addresses her with her friend's loving nickname, sees her on the verge of panic and hopes to remind her that they are in this together. "Of course they left without us, she didn't count for a visit to the museum. What will be different today? A word from Lie-la and everything goes under her will."

There was a small second of surprise that gave way to panic interspersed with fury in Gordon's features, he turns to pick up the phone and call the airport in a frenzy. He began to demand passengers on flights to Paris, but was repeatedly denied and his patience goes overboard.

"Ladies, would you mind waiting outside?" "Marinette and Chloe obey. They stay near the door because they don't know where to go and catch the officer's scream." THERE ARE TWO CHILDREN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN ABANDONED BY THEIR TEACHER IN THE CITY! NOW TELL ME IF CALINE BUSTIER BOEARDED THE FUNCKING PLANE WITH HER STUDENTS OR NOT! "

Boiling with anger and after a few more screams, Gordon has the information. But he's still so furious that he could commit murder on the spot. Worst of all, he also has video evidence of a student tearing up two airline tickets that, if you have to guess, are those of the girls they left behind. What do those people have in mind? He already feel the migraine coming.

He drops into his chair, counts to ten, and decides to call Bruce. Technically, being a Wayne Foundation sponsored trip, he's responsible for the two girls and with him in charge it will be easier to deal with the parents.

"Hey, Bruce. I have a situation, the Wayne Foundation sponsored a class trip for the Françoise Dupont School and the teacher in charge left two of his students abandoned in the country; I have video evidence of their negligence and I am sure that in every place they went to there is has least one camera that must have caught something. " He massages his forehead, it's not his jurisdiction, but when doing it in his territory he can form a case and send it to the Paris police for follow. "You should come and take care of them while we resolve to take them home, one of her classmates broke their tickets and I'm not even sure if their belongings are in good condition. "

"I understand, Jim. I'll take over, I'll be there soon. "

Gordon is relatively more relieved, but no less angry. He gets up to ask them to come back in and tell them what will happen, so they won't be surprised to see Bruce Wayne coming for them.

"Bruce will take care of you, make all the preparations for your return trip to Paris. And while you come, how normal is the situation with your teacher and your classmates?" He watches the silent interaction and the blonde is the one talking.

"We are the only two people in our class who do not believe Lie-la's lies. Maribug earned her hatred by trying to expose her stories for what they are: lies. And I, well, I was never going to let myself be bowed down by someone like her. "Marinette denies because of the choice of words.

"She considers us an obstacle in her reign. When she arrived, I never believed her because the stories were too unrealistic even for our standards in the class, considering that we all know a fair amount of celebrities and we all form a very diverse group with a promising future, I mean we have Max, he create an AI capable of feeling emotions. So when I didn't believe her and tried to make my friends see reason, she swore that she would take everything away from me ... And she did, it wouldn't have been so bad if it were just that, I realized who my true friends are and that I shouldn't trust anyone. The real problem is the way in which he influenced them all, I cann't longer recognize Alya, she is even worse than Chloe years ago. "Marinette sighs, remembering the last years is exhausting in many ways. "So they have marginalized us, they attack us only because Lila says that we did something to her even when we were not there and we have witnesses who can confirm our stories..."

"Seeing them is like seeing a surreal work with abstract tendencies, impossible to believe what you are seeing. The worst is Bustier, she's a facilitator. I hadn't seen the problem before, but now that I'm in Maribug's place too, well, we were clearly wrong about what kind of teacher she was. She believes all her lies and even congratulates her on them! She let use everyone to her holy whim and antagonize those who don't. ”Chloe gets up indignant and ready to continue ranting, not many adults stop to listen to them. "I'm tired of hearing the same speech from her must be the best person, Marinette. Be a good example! Someone should teach him didactics, she obviously doesn't know what she's doing. And now she leaves us in another country! Negligent, stupid, facilitator ..."

"Chloe, stop it. He understood your point. "Marinette is the voice of reason and tries to appease her friend's overflowing anger. It's true that having someone willing to listen is cathartic, but they should not take so many liberties.

"It's not fair, Maribug, not with you. Always ready to help others and they simply attack you when you decide to think about yourself and your future. They think you owe them something and it's totally the other way around because without you, that class wouldn't be half as good as it's ... because when you took the class presidency they all grew in their areas..."Chloe sits down again, her brow furrowed and still very angry. "They don't deserve you. "

"Miss Bustier often asks me to help her with different tasks, before it meant an additional workload… I became her disappointment when I told her that I would not do more work outside of my duties as class president, it dictated by the rules of the institution. She lectured me that I should not be selfish, that it's for the benefit of the class ... and well, I told him that if she gave me half her salary I would gladly continue doing her job. She punished me, but it was the truth. "Marinette looks at her hands, that conversation was before the trip to Gotham and her punishment would start as soon as they returned to Paris, a pity that left her abandoned.

Surprised is a word that falls short, Gordon doesn't understand how an adult woman can be so irrational. What kind of alternate dimension does that class live in? A person with at least two functioning neurons would not be so ridiculous; At least, he thinks, perhaps the lies are well crafted as unrealistic as they may have seemed, correct?

"All this arose from the lies of that girl, how are those lies? "He feels like asking was a bad idea and the looks of the two girls are confirmation.

"She has tinnitus because she saved Jagged Stone's kitten from being run over by an airplane." Marinette replies completely blank.

"She knows half of Hollywood and recently said that she knows the whole Wayne family and that Damian Wayne has been her friend since she was five years old. "Marinette snorts not holding her stoic expression, they only said some lies, but it is that the others border on the delirium that they do not they want to end up in Arkham just for repeating it. That last one, of course, was very close. "I wish someone would warn her that the boy lived with his mother until he was ten years old. "

From there, Chloe gives more details and there is no longer Marinette who can stop her. By the time Bruce arrives with two of his boys, Gordon is on a call with the French police for a case to be brought to the French Board of Education about the school and its unethical methods of education, citing Marinette's unfair expulsion which looks it's still on the school record.

Bruce looks at the two girls in Gordon's office, the blonde looks ready for war and the other girl is sitting quietly. Dick and Tim walk behind him; Richard couldn't resist seeing the girl who hung on him as a koala baby again and Tim is there for exactly the same as Bruce, taking charge because is also his responsibility.

"Good afternoon." Bruce greets, catching the attention of the two Parisian girls. They return the greeting and Gordon only makes a gesture of recognition, the police chief reviews the video he sent and the evidence he has of the case, he can hear him muttering indignantly and something about his daughter being part of all that circus.

"Hey!" Richard greets as well, being friendlier than his adoptive father. "I'm Richard, but you can call me Dick and this is Tim, my little brother. ”Tim gives him a contemplative look and just nods at them. His eyes fixed on everything but the two girls.

"I'm Marinette and she's Chloe, nice to meet you." Marinette smiles brightly. Dick can't believe he's the same girl of last night, but apparently she is.

Gordon ends the call at that time, the police said to initiate a police investigation and to involve the Board of Education.

"Well, ladies. When they get home they will ask for your formal statement and the presentation of the charges, although it seems that the prosecution will take care of that. ”He smiles at the girls, who agree with his words. Chloe celebrates, of course it will involve her father too. "Hi Bruce, thanks for coming."

"Of course. And since you mentioned the investigation, Tim collected all of the security camera files from the past two weeks. Every place they were in is in the file. " Tim hands the memory over to the commissioner, he still has a copy on the computer to review in detail himself.

"Thanks, I will review it and send the parts of interest to France."

After that, the five retreat to the Wayne Manor. The suitcases, or what is left of them, awaits they there. Any impression they might have on seeing the mansion falls short because of the disgust of seeing its things ruined.

"Well, Maribug, can I take this as evidence for my theory?" The hosts are still close enough to hear his words, even though they were about to leave them alone.

"Lila's being a meta or the Akuma's?" Marinette rummages in the secret compartments of her suitcase to make sure it was not raped, fortunately it's intact. It's safe to say that none of them thought that it would have a false base with a secret content, the place where the box of miracles rests. Ever since Hawkmoth decided to target her, she has been a little paranoid, or well, very paranoid. She has two secret compartments inside a secret compartment in her room, to store it, but being so far away she didn't feel calm and decided to carry it with her. Maybe it should include some riddle like firewall.

"Akuma, but Lie-la's also fits."

"I think it's the second one, only the class behaves this stupid so we can't blame Hawkmoth, half Paris continues to maintain it's logical reasoning. "Marinette shrugs and classifies the clothes that still serve and the clothes which inevitably must Discard.

Chloe just hums in agreement, it's a valid point. Long nights of conversation with Kagami and Luka (Marinette's small notes) to determine the motives of the class being so incoherent and violent without a truly logical reason led to those two theories.

"You have to call home, Chloe. You already heard Mr. Wayne. "

"Yeah yeah, I'm going to. At least I brought the least glamorous clothes for this trip. "

That's a ground call for Tim, who had overheard their conversation upon hearing something curious. He must prepare the trip to Paris with Wayne's private plane, Bruce wants to take charge of the situation and speak in person with the parents of both girls. Every hour he knows they won't be leaving until the next day, giving them time to spend time with their unexpected guests.

The call is quick and enough for Marinette to fear that her mother will become Akuma. A message from her father confirms that her fears were unfounded, that her mother's anger is cold and will not fall into Hawkmoth's hands.

When the two girls relax and take a breather, knowing that they will sleep in that mansion, they don't even have time to think twice when Jason drags them into a room full of weapons, Marinette can barely contain her surprise and Chloe glows with excitement.

"Ready to learn how to shoot a gun?" Chloe jumps with badly contained enthusiasm, Marinette is not so enthusiastic about it, but learning to remove a weapon considers that it is something useful for what she asks to start there. "Okay, pixie-pop, I'll teach you how to take apart and lock a weapon."

They spend an entire two hours immersed in the world of weapons, Chloe going through each type as Marinette confronts Jason to disarm him, showing off her quick learning, though not good enough to beat her temporary master.

When Marinette leaves, claiming she doesn't want to shoot, she bumps into Damian and asks him for directions to get out of there.

"Because I should?"

"If I get lost it will be your fault." He snorts, but accepts. He doesn't want a stranger sniffing around the mansion and sticking his nose where it shouldn't. They walk in silence when she notices he is carrying a sword. "Is it a katana?"

"What else would it be?"

"An umbrella." She laughs at the boy's annoyed expression when he turns to look at her as if he thinks she's crazy. "There is a design inspired by katanas, a friend decided it was a good idea to scare us with it..."

"Pff. And why did you believe it?"

"She really tried to cut off someone's hand one day, it was with a saber, but ... we really believed her capable of attacking someone with a katana" Damian only raises an eyebrow with a curiosity that he refuses to admit even to himself. "And she's deadly with a sword, we vowed never to face her again with real swords unless we somehow became Superman. "

"Can you fight with swords?" He was being tolerant by allowing her to speak at first, but the latter did catch his attention. It may not be a good one, but having someone who won't cut its finger on themselves in a workout can be helpful, and if he can get her better, a decent opponent to practice with.

"I avoided she cutting my arm with a katana, does that count?"

It changes course and they head to another room, similar to the weapons room, but this time it is full of swords and knives. She respects people's hobbies, she does, but the amount is over the top and she has a slight suspicion that there is more somewhere in the big mansion. Will there be a pump room? She wouldn't be surprised if one of the other two brothers suddenly came out claiming fanaticism about the explosives.

"I want to see how bad you are."

Ouch, Marinette thinks. She has been ruled out immediately, but will not decline now that she's surrounded by so many weapons. She does feel more excited about a sword than a gun, they can't blame her for preferring close combat.

"We will fight with katana, take whatever you want. They are all polished and sharp. ”She feels something dark when she mentions the sharp, as well as pride in the perfect maintenance of her weapons. She smiles confidently, the boy reminds her of Kagami (albeit much more somber and clearly hostile).

Having chosen, the two are placed in position. And he begins to criticize hard and coldly.

"Your posture is very loose, you will only get him to cut your throat with the first blow. Your friend is an idiot, she must has corrected you since he saw you. ”Mariette nods. "Imitate me. ”She obeys, reflecting her posture. "But be firmer, this is not a dance, it's a fight and if you don't stand up fine. Well, you will dead. "

After several minutes in the same position, they begin. A couple of movements and he correct her again.

"The movement must be strong and fluid, you will cause a fracture on your own if you allow the elbow to continue flexing like this. You must be precise in the movements, you cann't start to experiment if you don't have dominated the base. Again. "

With each criticism and correction the girl makes, she becomes more excited. Damian is relentless with his comments, openly insulting her for her mistakes, but gives the correct and fair corrections for the problem she presents.

"You are agile and flexible, use it to your advantage. Put aside unnecessary movements, sword fighting is offensive and deadly." Marinette notices that she is having fun, if the smile says anything (however mischievous it is when she mocks her mistakes). At least until he stumbles over his own feet and falls flat on his face in front of Damian. "You're an idiot?! You almost stabbed yourself, you can't fall like this! Get up and regain the dignity you have left. Again and don't fall or I’ll stab yourself. "

Marinette has a good time, she doesn't even notice the time she spends training with Damian. Alfred interrupts them by announcing that dinner has been served since fifteen minutes.

"Thanks Alfred." She smiles kindly.

Damian reluctantly guards the sword, his brothers always choose other weapons when training. It was satisfying to have someone willing to fight him in his area, especially for his quick learning, he only had to correct twice about posture and movement; he also noticed that she was imitating his movements to correct himself as they fought. Less useless than his brothers, he will give she that.

When they enter, everyone is eating or so it seems. Tim looks at his plate as if he is going to speak to him at any moment, Dick talks more than he eats (with Stephanie who came interested in the two girls who could be victims of Bruce's adoption), Jason has not even touched the plate and in change is arguing over the theory of how to disassemble a grenade launcher with Chloe. Bruce is the only one who eats in silence, at least until he sees his youngest son arrive with Marinette.

"Excuse me." Marinette sits in the empty seat next to Tim, who barely registers the movement. She worries a little, she seems to be in her bad weeks (say Hawkmoth and her Akuma at three in the morning).

Dinner passes unceremoniously, past Damian demanding they shut up, almost stabbing Marinette's hand with his fork. And contrary to what anyone might think, she just laughs, the whole situation seemed so refreshing, so many people at a table and the familiarity with which they were received. She feels comfortable, even with Damian's passive-aggressive attitude.

Somehow, an hour later, they are dragged back into another room. This time both Chloe and Marinette want to scream, and Mari feels she can be relieved because it didn't result in bombs or anything more dangerous than the other two. He gets them comfortable clothes so they can get on, knowing that they have been sweating and going in normal clothes.

Chloe does not hesitate to climb on the trapeze after warming up, but Marinette sits on the parallel bars, not that she is not willing to do the same as Chloe, but she flies often enough as Ladybug to look for something calmer, although she should take advantage and she would like to have a private gym like that, because there are also weights and a punching bag.

Dick is in cloud nine watching how the two girls look like fish in the water, he imagined that it would be so. Especially when she saw Marinette training with Damian and the movements she made, she is clearly a gymnast. And being there, well, that the two of them are so enthusiastic only makes it better. Unlike his brothers, he just wants them to have fun.

At some point in the time they take turns between the bars and the trapeze, Dick and Chloe end up competing. While Marinette is happy on the uneven bars until Damian re-monopolizes her and they move to the weapons room; leaving the other two doing jumps and twists in the air (Dick wins, of course).

Of course, Marinette enjoys the workout and is glad she didn't end up hurt in any way. It would be funny to explain to her parents that they ended up fighting with swords with a boy four years younger and that he did not have the mercy to avoid hurting her.

"Better than a few hours ago, you're not that horrible anymore. "

"Decent, right?"

"That is too favorable for you, you still trip over the air and almost take your eye out." Damian frowns in disappointment at the incompetence of maintaining a decent balance when he has both feet on the ground. When he saw her on the uneven bars, it was almost believed that the jumps that ended in disaster were fake, but no, she really stumbled into nothingness itself.

"Uh, sorry. I will do it better.

"You better, I won't admit any more stupid mistakes."

Damian would have preferred to go on patrol, but he won't complain about the training either. He had fun at the girl's expense and, above all, he knows that if he sees her again and she keeps practicing (he will make sure of that) he will be a better rival than today. She can even introduce that friend of her to measure levels, he's better of course but it never hurts to re-confirm.

At ten at night they go to bed, Alfred shows the room to the two girls and lets them settle down. Marinette can't sleep, after four hours of tossing and turning, she resigns herself and leaves, looking at Tikki on her pillow sleeping comfortably, she can't help envying her good rest. Pick up your phone and it's 2:15.

She curses her insomnia and wanders around the mansion, somehow miraculously ends up in the kitchen. It is a dim light that directs her there, since everything else is dark, she didn't even feel when went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tim is leaning against the table with his computer on and a steaming coffee. Suddenly he gets up and turns to her with a surprised (and very confused) expression, but more surprised Marinette is when he does that.

"Oh Im sorry…"

"No, no ... Uh, can't you sleep?"

"Usually not. What are you doing?" Marinette knows that she is taking, perhaps, too much liberties when curious about what Tim is doing, but she is not sleepy and there is nothing else to do.

"Work, Wayne Industries is developing a new model of heavy machinery for moving cargo containers, much more resistant to be located on the coasts for the rainy seasons… I am reviewing all the designs, suggested materials and profitability of each project to present to the board in three weeks. There are seven different models, and none are tailored to it needs. " Tim shows the blueprint of the last model he has reviewed, flipped it over several times, and revised the materials, but they are not entirely satisfactory for what he is seeking to present.

"It looks complicated, how do you know if it adapts to it needs or not?" Marinette sits next to him, interested in the project. She know he is the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and every division in the company, but seeing the work he does is something different. "If you have to go through those kinds of projects and take care of other tasks, i'm not surprised that you're so sleep deprived"

"Well, the demand is analyzed first." Open another file of the works of the sector where the new project is directed. "Here, the work of the machinery must meet the standards in relation to the pace of work and the climate, considering that it wants to deliver a specific model for working on coasts. This is only to increase efficiency and allow a slightly longer time frame between maintenances. Metals corrode with greater speed and, sometimes, the weather is so bad that it avoids correct maintenance; storms in mid-spring flood the ports. fairly frequently and parts need to be replaced more frequently This new model should allow greater resistance to these conditions. "

"Interesting, and are you always watching projects?"

"Not all projects, Wayne Biotechnology projects do not review this way, it is not my area. It's usually the manager of the division who presents new projects to the board. However, I still have to review other aspects of all the divisions of the company and that includes them all…"

"It's still a lot of work, is it that heavy or do you overload yourself?" Marinette inquires with playful curiosity, Tim shifts nervously.

"A little of both?"

"Oh.So, you need a better coffee. ”She takes the liberty of trying the one she is drinking. "It's still very light. I will share with you my winning recipe, it has kept me up for an entire week with one hour of daily sleep. "

Marinette gets up and moves in the kitchen as if she were the owner of the place, looking for what she needs. Seeing the coffee, she is surprised.

"Black Insomnia?"

"I can only have one cup a week, Alfred thinks it's going to kill me if I drink it every day. I have made an agreement, he doesn't tell me anything about not sleeping and I comply with taking it once a week."

"It's totally valid. " Marinette laughs and puts the coffee back in its place. "Whiskey. It will come handy. "

"What?" Tim watches the girl open the bottle to smell her, it's one of the ones Alfred confiscated from Jason a week ago. "Why Whiskey?"

"Other flavor, vodka is better, but I can work with this. Do you have mint?"

Tim remains dubious as he watches her work with the most random ingredients he could think of for a coffee, also yogurt? He won't question it, but was France so strange?

A few minutes later Marinette hands him a cup.

"It has less caffeine than a regular cup, but the energy it provides is much greater. If you drink one cup per hour, with this you only need one to run at least four. It's magical, come on, don't see it like that. ”She pouts and he decides to take it.

"It is safe? I don't think Alfred is happy that you murder me with coffee."

"I think Damian would have a party."

"Oh, the demon's ally. Since I didn't see it coming, I gave you my trust and that's how you pay me. "

They both laugh, Tim finally trying the coffee. He will give she points for the taste, he don't even feel that it has alcohol and ultimately he feel more alive than a moment ago. He can continue working.

They both stay in the kitchen, Tim works until five in the morning. Marinette fell asleep at one point in that time and he settled her in such a way that when he falls asleep she is his pillow. The sad thing is that not even putting together the hours of sleep of both can they add up to three.

Alfred enters deciding to wake up the teenagers, the plane will leave in two hours and they must prepare. Tim looks for his cup of coffee and has finished it, he doesn't want to move.

"Now, Master Tim. Be a responsible boy and they'll go change. ”Marinette is barely aware of her surroundings as she is dragged into the rooms by Tim, but neither is he does.

Neither of them fully records what happens, except getting to a bed and going back to sleep. Totally out of combat. When they are close to leaving, Bruce doesn't even know what think on seeing the two young sleeping like corpses, dressed exactly the same as the day before.

"Chloe, help Marinette get ready. Dick, help Tim. We're leaving in ten minutes. ”The two mentioned only look at each other in panic before running to wake up the dead.

Marinette barely registers, feeling terribly drained now that all the effort from the day before is building up. He could sleep a thousand years if he were allowed to. They get ready in record time and move to the airport, for the only thing Marinette is aware of is to her luggage, being that she hugs it and when she asks, she murmurs: I love this suitcase, but don't tell my other suitcases, they get angry. No one says anything except for Jason's small laugh and a snort from a more sleepy than awake Tim who responds: who will tell them? No one knows them. Jason breaks down after that and laughs out loud.

Richard regrets not having recorded the most hilarious conversation he has ever witnessed, he has heard his little brother say inconsistent things in his sleep deprivation, but seeing an exchange is something very different. And it's so funy.

And they spend hours on the plane, Marinette basically asleep on Tim while he seems to melt in the seat. Richard took lots of photos every time they moved. By the time they get to Paris, they are both more awake.

Chloe smiles at her city, excited for what awaits all the bastards who left them behind. Maybe it is justice for everyone else, but for her it's revenge and she wants to see them suffer for hurting them both.

------------

Thanks for reading!

#timari #Timinette #tim x marinette #marinette x tim #maribat #bustier salt #ml x dc

372 notes · View notes

flaggermousseart · 4 years ago

Text

creator tag meme

@knifeears said anyone could snatch it up, so here I am, snatching

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

#1 The Kiss in the Shrieking Shack

It’s almost a year since I made this, but I’m still very satisfied with it. I managed to make a lot of background with several layers of shadows. This was a very simple idea: just make one change to the canon scene. I added the canon dialogue from the scene in the tumblr post, and I didn’t need to change a single word, and that still makes me grin. My favourite panel is one of the last ones, where they just stare at each other, I’m very satisfied with that picture in particular, especially Sirius’ expression. This comic exploded in popularity more than I could have imagined. I am thrilled so many people enjoy it.

#2 November 1st 1993

Sticking to the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, making a scene with just the teachers. I just like what I managed to show with the dialogue and the art here. In canon, Snape seems to think Remus Lupin isn’t trustworthy because of his past history with Sirius Black, as we can see from his talk with Dumbledore at Halloween, and the things he says in the Shrieking Shack. I just took that, and made it a romantic/sexual history. Snape’s not outing him as a werewolf, instead it’s another painful secret he pokes at.

Also satisfied with Minerva and Remus’ short conversation; he didn’t help his ex into Hogwarts, and she believes him, but at the same time … Remus IS hiding one BIG secret (the fact that Sirius became an Animagus to help Remus through hard times) that quite IS possibly at least part of how he got onto the school grounds. Ah. Guilt.

The last picture took me ages. I made the poster, and then copied and tweaked and drew tears and holes in them, piecing it all together in a ton of layers. I kept the file of the posters, and ended up reusing it in a different comic later.

#3 Nightmare

Still in the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, when everyone thought Sirius was a murderous traitor. Parts of this comic are a bit uneven. I spot some issues with the size of people’s eyes in certain frames. But it’s mostly about the atmosphere and emotions, and I think that worked well here.

I always like drawing Sirius’ ‘straight outta Azkaban’-look; dressed in rags and long messy hair. Here I had a lot of fun working on making him creepy, both with dialogue and the way he acts. As if he really was a loyal servant of Voldemort, not giving a damn about the deaths he’s responsible for … and any romantic tones are messed up and possessive, as if he had intended to keep Remus like a pet once Voldemort took over.

This is basically all about creepy atmosphere and how Remus never got the therapy he needed after the war.

#4 Picking up the Pieces

This was the year I started writing fanfiction. I love reading it, but never dared to write and put it out there before. I worried I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t understand characters well enough … but once I dipped back into my obsession with HP (this is one of the fandoms that is always in the back of my mind, even if others things take the front seat), I ended up trying. I feel comfortable with this world; I feel I know it well enough to try and make something within it, even without my art as a crutch.

Picking up the Pieces is an AU where Sirius gets a trial and ends up raising Harry together with Remus. I love this type of AU, because there’s the happiness of a better childhood for Harry, contrasted with the war they came out of, and the people they lost.

The Trial took a lot of work, but I wanted to try and do it justice. I love working in details of the world, and reread and reread the canon we know to try and piece it all together, and drag in just about all I could think of that could be used as proof for and against Sirius.

Both that part, and Wolfsbane are Outsider POV from minor canon characters, and I absolutely love Outsider POV. I liked fleshing out Damocles Belby, and make his research into the Wolfsbane potion more emotional.

We need to talk about the snakes is basically a slice of life episode focusing on Harry’s magical powers starting to appear, and with some special skills his godparents never suspected he had. I enjoyed peppering background about their life together into this, and it is one of those stories where the audience that knows canon understands what’s happening, but the characters don’t; and I enjoy that.

I still have ideas for Picking up the Pieces, so hopefully, there will be some more in this series.

#5 Rumours

Aaand right back to Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline! (yes it is my favourite HP-book, why are you asking?) This little fic has much in common with #1 and #2. It is basically a canon scene that I did a little bit of tweaking to. It deals with the rumours that have started to spread around the school about how professor Lupin used to date Sirius Black years back.

It’s short, but I liked writing Harry in this; his thoughts on those rumours, both at the beginning and end of the fic. It sticks to Harry’s POV like how the book canon is presented, and again there’s how we the readers know things the characters does not.

#bonus

I just think this unicorn is rad.

I tag @kattlupin, @engie-ivy and anyone else that wants to do it. Show us what you’ve made this year!

#creator tag meme #not art #it's okay to be happy with things we've made #Wolfstar

26 notes · View notes

mostly-marvel-musings · 5 years ago

Text

A Mere Mortal - Chapter Four

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles . Feedback’s appreciated as always! :))

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 2298

Warnings: 18+ stuff. Kissing and make out scenes. Foul language.

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore @ladyacrasia @tcc-gizmachine @alexakeyloveloki

Taglists open! Send me an ask if you wish to be tagged in future chapters.

...

It had been a while since you woke up before the alarm went off. Given the fact that you were up late writing and editing some initial drafts, this morning you felt surprisingly fresh.

Might as well go for a run.

Pulling out your trainers, a blue fleece jacket and a beanie that you found in your luggage you stepped out.

The weather was nippy, perfect for a jog through the little forest trail. Plugging your headphones you put on a ‘workout mix’ and started a slow jog following a narrow path that winded through the woods.

When the cabin came into view you leaned against a tree to catch your breath. Huffing, you pulled the earplugs out and looked around.

Faint whimpering sounds reached your ears from behind another tree to your right. You stepped around and a scared looking pup, not older than three weeks came into view. He was visibly shivering in the cold and you couldn’t help but pick him up.

“Where’s your mama little one?” you murmured looking around for any signs of an adult dog, but found none. “You hungry?” already walking inside with him tucked in your arms.

Thankfully you had leftover steamed veggies in your fridge from last night which would have to suffice for now.

You mashed the carrots and broccoli and offered it to the puppy along with some water which he accepted with grateful wags of his tiny tail.

Letting him out in the harsh weather would be cruel, might as well find a box and some sheets to keep him warm.

The aroma of freshly made coffee still lingered in the air, after you took a quick shower and breakfast when your phone rang. It was a Face Time video from Sam.

“Sammie! How are you?”

“You seem awfully chipper (Y/N). I’m good. How’re things in creepy town?”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, you had missed him.

“For one stop calling it creepy town. Second, things couldn’t be better. I went for a run in the woods earlier today and came home with a puppy!”

“You did what?”

“Yeah well he looked so fragile and cold, I couldn’t leave him out there. Plus look how cute he is!” You said flipping the camera around so that Sam could see the pup who was now curled up into a ball on the rug, sleeping peacefully.

“Cute. Hey did you meet your landlord Mr. Bones was it?”

“It’s Barnes Sam, yes we met. Bucky is such a nice guy. Ah. A perfect gentleman. Like you wouldn’t believe.” you gushed excitedly. You recalled the meeting and he listened patiently, sneaking in a few teasing remarks in between.

“I smell a crush (Y/N/N)”

“Oh stop, I’ve only met him twice, we had drinks the other day. Nothing happened” you spoke with a tad bit of disappointment. Something almost happened.

“So what? You can make a move. Guys dig that.” Sam insisted.

“I moved here to write my novel Sam. I can’t just randomly hook up with my landlord.”

You can do both, pun intended. Your horny alter ego spoke up.

You cut the call after filling him in on most of the details. You didn’t mention that weird sex dream with Loki, in fact didn’t mention the man at all. You hadn’t figured what to make of it, it was completely out of the blue.

Something you didn’t want to dwell on too much.

...

Mid-morning was spent trying get the pup to not pee next to the kitchen cabinet and to find a name for the little guy.

After a few tries he wagged his tiny tail when you said Bear, quite fitting, he was brown and shaggy.

You had lunch at the grill, when Bear had finally slept in his box and you were sure he wouldn’t get too lonely in your absence. You purchased kibbles, a leash and a few other things from Fred’s on your way home.

…

Bucky’s POV

I’ve been staring at this page for the longest time, reading the same sentence over and over again.

I managed to get my hands on (Y/N)’s latest book online and got it shipped here. An anthology of short stories, the title was enough to intrigue me, Mere Mortals.

She had a flair for writing thrillers, no wonder this was a best-seller.

This particular story caught my attention about a vampire falling madly in love with a human. A beautifully written tragedy with a line that struck me the most,

“Loving the monsters never ends well for the human.”

The book made me wonder how she might react if she finds out who I really am. Would she run away or be brave enough like one of her characters and stick around. Probably best to leave that topic for later.

Your book is fantastic (Y/N). You weren’t kidding when you said you love the supernatural. :P

How’s the new one coming along?

I didn’t want to seem too pushy but I couldn’t help myself. Something about her made it hard for me to stay away.

You read my book! I’m glad you found my obsession amusing. As far as the new one goes, I’ve been at it for days with very little progress. Starting to freak out. :(

The promptness of her reply made me smile. I quickly texted back and invited her over for dinner later today.

With that I walked inside to get a refill of my dinner for the night from the fridge.

…

Bear sat looking up at you with his head tilted to one side, as you explained you’d be leaving him alone for a few hours to go meet Bucky.

“And please don’t destroy the house, we’re here on lease. I’ll be back soon.” You placed a kiss on his nose and stood up to leave.

The walk to Bucky’s house was spent adjusting your hair every few minutes and making sure your breath was minty fresh. As trees cleared a huge cottage came into view which you could only guess was his ancestral home.

It looked surprisingly modern though with a few overgrown weeds around and English ivy covering most of the exterior walls. Stopping outside the front door, you checked your appearance one last time on your phone camera and knocked.

“Come on in, it’s open.” Bucky’s voice came through from a distance. You pushed the door open and stepped in the dimly lit house.

The wallpaper covered foyer reminded you of an old museum. Reaching the living room, you looked around to find most of the tables topped with antiques and artifacts. Old paintings that definitely belonged to the 18th century decorated the walls. All in all, the house looked like it belonged to someone who was stinking rich.

“Sorry for not opening the door, I almost lit my kitchen on fire.”

You turned around to see Bucky dressed in a button down tucked neatly in dark denims and the sleeves folded up to the elbow, hair in disarray but still freaking gorgeous walk in the living room. You looked around the room and said, “I didn’t know you lived in a museum.”

“Oh it’s our family home, almost been the same since my great grandfather built it. I’ll give you a tour later.”

“You’re rich.”

“No my parents were rich.” He chuckled.

“That is a typical rich person reply right there.” You shot back as you followed him into the kitchen.

The kitchen was bigger than your first apartment, very rustic looking with modern appliances to add contrast. The smell of Bolognese wafting through the closed pot on the stove made your stomach grumble.

“Hope you like Italian.” He gave you a smile and opened the lid to show off his work proudly.

“Is there anyone who doesn’t? It’s my favorite.” You walked closer and inhaled deeply before sighing rather dramatically.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

You ate at the breakfast bar, though there was a dining room. Of course it was a twelve seat formal one complete with a fancy chandelier and everything.

“Are you like a prince or something hiding your true identity from me?” you asked eyeing him with mock suspicion.

He laughed, “I could be a mafia for all you know.” You got the latter part right, (Y/N)

“Nah don’t get that vibe from you.”

“Well my family owned a few properties around here including the cabin you’re living in, and the library, and now I look after it. My great grandfather was a part of the town council and everything, it’s boring.”

“Interesting would be the word I would use. Though a tiny part of me was hoping you’d say mafia and prove me wrong.”

You kept the conversation going through rest of the dinner and he seemed eager to know about your past as well. After a tour of the house, he offered you a nightcap as you settled on a plush couch in the living area. Comfortable silence that fell between you was broken as you heard soft music coming from an antique looking vinyl player.

“Care to dance?”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you took his outstretched hand and stood from your spot.

“See this is the kinda stuff that happens either in romantic movies or the beginnings of a serial killer movie.” You slid your arms around his neck as both of you gently swayed to the music.

The things you were feeling at that moment definitely were something you had only read about in those classic romantic novels you used to love so much in your growing years.

“Let’s just say it’s the former for now okay?” Bucky kept his arms around your waist and looked at your lips. You wasted no time in replying as you pulled him in for a kiss.

Lips brushed against each other softly at first, delicate like butterfly wings, he could feel the warmth of your skin and taste the wine you’d had earlier.

Soon you lost yourself in the moment as instincts took over and your fingers weaved through his hair. One hand moved to the back of your head and the other stayed on your back as he pulled you even closer and the innocent kiss turned fervent.

The need to pull away for air became necessary as you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together, grinning ear to ear.

“The cooking, the wine and dance. You’re very old school in your ways Mr. Barnes.”

“I sure love it when you call me that doll.”

With that he pressed his lips to yours once more and ravaged your mouth. Backing you up against a wall, his hands dropped down to your hips and he pressed himself closer to you, making his hard-on evident. A moan escaped you as he moved his mouth from your lips down to your neck where he found your sweet spot with ease.

All he could think about was the feel of your flushed skin, your heady scent and the smell of blood flowing through your carotid. He pressed his nose at the spot where your shoulder and neck met and inhaled deeply. This made your eyes flutter open.

“What’re you doing?” your voice came out weak as you tugged on his hair lightly, not understanding his actions but not really wanting him to move away.

“Stopping myself from going too far. I find you irresistible (Y/N).” he said slowly kissing his way back to your lips, eyes still closed.

“And you intrigue me. You’ll definitely end up as my protagonist if I ever write a romance novel.” you decided to lighten the sexually charged atmosphere with your dull sense of humor. You weren’t one of those who’d sleep with someone on their first date. Deciding it was time to leave you gently nudged him and he stepped away to give you space.

He walked you back to your home as always and stopped at the porch steps.

“Probably wise to not invite you in just now, Bear must’ve pooped in several places.”

“Bear?”

“Shit! I forgot to ask. I found a puppy this morning and decided to take him in. I hope its okay with you.” You silently prayed he wasn’t one of those ‘no pets allowed’ guy, considering his own house was so prim and proper, there wasn’t a stray fly around.

“Who doesn’t like dogs?”

Vampires. Vampires don’t gel well with dogs.

But he couldn’t say no to you. You were probably safer with one in the house.

You stood on your tippy toes to give him a goodbye kiss which lasted a few seconds that had you reconsider going in alone.

…

Loki peered through from the shadows as you kissed Bucky outside your cabin. Fists clenched, eyes seeing red he stormed away through the woods searching for an outlet, a prey.

Rage turned into blood thirst, he spotted the lady who worked at the grill walking through the empty town square. Perfect.

Her wrist watch read 12:30, as Jenny made her way home after her shift ended at the grill. The area was deserted, illuminated only by the street lamps. She heard twigs snapping behind her and turned to locate the source of the noise.

There was no one.

Slightly alarmed, she turned back to see a tall dark figure standing right in front of her. Her initial shock wore off as she recognized the man. It was Loki.

“Mr. Laufeyson! You scared me.”

Loki stalked closer with eyes dark and an unreadable look on his face.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just out for a bite.”

He grabbed Jenny before she could run and sunk his fangs in her neck.

Her piercing scream echoed into the night, soon coming to a stop like her pulse.

…

115 notes · View notes

onlycags · 4 years ago

Text

Movie Night 9 | Çağlar Söyüncü

August: Barnes

- - -

This Saturday’s movie night is dedicated to my girl @chilly-me-softly because this is the first chapter she hasn’t read through completely before I posted it. Enjoy! xx

Alternate Title: Redemption

Çağlar hadn’t wanted to miss July’s movie night; up until two hours before, he had planned on going.

“Söyüncü!” Rodgers had yelled in the changing room after practice. “See me when you’re changed.”

He had followed reluctantly, noting the time on the clock before he entered Rodgers’s office. Even if whatever this meeting was ran over two hours, he would still be able to make movie night easily.

“Sir?” He asked, knocking lightly on the door.

“C’mon in, son. Have a seat.”

Çağlar sat down warily, wincing slightly from the tackle he’d taken out on the field earlier. “You okay?” Rodgers asked, taking off his readers.

“Yes,” he answered automatically, not wanting to admit weakness.

Rodgers shot him a look. “You sure?”

“Yes, sir.” Çağlar started to get up to leave.

“Sit back down,” Rodgers ordered, shocking the Turk into submission. “I was watching your performance during the EuroCup and I got worried, especially with that last match. You got subbed off after the first half and you were playing poorly. Care to tell me what’s been going on?”

Çağlar grimaced, running a hand through his hair. “It sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who cares?”

“No, sir.” Çağlar took a breath and said, “It’s about a girl.”

Rodgers ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Forget what I just said, Söyüncü. I do care and it does sound stupid when you say it out loud. Spit it out - who is she?”

“She’s, uh, Maddison’s best mate.”

“[Y/N]? The one who comes around occasionally and is always visiting after matches?”

Çağlar nodded, looking down at his hands. “That’s her.”

“What’d she do to you? Is she messing with you? I can get a restraining order, we can take her to court, whatever needs to be done to get this taken care of.” He reached for the landline on his desk. “Hell, let’s get the PR team in here now and we can sort this whole thing out now. She trying to take you for your money?”

“No, sir. Nothing like that.”

“Well, then, what is it?”

“She slept with someone else.” Çağlar blushed and looked away, embarrassed to be sharing such intimate information with his coach.

“Well…fuck.” Çağlar raised his eyebrows at Rodgers’s swearing. “Were the two of you together?”

“Uh, not officially, sir.”

“But you had enough feelings for her that it’s affecting your performance on the pitch.” He sighed again, muttering to himself. “Ain’t that just a kick in the nuts.”

“Sir?”

“Sorry. An American expression I saw on telly - my daughter suggested I start ‘binge watching’ this American Football program called Friday Night Lights because she swears I am, and I quote, ‘just like Coach Taylor’. Needless to say, I am a bit obsessed.” He chuckled. “Women get us to do the craziest things.”

Çağlar nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, let’s discuss possible strategies to get you out of your head when you’re on the pitch. You’ve been so good at it before, but I’m betting that it’s because you trained to put certain scenarios out of your mind while you play.”

“That’s right. I always strategized about how I could improve my concentration and minimize distractions. Now, with a new distraction that I have not planned for, it is hard.”

“Let’s go make it easy.”

Rodgers ran drills and plays with Çağlar long after Belvoir’s closing time. By the time he was done, Çağlar was sure he would be able to play and not think about you.

He went home, tired and weary, completely forgetting all about movie night. When he did remember, he sent you a two-word text: I’m sorry.

~~~

He was slower than usual at training the next day, something the lads noticed and teased him about, but Rodgers gave him no flack.

At the end of training, Çağlar and Madders sat in the ice bath, Madders on his phone texting someone a kilometre a minute.

“You okay, mate?” Mads asked, setting his phone down.

“Yes.”

“We missed you at movie night.” A pause. “[Y/N] was there.”

“I am sorry. I was training last night.”

“That why you were slow today?”

“Yes. I was working out ways to get her out of my head when I play so that I am not distracted.”

“That why you weren’t at movie night?”

“Yes. I was running drills with Rodgers until late.”

“Did they help?”

“I think so. We shall see on Saturday’s match.”

“Have you gotten a chance to speak to her?”

“I do not know what to say. I do not even know if she will want to see me.”

“Mate!” Madders sighed, exasperated. “She was looking for you last night. Trust me, she wants to talk to you.” Madders pulled out his phone. “You know where The Ivy Soho Brasserie is in Leicester Square?”

Çağlar nodded.

“Good,” Mads replied, “because you’re meeting [Y/N] in an hour.”

“What?! No - I cannot meet her.”

“Relax, mate. She thinks she’s meeting me. Just show up and talk to her.”

~~~

An hour later, Çağlar showed up at the restaurant, nervous to see you. You were seated at a table in the back, head buried in your phone. You looked up from your phone and your eyes met Çağlar’s. The shock on your face had him wanting to turn and leave but he walked over to you with more confidence than he felt.

“Hello,” he greeted, placing an awkward kiss on your cheek.

“Hi. I thought James was meeting me here?” you asked, looking away as he sat down.

“He wanted us to talk so he sent me instead.”

You shrugged. “Okay.”

The waiter arrived and the two of you placed your orders. You were grateful for the distraction - it was unexpected to see him here and you were still reeling from the kiss he’d placed on your cheek.

When the waiter left, the awkward silence returned. You took a sip of your water and sighed. “Çağlar,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He reached across the table and grabbed your hand, desperate to touch you in some small way. “Please, [Y/N], can we start over?”

Your heart hurt - you were still reeling from emotions you still processing almost a month later. “I…I don’t know, Çağlar. Did you sleep with her?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head vehemently. “She tried to, but I stopped her because she was not you. What you saw the day you FaceTimed me - that was her trying to seduce me again. I told her that day that she and I were over and that we would never be together like that again.” He paused, the expression on his face tortured as he said, “We can work past this - I forgive you for sleeping with Jack.

You were openly crying now. “I didn’t sleep with Jack. I kissed him the night before we talked and I almost did, but I didn’t. I wanted to move on so badly, but you’re in my head and I-”

Your food arrived, Çağlar asking for the check and some takeaway boxes. You could only agree, your appetite gone the moment you saw him walk through the door.

The two of you walked to the nearest park in silence. You tried to get your emotions under control, still reeling from the restaurant.

You found a quiet space in the park away from everyone at a picnic table.

“Can we start over?” He asked again.

You played with the takeaway box in front of you, trying to find words. “I want to,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how we can.”

“Come to movie night in a month and we will begin again.”

You hesitated, but ultimately nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you parted ways a short time later. It was going to be a long twenty-nine days.

***

You arrived a few minutes early to Barnes’ flat, wearing your favourite sundress that gave you confidence and let you enjoy the last few sunny days of a Leicester summer.

Harvey wrapped you in a hug the moment you stepped through the door. “I haven’t seen you in ages, [Y/N]!” He exclaimed, his face flushed.

You laughed, pushing Harvey off you after he almost suffocated you with that hug. “Barnes, it’s only been a month! Are you drunk already?”

He shrugged. “A month is too long.” He smiled at you, cocking his head. “And yes, I’m a liiitle tipsy.”

You ruffled his hair, giggling at his outrage. “You silly boy.”

You made your way into the kitchen, setting your six-pack of beer on the counter along with the snacks you’d decided to bring. Just as you were cracking open your first beer, your eyes connected with Çağlar’s. Your body reacted the same way it always did when he was around - you looked away, blushing a bit, shocked at how much it felt like the first time you were seeing him again.

He took his time approaching you, which gave you time to drink him in. His joggers hung low on his hips and his dark t-shirt clung to his muscled shoulders and arms. He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, his eyes going a shade darker. He stopped inches from you and you stopped thinking for a moment as the smell of his cologne overwhelmed your senses.

“Hello, I’m Çağlar,” he said, holding out his hand.

You took it, gasping a little at the contact. “[Y/N],” you said, blushing again.

“Nice to meet you,” he murmured, leaning in.

Just as you were about to say something, a cacophony of noise brought the two of you out of your own little world as Tielemans, Perez, Madders and Chilly arrived.

“Thank god you’re here!” Barnes said, waving his arms dramatically at the four boys.

“Don’t say a word about being us being late,” Madders muttered, rolling his eyes as he walked over to you and Çağlar.

“Hey you two,” he said, pulling you in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Mads,” you replied, smiling at your friend. “Why so grumpy?”

“Long day - those three kept annoying the shit out of me.”

“Well, Kasper Van Damme should be arriving soon, so he should be able to protect you from the big scary boys!” Harvey called out, cackling.

James reached into a nearby bowl of popcorn and chucked a handful in Harvey’s general direction. “Hey! No throwing popcorn in this flat, Maddison!” Came Harvey’s voice again.

“Sod off, Barnes!” Madders yelled back, making you laugh, accidentally leaning back into Çağlar as you did so.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, putting a bit of distance between the two of you.

“It is okay,” he said, placing a hand on your arm.

Schmeichel, Evans and Vardy arrived shortly before the movie began, Barnes huffing in annoyance, causing the three men to roll their eyes at him.

You tried to figure out where to sit, torn between wanting to sit next to Çağlar and hanging out with Mads. Just as you were about to give up, Çağlar grabbed your hand. You looked up at him, a questioning look on your face.

“Sit with me?” He asked and you nodded, smiling shyly.

You let him lead you to the sofa, automatically curling into his side as Barnes turns the lights down.

The movie opened with a New Orleans jazz scene that was obviously set in the eighties or early nineties. “What even is this?” Madders asked, obviously still in a mood.

“Only the best, weirdest spy movie ever!” Barnes replied. “One of my American friends introduced me to it.”

“What’s it called again?” Perez asked, grabbing some popcorn out of a nearby bowl.

“More importantly: how does Barnes have American friends?” Evans teased.

Barnes shushed everyone, citing the movie night rules. “It’s called Undercover Blues, and I have American friends because I’m a social butterfly,” he pouted, making everyone turn their attention back to the movie.

You were utterly fascinated. It was an American film you hadn’t seen before, which seemed to be rare these days. Everyone seemed to be enchanted by it - even Kasper laughed out loud multiple times. Stanley Tucci, Dennis Quaid, and Kathleen Turner were amazing, the comedic timing off the charts.

“Hey, isn’t that Aunt Petunia?” Chilly asked when the antagonist came on.

“It is,” Barnes confirmed, his expression serious. “Fiona Shaw is a goddess.”

You laughed, snuggling deeper into Çağlar. It felt like the first few movie nights again, the two of you cuddling on the sofa while everyone else watched the movie. You could feel his heart beating underneath your fingertips, enjoying the feel of him next to you.

The movie ended, everyone still slightly confused by nineties-American humour but you had thoroughly enjoyed the movie. “Can I take you home?” Çağlar asked, appearing at your side as you walked out of Harvey’s flat.

“Sure,” you said, butterflies in your stomach as you remembered the last time he took you home.

You sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with your hands. The deja vu was intense, struggling to remain calm as you thought about what was going to happen when the two of you got to your flat.

“Walk me to my door?” You asked, your voice shaking slightly.

“Okay.”

Çağlar walked next to you, silent. He stood behind you as you put your key in your door. You turned to him.

“Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”

“No, thank you,” he said, shaking his head. You tried not to let your disappointment show, but Çağlar wouldn’t let you hide your feelings from him, placing a hand underneath your chin and making you look at him. He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Go on a date with me.”

#cags series #movie night series

2 notes · View notes

charmed-asylum · 5 years ago

Text

The Partners

The Partners, part one

Summary: Finn Cox had everything boy would ever dream of a hot cheerleader girlfriend, loved by everyone, and caption of his hockey team. So why is since Camille Dawson step into his life he starts to have second thoughts about everything

FYI: This part was over 15,000 words so it is gonna be split into two. Something I will like to thank lack of sleep, energy drinks, and a KILLER PLAYLIST. Also if you wanna chat let's chat you wanna say how bad it is well let me know you wannabe tag let me know

tagged: @weapinggwillowss @nottherightseason @strangerfictions @thewolfswriting @hauntors

2015

I look out again to the street, what to say. WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA SAY. Maybe that’s my problem. YOU GOTTA SAY SOMETHING BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Let me be clear. Be honest with me and with you. This isn’t gonna be that moment I run out in the rain and throw some shit around and she comes running. No. Maybe if I wasn’t such an ass and didn’t hurt her again. How stupid can I be to do that, again? This isn’t some love story some yuppy bull shit story. Life never like that. Two people didn’t just meet and then it was happy ever after. No, it wasn’t like that. Maybe this is the reason why. Perhaps it’s things like that have people disappointed. Because the reality isn’t like that. At the end of the day, people only dream and wish that they at least have a moment like this. And for some that moment last a lifetime. I look back into the rearview mirror and imagine you that first day. That was when that moment started for us, 4-period Sociology.

2011

He walked into the school with a sense of pride. Everyone gosh over and even ivy him. All the boys wanted to either be friends or be him and the girls well almost all of them wanted him and the ones that didn’t choose him as there passed. He was immune to it all. Yeah, he enjoyed the attention but it felt safe normal. People around the school called him Trophy Boy. Another thing that didn’t faze him. They all love and knew Finn.

The teacher, young long strawberry red hair freckles and green eyes, came in right after the bell. She was in a rush as her skirt wasn't in the right direction. She looked at the class and wrote her name, Ms. Milton. Finn looks at her as she calls out everyone's name. He glances at his side. His boys were sleeping of course. Trying to catch up from last night's party. Then he turned back to his estranged girlfriend, Nikkei who was texting whoever. " Ok class. So because your teacher left for maturity. I will be taking over. The rest of the semester. I calculated all she has done and the rest will be easy and fun but only if you work hard" Ms. Milton started to say.

He could not even think about class his mind was way too busy thinking about practice and making out with Nikkei later. " Lastly before the bell rings. I believe in teaching and testing a person different. For the last couple of weeks, I ask you to come to see me and do a questionnaire which I then decided to make groups of two. You and your partner would do a project for the end of our weeks together. Based on what you learn in the class. It simple paper which one could do. Then a presentation. This whole thing would be worth a good 50% of your grade" Ms. Milton says. She started to read the names of the partners.

He leans back and looks at the ceiling while reading the list." Last but not least this one I really can't wait to see. Uh, Finn Cox and Camille Dawson" she said looking around the class for the two. Finn was confused and caught off guard. He looked around to figure who his partner was. The name why did it sound so familiar. Then there it was the look. There she was sitting in front of the classroom. Staring right at him with her dark brown Bambi eyes. As if she was in a trance. The bell rings but she didn't move. Finn looks away then glanced back. She was by the teacher now. Talking. Finn quickly got his stuff and went. He stops before leaving and glance back to her. She was about five two flat and baggy clothes. That was two sizes big. Complaining trying to get out of it. No, the teacher said. Camille shook her head yes and walk right past him. He could not figure out why he knew her name. Why it felt so familiar.

Sitting on the cafeteria table with Nikkei between his legs. He looks at her. " Remember class. How Milton was all hyper and shit. Do you know anything about my partner, Camille" he said looking at her. Nikkei smile and started to laugh. " That loser. The mute teacher pet wet dream" she said polishing her nails. Kevin sitting across from Nikkei's smile. " I had her in my math class last year when she came here. She is smart. Got me a B+. I would have probably got an A but I kept using my homework for paper for my weed. And I heard that once during gym class. A couple of guys saw her in her bathing suit. Man" he says holding his hands up to pretend to be a pair of boobs. Finn shakes his head in disbelief. Her name. He knew he was missing something but what.

By the time he got home, his dad was in the living room watching college sports drinking bud light. " Finn your home" a voice said from the kitchen. Finn smiles and goes towards the kitchen. A woman in her early forties with shoulder-length brown hair stood by the kitchen counter cutting up potatoes. He came in and kiss her on the check. " What up mom" he says grabbing some potato chips. She smiled and mess up his hair. " You know I don't even like that question. Taking it day by day" she said drinking some tea. He looks at her. " School was good. That's what you're wondering right Or that practice was the same. Coach up my grill about being a better leader. Then put me on ice when I do what he asked. Oh yeah, some teachers gave me some big project worth 50% ma. With a ghostwriter as a partner", he said eating an apple. She smiled. She always wanted better for him especially a better girlfriend. After a little bit of time pass, he went to his room passing his dad still sitting down watching sports. With one thing now on his mind who is Camille.

Days past and still she was on his mind. Like a bad itch, he could not get rid of. They would be in class and she would be there but he wouldn’t. He would just look at her. Watch her talk just examine everything she did. The times when she knew something smart and she would smile to herself and move hair behind her ear. Even if there wasn't anything.

" Finn. Are you listening to me? It's been days and you just do nothing. What you on something" Nikkei says lending on his lap. He looks at her. He was outside his house on the grass. Smiling at her he says " Nothing. Just thinking. Mom not doing well. Just thinking". She rolls her eyes and looks at her phone. " So you're going to the party tomorrow right. I need you to come or I just look like a tease, Finn" she says looking at her makeup.

She was always about appearance the outer shell. He could never truly care about those things. The social system wasn't made by him. He was there and an active player. Was that what had him interested in her. She was as mysterious as a clear fog. She was part of this social system but she never allows that to make her. She did as she pleases and never mind a thing. Her group section table. But in reality, it wasn't just that.

She was by his locker in the boy's room. Standing there trying not to look at the guys walking around nude ignoring her. Finn smiled to himself as she stood there. She was dress differently than the other days plan black converse with big sweater black legs and her hair curly in a messy bun. Just waiting. He could not remember what they talk about though. She always had that effect. Most times he would just pretend to listen but it was like she was talking in English but he could only hear Korean. The short brief chat. Most he could get out of it was her apologize for being her. Him saying nothing. Of course. Meeting times. Then the number. She gave him her number. Then lastly the party. And just like that, she left. Mysterious.

Finn arrived at the party late. He felt out of place but still, he decided to go. He needed this party. Anyway, it was now more of a celebration of his latest win game he had. The idea of everything drifts off as the liquor and drugs settle in. He was finally his old self. Not a perfect child student and the obsessive of a ghost he was afraid he might become. Laying back he watches Nikkei dance with a few guys. He slowly fell into a high. " Yo Finn look at who here to see you. Looks like you got a stalker" a voice says. Finn opens his eyes time has passed. Nikkei was gone and he was chilling on the floor by people hanging. Getting up he walks over the balcony. It was her.

Out of her limit or comfort zone. Finn watches her. Looking around for him before he called for her. Again those brown eyes. She didn’t say a word but her eyes said it all" Surprise to see you here. Thought you be at some library" he said watching her walking closer to him. Trying to break the ice. Still, her eyes were on him. She didn't answer him. Those eyes. She paid him no mind and went to her bag to take out a pad and pen. Looking up to him not paying attention to what he said" Actually it took an hour of my Friday looking for the right house. Maybe playing loud music and having people trash outside could not have made it less noticeable" she stops and grabs out a tissue trying not to get a contact high " Anyway. If I have to do this to try to get you to work then so be it. Paper easy. I can do that all by myself but" she started to say. Finn cut her off." Look I know you're kinda weird and stuff but it's your kinda not invited. It's not for stalkers" he said scratching his nose still a little drunk. He could feel the frustration from her chest. She looks around trying to adjust what he said then look at him. Her eyes. Shaking her head she gets up. "I have better things to do too. You know what. I won't talk to a child. I was brought up not to judge people. At less not there face. Or the word from some twit. I... Drink this sober up and read the paper" she said then starts to walk away then she stops. She turned back around to him and got close, those eyes. " If you ever wanted to know who I was. Who I am. You could of ask instead of being the stalker yourself" she said then starts to walk away. And just like that, he felt the heavy load of crap. Stupid he thought to himself. Again he was hooked. He grabs at the paper, a bottle of water, and went to look for Nikkei.

When he finally found her she talking to some guy. She was laughing as the person she was talking to was her boyfriend and he was the watcher. He could hear himself arguing with her but he couldn't move. Anger rage full his body. He rushes over and punches the guy across the face. With blood on his hand, he got up and walked away. The Finn that keeps people talking to know not to mess with.

After that Friday night. She stopped talking to him. She even got it that the work she did was given to him by the teacher. He felt awful, no worst. What did she do? Nothing. He worried about her. I worried about the rumors that were going around. Worried if he was the cause of it. What if flowing around in his head. He tried every way to talk to her. Her locker making up a fake announcement. Nothing work.

After class, he decided to follow her around maybe find a way in. Somewhere she could not leave ignore him. After some snooping around some people informed him of one thing. One place he thought he would never go. He walked over to the guidance office. Last chance he thought to himself. Walking in was like walking around a library nude everyone's eyes was on you. He walked into the conference room. People were all sitting in a circle talking. She was there in the center listening. He slowly sat in the back. "So Camille. How did your assignment go a couple of weeks ago? Did it work? Were you able to interact with the partner" the guidance counselor said looking at her. She glanced at him. As if they were the only two that knew a big secret. Rubbing her hands on her knees. She looks around the group. " Well, when I got the assignment. I thought this can be my chance for trying to talk interact with others. Someone out of here. Of course. Try to get better. But all I realized is I was right with staying to myself. I did as you told me and went to the party. He was drunk. After a disagreement we had. I started to go. His friends were downstairs laughing at me. Chanting mean things then started pushing me around. Tugging at my clothes. Some even threw drinks at me. I was able to make it out but my phone died. I had to walk four miles home. All the time thinking. I tried. And this happened" she said still looking at him. He could feel her frustration. She leans back. Still her eyes on him. " Before you ask. No, it was the name-calling. Harassment. Even my phone died. What not that bugs me. Upset me. It never does. Or the fact this guy I never talk to calling me things. That is not true. But that I was able to move past it with no emotions. Numb to it. As an outsider, you see things the truth barefoot true. I still want to try thou again for my family and you guys" she said finally looking away. He was speechless. One girl looks at her. " What about for yourself" the girl asked. She looks at the ground then at him. " We see" she said. Everyone looks at him. Silence a few whispers. It was the first time they realize an uninvited stranger was listening in. She smiled. " But that what I said about gym class. Ms. Tyler, it's time" she said getting up looking around. Ms. Tyler rushes up from that deep story. They all hold hands together and pray.

He waited outside by the door for her. He didn't know what to do but he was running low on ideas. " Lost someone"a voice said from behind him. He turned around to see her standing there holding tight to her books. " Huh" he said surprised by the comment. She tilts her head and smiles. " Our group is for people that had lost someone. A tragic, broken heart, and so on. Some are lucky. The only person they lost is themselves" she said with a frown. He shocked his head. " I want to see you. Well, we saw each other in class but alone. I was an ass that Friday. Hate myself for what I did. I guess... I was just making sure we are still partners and say I'm sorry" he said looking away from her. He could not see her but he could feel the nod. " I lied in there. Finn. I lied. What you did hurt. We are told to treat others away we want to be treated. Give respect but you just... I forgive you. But this won't fix it. Thanks for following me to my locker reading the club board. I can see your effort. Just like how I did with you. I bet you didn't even read my paper. I gave you" she said and walk away. He stood there stunned by her comeback. She was right. He didn't try that much. He was more worried about the grade, not her.

Finn sat on the floor he pulled out the essay she wrote and started to read it. It was good no perfect. Stupid Rushing back into the office. Ms. Tyler was still packing up her things. " Hi. Ms. Tyler. I was wondering if I can ask you something" he asked. She looks up at him. Her glass almost off her nose. " Yes. Mr. Cox. What is it today" she said. He looks down at the paper then at her. " Camille gave me her address but it is missing a house number. Can you give me her address, please? It's important" he said. It took a few more minutes of begging and sweet talk but he got it. His last try and this time it was all or nothing.

14 notes · View notes

01010010-posts · 6 years ago

Text

— our love is a starred staircase; i jump two steps at time but you can only go one by one.

i. → becoming human. “and this is hen.” “mhh, very interesting.” “.... i hate you.” he unwillingly cracks up, slightly turning to the other side because, honestly, he’s not that bastard (maybe) “sorry–” he bites his lips, not wanting to be exposed, gosh, he really is such a bastard “it’s just that– well, how do i put it.... learning a new language from scratch, without any download, it actually is difficult.” there is it again, that devilish sneer “i swear to god, love” “okay, okay. i’ll say it. but please don’t be mad. it’s your handwriting. it’s hard to read. it’s so ugly you could be a doctor.” he’s doing his best, he vows, but since being deviant his sense of humour has highly been affected. you lose no time in emerging onto his jolly demeanor and begin smacking him “you’re not being fair! ouch– please! you promised to not get angry!” he refuges his hair behind his knuckles, while still enjoying taunting you “i’ve spent the past hour memorizing things with you and that’s how you repay me! and i didn’t promise that!” he lets you tease him for too little, and without even realizing it you’re in his grasp, frozen, sweetly pouting, a mouth that he kisses “you’re right, here’s your reward, teacher.” “did you at least learn something?” “ohh, yes, a wonderful lot. i learnt how to kiss you here, here, and here.” and saying that he follows his preaching, teaching you where he adores to leave lovebites. ii. → pieces of you between the pages. it’s not his fault. sometimes night shifts happen. but he hates them abysmally. why? because, as much as he gets bored when you’re sleeping, he can’t help but worship those endless hours he has available, basking in the lone presence of your body, recording each minute thing, with such limited time on this earth, then, he.... but tonight is a little different. he phoned you for a while (you had to force him to hang up), assured that you finished eating at a normal pace, didn’t steal too many snacks from the cupboard, watched something nice and got to bed at a reasonable hour. yes. he’s not your mom but he likes to remind you that his way of loving is varied. of course, soft words and i love yous and invisible smooching were not absent at the roll-call. he’s not only your mom after all. ahh, almost forgot. this is just routine. the deviant thing tonight is: a book. your book. your favourite book. you probably forgot it in his bag. but it’s not very important right now. he picks it up, the spine slightly visible from the black fabric incorporating it. it’s an ordinary book. he sits, and since he’s kinda alone, nobody prevents him from propping his long legs on his desk, relaxing in his leather ergonomic chair. reading a bit won’t hurt. the content, the plot, it’s not really important. what he’s actually reading is: your underlined parts. you normally don’t do that, you said one time. it ruins the paper, you said. yet in this one, this one, so important to you, you used graphite pencil to emphasize. mostly, about love. iii. → doing nothing. “i won’t stand for this!” he huffs in a bit of what appears to be the middle of an angry and annoyed tone. his arms hurriedly coming into a fold around his chest, he doesn’t really know how to react. you try to hide your benevolent smirk, an android this cute shouldn’t exist “why? you’re already doing it.” “that’s– that’s because it was your turn to choose what we should be doing this evening.” “so you’re peacefully protesting?” you urge him, now holding back snorting is almost impossible “.... kinda.” and at this point you’re nearly choking on your own laugh “you’re making fun of me?!” he finishes his retort and darts, indignant, sitting upright on the couch. so so so sorry but you have to cover your face with your digits and turn towards the other side because, honestly, you’re not that bastard as to burst into laughter in front of him (maybe) “gosh– it’s– it’s– pfft– i apologize i’m– ahahAHAHA NO PLEASE NO!” while you were, indeed, mocking him you lowered your guard and him, a weapon, took that as his advantage “PLEASE BABY” “ohh, we’re begging before i even get serious? my my, you’re quite weak.” his fingers carefully threading between your ribs, stroking your skin in a delicate manoeuvring until he’s satisfied with his revenge “you’re terrible.” he grins, both short of breath from being such imbeciles “i am.” he gently lowers down your crouched shape, half on the sofa the rest on the floor, and kisses your reluctant cheek “what’s the plan, then?” “don’t think i’ve changed my mind. i don’t want to do anything. i want to continue until i reach absolute zero.” iv. → your things // your place. he doesn’t need to shower, nor to bathe, and if he indulges in those activities it’s just to bond, he assures you. but suddenly it’s not so credible when you, wanting to surprise him, come back to your place without telling, sneakily unlock the threshold and tiptoe to search for him to no avail. you’re about to open your mouth and shout, to see some sort of shocked reaction, maybe a jump from the scare, but he’s not in the living room. and not in the compact kitchen. and not in the bedroom either. then, where could he be? you silently ponder, a tap of your shoe asking if he left to go shopping. but you know, the fridge is not that empty. could he be....? without letting out a sound you enter the bathroom, certainly not expecting the sight that presents to you. a single curtain separating you from his shadow. of course, you can’t resist the call. with a swift movement you pull the nylon and expose him, who can’t help but nervously shriek in distress “ah! what the fuck!” you cackle “surprise!” he sighs, exasperated by your childish behaviour, and turns off the water “is that my.... body wash?” your attention shifts rapidly, taking in the image of his fully naked anatomy but pointing an index at his palms “what–” he halts mid-sentence, his cyan eyes darting to his fingers “oh, well, huh–” “you’re using my body wash.” “i can explain.” “you always say you’re too upgraded for bubbles.” “.... my phrasing is not exactly that however i was just– curious.” “to try my body wash.” “yes. to try your pink velvet sunflower body wash.” “wait. how do you know the exact name. suspicious.” if his forehead wasn’t already shimmering from the droplets of your interruption he would be drenched in cold sweat “.... i analyzed it.” “you fucking ate shower gel.” “in my defense–” v. → what do you do when you’re happy. he longs for moments like these. for when you both come home, him entangling his arms around your waist as soon as the door closes, leaving a trail of tiny pecks from your shoulder to your lobe, slow as a snail, savouring each millimeter of skin, each little relaxed spasm your muscles have, each complaint you attempt to address to his figure, each tender giggle escapes your mouth. he longs for moments like these. the same as when your shared friends send a text at the last minute, asking if it’s okay to come over and then maybe go somewhere, drinking or eating doesn’t really matter, it’s just to be together. and you sweetly smile, a bit tired after work, but still willing to say ‘yes’, serene in the comfort of not even having the need to change into fancy clothes, only bustling with secret excitement, waiting to be in stitches in the back of a non-automatic car. he longs for moments like these. as that time you both got a couple days off and decided to spend them in a countryside house, clutched by vines of different species: virginia creeper, common ivy and climbing magenta roses. and as soon as the door closed you rushed, gliding on the worn burnt sienna cotto tiles, up the old rusty stone stairs, reached the top and opened the small cabin, only occupied by a toilet and a small painting (‘in bed’ by federico zandomeneghi. a girl with long auburn hair, facing a floral wallpaper, resting in a tranquil atmosphere while stretched out in her bed under light blue covers.). you promptly proceeded to push the wood window frame, letting light invade the whole space. he was right beside you as your head stuck out, inhaling the fresh air and remaining speechless in front of the sun, the sky, the clouds, the as much red roofs interspersed with yellow lichens and green moss, the rest of the panorama composed by infinite sweeps of earthy fields. he longs for moments like these. vi. → our things // our place. “don’t forget to brush your teeth.” he whispers from behind you, his face reflected on the mirror in which you’re admiring yourself in search of some imperfections. you absentmindedly chuckle “i know” your eyes fixated low, watching the drain of the pale china sink. logically, the most convenient way of getting the toothpaste to exit the tube, is to squeeze from the end and let it come out on its own. of course, he noticed, you don’t do that. you, as if reading his mind while he’s standing close, watching and mimicking a human nightly routine, do the complete opposite of what he’s thinking, pressing your thumb at the very start of the mixed aluminium-and-plastic bottle you’re holding. a tiny bubble forms where the cap should be and you hint a smile. infos bothering his vision at the corner of his irises: it’s some internet articles about teeth blackening, mostly persistent in asia. it’s somewhat fascinating to him, or at least, it’s different from the constant obsession with lightening. he wonders what you would think about it. he wonders if you even know about it. white gel slowly fills your tongue and coats the ends of your lips. you’re kinda messy, he admits, but finds it utterly adorable nevertheless. vii. → dying human. your hand. your hand is what kept him alive for so long. because, despite his appearance, he’s as old as an adult can be at this time of your life. your life. two parallels tracks that never meet, going their way, wanting to touch but never able to. you, growing old. him, growing and nothing more. because he can’t be old, can’t he. he will never be old. he must be about.... no, that’s stupid. no hypothesis could change anything. it doesn’t matter which numbers he should have in his ID – not that androids have any in the first place –, what matters is the inequity of your age “you’re always beautiful” you murmur “mh? look who’s talking” the end of your mouth curls up in a childish smile, wrinkles adorning all of your features “flatterer. i could be one of your grandparents for all you know” he gives you a lazy expression, lids half closed, nevertheless content, a bittersweet happiness. he takes your right hand in his and draws it near his cheek “it’s rough, c’mon” you’re a bit ashamed but he lets the warm rays of sunshine glimmer onto him, eyes slowly leaving space to complete relaxation “no, it’s tender, don’t worry, just as you.”

122 notes · View notes

ladyshilya · 5 years ago

Text

Charmed: Sudden Death

Let’s see how the Charmed Ones are going to help Dark Harry.

The sisters are working on the Power of Three which they can do for a short period of time before it goes away. Maggie thinks its because Abigael did something to block them when she took Macy’s demon powers. Harry has been trying to get in touch with Dark Harry but has only been able to get a few images of him. Harry knows he has to save his dark counterpart because if he dies then Harry dies too. Mel and Harry go off looking for where Dark Harry might be while Maggie pays Abigael a visit. Macy tries to use the Book of Elders to find out a ways to cut the cord between Harry and Dark Harry.

Mel and Harry visit all the place they know where Dark Harry has been buy have found nothing. While at the warehouse where they freed all the creatures Mel uses a spell to show them what happened. It looks like the scientist combined the powers of three different supernatural creatures to create a new creature. One that is hard to control and killed the scientists. Looking through the burner phone the one scientist they find the last number called and track it to another place in Minnesota. Harry realized this is where Dark Harry is being held. Harry discovers Dark Harry has been put back in his jar. Mel accidentally releases the hybrid demon who tries to attack them and tries to break Dark Harry’s jar. Mel is able to stop the demon and they are able to recover the jar. They find the body of the person who was the host for the demon it was the same person that was brought back to life in NOLA. I had wondering if that organization was the same one who was collecting creatures since they seem to be obsessed with magic.

Maggie runs into Jordan on her way to Abigael’s and he convinces her to take him with her. Of course when they get there Abigael hits on Jordan. They use Jordan’s curse as the reason why they are there. Maggie faked a text from Mel and went off to give her a call. Maggie then puts a spell on one of Abigael’s guards to tell her where Abigael keeps the weapons. Which of course is in the dungeon and well know who else is in the dungeon. While looking for the knife Parker tries to talk with Maggie. Maggie doesn’t want to talk with him because even though he was under the influence of the apples it was still an aspect of himself. Parker tells Maggie where she can find the dagger. Abigael tells Jordan that Parker is alive and that is why Maggie actually came there to rescue him. When Abigael confront Maggie in the dungeon with Jordan, Maggie confessing to being there to steal the knife because she thinks Abigael is blocking their powers. Abigael tells Maggie to do her spell on the knife because she will find nothing. Did they not listen to the Guardian she told them they would have to work on getting the Power of Three back. It was a separate process from Macy drinking from the chalice. Or did I image her saying that?

Macy is conducting experiments on the hairs from the original Whitelighter and Darklighter but none of them are working. While paying with some eggs Julian calls trying to ask Macy out but she says she is busy. Julian is at Safe Space and sees her busy with eggs. She lets him know that she is trying to find a way to help her friend the one she borrowed his device for. Julian then helps her by running theories with her. Julian offers Macy a job at the foundation he is on the board of because he loves her mind. I have to say I do like when Macy is around Julian because he knows a lot of what she know and they have some great convos. Not sure if I want them together but I love when they talk. While eating some food Julian ordered in Macy thinks about the possibility of emulation. Macy tests this theory and it looks like it might work. Macy lets Harry know she might be able to put him and his dark self back together. She also leaves the choice up to him. They as make up and become friends again.

At the end we see Julian’s aunt Viv talking with a board of people telling them magic is a threat and they are the only ones who can stop it. Is she working of an organization that is different then the one Poison Ivy is working for?

Interesting episode I finally got to see Maggie’s reaction to Parker and that was one of obvious reactions. Its one that Phoebe had with Cole before but Cole made up for it. I am curious are they going to go that route again with Parker or are they going to write him off? I had a feeling the answer would be putting both Harry and Dark Harry back together. The question is what will that do to them to be put back together? The sisters need to figure out what is they need to do in order to get the Power of Three back.

Looks like the next episode in a few weeks will have everyone going through their worst nightmares.

#Charmed #charmed cw #charmed reboot #Charmed spoilers #charmed remake #charmed season 2

3 notes · View notes

cards-onthetable · 6 years ago

Note

I'd ask you to write a March Madness Joble but that feels very American-centric and maybe no one's interested. But if it led to playing a little one-on-one in the Reagan driveway with Looks and heavy breathing and Competitive Flirting and Jamie trying not to push him up against the brick on the side of his father's house maybe people would be interested. 👀👀🏀

Oh, like this?👀👀👀👀👀👀

This is like, Aggressively American so I apologize to all our non-basketball obsessed dumpster members. It’s also a lot of words and I’m kind of mad about it. Consider it an authorized add-on to @ontherockswithsalt‘s highschool!Joble AU and party like it’s 1999.

***

“That was not a foul!”

The loud protest rings out as I cautiously slip inside the Reagans’ back door. “Come on, you’ll let it go when Miami’s hanging off the guy’s back, but you call that?”

I don’t recognize the voice, but Jamie’s reply is unmistakable. “He got him on the arm, Danny!”

“Jamie?” I call. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Who’s that?” Danny demands, but Jamie doesn’t answer him as he appears at the edge of the kitchen.

“Hey, sorry, I knocked but…”

“But it’s a little loud in here,” Jamie shrugs. “Come on in, we’re just watching Purdue give Miami a run for their money. My brother’s here. Hence the yelling.”

I trail him into the living room just as his brother Danny slumps down hopelessly into Mr. Reagan’s usual armchair. “This is so bad. Dammit, Jamie--”

“Not my fault your bracket sucks,” Jamie shrugs. “This is Noble, by the way.”

Danny turns a lazy glance on me. “Oh, that kid Mom was talking about.”

“Uh -- yeah, him,” Jamie confirms. He meets my eyes with a grimace that’s either apologetic or embarrassed, I’m not sure, but it’s damn cute either way.

“Basketball fan?” Danny asks.

“March Madness fan.”

“He’s pissed that Miami isn’t walking away with this game,” Jamie explains.

“I got Miami in the championship!” Danny wails. “Purdue sucks, they’re a ten-seed. This shouldn’t even be a game.”

Jamie rifles through a pile of papers on the coffee table -- his family’s tournament brackets, I realize -- and quickly checks. “No, you have them losing in the Final Four.”

“In my precinct pool, you dummy, the one that matters,” Danny grunts.

I squint at the score in the corner of the grainy screen, where number two-ranked Miami is losing by two. “Well I’ve got Miami in the Final Four too so…”

“So both of you are idiots. Miami doesn’t have the defense to match Purdue’s big guys.” Jamie holds up his own bracket sheet, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. “Go Boilermakers.”

“Lotta game left,” Danny warns him. “Don’t count your chickens, kid.”

Slinging my backpack off my shoulder, I drop onto the couch near Jamie. He does still help me out with Lit class but it’s become more of an afterthought, almost an excuse for the amount of time we’ve been spending together. I’m here once or twice a week, not to mention quiet mornings spent across from each other at our usual library table before class, and other… friendly excuses to hang out whenever they come up.

Danny -- a gruffer, more human contrast to Jamie’s polished parents, his Ivy League sister, the other brother who is apparently just a taller version of Jamie -- turns out to be more entertaining than the game. Purdue is dominating and soon there’s no question about who’ll win.

“You should’ve listened to me,” Jamie shrugs at his brother, who isn’t soothed by the sentiment. “I said when you turned in your bracket…”

“You did not, you’re full of it,” Danny grumbles.

“You know, I bet most people have Miami winning,” I offer. “Nobody thinks a ten will beat a two--”

“Well, not nobody--” Jamie interrupts.

“I didn’t ask you,” I say, shutting him up with a blind elbow to his biceps across the couch. “Who else you got in the Final Four? You could still have a chance.”

Jamie wrenches his arm away and counters with his own elbow. “Well I’m the only one here who got this game right, so maybe you should be asking me.”

I finally lean back against the couch, no longer playfully excluding Jamie from conversation with the angle of my body. “Oh-ho, you got one upset right, better call Sportscenter.”

“My bracket’s better than anyone else’s!” Jamie insists. “My entire Elite Eight is still alive. What about you, Danny?”

“It’s still early,” Danny retorts.

“Yeah, pretty early to have half your teams out--” Jamie ducks, laughing, as Danny pegs a wadded paper towel at him. “Well, you two enjoy watching your brackets die. I’m hungry.”

Taking the paper towel ball and the empty bag of chips from the coffee table, he heads to the kitchen. A moment later, when the game goes to commercial, I follow him.

“He’s just jealous because my bracket has been better than his every year since I was like, ten,” Jamie tells me. “Whenever I could start making informed decisions instead of random guesses.”

I help myself to the other half of the peanut butter sandwich he made. “That wasn’t until you were ten?” I tease.

“Well yeah, I don’t think I really understood the more obscure statistics until then--”

“Oh, my god,” I groan. “Why’m I not surprised?”

“What?” He wonders. “It’s how to do things if you want to win.”

“Stats don’t win games,” I argue. “If they did, there’d be no upsets, the Final Four would be all the one-seeds…”

“No, see, that’s not true. There are other important factors to figure out which team should win any given game, it’s not just win-loss record.”

I shake my head. “You’re the only person I know who can take something fun and make it like, some boring math problem. Your stats only mean so much. What matters is how you actually play.”

Jamie lets out an amused scoff. “That’s what stats are, man. They tell you how you play. A little more specifically than good or bad.”

“There’s no substitute for just playing,” I maintain. “Knowing how someone is on the court. You can’t break that down into a bunch of numbers.”

“Jamie!” Danny yells. “I’m gonna take off. Tell Mom Linda’s working on Sunday so she won’t be at dinner.”

“Okay,” Jamie calls back. “Any miraculous comebacks in there?”

“Can it,” Danny shouts, and the front door slams behind him before Jamie can do more than snicker at his brother’s frustration.

“You play?” he asks me as he turns to replace the jar of jelly in the fridge.

“Play?” I echo.

“Basketball, dude. Do you?”

“Sure.” I don’t, really. I quit organized sports around the time the coaches got serious and started to be pissed at me for dicking around.

“Alright then, let’s go,” he challenges with a flick of his eyebrows. “One-on-one.”

My eyes widen at the challenge. “What’ll I win?”

“That’s the question I should be asking you.”

“You’re not driving my car,” I announce, killing that dream of his before he can bring it up again.

“Sounds like you’re concerned. You know, I was the top three-point shooter by percentage on my eighth grade team.”

“How about you let your game speak for itself.”

“Just want you to know what you’re up against,” he says, an easy smile betraying his confidence. “Let me go change, be right back.”

He heads upstairs and returns quickly, having switched to mesh shorts rather than the jeans he was inexplicably wearing for a casual night in at his own house. Once he’s tied his New Balance tennis shoes he leads the way outside, where a hoop I hadn’t noticed before hangs above the garage door.

“First to eleven baskets wins,” Jamie says. “Jump balls go to the offense. Inbound at that crack right there. Here, you can be on offense first.”

Basketball propped against his hip, he waits at the designated crack in the driveway pavement as I position myself across from him, facing the basket. Then he passes me the ball and bends his knees into a defensive stance. I dribble in place for a moment before I attempt to go around him, only for his long arm to slap the ball away. He manages to grab it and turns to the basket to make an easy layup.

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?” I call out.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he smirks. “You could, I don’t know, play a little--”

“Alright, hey, check me the ball, let’s go.”

“One, nothing,” he says, and we start over.

This time I’m more ready for him. With a little momentum towards the basket, I stop short and send up a jump shot before he can adjust. It bounces off the rim and I dash for the rebound, making the second shot I take.

“How’s that for ‘playing a little’?”

“We might have a game here.” Jamie jogs to the inbound line and pushes his hair back off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Sanfino? Nervous?”

“No. For you, maybe.”

I bounce him the ball, expecting him to dribble and set himself up for his play. Instead he immediately flies past me and makes a show of his shot while I can just stand there and watch him score.

“What was that?” he calls as the ball rolls away. “Who’re you scared for?”

“Okay, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

“How it’s gonna be? What, like a game? I’m not here to bake cookies, man. Get the ball.”

“You get it.”

“I’m winning.”

Brushing past him, I wing out an arm to shove him and then I smack the ball hard against his stomach. “Not for long.”

He’s a better ball handler than I am, but I’m bigger and I’m not afraid to throw my weight around a little bit. Where he pulls out fancy moves, dribbles between his legs and cuts around me to the basket, I just lower my shoulder against his chest and push back, keeping my dribble with the other hand until I’m close enough to turn and shoot. Despite our different styles we’re evenly matched, tied at eight when I have to take a time-out.

Jamie sends a confused frown my way as his chest heaves with a deep breath. “‘S wrong?”

“Lemme get some water,” I say, swiping at my sweaty forehead with the hem of my t-shirt.

“Hurry up, we gotta finish before my parents get home and park in front of the hoop. Whoa, unless that’s your whole strategy--”

“Strategy?”

“Put it off long enough that we can’t finish, and therefore you can’t lose.”

“Big talk from a guy who’s not actually winning,” I remind him with a teasing grin.

He body-checks me as we both go for the kitchen door like he can’t leave the game on the driveway. It’s different seeing him like this, letting loose a little rather than taking everything so seriously. Between that and the physical closeness of him as we play, every nerve in my body is buzzing and it’s kind of distracting. I don’t need the water break so much for the water as to relax myself for a second before I really do lose this game.

We down glasses of water, check the score of the game that’s on in the empty living room, and head back outside. Jamie pulls off his Harvard sweatshirt and his shirt comes up with it, flashing skin I didn’t ask to see. It almost surprises me when he shoves the ball at me and I remember I’m supposed to beating his ass.

“Let’s go!” he urges. “We’re losing daylight here.”

I pass him the ball to start his offense and he pulls another quick move around me to make a ten-foot jumper. Then I promptly miss the same shot, and he shoulders his way underneath me to come up with the rebound. Ducking away to reset, he beats my slow defense once more and I can just catch his point beneath the basket.

“Uh-oh, game point,” he pants, managing a knowing grin. “It’s your last chance, bro. Don’t blow it.”

“I’m not about to blow anything,” I assert. “Quit fucking around, Reagan, and inbound the ball.”

“Oh, he’s serious now, folks,” Jamie narrates to nobody. He takes the ball as I get in position at the line, and he bounces it to me. “Less than a minute left and it’s a two-possession game. Sanfino has the ball--”

Dribbling with my right hand, I turn my back to his defense and drive left to the basket.

“He’s going for the basket,” he continues, his breath hot at my neck as I push against him. “It’s a tough man-to-man defense. Lots of traffic in the lane--”

He’s fucking distracting, his teasing and his hips pressed against my ass stirring something deep in my gut that I try to ignore in my struggle to focus. When I shove off him with a strong push of one arm and turn to shoot, I’m just throwing up a prayer and it bounces hopelessly off the rim.

Jamie pivots and goes for the ball with me close behind. We both get our hands on it, fighting until I yell, “Jump! Jump balls go to the offense,” and rip the ball away. He scrambles to get back on defense but I’m quick enough to make the layup.

“Sanfino makes the layup and it’s getting interesting here in Bay Ridge, folks…”

“Oh, my god, shut up,” I demand, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes my winded chest.

He ducks his face againt a defined shoulder to clear the sweat, and then I pass him the ball. “The shot clock is winding down -- Reagan for the win -- five, four, three--” And he swishes a perfect long jumper, ending it without ever leaving me a chance.

He pumps a triumphant fist and jogs around me to get the ball before it rolls away. “And that,” he declares, “is what happens when you think you can beat the best three-point shooter on the 8th grade Bay Ridge Badgers.”

“Badgers?” I yelp, cracking up. “No way.”

“We only won two games,” Jamie admits. “But I made eighty-three percent of my three-pointers.” He stows the ball in the garage and shuts the side door behind him as he approaches me. “Hey, man, good game. That was fun.”

I accept his outstretched hand and we pull each other into a sweaty back-slapping hug.

“We’ll have to play again sometime, and I won’t let you win.”

“Let me win? Let me?” He shoves me back and heads for the door, grabbing his discarded sweatshirt as he does. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.”

Running a hand through sweaty hair, I stay on the driveway for a beat to let a deep breath and a nice stretch disperse all the jumpy energy flowing through me. And then I follow him into the house.

21 notes · View notes

nh935 · 5 years ago

Text

Creepy America Episode 1: Worlds of Wonder

Introduction

Today marks the twelve year anniversary of the last episode of Creepy America. I know this because of the article I'm reading, recounting the strange and bizarre tale of the webshow. My webshow. My life, for the better part of four years. And even though it arguably destroyed me, brought me to this point where I live alone, working hard jobs to keep this tiny, shitty one person apartment, news of Creepy America never ceases to bring me joy.

Except today.

Which brings me to the reason I am writing.

This morning, I received a letter saying that the server charges for the official Creepy America website had gone up once again, this time to a level that I couldn't even convince myself into thinking I could pay. My complaints have been ignored; I am positive that a silent actor has been forcing the charges to increase, regardless of the actual cost of maintaining the site. This is no doubt the same person who broke into my apartment and storage locker and stole every remaining physical copy of the Creepy America episodes. I wish I could muster the energy to be outraged, or even horrified, but I knew this day would come sometime.

Barring any action from my co-host to stop these actions, something I know will never happen, this would be where the webshow dies. But I'm a stubborn bastard and I'll be damned if it does.

So here I am, alone, in a small, dark room, writing my memoirs of the craziest, scariest, most dangerous, and happiest years of my life. My goal is to preserve the memories of "Creepy America": those days and nights spent in the R.V., traveling from city to city, investigating, finding, and recording the secret places that the world does their best to keep hidden. It's only this way that those days will stay alive. Files corrupt. Memories fade. Even history can be re-written. But if the show has proved anything, it's that words will exist forever, even if they aren't supposed to.

To the Newcomers:

I imagine that most people who track down these stories will be the life-long fans. However, I imagine that some will simply stumble onto these stories by accident. That's okay; it's actually what I'm counting on.

But that means that there's a good chance that, if you're reading this, you don't know what "Creepy America" is. I don't want to delude myself into thinking that everyone who reads this will have memories of the show, especially given the fickleness of internet fame, so I want to take this time to explain what the show was; veteran Creepers, feel free to skip ahead.

Creepy America was a webshow, published and broadcasted online. It was big back in its day. The show generated enough revenue to make money off of, and it's popularity caused a few "War of the Worlds"-styled hoaxes.

To the outside world, the draw of the show was obvious. Based on the creepypasta explosion that made the world obsessed with Slenderman and others, Creepy America combined professional-level special and practical effects with the low-budget style of found footage to make for a scarily realistic horror series. The actual recording team was kept invisible, placing all attention and credit to the two co-hosts of the show. The mysterious mythos that was hinted at several times but never fully explained also added to its popularity and quite a few people praised us for our clever writing and dedication to preserving the illusion.

Of course, this couldn't be further from the truth. Creepy America was just a low-budget production. Zoey and I were the only ones who worked on the show. Nothing was scripted. As our show gained attention, a choice was demanded of us from powerful forces: stop filming, or tow the "fake" line. We chose what we believed to be the lesser of two evils.

Things escalated, though. I won't try to summarize the details here; they will be explained better in the stories to come. But twelve years ago, we were obligated to end it, and the show has slowly faded into obscurity since then.

To the Veteran Creepers:

Before we begin, I have to give you a warning: if you're looking for answers, this isn't the place to find them.

The events and things we uncovered during Creepy America remain unexplained to this day. I have spent the better part of twelve years researching various aspects of science and parascience trying to find those answers, and I am no closer to finding them than I was when we decided to stop our broadcast. Red Eyes, Reverend Jones, even the Archangel Foundation: I don't know what the truth is. So if you expect a book explaining how everything fits together perfectly like little puzzle pieces, I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed. I have my theories, and I have my hunches, but, as I've stated on the show before, speculation without proof is worthless. As it is not my intention to further confuse an already bizarrely muddled and misunderstood set of facts, I will leave my ideas to myself and simply report on what happened.

What's inside is is a collection of my memories about the strange occurrences that we filmed in our four years on the road. I know that there have been many requests to elaborate on some of the details that were left out of the show: what happened during our streaming blackout, the exact location of Devil's County, what we learned about Voltaire's DNA sample from the scientists. I can answer a few of those questions, and I intend to. Some things, unfortunately, are gone. My records are lost, and even my memory is beginning to turn fuzzy. I have also lost contact with my associate, meaning that unless she publishes her own statements on these events, I have no witnesses to back up anything. Given how things ended between us, I doubt that will ever happen. You will simply have to trust that what I say is true. If you've stayed with me this far, though, I think that you're willing to take that leap of faith.

Which brings me to my last point: everything was true. Some of you believed, but everyone had doubts. I don't blame you. We marketed ourselves as clever writers whose fictional tales contained just enough details to seem plausible. After the threatened lawsuit, we had to place a disclaimer on our show's opening. Even those of you who are going to find these stories are going to find it described as "fiction". There are reasons we did so, good reasons, reasons that are detailed in this book. I'm tired of lying, though. Even lies told with the best of intentions will eat through your soul. I'm not sure how well this admission will go over with the higher powers in charge, but I no longer care. As Zoey herself once said in the show, consequences be damned.

*******************************************************************************************

So to newcomers and old fans alike, here it is: the bare truth about "Creepy America", all three years of our journeys across the United States. Once more I say to you the line that began every episode since our second broadcast: get your flashlights out, and get ready to shine some light on the darkened corners of the world. Welcome to the America you never knew existed.

Welcome to Creepy America.

-Liam Foster, co-host of Creepy America

Creepy America Episode 1 Worlds of Wonder Hammond, Indiana

Perhaps one of the stranger tales to tell about our time creating Creepy America was simply how it got started. Unlike how it was sometimes insinuated, we didn't simply wake up one day with the idea and the passion to start the show. In fact, Creepy America wasn't supposed to be Creepy America at all. It was supposed to be "Faces of America", and it started with a simple question:

"Hey, do you want to do a road trip?"

We were sitting on the porch of Zoey's house, drinking beer and catching up. Zoey and I had been friends ever since grade school. Over the years we had gotten pretty close, especially during high school, but at this point it had been awhile since we had seen each other. I had gone to Indiana University because of a generous scholarship opportunity while Zoey went to our local community college. We remained friends on Facebook and messaged each other back and forth, but that summer we decided that I should go back to our hometown to meet for what might be the last time. We were both getting pretty far into our degrees and that meant that soon we were going to have to decide on jobs in those fields, at which point there would be no summers to catch up with.

"What do you mean, a road trip?" I asked. In case anyone is curious, I appeared the same way I always did in the show: curly brown hair, white skin, green eyes. It was a pretty hot night out, so I was wearing shorts. Other than that, I can't remember much.

Zoey took another swig of her beer. "You know, a road trip. A road. A trip. The works." She appeared the same as she always did, too. Pale skin, lots of silver piercings in her face, blond hair with one side dyed in neon rainbow colors. She smiled with one of those sweet smiles she always had.

I miss those smiles.

"Yeah, that sounds glamorous. Long hours on the road in a cramped car. Fast food every night. Seedy motels as far as the eye can see." I scoffed and downed some more beer.

"Actually, I was thinking of an R.V."

That caused me to raise an eyebrow. "You're serious aren't you?"

She picked up her laptop that she had beside her. "You remember that video essay I did for my Video Production class?"

"The 'Faces of Ivy Tech' one? Yeah, I remember. That one was pretty good"

"My teacher thought so too. So much so that he actually sent it to some fancy art group." She clicked on the track pad and squinted to read something. "The Film Board of America. They loved it so much that they want me to do another one, but across the country, with different people in each state. A 'Faces of America' thing. Even gave me a grant to do it with."

"How much?"

"Um… 50 grand, about-ish."

"Wow… that's uh, wow."

"Yeah, I know, right?" She closed the laptop. "Anyway I also have an uncle who sells used R.V.s He's willing to give me a pretty big discount if I pay cash for it. And then I remembered you. I figured we could take a year off and travel the countryside. You know, before I leave this town and you turn into one of those boring number people."

"Accountant" I corrected.

"Isn't that what I said?"

I sighed. "Zoey, I don't know. I'm in the middle of school and to just postpone my degree like that…"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, come on Liam. You have the whole rest of your life to be a boring adult. This could be our one last chance to do something big and exciting before we get those stupid nine to fives. An adventure, right? Like what we talked about in fifth grade." She looked at me with bright eyes.

I paused.

"Well?" she asked.

"I… I'm sorry, I just can't. I've got too much to worry about right now."

*******************************************************************************************

She frowned and looked down over the edge of the porch.

"Hey," I said. She looked back up at me. "I'm still gonna be here for the rest of the summer, okay? Let's try to enjoy that time."

She nodded, but the disappointment was still visible on her face.

A few days later we were shopping at a thrift store. Zoey had mentioned something about "various odds and ends for the R.V.", so we ended up driving to different Goodwills. We were at yet another one and the constant looking at towels and silverware was driving me a bit nuts, so I took a break from Zoey's company and headed over to the far corner of the building where a bunch of posters and paintings were located. I flipped through them. Most of them were pretty standard fare: big inspirational words and prints of famous artworks. One of them made me stop, though.

It was a smaller canvas and an actual painting. I could feel the texture of the brush strokes. The picture itself was done in various shades of blue and silver. Two large planets encircled in swirls of gas hung in the sky joined by a pale moon. Mountains surrounded a beach with a large palm tree off to the side. Two dolphins, mid jump and shiny gray, were suspended in the air, all completed by an illegible signature in white.

It felt oddly disturbing to look at. Like a CGI figure that's almost, but not quite, perfect. There was just something... not right about it. Curious, I turned the canvas over, hoping that there would be something on the other side to shed some light on who exactly painted this piece. On the back was a tiny printed sticker.

"Worlds of Wonder. #2 of 59."

I flipped it back over to study the artwork more and traced my finger over the signature. I couldn't even begin to make sense of it. All it appeared to be was a series of large messy loops. Glancing over the rest of the painting didn't help much, either. I'm no artist, so I couldn't really figure out anything that way. I stared at one of the dolphins.

I could almost picture it falling back into the ocean…

"Whatcha got?"

I jumped. I had been so engrossed that I didn't hear Zoey walk up behind me.

She laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

"No, it's okay," I said. "I just… uh, got caught up in looking at this thing."

"Here, let me see." I handed the canvas over and she held it up. She smiled. "Wow, talk about strange."

"Yeah, I know." I walked over to the cart to see what Zoey had picked up while I was gone. As I prodded through some of the miscellaneous housewares in the basket, the painting suddenly joined them.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Zoey. "Really? You're buying that?"

"What?" she asked. "I've got a niece who goes crazy over this kind of stuff."

"Dolphins on different planets?"

"Well, dolphins at least. Plus, she's like five. She'll flip over this."

"Are you sure? It looks kind of… creepy."

Zoey raised an eyebrow at me. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," I was beginning to feel stupid, but I soldiered on anyway. "Creepy. It just… I don't know, it doesn't look right."

She lifted the painting out of the cart and looked it over again. "I don't see anything 'creepy' about it. Weird, yeah. I mean, it is kind of out there, but…"

"Never mind, let's just go. These lights are beginning to hurt my eyes."

*******************************************************************************************

Zoey ended up dropping me off at my house late. It was either midnight or one. I had bought a few things from the thrift stores, mostly just old paperbacks that had been on my list of things to read and, bags in hand, I walked up the steps of my parent's house, unlocked the door, and headed upstairs to my room. Once inside I put the bags down and started taking things out. That's when I noticed the painting again.

It was in one of the bags, lengthwise so it would fit, nestled in between two books. The cashier must have accidentally placed it in my bag when we were checking out. I picked it up and looked at it again.

The dolphin looked back at me. The black eye seemed to almost glisten,

I yawned, then shook my head. "I'm getting freaked out by fake dolphins. I need to go to bed." Painting under my arm, I headed back downstairs and leaned it against the front door so I would remember to give it back to Zoey. Then I headed upstairs, put the new books on my shelf, and flopped onto the bed, still in my clothes. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

*******************************************************************************************

I felt very, very cold. I could only see black. I realized that my eyes were tightly closed, so I opened them.

I was standing on a beach at night. The whole landscape was awash with silver light. The white sand glowed with it. A few feet in front of me stood the water, tranquil and clear. Large blue palm trees swayed behind me, and behind them were grey mountains, also shining in the pale light. Looking up, I saw a huge multitude of stars, and hanging there like overripe fruit were two large gaseous planets.

I was inside of the painting.

Sure enough, just in time to punctuate my thought, a pair of dolphins leapt from the water. Diving back in, they swam away, chasing each other and leaping again.

The mist of the ocean combined with the night air made me shiver and I could see my breath in front of me. Clutching my arms, I turned around and almost tripped when my foot snagged something behind me. It was a sign. Well, sort of. It was more like two large planks of wood nailed together in a waist-high "T" shape. The top board had a shaky "2" drawn on it.

I figured it was just a weird dream. A very, very strange and vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless. My overactive mind had just taken the painting I had thought was so strange and was spending the night recreating it. No biggie.

Even so, I still felt a little on edge. I had this slight feeling of dread, like the kind you get at the beginning of a nightmare, where you realize something's wrong, but you're just not sure what, and you know something's coming, but you're just not sure when. The movement of the palm trees in the wind was making me jump when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The planets overhead, hanging in midair and moving slowly, made me feel like I was being watched.

Again, I shrugged those feelings aside. So what if it was a weird dream? It was just a dream. Besides, I was lucid right now. I was in control. If anything scary did happen, I could just think it away.

A shiver went up my body. "Right," I said to myself, "let's get rid of this first". I closed my eyes and imagined warmth.

Nothing.

After waiting for a moment, I shrugged and said "okay then we'll just have to work on that later." I headed along the beach with the ocean to my right. After walking a while, the beach turned sharply to the left, and again buried in the sand was another T sign, this one reading "16". I looked over and the sand seemed to go on in a straight line forever.

There was a sudden splash to my right and ice-cold water washed over my skin. I stumbled backwards, falling over on my butt in the sand. One of the dolphins was in the water, about twenty feet away from me, splashing the surface with the flat of its tail. Once it saw that I noticed it, it made a strange chirping noise, like a cross between a regular dolphin sound and a cell phone ring, and disappeared back into the water.

"This is so bizarre."

A muffled noise sounded off to my left and I looked over. Very faintly, almost blended into the sand, was a figure in white, frantically waving his arms and yelling something. I brushed myself off and started to walk in that direction, but it was quickly growing darker. I looked up just in time to see one of the large planets eclipse the moon, and then the dream ended.

*******************************************************************************************

I awoke in bed with sunlight streaming into my room and cold sweat sticking to my skin. Even though I was under my blanket, I was shivering, and the bed felt slightly damp to the touch. I touched my forehead. Clammy skin.

Was I sick? Was that a fever dream?

I headed over to my shower and turned it as hot as I could stand. I stayed under the water for a long, long time. Gradually, I began to feel better. Almost human. A half hour later, I was fine. I stepped out of the shower feeling great. Placing my hand on my forehead again after drying off, it felt normal. Nothing indicated I was sick.

Strange.

Walking back into my bedroom, I found the bizarre painting propped up against my bed. I picked it back up and stared at it.

"I thought I put you by the front door."

Silence.

"Musta forgot." I threw it back on my bed. "I'll have to remember to take you to Zoey's when I visit her later."

The dolphin watched me as I got dressed. I took it downstairs and set it off to the side as I poured cereal into a bowl.

I noticed the dolphin out of the corner of my eye, still glaring at me.

I put my bowl down and looked at it. "Maybe, maybe I could head over right now. I've got nothing better to do anyways."

In this angle and light, the thing looked… almost angry.

I shuddered. "Yeah, definitely right now."

*******************************************************************************************

"I think it got put back in my bag by mistake."

"Huh. Whoops." Zoey said as she took it from me. "I was wondering where it went."

"What's your plans for today?"

"Camera shopping, mostly. Trying to find the best models at my budget. Usually I just make do, but I've got so much I can actually get a decent model this time around. Want to come?"

I had a flashback of the forks at Goodwill. "No thanks, I'll pass."

The dolphin caught my eye again.

"Are you sure you want to give that to your niece? Doesn't it seem… I don't know, a little strange?"

Zoey laughed. "Are you still freaked out about this thing?"

I decided not to tell her about the dream.

I spent the rest of the day just loafing around. It was summer, after all. That was kinda the point. I played some random video games that I had bought a long time ago but never tried. Once I got bored of those, I picked up a paperback I had bought from Goodwill. I munched on some food. Nothing crazy.

Over the course of the day, I managed to forget about the painting and the weird dream, the details slowly fading with every passing hour.

By the time I had laid my head on my pillow and slowly drifted into sleep, I had forgotten it had even happened.

*******************************************************************************************

It was cold. Again.

I sat up with a start, inhaling the freezing, salt-filled air. I was back on the beach. The moon, the planets, the dolphins. It was all there.

I was back.

"What the hell? What's going on?" I stood up and looked around.

As I did so, I saw a man behind me, leaning against a palm tree. He was a white guy with long greasy black hair and a beard to match. His face was gaunt and thin. He was wearing what I assumed used to be a very stylish white three piece suit with golden pinstripes, but it was now a dirty gray with rips and tatters everywhere. The whole outfit hung on him like a blanket. A very battered matching hat completed the ensemble.

Once he saw me looking at him, he straightened up. "Ah, you're awake!"

I immediately took a few steps back and hit something. I spun around to see the "2" sign again, then faced the man. "What's going on?"

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, everything's fine."

"Who are you?!"

He raised his hands in the air in a show of non-hostility. "I'm Greg Thornstine. A guy who picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like you."

I stared at him. "Wait a minute, what?"

He smiled and lowered his arms. "Alright guys, it's cool. I think he's done freaking out."

Several people now came into view, standing up behind the small crest he was on. There was a Hispanic man dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and older woman in a business suit, a teenage girl in black clothing, and another white guy in a camo jacket and pants. They all looked similar to Greg; thing faces, torn, baggy clothing, long hair and beards on the men. They watched me with a dull expression.

"Alright newcomer, welcome. This is Jose, Anne, Suzy, and Tom."

"Uh, hi?"

They stared at me in silence.

"Oh, um… I'm Liam, I guess. What's going on here?"

"Well," Greg started, "at some point, you picked up a 'Worlds of Wonder' painting, just like us. I'm assuming the sticker on the back said '2 of 59?'"

"Yeah…"

Greg pointed to the sign behind me.

"So what, every time I fall asleep I come here?"

Jose said something in Spanish.

"Calm down," Greg said, turning to Jose, "he doesn't know that yet." Then he looked back at me. "I'm afraid that's just the beginning. You've visited here once before, right?"

I remembered the white figure on the beach. "Yeah. Was that you waving at me?"

He nodded. "This place draws you in threes. First night's sleep, second night's sleep, then on the third day. At some point after you wake up, you're going to come back here. And that time, it'll be permanent."

I looked at the group. "I don't believe you."

The teenager shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You'll come here anyway."

"This is just some weird dream I keep having. That's all."

The business woman rolled her eyes. "I told you Greg, this will get us nowhere."

"Hush, Anne. It's worth a shot." Greg turned back to me. "Listen kid, you've got what we didn't have. Forewarning. So listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you."

I took a few steps closer and leaned in.

"When you wake up, grab food. Stuff your face like there's no tomorrow. Cram your pockets with anything you can think of. The higher the calories, the better, but try to diversify. Meat, fruit, candy. Don't worry about it spoiling, Just have as much on you when you come here. You'll thank me later."

I stared. Then I chuckled. I laughed for almost a minute straight. "You're crazy! Scratch that, I'M crazy, YOU'RE not real! This is a dream. I'm not gonna start binge eating just 'cause my dreams told me it was a good idea!"

Jose began muttering in Spanish again.

"I need you to listen to me. Please." Greg looked at me with concern. "This is your one shot here. This is going to happen. I can't stop it, and neither can you. This is your one chance to make sure your life isn't a living hell when you get here. Please just take it."

"Then answer me this: why has no one thought to try fishing?" I gestured to the ocean behind me, arms flailing.

At that moment, the dolphin jumped out of the water, chirping another mechanical sound.

"Ain't no fish in that ocean." The man in camo said darkly. "And before you go getting any bright ideas, there's nothing in those dolphins 'cept gears and springs. We've tried everything there is to try."

I lowered my arms. "What about escaping?"

The business woman shook her head. "This place is an island. Nowhere to go. And even if we knew where we could swim to, those… things" she spat, looking out at the waves "would tear us apart in no time flat."

"This is insane." I whispered.

"Insane or not, it's happening." Greg said. "And it's going to keep happening. For your own sake, Liam, do what I said."

I moved around the sign and began backing up. "No no no no no no no, this isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just a weird dream, this isn't…" I felt a sudden surge of cold around my ankles, Surprised, I lost my balance and fell backwards into the cool, dark water. I was buffed about by a wave, dragged farther in. I tried to swim up, but I couldn't. The air burned in my lungs. I screamed, and stinging salt water filled my chest. Struggling, I slowly lost consciousness…

…and awoke in my own bed.

It was soaked. Every movement I made caused the mattress to seep salt water, like an over-absorbed sponge. There was a thin layer of it trickling down my body, and I was violently shivering. Even my teeth were chattering.

"W-wh-wha-th-the-f-f-f-f-f" I stumbled out of my bed, fell on the floor, and scrambled back up, putting the shower on the highest heat possible, stripped out of my clothes and climbed in, too shocked to think. After an eternity standing under the blazing hot water, feeling returned to my fingers, and I turned the heat down just a bit. I started going over my options.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Go to the police? And tell them what? I'm going to get kidnapped by a painting? A theoretical physicist might be more help. Or a ghostbuster. I laughed. I felt like a lunatic. I suppose I was close to becoming one.

"Calm down" I said out loud. "We're going to approach this one option at a time. Just think of the next thing to do. After that's done, you can think of what to do after that."

Zoey. I'll ask her. She's handled the painting too. Maybe the same thing's been happening to her, but she just wrote it off like I did. At the very least, she might have an idea of what to do next.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and went back to my room.

The painting was hanging above my bed's headboard.

I looked at it, then touched it.

It fell to the ground. The wall behind it had no hooks or nails to keep it in place.

I grabbed the painting and rushed off to Zoey's place.

*******************************************************************************************

"Alright, one more time. Slower please."

I was at Zoey's house, in her living room. Her dad answered the door as he was leaving to go to work. She was still sleeping, so she was talking to me in her pajamas.

"I've told you three times already. Why don't you believe me?" I asked.

"I believe you. Or at least, I believe you think you're telling the truth. You are way too freaked out to be making this up right now."

"So what, I'm crazy?"

She looked at me. "That's definitely one possibility."

I waved the painting in the air. "Then how do you explain this?"

"Well, I'd rather not think you broke into my house and stole it��"

"Are you fucking serious! This is…"

Zoey grabbed the sides of my head and locked eyes with me. "Liam! Calm down! I said it was a possibility! I didn't say that this whole painting kidnapping thing wasn't also a possibility! Now, look at me."

I stopped flailing about and kept eye contact.

"You are NOT going to get stuck in that painting" she said loudly.

"But Greg said…"

She stared at me.

"Right, I'm not going to get stuck in this painting."

"Good." She let go of me and walked over to her dining room table, where her laptop and a bunch of cameras sat.

I jumped up and followed her. "So what are we going to do?"

"You're going to help me test this camera's ability to stream."

"What? Zoey, we need to do something about this!"

"This is something!" Zoey yelled back. Then she sighed and spoke in a much softer voice. "Look, I don't know what to do. This is the best I can think of. This way, I can keep tabs on you all day. If the day goes by and you're still on planet earth, we'll deal with you being crazy. If you vanish and the stream goes out, I figure out how to get you back."

"So that's your plan? Wait until I get vanished then figure out how to pull me back?"

"Until we can think of a better one."

I sighed. "Alright. I'll wait here for you to get dressed, I guess."

*******************************************************************************************

I was incredibly tense the whole rest of the day.

It was bad. I jumped at every little noise. Especially water. Anything moved, I immediately shouted at it. I alternated between filming and heading back to Zoey's computer to watch her compare the qualities of each footage capture. It didn't help that I was shaking the whole time, making the videos look pretty much incomprehensible.

The worst was when Zoey told me to go out into the neighborhood far away to test the range. Every time, she had to assure me that if the stream went out and I didn't come back for five minutes, she would assume the worst had happened. When I was done filming, she would text me to come back, and I would bolt. Even though it was only five minutes, I swear they took forever. Something about being alone made me feel vulnerable.

Zoey, for her part, was holding it together remarkably well. She alternated between shouting directions at me and calming me down, then do some stuff on her laptop like nothing was wrong. Still not 100 percent sure how she did it; my behavior alone should have been enough to unnerve her.

It was about five at this point and the sun was just barely beginning to set.

"Alright Liam, I need you to go behind that shed."

I looked over to the small building in her backyard. "That one?"

"Yeah" she looked over at me. "Don't worry, I'll be watching the footage the whole time."

I inhaled. "Okay." With the camera on my shoulder, I slowly crept up behind the shed and stepped around.

Darkness.

Suddenly, silver light bathed the landscape. It was that damn painting again. I twirled around, pointing the camera in every direction. "ZOEY! ZOE! ARE YOU SEEING…"

A fist suddenly landed square on my jaw. There wasn't a lot of power behind it, but it surprised me so much that it caused me to lose my balance, falling over on the sand. I looked down to see the gaunt Greg fishing through my pockets, with the rest of the group behind him.

"Damn it! Nothing! Not one single thing! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?" He slapped my face hard, hard enough to sting.

"I..what…who?"

"Come on, Greg, your little experiment didn't work." The business woman took out a sharpened shiv. "Time to do what we should have done originally."

He glared at me. "Not even a single pack of Oreos? Come on, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The teen girl scoffed and she drew out a similar shiv. "Like we wouldn't have killed him if he did."

"No, but, fuck, I miss Oreos." Greg scowled and revealed a large hunting knife.

I panicked. Out of pure, primal reflex, I squirmed out from under Greg and kicked him in the face. He was surprisingly light and flew backwards, a sickening crunch coming from his face. I scurried to my feet and grabbed the camera, not sure why, and sprinted away on the beach.

"SHOOT HIM TOM!" I heard Greg yell from behind me.

"Only got four bullets left."

Spanish.

"No, but just sayin'…"

There was a bang of sound and I felt a stinging sensation at my arm. I saw blood running down it and had to readjust my grip to keep the camera. There was another, and I felt a similar sensation on my leg.

"AGAIN!"

"Stop it Greg! We've only got two bullets left! Let him bleed out."

I kept running, but the beach seemed to go on forever. My muscles felt sore, My lungs were on fire. I felt close to collapse. I tripped over my own feet and fell face-first in the sand, salt and grit going up my nostrils and into my mouth. I started to get up, but I couldn't. Despite the cold, I felt like I was burning up.

"See?"

"I'll get the fire going. Good eating for once."

The heat kept rising. My flesh felt like it was on fire. I began to scream as my vision turned red.

"What the hell?…"

Darkness overtook me.

I woke up in Zoey's back yard.

"Liam, Liam, holy shit are you alright?"

I coughed out bloody sand. "Never better. I'm just gonna…" My vision faded into black again.

"Hey, HEY!" Zoey slapped me. "Stay awake. C'mon, we're going to the hospital."

"Wonderful" I muttered as she dialed some numbers on her phone.

*******************************************************************************************

As we waited for the ambulance to get there, Zoey made me recite a cover story about how I had accidentally shot myself with her hunting rifle while she was showing it off to me. I later learned that this had two reasons: one, to keep me conscious until the paramedics could do their thing, and two, to give a good cover story to the police. As she told me later, "The last thing I wanted to have happen that day was to get my stuff ransacked from the Men in Black or something."

Because I kept trying to fall asleep on her, she made me recite it over and over again. Good thing, too; I ended up telling it so well that when the cops had finished taking my statement, one of them told me "Sorry to trouble you, but it's procedure. We just want to make sure this wasn't something else."

I smiled and told them I understood.

I spent a week or two in the ICU. The nurse told me that the shots were, luckily, grazes. Neither managed to strike any vessels, muscles, or bones, so all I needed was some blood and stitches, then some observation to make sure there were no complications.

My parents visited once or twice, and even Zoey's dad. Zoey, however, stayed the most by my side, usually in a corner fiddling with her cameras or laptop. When I told her she could go home, she just scoffed and went back to whatever she was doing.

On the second day, I started feeling better and actually started to stay up instead of briefly waking up and then passing out. When Zoey came back to my room to hang out, I smiled and waved at her.

"Hey, you were right."

"About what?" she asked.

"I didn't get stuck in the painting."

She shook her head and laughed. "Liam, I honestly thought you were crazy. I was gonna show you the stream footage after the day was over and then try to convince you to check into an asylum." She sat down across from me and filled me in on what happened from her end.

Apparently, when I went behind the shed, the streaming didn't stop. In fact, the camera showed Zoey everything that was happening: the beach, Greg, all of it. Later in the week, she played me the video that was taken, proof that I wasn't insane. It shows everything, including the air going orange, dark, and then suddenly reappearing in the backyard.

As soon as Zoey saw this landscape with me in it, she freaked. She ran upstairs, tore up the painting and broke the wood canvas, and ran back to the yard, where her laptop was. When that failed to do anything, she ran back inside and got the painting scraps, threw them in the backyard, and set them on fire. After a second or two, the fire erupted and doubled in size, and a few seconds after that, the video turned orange. The fire died down and I was lying there, unharmed with the exception of the gunshots. Somehow, I managed to hold onto the camera the whole time.

"Good thing too, or I would've thrown you back there" she joked.

Both the SD card in the camera and the stream footage recorded the same thing. We spent a long time talking about what had happened, and we ended up deciding not to show it to anyone else. At best, they probably thought we were trying to pull some elaborate prank. At worst… who knows?

It must have really stuck in Zoey's head, though, because after a few days, she asked if she could post it online, under the guise of a short horror film project and write out what had happened before that as a creepypasta-like story. She promised to change all the names. I didn't see a reason not to, so I said sure.

After a few days, when I was no longer recovering but just under observation, the visitors stopped coming, and even Zoey showed up less frequently. Bored, I spent some time online, looking up "Worlds of Wonder."

Nothing showed up.

The only thing I found was on Greg Thornstine. Apparently, he was once a multimillionaire heir and art enthusiast. He disappeared one night after acting irrationally and was never found. I read his whole story on an article entitled "10 of the Most Mysterious Missing Persons Cases in History." No mention of the painting.

I couldn't find anything on anyone else. Just a factoid that at any given time, around 90,000 people are missing in the United States.

I stopped searching after that.

*******************************************************************************************

One week later, I was out of the hospital. The doctor told me to avoid alcohol for the time being, so naturally, Zoey wanted to celebrate with beers at her place. I told her I'd come but not drink. She laughed and then told me she had something to show me.

We were once again sitting on her porch. With a flourish, she pulled out her laptop and showed it to me. It was the footage from the beach, uploaded to Youtube. It had 100,000 views.

"I just uploaded this, like, three days ago!" she exclaimed. "It's already blown up! This thing is everywhere! And everyone's talking about the story too! How it's so weird and creepy! It gave me an idea: why don't I do this stuff while I'm filming the 'Faces of America' thing? I'll already be going place to place. I could do this, like, video pod format where each episode is a different city or state and I'll talk about the urban legends and maybe even find something! Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Zoey…"

"Before you say anything, I'm not trying to rope you into it. I mean, I already know you can't come, but…"

"Zoey!"

She stopped.

"I'm in."

Zoey looked at me. "Liam, don't mess with me."

"I'm serious. Zoey, I just saw something that shouldn't exist. And nobody would know about that painting if you hadn't have posted it. It makes…" I could feel myself blushing a bit, but I continued. "It makes me wonder what else is out there."

Zoey didn't respond. She just looked at me. Then she hugged me. Hard.

That's how Creepy America started.

#creepy #creepy_america #short_story #fiction #series #weird fiction #horror

1 note · View note

killervibe · 6 years ago

Text

Lux et Veritas

Chapter 1: Cisco and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Read Prologue here

Everything was always immaculate here, Cisco thought. How the walls and floors were shining white and polished. The state of the art equipment expensive in a way that had him skittish to touch the first few weeks, afraid of being scolded for using them.

He never was.

The people around him were too busy to take his notice, in their white coats and pencil skirts with heels bustling around him, all doing their jobs, just like Cisco was doing his. And how nice, he thought, getting to do this for real, some day.

Cisco was busy scribbling his signature on the papers, finalizing his last report after the data entry he finished. The lab was near empty, and he glanced around it, committing all the details to memory. He had taken to this lab from the very moment he had been assigned to the department, it had served well this summer as a quiet safe space, a home away from home.

Immersed in his paperwork, Cisco missed the mechanic swish of the automated glass door sliding open, not realizing he had company until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at his supervisor, The Dr. Wells. It’s been three months and he still couldn’t believe it.

“Well, it’s three-thirty. You’re done. How does it feel?”

Cisco let go of his pen and sighed wistfully. “Honestly, Sir. Kinda down. I really like it here.”

“I’m glad. You were excellent to work with. I’ve already drafted a glowing recommendation for wherever you choose to pursue your higher education.”

A flush came to his face, and Cisco glanced aside, shy from the praise.

“Thank you, Dr. Wells.”

“No, thank you. Where are you wanting to go to school?”

Cisco opened his mouth to reply when Tess Morgan sidled up to Dr. Wells’s side.

He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and she clucked her tongue. “Don’t stress him, Harrison. He still has plenty of time to decide.”

“Well, my girlfriend and I were always planning for an Ivy,” Cisco said. “But I’d also take MIT or Caltech.”

“Engineering, I hope.”

“Yessir.”

Cisco stood up, unclipping his ID. School started tomorrow. Somehow swapping his Star Labs keycard for his old library pass was kind of depressing.

He looked down at it, his laminated card, the serial number they gave him. The picture he had taken on his first day, how he was pretty sure he blinked and yet it still turned out better than any framed Picture Day photograph hanging on the walls at home.

He felt important here. Like he belonged, like someone finally (finally) looked at him and went Yes, you. We like you. You’re good.

Cisco knew he was good, in the back of his mind, front of his mind, whatever. His GPA said so. His report cards said so. Barry said so (Hartley didn't, but who cared about him). Caitlin used to say so. He felt he was good.

Cisco hoped he was good, but was he really? Enough?

Probably not. And still, this taste of a dream, of his future that he so desperately wants to live now already is enough to motivate him to work harder to get it again. Permanently, next time. With his own lab and a desk with his name on it. A degree, a couple of them, with his name in latin script hanging nearby next to a window.

Hold your horses, he told himself. He needed to graduate high school first.

Cisco gave up his ID, handing it to Dr. Wells.

Dr. Wells looked down at the badge, but didn’t say anything for a while.

Tess grinned, “Oh stop with the suspense, look how sad the boy is, just tell him already.”

“What?” Cisco asked, looking back and forth between the scientist and his wife, unfollowing.

“The thing is, Mr. Ramon,” Dr. Wells began, returning the ID, “I’m not sure I want this back. Because the truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you. And Tess and I were wondering if you’d like to continue shadowing at Star Labs during the Fall. Say, twice a week after school?”

Cisco’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You want me to stay?!”

“We’d love to have you, Cisco,” Tess finished, beaming. “What do you say?”

“—I’d have to ask my parents,” he said immediately, and he winced at how juvenile that sounded but was relieved to see the two nod in agreement, “But that would be the best thing I’ve heard all summer.”

“Come back sometime next week, schedule an appointment and we can discuss contracts with a legal consultant, and a guardian of course.”

“Thank you so much!”

Dr. Wells shook his head, shooing him out. “Go. Enjoy your last day of summer vacation.”

~.~

Cisco was on cloud nine when he parked Dante’s car in the guest garage of Caitlin’s estate, bouncing on his heels in the elevator.

He fired off a quick text to tell her he made it in, then bounded for her library where he knew she would be memorizing the course outlines for tomorrow’s schedule. He creeped up behind her where she was reading silently at her desk, still a little off guard at all the tin-foil silver in her hair.

He covered her eyes, kissing her cheek and she dropped her pen. “Guess who?” he murmured.

Cisco removed his hands and she turned her head over her shoulder. “Hi.” Her eyes shined bright and soft, blinking at him with easy cheer. He couldn’t keep it in any longer, the news near busting inside him as he rubbed up and down her bare arms excitedly.

“Guess who’s boyfriend just got offered a Fall placement at Star Labs?”

Caitlin gaped, turning around. “Mine?”

“Yours! And Dr. Wells said he already wrote me a letter of recommendation for college!”

Caitlin squeezed his hand. “That’s amazing, oh my gosh! You deserve it!”

He shared her smile, pulling her up from the chair, and turning on the lights. Why she kept herself hidden in the dark alcove with only a window was beyond him when her house was equipped with the best green energy efficient systems on the market.

Her words spread a warmth in his chest and he wanted to believe them, but still, doubt creeped into his mind. His fingers skimmed over her dark wooden desk, focusing on rearranging her gel pens.

“Do you think so, really? All I was doing was writing notes and doing small lab assignments.”

Caitlin folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Stop selling yourself so short. You’re the smartest person I know.”

He looked up at her. "You're not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend so you kinda have to, but really, secretly, like deep down next your dark chocolate obsession you think Lily Stein the smartest?"

Caitlin laughed, swatting his arm like that would smack the silliness out of his head. "I am not obsessed with dark chocolate!"

"Sure you're not," he countered, eyes crinkling when she pressed a kiss to his cheek to distract him from checking her waste paper basket to prove his point.

"Lily's intelligent. Hartley's sharp. But you're my favourite smartypants," she said.

Cisco smirked a little, “You think Hartley got the same offer? Bet he didn’t.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at Cisco’s ongoing battle with his nemesis, choosing not to comment. “We should celebrate.”

“We should,” he enthused, offering her his arm. She took it, looking at him expectantly. “How about dinner?”

~.~

After food, Cisco took Caitlin to the little dessert shop that overlooked the river. They shared cheesecake and Sprite, clinking each other’s forks.

Caitlin kept looking over at the water, quiet.

She’d been like that, lately, off and on. Like she'd fall into moods where she was afraid to talk.

“Is everything okay?”

She took a moment to respond, scraping cheesecake off the plate. “Fine.”

He gave her a look. Maybe there were things that changed between them. But Cisco will never lose the skill of knowing when she lied. And Caitlin knew that too.

“I’m just—Worried. About school.”

“You love school.”

“I love learning,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t love CC High. Not anymore.”

“That’s fair.”

“I’ve been dreaming about this year since middle school. Starting it with you and applying to college. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long. What if I don’t get into a good school?”

Cisco held his tongue. There was zero chance that Caitlin would be rejected from any university, and, to be frank, there was nothing her mother’s money couldn’t buy. She was a shoo in, has been since Freshman year to all the good schools. And even if she weren't a phenomenal student, legacy alone would admit Caitlin into every college her mother’s research was affiliated with.

He thought about Tess Morgan, and echoed her sentiment. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Caitlin looked out at the water again.

He wondered if her mother was pressuring her. He wouldn't be surprised, school was ramping up soon and with that came a tremendous amount of stress after years of all talk. Maybe Dr. T had finally laid down the law, and it was daunting. Cisco assumed it would be, considering the pressure he put on himself, and he didn't even have anyone counting on him to make it. At least, not until he met the Wells family, and their encouragement had never been coercive. Maybe coercive wasn't the right word. Caitlin's mom was...Intense.

“...Is this about Star Labs? Because I can put in a good word about you with Dr. Wells or help you find—“

He watched Caitlin’s face fall, rushing to deny it. “No, no no. It’s not that. I promise. I don’t mind. You don’t have to do that. I just—I left such a mess.”

Cisco reflected on the past year. She was not wrong. But it was not all her fault.

She gave him a sad smile, “I just wish things didn’t have to change.”

Cisco frowned, sensing she was talking about something a little beyond high school. “They don’t. You’re my forever, Caitlin. Nothing has to change, I’m right here.”

She blinked back tears, shrugging. “I just miss...” she went to her locket. The one she’s never taken off since the funeral. The one with his picture in it, hiding under her dad’s.

His face softened as it clicked. He should've known.

He took her hand, kissing it softly.

“I know.”

~.~

Cisco had a Pop-Tart hanging out of his mouth as he dumped all of his things into his old school bag. He ran a brush through his hair a few times, threw on a light jean jacket, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He bit off another gooey piece before banging on the bathroom door.

“Dante, dios!” he shouted over the loud rush of water. He’s been in there for half an hour already.

“The bathroom! I have to go!”

His mom’s voice called from downstairs. “Deja entrar a tu hermano!”

He rattled on the doorknob, but it was locked. He swore under his breath again, checking his watch. “Dude!”

“Bro, calm down, what the fuck,” Dante groused, unlocking the door with a towel around his waist. The steam went billowing out and Cisco almost choked on the intensity of the deodorant spray.

He pushed past Dante, muttering, going for his toothbrush. He paused before sticking it in his mouth with the toothpaste. “Aren’t you late? Don’t you have an 8:30 class?”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Chill. I’m skipping.”

Cisco’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, spitting into the sink.

“You’re skipping?”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. It’s not like high school, dumbass. Everyone skips class in college.”

“Is it recorded?”

“No.”

“Do you have friends in your class to take notes from?”

“No.”

“Are you going to work on another class instead?”

“No. I’m going to watch Netflix then probably take another nap before practice with the band.”

Cisco ran his hand through his nicely done hair. “Dante, I don’t understand you.”

Dante walked across the hall to their shared room, pulling on clothes.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a nice day at school. Kiss all the teacher’s asses for me.”

Cisco pulled himself together, breathing in deeply, reminding himself that he loved his brother and wasn’t allowed to smack him while he glared.

“Can I use your car?” he gritted between his teeth as Dante shuffled his hair some, ruining it altogether.

Dante waved him off. “I don’t use that crap anymore. It might as well be yours.”

He was already texting Caitlin that he was coming to pick her up, his eyes glued to his phone as he walked out the front door when his mother pulled him back by the strap of his backpack.

She kissed both his cheeks, pushing a sandwich into his hands. “Don’t break that attendance record. Give Caitlin a kiss for me.”

“Si,” he replied, waving goodbye at his little sister shrieking his name before he jogged down the apartment steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

Why’d his place always have to be so hectic?

~.~

Caitlin kissed him after she slammed the car door close, buckling in her seatbelt, grumbling under her breath.

"Mom troubles?"

"Just drive."

Cisco looked in the rearview mirror as he put the Toyota in reverse.

It was windy in a nice crisp September morning way, and Caitlin rolled down the window.

“You look cute,” he said as he drove off her estate.

Caitlin shrugged, “I wear a blazer every first day. It’s tradition.”

“I’ve noticed.”

It fell quiet. Caitlin wasn’t much of a morning person, and it was the first day of the scariest school year they’d face yet. There was too much going on in their minds for riveting conversations.

Cisco took a swig of water at a red light ten minutes later, stuck in the morning rush hour. He swished it in his mouth then swallowed.

“So I was thinking—”

“I was wondering—”

They both stopped.

“You go first,” Caitlin said.

“I was thinking that maybe you should talk to Barry before the bell. Just to get a fresh start. I can come with you.”

Caitlin curled her fingers around her designer bag, some big brand fashion company with lots of consonants like X and Z’s that Cisco could never remember.

“I don’t want to."

Cisco frowned. “But why? Barry isn’t mad at you, Caitlin. He just wants you to come back. He’s our best friend.”

She put her hand on his arm.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I need.”

“So what, I’m stuck in the middle now? Homeroom to lunch with Barry, fourth period to final bell with you? How is that fair?”

“Actually,” she said. “I was thinking maybe we don’t make that big of a deal of it? Like, do people even need to know that we’re together again? Look what happened last time.”

Cisco narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like where this was going. “Caitlin. Everybody loves you. Nobody really loves me. This has already been established after what happened in April. Why does it matter anymore?”

She hesitated, tapping her fingers against the arm rest, leaning her head against the window. “I don’t want you to be a target again.”

“I don’t care,” Cisco said. “It’s just high school crap. I’m hoping we all got it out of our systems junior year. I haven’t kissed you in the hallway for how many months?”

Caitlin smiled down at her lap. “Six.”

Cisco made a disgruntled noise. “Six and a half, actually, but who’s counting?”

“Not me,” she lied.

They shared a glance.

“That’s too long. I’m not letting shitty people with nothing better to do stop me and neither should you.”

“Okay.”

She leaned over and kissed him quickly, then told him the light was green.

~.~

They had four classes together, but not homeroom, so Caitlin and Cisco split ways early on in the morning.

The bell rang, and Professor Stein cleared his throat.

“Welcome students to a bright academic year ahead!”

The class groaned, and Cisco shared an amused glance with Iris.

She leaned in, “Why does he say that every year?”

Cisco grimaced. “Fourth time’s the charm?”

Professor Stein told everyone to settle down as he took attendance, handed out the dozens of photocopied papers that needed their parents’ signatures and read the announcements. Soon enough, the bell rang, and they all got up to get to their first classes of the day.

Iris strapped her messenger bag over her shoulder. She wasn’t in the science stream, so this would be their only time together until humanities and AP English, which they didn’t have today.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah,” he said, then thought of something. “Can you keep an eye out for Caitlin? I’m just—Not sure what she’s thinking she’s going to do.”

“You mean with Lexi.”

He quirked an eyebrow. Students were starting to come in, so Cisco hurried out, grabbing Iris by the hand as the hallways started to flood. “You don’t like her either.”

Iris laughed callously, and they walked to their lockers. “Hell no.”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, trying to keep up with her quick pace. “I just don’t understand why she won't try to fix things. You haven’t said anything to her, have you? You two aren't fighting?”

Cisco watched Iris hang her coat up. “No,” she said. “Fighting? We're not even talking. Don’t get me wrong. I was pissed last year. What she did was awful.”

He felt the need to defend her, when he knew he probably shouldn’t. Iris must’ve saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes.

“No need to get all Caitlin Snow protection squad on me. I don’t hold grudges like that. I came to the funeral, didn’t I?”

Patty and Linda showed up, tugging Iris away. “Hey, gotta jet, but I’ll try, okay? I’ll do some digging for you. Shawna’s pretty easy to squeeze.”

Cisco wanted to thank her, but she was too far gone, giggling with her friends.

He sighed, standing in the middle of the hall. Without even a second longer to breathe, Jake Puckett barged into him. “Watch it, mosquito.”

“We’re back to that, Jake? Really?” Cisco yelled after him, still getting jostled as the crowd of students thickened in the tight corridor.

Puckett continued his taunting. “You look like a girl. Why don’t you get a haircut?”

“Maybe my girl likes it long dipshit,” he shot back. “Not like you’d know what that’s like.”

That sent Cisco flying into the lockers.

“I deserved that one,” he muttered to himself, trying not to wince at the way the metal hinges dug into his back. He dropped his folder when he hit the wall, his green permission slips about emergency contact information and school behavioural contracts now getting stepped on by careless idiots he called classmates.

He darted between people in the crowd to get them back, annoyed that nobody cared to help him. Then, annoyed that he expected this shit to change now that he was a Senior in the first place.

Just one more year. One more year, Cisco uttered under his breath like a mantra, falling into his ethics class’ front row seat just on time.

Their teacher started sprouting some stupid idea about going around and introducing themselves, as if everybody hasn’t already known each other since elementary.

“Hi? Um, my name is Brie Larvan. And I want to be a beekeeper.”

Cisco rubbed his temples, his mantra intensified.

~.~

By lunch, Cisco was waiting by Caitlin’s locker.

He saw her walk out of history with Lexi and Shawna. She paused at seeing him, her eyes going a little wide.

“Cisco, what are you doing?” she said, looking nervously at Lexi and Shawna, who had their arms crossed with identical bitch faces.

“Lunch?”

“Like, disappear mosquito. She doesn’t want lunch with you.”

Caitlin frowned, opening her locker. She put a new textbook into a top shelf and grabbed her lunch box. “We don't call my boyfriend that. Yes, I do want lunch with him.”

She took Cisco’s hand, and he rose an eyebrow at Shawna, a smidge too smug.

“Sorry ladies, later.”

"Your boyfriend?" Shawna repeated, jaw dropping open.

Lexi gasped. “Caity!”

He felt her tension just by the way she held his hand. “I’ll see you in class, I’m still sitting next to you in art, just like we promised, right?”

Lexi’s smile looked a little off kilter. “Of course. Right. See you there, then. Have fun with...Cisco.”

Cisco, who had been trying to look anywhere but Lexi, eventually met her gaze.

She gave him a look, sucking lipstick off her teeth. It sent a chill down his spine, and he had forgotten (really, no, he hasn't, he really hasn't) how much he hated her.

She arched an eyebrow high in the air, like she was challenging him to acknowledge her. But Cisco didn't play her games.

He pulled Caitlin away, lacing their fingers together.

~.~

Cisco let Caitlin drag him far from Barry’s table without putting up a fight. In fact, they weren’t even eating in the cafeteria. They sat in the courtyard, watching the soccer team tryouts as Caitlin opened her packed box from her chef.

It was a nice day. Caitlin really did look gorgeous in her burgundy blazer and pleated skirt. It suited her, that classy uniform chic, and for the first time a thought occurred to him that struck odd. Caitlin belonged in a private school. One with 4.0 cut-offs, loads of legacy families, and a hundred thousand dollars for tuition. Dr. T letting her daughter stay in Central City to go to public school was a bit weird. She didn’t really belong here.

Cisco picked at dandelions as they talked, wondering why the grass was so unkept.

About twenty minutes in, Caitlin gave him a sly look.

Cisco looked up from his lunch, knowing that expression all too well. “If you’re going to kiss me, please let me finish my chicken first or else I never will, and I’m really hungry.”

She ignored him completely, prying the plastic container out of his hands. “Hey missy, I said I wasn’t— Mmmph!”

He missed this. He missed her. This Caitlin. His Caitlin.

It was like all the darkness swarming underneath her surface dissipated, and her true light was shining through.

He laughed as she climbed into his lap to kiss him more. They could get demerit points for this, and that heightened the sense of thrill. If they got caught it would be so worth it.

A shrill whistle pierced through the air and the two sprang apart. There was a foul on the soccer field.

“Still hungry?” she smirked with mirth, wiping the rest of her smudged lip gloss off.

He played with her silvery hair. “Um, yes,” he flirted, catching Caitlin’s heated gaze. “Famished.”

“Good thing I’m here then,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he agreed, inching closer. “Very good,” and slipped his tongue in her mouth.

They made out until the bell.

~.~

Outside was beautiful and peaceful. Cisco started to understand why Caitlin brought him out there.

“Oh my god, Caitlin! Over here!” Lisa shouted at the door, gesturing wildly at her to come back into the side entrance of school. “Hi Cisco!”

“Hey Lisa.”

Lisa Snart. She was something else, that one. Cute, in a dumb like a rock kind of way.

Maybe that was mean.

Lexi appeared over Lisa’s shoulder. "Come on, Caitlin! We’re going to be late!”

He got up with a sigh, and gave his girlfriend a hand. She took it, hers slender and soft in his, and didn’t let go.

They began walking towards Caitlin’s new posse.

“Why are they so possessive? It’s unnerving,” he couldn’t help but blurt out.

“It’s not me. It’s you. They think—”

“I know what they think,” he snapped, cross. As did everybody, no doubt. Cisco kicked at a littered soda can. “Tell them I didn’t.”

“I tried! They won’t believe me!”

“Then ditch them. It’s not that hard.”

She turned to him sympathetically, kissing him one last time.

“I can’t, Cisco. They’re my friends. I like them.” She untangled their fingers.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” she insisted. “Stop saying things as if you’re me. I’m me. If they’re my friends then I’m not lying and you have to understand that.”

Cisco felt properly chastened. He took a step back, quiet. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Lisa and Lexi took to each of Caitlin’s sides, linking their arms together. Only Lisa looked back.

~.~

“Where were you? You dipped lunch. Iris said you’d be there.”

It was the second to last period of the day, and it just had to be gym, didn’t it?

Cisco ducked at the incoming fire of dodgeballs. “Yeah, sorry. Caitlin wanted to eat outside.”

A ball rolled to a stop beside him. He picked it up and chucked it, barely getting it past the midline.

The one class he and Barry weren’t good at. So what.

“You mean she didn’t want to eat with me.”

Cisco stopped, looking around. His team was going to lose no matter what.

“I think she’s just really embarrassed. Give her some time.”

“Time?” Barry exclaimed, nearly getting hit in the face. “It’s been almost half a year! I miss her so bad. She’s in my geography class and she sat next to Bad Luck Becky instead of me.”

“Dude, watch out!”

“Huh?” Barry spun around in the wrong direction, and Cisco cringed as Barry got hit in the back by Woodworth, officially out.

Cisco followed him to the bench, not caring to even pretend he was playing anymore.

“What’s her deal?”

Cisco wrung his hands. “I don’t know. Her dad, I think. It shook her hard, and we weren’t there for her.”

Barry’s fingers were calming on his shoulder, unlike Dante’s, and different from Armando’s.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that. She pushed us away.”

It was easy for Barry to say that. Barry the best friend, their happy third wheel. It wasn’t the same for Cisco. Cisco, who had offered to pick Caitlin up when she fell down the slide in the first grade, who she had won the regional science fair with in grade 3, who she first told when they were ten that her dad was sick, really sick, and I really need a hug.

Barry was always there and supportive and the best friend, but he had Iris. Before him came Cisco and Caitlin. They were a duo, a package deal, each other’s forever.

Even if she pushed him away, even if she hurt him. She never meant to, just as hurt and twice as lonely.

“She needed me and I wasn’t there until it was too late. Now she doesn’t know who to trust.”

Barry reached for his water bottle, taking a long sip.

“So she trusts LaRoche? She knows what she did to you, doesn’t she?”

It was humiliating just thinking about it.

Cisco shook his head. “She only knows that I tutored her for the SATs.”

Three thumps on the back was what it took for Barry to stop coughing, spluttering water everywhere.

“You need to tell Caitlin. ”

“No. Drop it. And don’t tell Iris either.”

“But—”

Coach Adam’s bullhorn blew sharply, interrupting them both.

“— Allen! Back on the court! Don’t make me give you another C!”

~.~

The last class of the day was math with Professor Stein. Cisco had it with Caitlin, and they sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously to keep up with their teacher’s enthusiastic ramblings. When the final bell rang, Professor Stein called them both to stay behind.

“I’ve got something for my 4.0 lovebirds.”

He leaned behind his desk for two thick envelopes and deposited one in each one's hands.

Caitlin tore hers open quickly, curiosity getting to the best of her. A stack of viewbooks from prestigious schools were freshly pressed, smelling like new paper.

“Straight from the guidance counsellor's office. They’re not yet out on rotation, you see, but I figured my overachieving students wanted a first peak.”

“Oh wow,” Caitlin replied, already looking into the Harvard one. “These have the updated statistics.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Cisco leafed through the schools in his selection, pausing at MIT, eyes lingering on rolling green hills of its campus.

Professor Stein pointed at Cisco. “And how was your internship at Star Labs?”

“The greatest. They want me to continue twice after school.”

“Really now? That’s quite remarkable.”

“Isn’t it?” Caitlin smiled, proud of him. Cisco blushed. “I told him so.”

There was a knock at the door, and Shawna appeared. “Caitlin we need you right now. It’s an emergency.”

Caitlin looked to Cisco.

“I thought I was driving you home. We could look at these together.”

“We really need you, Caity. Becky’s crying. I can drive you home.”

“Tomorrow,” Caitlin promised, squeezing his shoulder, then thanked Professor Stein again for the viewbooks.

Cisco tugged on her blazer for a goodbye kiss, reluctant to let her go. She leaned in, her fingers delicate on his face, smiling against his lips.

Shawna stomped a little, rolling her eyes, “Can we go?”

“One minute,” Caitlin said, looking into his eyes. “We’ll go over our favourite schools tomorrow?”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “It’s a date.”

She grabbed her bag and the envelope, then followed Shawna out the door.

Cisco watched Caitlin scurry after Shawna, who was stomping away in her spiked combat boots.

“I’m glad that whatever squabble you two had seems to be put behind you.”

Cisco turned to their teacher, unashamed that he witnessed him smitten.

“Me too.”

Professor Stein had always been perceptive and easily approachable. Cisco had gone to him in times of trouble in the past four years plenty.

Cisco sat on a desk as Professor Stein tidied up, reflecting. “Sir, how do you help someone through grief?”

His teacher took off his glasses, cleaning them with the edge of his shirt before he responded. “This is about the passing of Dr. Snow?”

Everyone knew. He supposed they had to, not only because Caitlin’s dad had been an active donor and contributor to the restructuring of Central City High’s science stream, but because Cisco guessed it was required for her teachers to take special attention.

“She’s just not the same.”

“She won’t be,” he advised, firm yet gentle. “She lost one of the most important figures in her life.”

The only figure, Cisco thought bitterly, thinking about Dr. T’s suspicious absence in Caitlin’s life. It always made him scratch his head, how two people who lived in the same house could avoid and ignore each other for so long.

If Cisco could avoid Dante, he would.

Maybe it was a matter of the size of the house.

“I want to be there for her, but sometimes I feel like she’s pushing me away. Do I give her that space? Should I be persistent? Love is hard,” Cisco groaned after his monologue, flopping against the row of desks as if he were in a therapist’s office, not his math class. His teacher chuckled at him.

“Ah, but is your affection for Miss Snow difficult to muster? It takes effort for you to demonstrate your care?”

“No,” Cisco protested. “No, that’s easy.”

Professor Stein tapped on his shoes, asking him to get them off the desks.

Cisco's legs swung over the side obediently, and he sat back up.

Professor Stein tilted his head, and Cisco was alarmed to realize how his favourite teacher’s hair was beginning to grey.

Maybe that’s what made him stand out. After teaching as a professor and publishing his books, he came back to a high school to teach kids because he cared about them. Cisco didn't think he could do that. Lily was really lucky to have him as a dad.

“I know you love her Mr. Ramon. Patience is virtue. You’re astute for a young man of your age. Show her that love the best you can.”

That sounded about right.

“Yessir.”

“Now go home, enjoy those viewbooks.”

Cisco tucked the envelope under his arm, and took his advice.

~.~

Cisco was leafing through the glossy pages of Duke’s viewbook at the kitchen table, trying to concentrate through the constant keyboard banging leaking through the adjacent wall. He wasn’t allowed to ask Dante to be quiet, not even when he had to study and it was one of his pet peeves.

Don’t disturb him, Mama would always say, but his keyboard had an ear jack? Cisco had bought Dante a good quality headset a year and a half ago, thinking it would be a great gift to them both.

Dante didn’t use them, Cisco bet the wrapping was still on the box, buried somewhere in their closet considering he’s never seen them and it’s not like their room was very big. So who was the one really being unnecessarily disturbed?

How their neighbours haven't come pounding on their front door yet begging for silence was a mystery to him.

He was just getting into the gritty details of the application requirements when Rosita peered up at him on her tiptoes. Her ten little fingers gripped the table, eyes barely making it past the edge as she pushed herself up to see what Cisco was looking at.

“What are you doing?”

“Leyendo,” he said absentmindedly, showing her the bright graphs. She didn’t reply, and he looked down, how she had zero reaction, then forgot she was still fuzzy on verbs. Forgot that she couldn’t even read yet.

“Reading,” he translated. “For college. See? This is in North Carolina.”

“You’re leaving?” her voice wobbles, thick with hurt. “Like ‘Mando?”

Armando’s been gone at Cleveland State for two years, majoring in business. Cisco’s surprised sometimes that Ro even remembers their oldest brother.

“Not right away. But next year, yeah.”

Cisco didn’t see the big deal. He felt Rosita was pretty lucky, getting the apartment practically to herself. Cisco would have loved to be left alone growing up, not constantly stuck rubbing shoulders with the six people crammed into their three bedroom apartment with nowhere to breathe. But Caitlin and Barry both said growing up as an only child was lonely, wishing for siblings. Cisco wouldn’t know.

“Why?”

“Because I want to go to school, like the one you’re going to start tomorrow,” he explained. He glanced down at the entrance requirements and chuckled at his own analogy. “Except this isn’t kindergarten.”

There was just enough room for Rosita to squeeze onto his seat. He patted the space, and she climbed up with a little "oof” until their thighs were pressed together.

He read to her what was on the page just to keep her busy. It was the pictures she was interested in anyways.

“Where’s Mama?” he asked after a while. They had moved on from Duke to Stanford. Their dad still wasn’t home from work either, but he wouldn’t be, he usually wasn’t at this time.

Rosita shrugged her shoulders and Cisco rolled his eyes at himself, wondering why he expected the five year old of the house to have all the answers.

He slid off the chair, noticing the way she was droopy, her messy black curly hair spilling against the table as she leaned her head against it.

“Did you have a snack?”

She rolled her head from side to side with a whine. Cisco took that for a no.

He pulled out a fruit roll-up from the kitchen, ignoring Caitlin’s voice in the back of his head warning about high fructose.

After seeing to it that she’s good with opening the wrapper, Cisco knocked loudly on the doorframe of his and Dante’s room. “Where’s Mama?”

Dante kept playing, ignoring him. Cisco marched right over to the outlet and unplugged the keyboard.

“Hey!”

“Yo Beethoven. Were you supposed to be taking care of Rosita? Because I came home to her climbing the curtains, Dante.”

His brother waved him off, “She’s fine.”

“She was hungry.”

Dante glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“Mama went grocery shopping. We’re going to have dinner soon anyways.”

“Not for another few hours, I wasn’t supposed to be home this early. You can’t leave her alone like that she’s too young, and Mama expects us watch her!”

Dante banged his fist against the quiet keys, and Cisco had to keep a straight face at how that looked. “Stop fucking lecturing me, I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” Cisco scoffed. “Don’t go on about being 18 if you won’t even act like an adult.”

“Yeah, because you want to be an adult so bad, Cisco, don’t you? It’s just a number it doesn’t make you older.”

Not for the first time, Cisco found himself missing Armando. Things were easier with Dante when he was around, how he was practical like Dante yet level-minded like himself.

The door slammed loud behind him, frustrated. Dante was Dante. What was he to do? At least he got his car.

Cisco took his stack of books to the living room, wiping off Rosita’s sticky fingerprints from off the Stanford cover and got really interested in Harvard’s crimson booklet.

By dinner, he was excited, sprouting out campus facts as his dad asked to pass the bowl of vegetables.

Rosita kicked her legs in her seat beside him, happily munching away on the roast beef.

“Dude, just. Shut up,” Dante said with his mouth full after Cisco went on a, self-admitting, spiel about Stanford’s aeronautics engineering program.

Cisco narrowed his eyes, defending himself. “I have to apply by November for early admissions. That's two months away. We're talking about my future here.”

His mom and dad shared a look, one Cisco couldn’t decipher. He put his fork down, sensing dread.

“What? I told you, my SAT scores are really high. Maybe not Harvard okay, but MIT, UPenn, I think I have a real shot.”

It went quiet, it was uncomfortable and Cisco felt nervous, like he was the butt of a big joke.

“What?”

“Get that Ivy League crap out of your head, we can’t afford it.”

His mother gasped, hitting his father’s arm.

Cisco looked to Dante, who had his glass paused halfway to his lips.

“What Papa means is we know you talk big plans with tu novia, but where will the money for that come from?”

The words were faint, Cisco feeling a rush in his ears as his mind began to race, trying to compute. "Mama, I don't understand.”

“Those schools sound very expensive, Cisco.”

This couldn’t be happening, he pushed his plate away, sick to his stomach. “Two years ago you said you had money put away for me.”

“That was before Dante changed his mind about CCU music. And it was never going to be enough for what you’re talking about. We were already tight with Armando’s tuition.”

Dante coughed, nearly choking on the food, startled. “Mama,” he gaped, after a giant swallow of water. “¿Su dinero?”

“He is older, Cisco,” his dad replied, and it was condescending, felt cold like ice down Cisco’s back. “If you want a fancy college you’ll need a job, maybe two. You might have good grades for CC High, but for a full scholarship where everyone is smart? Be realistic, Mijo.”

Cisco’s eyes were stinging, blurring as the weight of their words washed over him, and he was so unprepared, so unbalanced to hear that news, it knocked him over, and now he felt like was going to drown.

"You don't think I'm good enough?"

"That's not what we're saying," his mother corrected, "But we do believe your aspirations are out of tune."

Out of tune. Giving all his college money away to his ungrateful brother, permitting him to Netflix in his room under the guise of studying composition, was out of tune.

He stood up abruptly, not able to stomach any more.

“You used my money on Dante? Dante? Who doesn’t even show up for school? Have I not been clear since I was twelve how much I wanted this?”

Rosita burst into tears at the volume of his voice, covering her ears. His mother ran to Rosita.

It wasn’t Rosita’s fault. It wasn’t. She was just a child. She was little, but somehow the way his mother ran to her and picked her up adoringly, soothing her whimpering was the last straw, twisting something in Cisco until it bent and snapped.

“You care for everyone in this house but me!”

“Francisco.”

“It’s true!” he cried, and maybe it wasn't, but his world was imploding, and this wasn't his fault, Cisco didn't do anything to deserve this.

He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jean jacket, furious, “You never listen, you never care, you don’t know anything about what I want or am going through, even when I say it. It’s all about Dante or Rosita. You didn’t even care that I was chosen for Star Labs’ internship, how big of an accomplishment that was for me. Or that Caitlin’s papa died!”

“You were at Star Labs?” his father questioned, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Dante did you know this?”

His mother tore her gaze from his sister, stunned. “Dr. Snow?”

Even his parents were out of tune with each other. Out of tune, they said about him going to an Ivy, about becoming an engineer, he still processing it, outraged. Cisco wanted to throw up.

Dante spoke up. “Papa of course I knew he wouldn’t shut up about it. He was gone every day.”

Dante was defending him for once, probably guilty, and he should be, Cisco thought, but that wasn't enough.

He was on a roll, unable to stop yelling, “Armando got everything he wanted! Dante gets anything he asks for, no questions! A motorcycle, he goes and you're all oh, sure Dante, here you go, only pay half. Then he says, Haha surprise, I want to go to college after all, and so you go sure, let us deplete our youngest son's college funds!"

Even Rosita quieted, staring at Cisco.

"What?" she said, voice full of innocence.

His face crumpled, but he refused to break in front of them. "I worked so damn hard, and I get nothing?”

“It is not nothing,” his father scolded in Spanish. “CCU is a fine school, Francisco. You are just prejudiced. Caitlin is a fine girl, but her privilege has gone to your head.”

“That’s not true,” Cisco snapped back, switching languages smoothly. “This has nothing to do with Caitlin. Mama, tell him.”

She lowered her gaze, fussing again with Rosita’s plate, without replying.

His parents’ quietness was all the confirmation Cisco needed. A dark chuckle, more like a huff from a pushed out exhale escaped him, and he shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, looking at the faces of his family. He didn’t even want to be here anymore.

“Well, since I got your attention,” he spat, “I was offered a placement at Star Labs for the Fall for after school. I need a parent to sign the contract with me.”

“¿Se paga?” Is it paid? Mama said.

After all that.

Cisco choked on his answer, already imagining what they were going to say. “No.”

“You’ll have to choose then, what you want more.”

Was this what it felt like? To see his entire future hanging by a thin, loose, unravelling thread? Cisco shouldn’t have to choose. Star Labs was his ticket out of here. Out of this mess, the one outstanding point on his application which would give him those scholarships, that admission.

But his parents didn't understand, and they won't.

And that's what was worse. It was not the lack of money, or that they gave it to Dante (even though that cut deep, and Cisco wasn't quite sure it was something he could ever forgive). He knew that they weren't wealthy, that they were four kids and still not even in a house. But they made it work for their children, set up this illusion, this fake fantasy land Cisco had been living in for years and watched him entangle himself deeply there, plant roots in it, and still never bothered to come clean and correct him.

They watched him grow up and fall in love with math and science--and Caitlin, and get his glowing letters from his teachers and still think the idea of him going away to one of the country's best schools was silly. Childish, like one of Rosita's make believe stories.

How could they see him, see what he's willing to sacrifice, how hard he'll work, has worked, and still be so confident that Cisco was wasting his time?

“I’m going to sleepover at Barry’s,” Cisco announced, too upset to look them in the eye. Too angry to wait and listen to their reply. To be given permission to leave.

They were way past granting him permission to do things anymore, in his books.

Dante tried to pull him back when he passed by, uttered his name, but Cisco pushed, shoving his brother out of his path with a hard glare, poisoned with fiery pain, daring him to say another word.

He didn't wait for the elevator of the building to make it to their floor, just ran down the spiralling steps, all at once, and fled.

~.~

Cisco called Caitlin twice but it went to voicemail. He banged his head against the steering wheel in the humid, sticky old car with the rusted paint and broken AC, keys still in the engine, motor running, stalled in the apartment parking lot, and cried loud ugly sobs.

~.~

Dr. Allen didn’t question why he had to double his pancake recipe in the morning, just ruffled Cisco’s hair and called him and Barry sluggers, and for that Cisco was grateful.

Cisco parted ways with Barry on the Allen's front steps, after he got pulled in for a hug.

"We'll look at options, okay? Jobs and stuff." Barry cracked a smile. "Maybe we can wait tables together."

"You'd do that for me?" Cisco, asked, pleasantly surprised.

Barry nodded. "I could use some extra cash, to take Iris out and stuff. You want to walk to her house with me?"

Cisco nodded to the Toyota. "Nah, I told Caitlin I'd pick her up this year now that I have the car. I'll see you in school."

~.~

Cisco sat in his driver's seat, tapping his fingers against the dashboard, still dreary, exhausted, and weighed down, but, hopeful to see the one person who would be sure to make him feel better.

Minutes clocked by and his hope turned to worry, and he wrestled with the idea of unbuckling his seatbelt to see what was wrong.

Because something was wrong. Caitlin was late. And she's never been late in all the years that he knew her.

She was late and so he was just as relieved as surprised when Dr. T knocked on his window, after walking briskly down her house's long driveway.

He rolled it down, frowning. “Is Caitlin sick?”

“She already left with her driver,” she informed. “She made it clear that she didn’t want to see you.”

It was like being dunked in cold water.

“What?”

“Get to school, Francisco.”

Cisco grabbed his phone in the glove compartment, about to call her, not above believing Carla Tannhauser pulling a fast one on him (she never did exactly like him, but this would've been cruel) when the text came through.

❤ Caitlin ❤ : We're breaking up.

#the flash #cisco x caitlin #killervibe #the flash fic #tkv fic #lux et veritas #thatkillervibe fic #ch 1

13 notes · View notes

enygmass · 7 years ago

Text

Denouement

Characters – Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma

Concept - Jonathan post-criminal career

Work count - 2933 [I am so sorry]

“The author Oscar Wilde once said that to live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. Perhaps we should judge the value of our worth on what we have accomplished with our time here, no matter how long or how short it is. Perhaps the one who has done the impossible is more accomplished than the one who has merely survived- “

A hand came down on top of the radio, silencing the broadcaster’s voice from continuing to fill the yard. The hand in question belonged to Jonathan Crane, who was kneeling on a pile of dirt with several plants beside him. The plants were not what you would expect to find in the average American garden; they ranged from Monkshood to Poison Ivy – plants you would expect to find secured in a greenhouse under some private ownership. However, the man who was planting them was a peculiar type, and felt that these plants were of more value than daisies and lilies that others would harvest. After all, lilies can only go so far in a lab.

“Bullshit.”

He spoke in a harsh tone as he pushed himself to his feet, an act that took more effort than it should have. Adjusting the straw hat that sat upon his head, he picked up the portable radio from its spot on the grass and stared down at it with a cold gaze, as if it were being judged for some crime. In reality, it was an old 80’s junk box he had bought from some peddler at the corner of the street, not because he liked it but because it was cheap and it worked. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to buy a stereo system anytime soon.

A brief glance down to the discarded flowers reassured his budding belief that he wouldn’t be able to finish the transplanting today. That was a shame – if he left them out too long, they would begin to go rotten in the sun, and their worth would become as much as a piece of trash. He had to put his needs above his work, though [which was funny – that was never his mindset when he was younger], and right now his needs included sitting in a more comfortable position.

Jonathan liked to believe that he had done fairly well in his “golden years”, as they were so kindly coined. A plea bargain and a promise had resulted in a quick release from Arkham, and although he was quick to jump back into the life of crime, things had seemed far more different than usual. The faces he had become familiar with throughout the twenty or so years of work had seemed to fade out, only to be replaced with new and greed-filled ones. Falcone was a ghost of the past now – the last Jonathan had heard, the man retired after his supposed “death” in a villa in Italy and had passed on surrounded by family. A rather unfitting way to go for the crimes he had committed. Roman, who had been quick to take his place, was gone as well. A permanent cell in Blackgate and no exterior connections assured that. Even the people he had worked with in his field seemed to have taken the brief hop into the next sequence of their lives. From what he gathered Harley had left for Las Vegas with Ivy, which shocked Jonathan because Ivy seemed quite determined to get out of the urban jungle. Then again if she was with Harley she’d probably go anywhere. The same applied to Oswald – it seems he decided to begin settling down with black-market trade versus the arms dealership and illicit politics he had been indulging in before. Jervis was still in Arkham, Freeze was in unknown parts of the world, and so forth.

Edward had probably been the last face Jonathan had been familiar with in the field of crime. His addiction to clues and his desire to trump the Bat at least once had kept him firmly rooted in town, making him easy to find for someone just out of Arkham. But even he, over time, seemed to grow weary of the same motions over and over again, and Jonathan wasn’t really surprised when he woke up one day to an empty home. Edward was never the type to leave a note or say goodbye.

No, compared to the rest, Jonathan had done fairly well. Those in the neighborhood he lived in knew him as “Mr. Autumn” rather than “Mr. Crane”, a name change that had been nothing more than a precaution. When he first chose the name he thought it would be rather obvious who he was, given his reputation, but that belief was quickly crushed within the first month of living here. Suburbs, to his surprise, were the best places for criminals to live when they tried to get out of crime. Everyone is so caught up in the hectic of their own lives that they failed to acknowledge the serial killer next door – or in Jonathan’s case, the Scarecrow. He didn’t mind the lack-of-realization from his neighbors, however, and now since it had been several years since his last crime, he felt he was off of the Bats radar.

If the Bat was even still around.

Upon entering his home from the garden, he moved immediately to the kettle and hit the lever down. When he was certain it was actually working, he removed his hat and set it on the appropriate rack. Jervis had fueled an obsession with tea within him that seemed prevalent still years later, and Jonathan found himself spending more on tea then he really should be. He was running through the familiar motions of grabbing a mug and grabbing the sugar when there was a sudden sharp rap on his door, startling him and causing the sugar to spill across the counter.

“Shit-!” Hastily wiping the sugar onto his palm and dumping it into the sink, he wiped the remaining bit on his pants and made his way to the door. Nobody ever really came over to see him. In fact, Jonathan was comfortably known as Mr. Autumn, who was restrictive to his home and occasionally the supermarket in town. This meant that the individual at his door was either his neighbor trying to sell more pamphlets [“But have you heard the word, Mr. Autumn!”], or some other salesman.

“Whatever it is you have, I’m not interested.” The words left his mouth as he undid the bolt and yanked open the door, a scowl fixed on his face. Upon glancing at the figure at the door, his expression shifted to that of dubious surprise.

“I see you’re as pleasant as always!”

The person in question was the very same man who had up and left him so many years ago without a single goodbye. Glancing at him, it seemed he had hardly aged a day, although with closer inspection the salt and pepper hairs and the fine wrinkles gave away his true age. No, Edward Nygma had otherwise avoided the spectacular phenomena of getting old, a process Jonathan had fallen victim to quite ferociously.

“Edward? How the hell are you-?” Jonathan’s questioning was cut off by Edward shoving his way into the home. Some things seemed to never change in people.

“Mr. Autumn? Really? Are your neighbors so daft that they couldn’t figure that out? Ah yes, the new resident, a tall and lanky man named Mr. Autumn, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere and always looks around like he’s about to be shot. Christ, Jonathan, I’m surprised the facebook page for the neighborhood watch hasn’t reported you yet. I’m sure someone named Jan thinks you’re ‘suspicious’.” Edward scoffed at this comment and began to walk further into the home, removing his hat and unceremoniously throwing it onto the sofa as he did so.

No, some things seemed to never change at all.

As Jonathan grabbed the hat to hang upon the proper rack – and close the door before his neighbors saw that Mr. Autumn actually had a visitor – Edward, after much loitering, sauntered his way into the kitchen.

“Ah, you even got a mug for me! I feel like you knew I was coming.” Edward turned and waved a finger at Jonathan with a wide grin adorning his features. Jonathan, in return, scowled even harder.

“On the contrary, Edward, I was hoping for a quiet day to myself – hence why there’s only one mug.”

Jonathan crossed the kitchen floor at an alarming pace and slammed his hand on top of the mug, being sure to stand his full height over Edwards form. Edward seemed extremely unfazed by this performance and instead continued to smile up at him.

“Be courteous, mon cher. I am your guest right now!” With that note, he gracefully sidestepped around Jonathan’s form and draped himself in one of the kitchen chairs, crossing his legs and keeping a keen eye on the man. Jonathan used his ever-working intuition to assume this meant that he was not going to be rid of Edward for quite some time, and grabbed a second mug from the shelf.

“Do you still drink it black? Or have you finally given up on that?”

“3 milk, 2 sugars. Black is only around the others.”

For some reason or another, Edward had always held the belief that drinking coffee and tea black would make him seem more intimidating to others. Jonathan always believed, given the faces Edward made behind the cups, that he would rather be doing anything but that. Nobody noticed but Jonathan, however, and this seemed to make Edwards tactic work.

What followed next was a moment of drawn-out silence, in which Jonathan prepared the drinks while Edward preoccupied himself by staring out into the yard. Jonathan had to acknowledge that there was really nothing to look at. Besides a few piles of dirt and the flowers that still lay discarded in the sun, the grass was dull and green, the trees were dull and green, the sky was dull and blue, everything was just a normal yard. Really, an unexciting view.

“Is this all you’ve been doing since you finished?” Edward’s voice came out more as a lazy drawl now than the sharp and demanding tone it had been before. Jonathan made a sound of confirmation as he stirred the drinks, watching the contents go from black to milky-white.

“How dull. How incredibly dull, to settle in a suburban life like this.”

“Then tell me what you’ve done.” He always wanted to talk about himself. Some things never changed.

“Well!” A sharp clap of hands caught Jonathan by surprise again, and he winced as the spook clattered against the side of the mug. “Let’s see here. After I got out of Arkham, I decided to go back to Rome. Selina ruined the last trip for me, so I thought I’d make up the experience by going solo this time. The pantheon looked the same, and the temples all looked the same, but the food was far more spectacular now that I didn’t need to worry about being poisoned! Then when I finished there, I traveled to Athens for a brief stay, and then I lived in Denmark for a while. Not much happened there – I worked an odd job at an advertising firm, had a brief stint working on a film set, and then off to Ireland. I spent a fair amount of time observing the ruins and really getting to know the culture, and then I finally settled in Paris. Being of French background, I already knew the language, so getting work there was hardly much effort. So now I’m there, working in a tech business. A rather exciting time if you ask me.”

As Edward had recounted his tale, Jonathan had set the mugs down and settled across from him. Only when he was sure Edward had finished talking did he bother to input his thoughts.

“Hm, exciting indeed.”

Edward seemed less than pleased with the over-joyous reaction, but smiled nevertheless.

“Have you heard from anyone else recently?”

Jonathan shook his head.

“No, the last time I got in touch with anyone was when I got a call from Harley a few years back. How she got my number, I’m not sure, but we spoke for a while. She’s doing well, by the way.” Edward’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Good, good! I’m glad.”

Another wave of silence fell between them after this statement as they both merely drank their drinks. Jonathan couldn’t really find anything to say; after the rather abrupt departure, Edward hadn’t crossed his mind at all. Now suddenly he was in his kitchen like it was a typical day, and Edward seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Do you remember the heist on Cherry Street? About, ah, ten years back now?”

The silence was once again broken by Edward’s voice, and Jonathan looked up in surprise.

“We tried to rob the bank, but the bank manager had set up watchdogs. Massive Rottweiler hounds, almost at my waist. The men we hired bailed to the vans within the first second of looking at them, and you and I were left trying to get into the vents before we became mince-meat.”

The heist had been one of the few almost-failures the two had endured together, and Jonathan recalled it with fondness.

“Hah, indeed! And when we got inside the vault was so secured, it took almost ten minutes to get it open. You were convinced the Bat was going to show any second and kept waving that scythe of yours around like it was some shield. We got the vault open eventually, but we couldn’t carry all the money out because our men had left.”

“Good thing there was a car on the lot next to the bank.”

“Too bad it was a smart car. We could barely fit the bags in, and by the end, we were both ready to just get arrested. Hell, I was going to light the bat signal myself.”

Jonathan had to laugh at that. Edward, with his hair matted to his head with sweat, screaming that he would climb the walls of the GCPD just to do it.

“You didn’t though. But you almost did again when the wheel popped on the car, and we were stuck for two hours in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not my fault you chose a hideout in the woods. We had a good talk, though. Do you remember what we talked about?”

A slight shake of the head indicated the truth; Jonathan could barely recall their conversation. It had become lost somewhere between formula A of the toxin and all exit routes out of Arkham.

“I asked you if you ever wanted to travel, and you said yes. When I asked you said you never wanted to go back home, but you always wanted to go somewhere exciting, where you can be a nobody and still be a somebody. I agreed – to be known and unknown was always something I wanted to do. A riddle itself.”

Edward tapped the side of his mug with his nails, keeping a steady gaze on Jonathan. The smile had faded from his face at some point, and in its place, was an expression that mixed nostalgia and something deeper in a perfect blend.

“Do you want to go with me, Jonathan? Suburban life was never designed for you. I mean, you’re planting flowers for Christ sake. We’re in the last stretch here – why don’t you do what you said you wanted to? It’ll be like the heist again! You and I out there in the world, preferably without the Rottweilers this time. Come with me back to Paris.” His voice sounded breathy with excitement and there was a look in his eyes, which were bright with the prospect of adventure, with the prospect of hope. Edward had always been the type to seek companionship, and some things seemed to never change, even with age. Jonathan looked from him to his home. The place seemed to be nothing but a shell of memories, built up with an 80’s junk box, a broken kettle, formulas stuck to a board, and in the garden flowers that were rotting in the sun.

Was his home really his home? It felt like Arkham had just transferred itself to a more convenient space, but he was still a patient.

He raised his drink to his lips and took a measured sip before lowering it down again. Edward was still staring at him with the same expression. After another moment of deliberate silence, Jonathan spoke.

“I suppose I should get out for once."

The author Oscar Wilde once said that to live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. Perhaps we should judge the value of our worth on what we have accomplished with our time here, no matter how long or how short it is. Perhaps the one who has done the impossible is more accomplished than the one who has merely survived. Perhaps the one that follows what they always desired will find that true happiness unfolds in the danger of the unknown, rather than the safety of the know, and that a little companionship never hurt anyone.

#amy talks #amys fanfiction #jonathan crane #edward nygma #thank u bye

95 notes · View notes

thedefinitionofbts · 8 years ago

Text

Our First and Last (Ch. 3)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |

Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 (Final)

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Scifi

Words: 4K

“He’s a genius”

“I heard he’s the one who uncovered most of the information we know about dimensional universes.”

“He published an book on space-time when he was 23 and got tenured as a professor in the university’s theoretical physics department at age 25.”

“That’s crazy!”

“I also heard he’s still single”

“Gross, you know students can’t…”

You stop listening once the girls began talking about things you weren’t really interested in. You were sitting on a bench by the fountain at your college campus, when you overheard some girls talking about the most famous professor at your university. Could this be the guy Jungkook was talking about? You think to yourself, as you pretend to flip through the pages of your textbook while eavesdropping.

The endless search for this so-called “guy who will tell you everything you need to know” has continued in vain since Jungkook had brought it up the day before he left. It’s been months and you had no luck in this quest to find answers. That is, until now.

You quickly run to the university’s information desk and look up this so-called genius professor in the university staff catalog.

Professor Kim Namjoon

Theoretical Physics Department

Building W-52 Room #701

Office Hours: 6am-6pm

You didn’t even have time to think before found yourself running towards the physics building on the other side of campus. You sprint through the courtyard and over the Stonebridge, crossing the river, before you finally reach the east bank. The buildings were much older there, and their stonewalls were covered in blue-green ivy. It was a quite area, and from what you knew, most students strayed away from majoring in physics these days. Claiming the job outlook was not too good and the thought of being a nerdy professor was unappealing.

You walk through the empty hall. It was quiet, dimly lit, and smelled of old books.

“Can I help you?”

You turn around to see a lady peaking at you above her reading glasses. She exuded a kind aura and you could tell her age was up there from the way her short, curly gray hair shone under the lamplight.

“Um, I’m looking for Professor Kim Namjoon.”

“Oh, he’s in the library on the second floor.”

You politely thank her and walk up the round staircase. The wooden steps would creak ever so often, but you still tried to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to disturb the silence.

The shelves of the library were so tall they looked like they reached all the way up to the high ceiling. The books were thick, the type that you didn’t even bother looking at because you knew you would never have the patience to read through it all, the type that would make your backpack so heavy it could cause chronic back pain and other spinal health issues. You shiver at the thought of having to haul such monstrous things to and from school. No wonder students rarely come here.

The place is empty, completely void of living beings, other than the man sitting at a desk in the center of the room. Must be him.

“Professor Kim Namjoon?”

The man glances up from the book he was absorbed in, his face looking much younger than you had previously imagined. He looks around confused before his eyes locate you standing by the doorway.

“Yes?” He says, taking off his spectacles and signaling for you to approach him.

“Umm, I have some questions about the Yin and Yang dimensions” You say, voice slightly shaky because you didn’t know if this was something he’d be willing tell you about, and you also didn’t know if he was busy doing something actually important and didn’t want to be bothered at this moment.

“Of course, that’s my favorite topic to talk about” His mouth forms a wide smile that put his dimples on display. You feel your previous hesitation dissipate at his positive reaction.

You slowly but steadily begin asking about the cycles. Are they really 100% accurate and if “glitches” were possible, in which Namjoon just chuckles, saying that it depends on how you view accuracy in the scientific world, in other words, do you consider a small error rate to be negligent.

You continue on and finally sum up the courage to bring up Jungkook, once Namjoon has made it clear that he has always strongly believed that glitches are very much real, and that he knows way more than you expected.

“That’s amazing!How do you know all this?” You ask, genuinely curious and in awe of how much information and knowledge the man seems to be able to contain in his brain, after he has explained everything about the Yin-Yang dimensions down to the last detail.

“You’re forgetting I’ve dedicated my life to researching different dimensions of the universe” Namjoon chuckles, grabbing another book from one of the old dusty shelves of the vast library and walking over to his cluttered desk.

“The transition period occurs when you two meet at the same age.” He proceeds to explain. “Meaning, you’re going to have to travel through the portal to meet him, instead of the other way around.”

“That’s in a little over a year” You whisper to yourself. At first you thought it was too soft for Namjoon to hear, but he surprises you by nodding his head knowingly.

“What happens if I don’t?” You ask, out of pure curiosity, cause god knows you wouldn’t be able to resist doing anything you could to see Jungkook. But you were just wondering if changing something so key to the process would alter it entirely.

“Then it all ends” Namjoon says, peaking at you above his glasses. His head was still tilted down at the book as he licks his finger to turn the page.

“You mean… I won’t ever see him again?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out shaky enough to expose how terrified you were at the thought.

Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “You won’t even remember such a person even existed.” He says, causing your legs to go numb, and you to almost stumble and fall backwards on the hard wooden floor.

“But what happens on my first and his last meeting?” You ask when you’ve finally regained your balance, remembering that the inevitable day will come, and this is your chance to find out more than you ever could anywhere else.

“The next time he is born and ages up, and you are old and start aging down, it will have been like the glitch never happened as the cycle starts anew, and the thread of time realigns.” Namjoon’s voice is steady and even. He seems to be reading an important passage from the book in front of him as he answers your question. “You’ll forget meeting him in the Yin dimension and he’ll forget meeting you in the Yang dimension, meaning both of you will lose all the traces of the memories you had of each other.”

You want to respond, but your throat has gone dry and the room feels like it’s spinning. You grip the edge of the table and bite your lower lip, trying to stop yourself from falling backwards and just fainting.

“Unless of course, the legend is true,” He says, noticing you haven’t responded after a long silence.

“T-the…. legend?” You croak, barely audible, but the professor’s ears are sharp.

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung” He states, matter- of -factly.

“Oh” You say, furrowing your eyebrows and recalling the famous tale.

“Funny thing is, that story is the reason I’m here today.” Namjoon chuckles again. “I was so obsessed after hearing that story as a child that I couldn’t stop thinking about it, which lead to developing a passion for studying universes and researching space-time, and here I am.”

“Were they really lost in the depths of a black hole in the end?” You ask, wondering if that’s the only other option for you as well.

He shakes his head and sighs.

“That’s a simplified version of what happened. But in reality they actually jumped into a wormhole, only to reach another dimension where they could live together happily for a set amount of time, meaning their lives would inevitably end one day. But we don’t know what happens to biological life after organisms die in that other dimension.” Namjoon folds his hands together and pauses before continuing. “According to my research, the most plausible explanation is that their essence just ceases to exist, but the people there believe they either go to a place called “heaven” which is so glorious its inconceivable by imagination or “hell” which is a fiery pit of doom.”

“Complete bliss or unbearable pain. It sounds risky and scary.” You shiver a little as you try to wrap your head around the foreign concept.

“What did he do?” Namjoon suddenly asks.

“Huh?” You lift your head to look at him confused. The professor is looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“On your first his last”

“Oh, he….” You close your eyes and picture the day you first met Jungkook. The memory was fuzzy, and your head almost hurt trying to conjure the time you saw him disappear for the first time from the back of your mind.

Then you see it. Clear as day, sending goose bumps shooting down your spine.

“He jumped into a black hole”

“Sometimes those dreams are so vivid they feel like events that actually happened or something.” You explain to Dr. Kim, your primary psychologist, as he calmly takes note of your every word, writing all the details down in his notebook.

It was only the fourth session you’ve had since entering the clinic, and you’re already finding it much easier to remember the dreams you have at night. Before you sought treatment you would wake up in the morning covered with cold sweat and clammy hands that shook nonstop, not being able to recall a single memory from your dream the night before, even though you knew you dreamt of something because of the lingering intensity of the emotions you would wake up to.

“What is the closest feeling you can describe from those dreams?” Dr. Kim asks, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. His gold brown bangs covering the wrinkling of his forehead.

You take a moment to think. Attempting to find the right word to describe the feeling that has been familiar to you for most of your life.

“Longing” You finally say, feeling a bit vulnerable admitting it so openly.

Dr. Kim nods and jots a few things down in his notebook. Before he’s able to ask the next question, you hear the door open slightly, and someone peak their head in. He was also a young man in his mid-twenties, probably the same age as Dr. Kim, but he had pale pink hair, and was slightly shorter in stature.

“Taehyung!” He says excitedly as he walks in the room. He closes his mouth when he notices you sitting on the leather couch across from Dr. Kim, clearly in the middle of a session.

“Dr. Park, we promise our patients privacy” Dr. Kim, closes his eyes in annoyance as he turns around to give the pink haired doctor a scolding look, but the tone in Dr. Kim’s voice is not harsh, and you can tell they’ve known each other for a long time.

“Sorry, I forgot you were with a patient.” The pink haired doctor says as his cheeks flush a shade similar to his hair color. He begins to slowly back out the room, but your words bring his feathery backward steps to a halt.

“Oh no, it’s completely fine. My session is almost over anyways,” You say, waving at Dr. Park to stay in the room. He hesitates for a second, but ends up beaming at you for being so chill about it, because some patients tend to have explosive tempers.

Dr. Kim sighs. “Please make it quick, Dr. Park” He mutters.

“Eh, why are you being so formal?” Dr. Park says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear into crescent moons. “I’m not used to you not calling me Jiminie,” He says, almost coming out as a whine.

You almost choke on the saliva you were swallowing as you hold back a laugh. Dr. Kim’s cheeks are heating up as he tries to not die of embarrassment. His fingers fidget with the note taking pen he’s holding in his hand, waiting for Dr. Park to just cut to the chase.

“Oh yeah, I came to tell you that we just got a new addition to the clinic. He’s some MD-PhD neurosurgeon going by the name of Dr. Jeon.” Dr. Park says remembering why he burst into the room at such an awkward time.

“A new doctor?” Dr. Kim says utterly confused and surprised at the same time. “But didn’t we make a pact that this clinic would only be run by you and me?” He says, voice rising a little.

“Whoa, Taehyung, calm down, he came as a patient” Dr. Park explains. “I just diagnosed him with depression. He should’ve came in the earlier stages of his condition, but his superiority complex has hindered him from accepting he’s in desperate need of help.”

“Well, what can you expect from an MD-PhD neurosurgeon. They’re geniuses that have been praised all their lives. It’s understandable why he wouldn’t accepted it right away.” Dr. Kim says.

Dr. Park nods and exits the room after apologizing to you one last time for the interruption.

“So where were we?” Dr. Kim says as he turns his attention back to you.

The first and last time you and Jungkook were the same age was on your twentieth birthday.

It was strange because he jumped into the portal the same time you did, your first his last, which lead to the two of you entering the heart of the glitch, the dimension where Yin and Yang collided due to a somewhat minor flaw in the design of the universe.

That was the year the two of you got to spend time in the most beautiful, most complete image of the world. A perfect combination of Yin and Yang, a dimension that transcended time and space and only existed because of that 0.0000001% error in the otherwise near perfect flow of the cycle.

The world wasn’t completely cool toned anymore, and according to Jungkook it wasn’t completely warm toned like the Yang dimension either.

For the first time, you were given the honor to witness what it looked like when the flowers in the field encompassed all the colors of the rainbow from the bright red glow of molten lava to the crystalline blue of an ice palace, and the grass was pure green, unlike the bluish tinged sort of green you’ve known all your life.

The sunlight was warmer than you were used to, but it was reminiscent of the feeling of being in Jungkook’s presence.

There was so much to see and so little time, but that wasn’t going to stop you from making the most of a one-time opportunity.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” You exclaim as you absorb the magnificent scene of the seaside presented before you. The warm blush of the red beach at sunset meeting the cool blue waves of the aquamarine ocean, sending cool surges of clean air tainted with hints of salt rushing towards your face.

“I can’t believe we actually made it before the sunset” Jungkook says, staring in awe at the swirling pinks, yellows, oranges, lavenders, and blues painted in the sky.

You guys had spent the entire day on the road, riding on trains and hiking through forest-covered hills, hoping to finally reach the threshold where land meets sea.

You’re so excited that you suddenly grab Jungkook’s hand and run towards the cool foamy waves, laughing and feeling more joy than you’ve ever felt in your life. You hear Jungkook’s playful laughter echo behind as he follows your lead. The moment you guys reach the wet sand, you take off your shoes with Jungkook mimicking your actions as well. The ground is cool, damp, and squishy, almost acting like a soothing massage to the sore feet you had been walking on all day.

When the clear water hits the surface of your skin, it sends shivers down your spine. You wiggle your toes in the wet sand, and turn to look at Jungkook, who’s staring at you with an amused expression. His eyes glowing warmly from the glare of the sunset, face wrinkled from the smile spread across his face, and hair blown back from the ocean breeze exposing his smooth forehead.

He walks up behind and back hugs you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as you rest you head back against his firm chest. The two of you standing ankle deep in the water, mesmerized by the sun lowering itself below the horizon, at the line where the sky meets the sea.

Before you even realize it, another year passes, and this time you find yourself swirling through the dimensionless portal again, on your way to see Jungkook. You have to continuously remind yourself of what Namjoon told you, that you’ve reached the phase where it’s your duty to get back to him since he hasn’t traveled through the portal yet in his timeline.

Put nicely, traveling through a space-time whirlpool was extremely uncomfortable. The spinning made you nauseous, and you felt like you were being pulled in a hundred different directions.

Every cell in your body was screaming in protest but despite that and the constant fear of not knowing when it’s going to stop or where it was actually taking you, knowing you would get to see Jungkook at the end of it, even if it was only for second, gave you the strength to put up with virtually anything.

When the spinning stops, you make a feeble attempt to open your eyes. The sunlight was too bright, too vibrant, almost blinding, and the ground you were sitting on was hot, too hot, causing beads of sweat to emerge from your skin.

“Jungkook?” You call out.

No answer.

You blink a few times to help your eyes adjusts to the brightness.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head around and almost burst into tears when you see the nineteen-year-old run up to you. Oversized white t-shirt and jeans. Classic Jungkook.

“How do you survive in this heat?” You ask, desperately fanning yourself with your hand, but it doesn’t really do much at all.

Jungkook laughs, his youthful appearance was glowing radiantly in the warm-toned environment.

“You look and feel cold though” Jungkook says, ask he playfully pokes you in the arm.

He wasn’t joking. You were sucking in all the heat from the surrounding area because thermal energy moves from high to low. Now you understood why you always felt warm when Jungkook came to visit you in the Yin dimension.

“We could take a walk in the shady forest” Jungkook suggests.

You nod, eager to get out of the burning sunlight.

The forest was overgrown with vegetation, and there was a narrow dirt path that led to a clearing in the middle. You notice the various species of trees that had bark ranging from chestnut brown to almost a sandy yellow. Their leaves were bright green, and the wild flowers scattered amongst the grass were vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds.

It was slightly less hot, but the temperature was still higher than you had ever experienced in the Yin dimension, even in the middle of summer.

“There’s a place I’ve wanted to take you” Jungkook says.

You follow him as he expertly navigates through the overgrowing plants, and helps you step over crooked rocks and fallen trees.

“Sorry about the inconvenient path, but this is the easiest way to get there”

And that’s when it hits you that he’s probably done this many times, too many to even count, just so he could find an easier path to bring you along.

Soon you hear the sound of flowing water and Jungkook turning back to tell you “we’re almost there”. His excitement contained in that same adorable bunny smile.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reach the second clearing, and the rushing waterfall greets you with its fresh scent of nature and musical splash of clear water. You stare at it in awe, soaking in every last detail of the dazzling image, feeling a wave of excitement saturate your body.

“Dr. Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin breathes, as he hastily opens the door to his office, shocked to see the man soaking wet from the rain, looking like he’s going to pass out any moment as he leans against the door pane.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Jungkook huffs as he pushes past Jimin and plops down on the black leather couch, not bothering with any formal greetings.

“Forgot your umbrella?” Jimin asks raising an eyebrow and grinning slightly at the sight of the lean, toned man whose white dress shirt is now clinging to the curves of his chest and shoulders.

“No, I felt the urge to take a shower in my clothes” Jungkook retorts sarcastically, he sounds annoyed, as always.

Jimin sighs. This was the third session with Dr. Jeon, and they still haven’t gotten anywhere. He was resistant, not willing to open up no matter how hard Jimin tried to ease his way into Jungkook’s mind.

“Is this what you get paid to do?” Jungkook asks, staring at Jimin now. Eyes like dark orbs piercing through the soft soul of the pink haired psychologist. “Ask meaningless questions that you already know the answer to?” The sharpness in his voice was evident, and it was clear he was there against his will.

Jimin can feel his own anger and annoyance rise, but he’s had enough years of training to know that Jungkook is just saying these things to hide his vulnerability.

“Well, let’s just get started shall we?” Jimin says, taking a deep breath and sitting down on the couch directly across from Jungkook, ignoring his previous attacking question.

Jungkook doesn’t respond and instead just looks out the window at the pellets of rain splashing against the large glass windows. The storm continued to drown out the view of the city outside, and all that was visible was the mix of blurry gray buildings and distant lights.

“Did you do anything today?” Jimin proceeds to ask, while taking out a pen and notepad.

“If a ten hour extracranial to intracranial arterial bypass counts, then yeah” Jungkook says absentmindedly, still avoiding eye contact with Jimin.

“Did you feel that the procedure was mentally draining or was there any physical fatigue afterwards?” Jimin asks, looking at Jungkook intently.

Jungkook huffs out a mocking laugh. “Look, Dr. Park, I’ve been doing this for years, I think I can handle whatever my jobs requires of me without complaining about feeling….’tired’” He looks down at his hands, dark wet bangs partially covering his eyes. He’s fiddling with his fingers, feeling a slight tremble due to the strained muscles in his wrist.

Jimin nods, already used to this kind of response by Jungkook.

“Are you able to recall any dreams at night?”

Jungkook slowly lifts his head and looks at Jimin, caught off-guard by the sudden change of topic, with no transition, no warning at all. Jimin had never gone as far as to ask anything about his personal life, wanting to ease his way towards Jungkook’s trust by only talking about work related topics, but it wasn’t working and crawling at a snail’s pace was not getting either of them anywhere.

The psychologist stares back, patiently waiting for the neurosurgeon to answer.

“They’re vivid and I can spell out everything to the last detail, except one aspect.” Jungkook says, biting his bottom lip, regretting the words even as they came out of his mouth.

“And what is that?” Jimin proceeds, voice even with no trace of hesitation.

“The person that consistently shows up in every single dream, but I can’t see their face and I don’t know who it is.”

Jungkook stares blankly at the coffee table situated between the two of them, unsure if telling Jimin any of this will even matter. After a long moment of drawn out silence, with nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain echoing past the window, Jungkook’s voice finally cuts through the room once again.

“It’s like I’m reaching out for someone I can’t see.”

...

228 notes · View notes

hessafeelsfordayss · 8 years ago

Text

Rant.

Okay, I swear I’m not trying to start anything or be a bitch, but honestly I’m tired of seeing the same negative crap. I get it, Lee is older than Jerome and her name isn’t Harleen and all the other stuff everyone is pointing out. But you have to have an open mind when it comes to Gotham.. anything is possible. I’m not hating on other people’s ideas, I love all of the ideas except the Barbara theories. I love her character, but I just don’t see her as Harley.

What everyone needs to realize is we’re more than likely not gonna have someone new as Harley, which a lot of you want. That's fine, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I highly doubt it will happen (If it does that would be cool) because the writers themselves said that it’s someone that we thought we have known and loved for a long time, we just didn’t recognize them as Harley. “ You may have already seen Harley as a person that you thought you had met and known for a long time. So we always reserve the right to sort of do that as well.” This is a direct quote from Ken Woodruff, One of Gotham's producers. He could have been trying to trick us, possibly, but I doubt he would have said that if it wasn’t true.

I don’t think Lee is gonna be Harley just because I love her. I think she is gonna be Harley because of the facts. Out of every option, she matches the most. I’m not in any way saying I’m right, in fact, I’m more than likely wrong.. but until they prove me wrong I will stick by my theory.

Let me go over each point.

Her characteristics: Now her name may not be Harleen.. but her name is VERY close to Harley. Her nickname is literally the end word for Harley (Harlee). Harley is a psychiatrist, and Lee is a doctor, but she's had some trauma training. Even though it's not her area of focus, she still has shown a lot of psychiatric characteristics. Like in season one, when she first meets Barbara, she keeps telling Barbara that she needs to go to therapy and talk to someone about what happened with Jason. Barbara wouldn't do it unless Lee was the one she talked to, which we all know why now, but regardless she did it. Then Alfred called her when he thought Bruce needed someone to talk to. I've noticed she's always giving professional advice when she thinks someone needs to be in therapy or get medical help. She may not have blonde hair and blue eyes but come on guys.. Lee is beyond beautiful. Plus Harley herself even said that she's not a real blonde. Also, Lee is very intellegent.. both her and Harley have that listed as one of their abilities. Harley is known to be obsessed with things.. if you were to look up her mental condition it would say obsession. Direct quote from Lee: "I tend to get overly enthusiastic about things, it's an issue for me. My mom always said.. Oh, who gives a crap about what my mom said, right?"

Age: Now about the age, honestly people.. do you really think Jerome, a psychotic criminal, would care about age? Honestly just think about it. Why would a deranged killer even think twice about age, especially if HE'S the one coming on to the older women? This is the same guy that flirted with Barbara, an older woman, and even flirted with Lee who is, in fact, an older woman. In my opinion, he seems to like older women anyway. And you know how some girls grow up either with a bad father, or an absent father, and they end up having daddy issues? Well, Jerome may have mommy issues due to how his mother treated him. Not saying that's the case, but it's possible. Also Jerome and Lee are both of age, so it wouldn’t be illegal. And Cameron and Morena are of age as well.

Coincidence or Foreshadow: I believe Gotham gives us clues and foreshadows things a lot. Like how Lee was introduced only SIX episodes before Jerome was introduced. Plus she was part of the entire circus (Jerome) case. She was there with Jim when the fight broke out, she was there when Jerome was first introduced, she was there when Jim found the weapon (because she kept pestering him for them to go look for it), and she was there when Jerome got interrogated. Jerome's case was the first and last time that she went into the interrogation room. Why would the writers pick his case out of all the other cases for her to be in the room? And for it to be the only time at that. Not only was she in the room, but she liked it. She has a small smile/smirk in a few scenes.. meaning it interested her. She even says "It was ugly.. but it was also kind of thrilling." Talking about what happened in the interrogation room. Also, Harley has a sister who keeps her and Jokers daughter, Lucy, in the future. Lee mentions she has a sister, who's recipe she used on their date night (Once again, The one time she mentions she has a sister, is in Jerome's episode.) Let's not forget she is the one Jerome takes hostage when he comes back alive. She is the very first person he has a casual conversation with since he came back from the dead. Not only that, but she is the ONLY person that he came in contact with that he didn't kill. He didn't even hurt her. He had more than enough reason to kill her, or even hurt her, because that would have been the best way to get at Jim, but all he did was tie her to the table. Let's not forget when they met for the very first time, she was the one to comfort him (hold him) when they found Lila's body. She was also the one Jerome and Barbara took hostage at the Gala. What Jim says to her makes me think it is a big clue.. "Don't let your hatred of me turn you into something you're not."

She adds up with all the things the producers have hinted. Lee has been changing right before our eyes.. I’ve noticed she's different in every season. In season one she was this corky, sarcastic doctor who loved crime. "What can I say, you had me at Homicide." In season two she was still sweet and a little corky but she was also a little more confident and dark. Season three it’s like she’s a completely different person. She’s way more confident and she’s definitely darker and more sarcastic. Watch all three seasons and you’ll see a big difference and know what I’m talking about. The writers also said that Harley would be connected to the Joker Cult World. This means she will be connected to Jerome in some way. She’s met Jerome at least four times, and she's interacted with him once. Not to mention that their first interaction (with them actually having a conversation) was flirty, and she wasn’t scared of him like a normal person would have been. The writers said that Harley’s appearance on the show is gonna be the ‘launching point’ for season four. John Stephens promises “It’s crazy.” A short quote, but effective. Now I don’t know about you, but Lee going crazy seems like a pretty good launching point to me. And it would definitely be crazy because she is a loved character that people would least expect. Also, Lee has definitely experienced enough trauma to make her snap. She lost her baby, her husband was shot and killed right next to her by her ex-fiancé, etc.. Let's not forget that Mario's blood landed on her cheek and also she’s kissed him. Both are ways to get the virus.. so she's more than likely gonna get it, if she doesn't already have it. Also, she hates Jim.. I really don't see her going back to him after everything. I actually can see her going back to Arkham to work because she is either assigned there by Harvey, or she does it on her own so she can get away from Jim.

Hints from Morena: First she posted a picture of Lee and Jerome where she was obviously looking at Jerome's penis and the caption was "What am I looking at??" and she tagged Cameron in it. Then two pictures after that one she posted a picture of her wearing red and black. Red and black nails, and her shirt was red and she was wearing a black blazer over it. Also her, Jessica, Maggie, and Erin all went out. Barbara, Tabitha, and Ivy are bad girls on the show, and Lee is good (for now anyway.) I think she was giving us hints because in almost every picture of the four, Jessica and Erin were kind of grouped together, and Morena and Maggie were kind of grouped together. We all know Barbara and Tabitha have an off and on romantic relationship in the show. We also know Harley and Ivy are known to have an off and on romantic relationship. In one picture Erin and Jessica (Barbara and Tabitha) are leaning against one another, and Maggie and Morena (Ivy and Lee, possible Harley) are leaning against one another. I noticed they were always grouped like that except for in one picture. Then she recently posted a picture of her and the actor that plays Jervis on the show. You would think it's a normal selfie with a fellow cast mate, but her caption makes me think otherwise. In the picture is Lee and Jervis (with his Arkham uniform on) and the caption is a hat emoji and a police officer emoji beside it. Then she spaced and put a female symbol emoji and (I can't tell what the second emoji is) and a needle beside it. Then she put a space and then a heart. The hat emoji is meaning Mad Hatter and the Police emoji makes me think of Arkham or security. Then the female sign and needle mean female doctor. I take this as a hint that she is going back to Arkham.

And to those saying that Morena doesn't have what it takes to be Harley, watch more of her movies and you'll see Morena is a phenomenal actress. She definitely has the skill to be able to play Harley. Watch her in Deadpool.

My mind is foggy right now, so this is probably very unorganized.. but these are just a few things I wanted to put. I probably have more, but this is all I can think of for now. I understand everyone has different opinions and theories, and I respect that, but please be respectful of my theory. I'm not making this stuff up, I'm basing my theory off of facts and what clues we've been given. It's not that far fetched if you keep an open mind and really think about it. :)

#sorry #not trying to be rude #i respect everyone's opinions #lee thompkins #leslie thompkins #harlee #dr thompkins #dr harleen quinzel #gotham on fox #harley on gotham #morena baccarin #cameron monaghan #jerome valeska #jerome x lee #lee x jerome #lee is harley #harley quinn #gotham harley #harleen quinzel

75 notes · View notes