#but also after my grandpa kinda got out of like.... uh. crime. he was working at brooklyn college n i think its related to that too

[turian]

i’m sorry wait your grandpa knew people from the fucking early beat generation of poetry. that’s so funny dude

omg yeah his best friend was gregory corso and therefore he had to drag ginsberg's high ass to some party as a favor LMFAO. my family appreciates drugs as much as the next guy but they did not like that man

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part IX. (Harry Styles)

yall are gonna hate me for this but it needed to be done IM SORRY! also, i can’t believe valerie is ending this week, just one more part to go! can’twait to read your reactions and thoughts on this part, even though i know yall gonna be upset lmao

word count: 5.6k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Some days it truly feels like the universe has plotted against you to make every possible thing go wrong. As if it wants to see just how much you can take before breaking, experiment how long it can dance on your nerves before you end up one of those crazy people who shout at random strangers on the bus for no actual reason.

Starting the day you overslept awfully leaving you only ten minutes before you had to leave. In your hurry you ended up putting on socks that do not match and you were forced to buy a sandwich on your way as breakfast, but you promised you wouldn’t buy packed sandwiches for a reason, this one tasted like it’s been sitting on the shelf for weeks. Maybe it really has been. 

You made it to work successfully, but then you realized that you’ve left your notebook at home, the one that had quite a lot of important information you need for your work, so you spent your first hour at work emailing different people for things you should now, explaining that you just left your notebook at home. Some didn’t really give a fuck and just answered you normally, but others didn’t shy away from commenting that you should be more responsible and careful.

This alone gave just the perfect foundation for the day. It was all downhill from then. Your boss loaded twice as much work on you than usually, everything with close deadlines, throwing even more anxiety into the mix as if you didn’t have enough already. 

You met up with Marcus at lunch, but that didn’t go as planned either. It’s been getting more and more frustrating with him, the two of you have already had at least five fights this week and it’s only wednesday. It seems like even the smallest things push you over the edge these days and you easily pick a fight over anything. It didn’t happen differently this time either and by the time you got back to the office you were fuming. Worst part is that you always have a hard time ending a fight and tend to continue it through texts, the same thing happened today as well.

Now it’s a few minutes past five and you’re getting ready to go home, get changed and head to family dinner since today is Valerie’s first birthday, but even on the bus you’re still furiously typing away on your phone, sending a reply to Marcus, wanting nothing more than to throw the device right ot the window.

At one point you decide you’ve had enough. Turning your phone off you sink it into the depth of your bag and just try to focus on breathing, because even the smallest things seem to be hard tasks in such an upsetting state of mind. 

These past few weeks things have taken an absurdly wrong turn between you and Marcus and you don’t know what to do about the whole situation. Every night you go to bed thinking that you should just let go of him, would do a favor for the both of you, but then that stupid little voice in the back of your mind tells you that if you break up with Marcus it’s game over for you, you’ll spend the rest of your life alone. It all ends up with you violently holding onto the pieces of what’s left from your relationship and you’ve been trying to figure out where it went wrong, but you have absolutely no idea. 

After you changed into a pair of light washed jeans, a bright orange sweater and your black leather jacket it’s time for you to leave, though you already know you’ll be late. With a sigh deep you decided to turn your phone back on when you were sitting in the Uber, immediately deleting the notifications about the messages Marcus left you and going straight for the few ones from Rosa, your mom and Harry. They all arrived not too long ago asking when you’d be arriving, so you quickly typed your sorry and told them you’re on your way, you just got caught up at work. For Harry, you add something else too:

“Save me a seat and order me a tequila.”

His response came quickly.

“Done. Both.”

You let out a chuckle seeing his message. He knows you too well.

Walking into the small restaurant you don’t have a hard time spotting your family, three tables have been pushed together to make enough room in the back, taking up the small, kind of separated area of the place. Rosa smiles widely when she spots you, Valerie standing on her thighs, hands on the table as she is trying to snatch one of the glasses away, but her dad is pushing it further from her grasp.

“Sorry for being late,” you huff out and take the seat right next to Harry who watches you with a smile. “Well hello there, birthday girl! You’re so big now!” you babble at Valerie who giggles at you before her attention is averted once again.

You feel Harry’s elbow poking your side and turning to him you see him nod at the two shots on the table.

“Oh, fantastic. You’re drinking too?”

“No, I’m driving. Both for you.”

“If I didn’t have such a shitty day I would question what kind of alcoholic you think I am, but I kinda need both,” you sigh, taking the first one and downing it faster than ever. From the corner of your eyes you see your mother’s disapproving look, but you decide to ignore it for now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but you shake your head, the alcohol still burning your throat.

“Not now. Can you give me a lift home tho?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning back to the conversation at the table. 

You somehow succeed in putting everything that happened today behind and just focus on the time spent with your family. It helps that seemingly Harry works hard all evening to tell you about random things, just occupying your thoughts as much as he can. It’s nice to relax a little and forget everything that’s been weighing down on your shoulders recently. 

“It’s so crazy she is one already,” you sigh when you and Harry are walking to his car.

“Right? It makes me feel incredibly old,” Harry huffs as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket.

“How old are you even?” you ask laughing, realizing you don’t even know how old he exactly is. There are quite a few things, small details you’ve just never gotten around to find out about Harry.

“I’m turning 27 in February. Wild, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re basically a grandpa,” you tease him and he narrows his eyes at you, but you can’t miss the little smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. 

“That makes you a grandma, because you’re turning 25 in April, don’t you?”

“You know when my birthday is?” It takes you by surprise, you don’t remember ever telling him when your birthday is.

The two of you reach his car and he clears his throat unlocking it. Seems like he doesn’t really want to answer, but your burning gaze on him kind of forces him into it.

“Uh, I do. I wanted to meet up with Steven last year the day you had your birthday party, but he said he had plans already. Tried to lure him into cancelling, but he didn’t even want to share where he was going. Then he admitted that it was your birthday party, but you told him and Rosa not to even mention it to me so I don’t show up.”

Your stomach drops hearing his version of a story you’ve only known from your own point of view. You remember that you indeed told them not to tell Harry about it, but now it seems like such a hate crime, when in real life, it was still when the two of you hated each other with passion. 

“I’m… Harry I’m sorry. That was--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles at you, starting the car. “We left it all behind, didn’t we?”

His smile seems genuine, but you still feel guilty for being such a bitch. It reminded you how much time and energy the two of you wasted for years hating each other when you could have been just like you are now. If only things happened in a different way…

Arriving at your building Harry parks the car and stops it. As the engine stops, the silence that’s been thickening the air just becomes even more obvious. He is waiting for you to say something about what’s gotten you so upset today, you know that, but you don’t feel like sitting around in his car.

“Want to come up for a little bit?” you ask and it’s a hidden message that you want to talk in the comfort of your own home. Luckily, Harry understands it right away and nodding he tells you to lead the way. 

You make some tea and the two of you sit on your couch, Harry is sitting sideways so he can see you while you bring your knees up to your chest, staring down at the mug in your hands.

“I had a fight with Marcus,” you quietly start.

“Oh.”

“And… it wasn’t the first time. We’ve been constantly fighting lately and I’m just… so tired of it.”

Saying it out loud for the first time, having someone listen to you brings you an odd sense of relief, and it doesn’t feel weird that you’re talking to Harry about all of it. He has proven himself to be a great listener.

“We’ve been fighting constantly, over the smallest things and my… my patience is running short, at this point.”

You’re talking slowly, carefully putting your thoughts into words, trying your best to interpret them for Harry after boiling them only in your own head for so long.

“I just… I have no idea what I should do.”

“It seems like the relationship is not making you happy anymore,” Harry softly speaks up and you have nothing to bring up against what he just said. “So why are you trying to continue it?”

You were expecting the question, you just knew he would ask it, but it still brings a painful, stinging sensation into your chest as you try to find the words to answer him. 

“Because…” you breath out and slowly turning your head, your eyes meet his gaze. “If I can’t make it work with him… then… who is it gonna be? There’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me, that he is literally my last choice, that if I mess this up it’s gonna be over for me.”

“Y/N, you know that’s not true,” Harry tells you tilting his head.

“Do I?” you chuckle bitterly, turning your gaze to the ceiling before you look back at him. “Because I don’t think I do. I’ve been literally feeling so miserable for weeks, yet I still can’t get me to move on, because I think I’m gonna die alone.”

“That’s not gonna happen, don’t say that. You’ll find the right person for you, you just… have to be patient.”

“But that’s the thing. I have lost my patience. I’m done, over it.” The tears form in your eyes in just a few seconds and the next thing you know is that you’re crying. “I’ve been trying so hard in my whole life, but somehow I always ended up… not being enough, or thrown away, stepped over, left behind. No matter what I did, I always ended up alone and I can’t help but notice a pattern in it. It has to be me, what else?”

“It’s not you, okay? You just had a few bad experiences.”

“Not a few,” you huff closing your eyes. “All of them are bad. I was… I was never enough for anyone and now that I found a guy that seemed to be just perfect… I’m ruining it.”

“I don’t think you’re ruining anything.”

“Then explain to me what’s happening, Harry!” you snap in despair and Harry stares back at you at a loss of words at first.

“Do you have feelings for him?” he then asks. You can’t answer right away and it tells him a lot.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“That sounded more like a no.”

“Okay, alright. No, I don’t. But… I could develop feelings eventually, couldn’t I?”

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. You can’t just torture yourself hoping that one day you wake up and you’ll be in love with him. It’s not gonna happen and you’re just wasting your time.”

“How do you know it’s not gonna happen? What makes you so sure of that I will not end up alone?”

Harry stays quiet, her green eyes are staring right into your soul and for a moment you forget about your misery. This man alone holds such a power over you, it’s starting to scare you.

“I know it, because… I know you. And I see you. You’re literally the funniest girl I know, so easy to talk with, you always know when to crack a joke and when you have to be serious. You have so much love for others, you care about your loved ones and you’re always there for your friends and family. You make it so easy for others to get comfortable around you and you make everyone feel safe around you.”

You listen to him intently, drinking up every word that leaves his lips. Harry looks down at his hands as he continues.

“And you’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful, it always baffles me when I see you.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“It’s the truth,” Harry chuckles lightly, he brushes his knuckles together nervously. “Every time you walk in, you just… make everyone turn their head at you, and I always wonder if you even notice that. The way you walk, your smile, your laugh, Y/N, you make every man go crazy about you.”

“You’re just saying that because you are trying to cheer me up,” you sniff, wiping a few more tears away from your eyes.

“I’m definitely not,” he chuckles and his eyes finally find yours. “I remember when we first met.”

“When you walked in on me changing,” you sigh, the memories living vividly in your mind.

“Yeah. I remember how… breathless I felt when I saw you standing there, your dress handing a little on your frame because of the zipper. I forgot my name for a moment. I offered to help with the zipper because I just… wanted to touch you in any kind of way. So I knew that you were real.”

“Harry…”

“I know this sounds made up, but I’m telling you, this is the truth. And I know I didn’t act like that for a long time, but I always thought that you were an amazing person and I know that any guy would be so lucky and incredibly happy to be with you. I hate the thought of you thinking otherwise of yourself, when you are literally such a delight and… just a gift to all of us. I don’t know what’s really been going on between you and Marcus, but if he can’t see your worth and can’t make you feel like you deserve… he is not worthy of your time.”

You feel your throat closing up, but you’re not sure Harry knows the reason behind it when the tears start rolling down your cheeks again. 

Because it might look like his words touched you and made you tear up, but in reality, a bittersweet feeling has taken completely over you. If this is how he thinks about you, why did he act like that when he had the chance to be with you? Why didn’t he want you to stay? What did you do that made him want to throw you out?

It’s a spiral straight down and you can’t stop yourself from falling. Harry has always been the biggest mystery of your life, and now you’re just even more sure it was something you did or said that made him want to run. 

He reaches out and easily scoops you into his arms and you let him hold you tight, face buried into his chest. You hold onto his shirt as the silent cries escape your lips. You want him to want you. You want him to mean all those things he just told you, but you just can’t seem to move on from the past even though you’ve agreed to forget about it. It keeps bugging you in the back of your mind that no matter what he says, you weren’t good enough to make him want to stay with you when he had the chance. 

***

It doesn’t get better after that night. Harry stayed until after midnight, made sure you got into bed and told you he’ll check in on you the next day. And so he did. 

You felt guilty for loading all of it on Harry, so you decided it was the last time you ever talked about Marcus or your love life in general with him. You easily made yourself believe that he didn’t really care about it and he just listened to you because he was trying to be nice. It seemed the best to just try and forget about it all. 

For a while you were contemplating breaking up with Marcus, but you didn’t have the strength to do it, telling yourself you have to give it another chance and some more patience. However it’s ending up to be quite draining, you gotta admit, but you are starting to get used to feeling numb every day.

Rosa invites you over, because she went through her closet and found some stuff she thought you’d like, so you head over not long after you get home from work. She mentioned that Harry would be over watching some kind of football game with Steven, so you are not surprised to see his car parking on their driveway.

“Hi guys!” you greet them when Rosa lets you in, the game is already on so they just wave in your way, intently watching the TV.

“Come on, I have everything in the bedroom,” Rosa nods in your way and you follow her upstairs. Valerie greets you with a loud shriek as you walk in, she is sitting in her crib, surrounded with a bunch of toys, seemingly having a great time.

“Hi there, Princess!” you coo at her, caressing her cheek before you sit on the edge of the bed that’s filled with piles of clothes. “What’s the big sorting?” you ask, grabbing a cardigan and taking a look at it.

“I just have way too much stuff, can’t fit new stuff into my wardrobe, so I needed to sort it all out.”

The two of you go through everything and just catch up while you try on what you like. At the end, you are just sitting on the bed playing with Valerie. You can tell there’s something Rosa wants to share, but she seems reserved about saying it out loud.

“So, the other day we were talking with Steven about how crazy it is that Val is over one year old,” she starts, eyes glued to the little girl, handing her another building block as Valerie works on… whatever it’s going to be when it's finished.

“Yeah, that’s what we talked about with Harry after her birthday dinner. Makes us feel old,” you chuckle.

“Exactly,” she sighs chuckling. “So then we talked about, maybe… having another kid sometime soon.”

You perk up and looking at Rosa you see the shy smile on her lips and you gasp, but she shakes her head.

“I’m not pregnant,” she assures you, but then adds: “Not yet.”

“Oh my God, so you’re trying for another baby?” you whisper, even though there’s no chance of the guys hearing the two of you. You can hear the sound of the TV up here, they have no clue what you’re talking about.

“I mean, it can take some time, so we thought we could… start now.”

“That’s fantastic!” you breathe out, truly happy for your sister. You just know Valerie will be such a good big sister. “Val, you want a baby sister or baby brother?” you ask her and she looks at you with a serious expression, holding out one of the blocks.

“Baba!” she exclaims.

“Yes, baba!” you chuckle. She’s been learning kind of real words lately and it won’t take too long before she’ll be bossing around everyone in the house.

When it’s getting late you pack the clothes you choose and head down to leave. The guys are still on the couch, but Harry’s head perks up when he hears your footsteps.

“You want me to give you a ride?”

“Um, I’m fine, don’t want to bother you while the game is on.”

“It’s ending in five. If you can wait a little it’s alright.”

“Okay,” you nod smiling so instead of going to the front door you stop in the kitchen to wait for Harry.

Rosa puts Valerie into her high chair and gets a banana for her while you check your phone just when Marcus calls you. Hesitantly, but you answer it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi, just wanted to check in if the weekend is still on.”

“Uh, sure. It is.”

“Great. I’ll have to check again with my boss, but I think I’ll be able to pick you up.”

“Great. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, babe.”

The call ends and you find yourself facing a curious looking Rosa on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Marcus?” she asks and you nod. “How are things going?” You’ve only mentioned it to her that it’s been hard between the two of you, but you definitely didn’t go into details. Harry was the first and last person to hear the whole story.

“Um… neutral, I guess?”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I know, but I’m just trying to figure it out. We are spending the weekend together, I hope it’ll help us to get a little more… settled? I guess, I don’t know,” you stammer, nervously fidgeting with your phone in your hands. 

“That’s nice, was it his idea?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good to know that Marcus is making the right attempts to smooth things out.”

“Attempts?” Harry’s voice makes both of you look in his way as he stands at the door, seemingly confused about what he just heard. “You’re still with Marcus?”

“Harry, I…”

“No, don’t try to explain it. I thought I talked sense into you last time.” He is clearly pissed, not holding back how upset he is to get the news that you are still dating Marcus. But on the other hand you can also feel yourself getting angry how he tries to control your life.

“You did, but I never said I’ll break things off with him.”

“Well, it surely sounded like you made up your mind,” he huffs.

“Well, I didn’t,” you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

“What the fuck, Y/N! You can’t keep doing this to yourself!” he snaps gesturing in your way. “I thought we were over this!”

“We? What do you mean we?” you grimace and now you are raising your voice as well. “Harry, there’s no we! This is my relationship and it’s nice that you care, but you can’t tell me what to do!”

Harry is vivid. He needs everything in him not to burst right then and there and for a moment you think he’s gonna just explode. But when he speaks up again his voice is quiet, however you can feel all the anger and frustration behind it.

“Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

“What?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/N!” he barks making you jump. Rosa and Steven, who arrived to the kitchen in the middle of this madness, are just watching the scene unfold, completely unable to even say a word.

Slowly, you slide off the stool and grabbing the bag filled with clothes you turn to Rosa.

“Thanks for… these,” you mumble before walking out, Harry following you right behind. 

Nothing is said as the two of you get into the car, Harry is clearly on the verge of anger outburst, but you’re pretty upset yourself. The drive back to your place is painfully quiet, but you can’t stop staring at his hands gripping the wheel. HIs fingers and knuckles are turning white from the way he is basically crushing the wheel in his hold. You wouldn’t be surprised if it had his grip’s imprint on it by the time you arrive to your building. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he snaps once the car is parked.

“Would you stop pretending like you have a saying in what I do?”

“I do have a saying in it! Because when you break again I’ll be the one picking you up from the ground!”

“Well, sorry it’s such an inconvenience to be my friend. But don’t worry, I won’t come to you again,” you snap back with a grimace and try to open the door, but it’s locked. “Let me out, Harry!”

“Fuck no, not until we talk about this,” he scoffs and it’s the last straw for you.

“There’s nothing to talk about! It’s none of your business, Harry! Stop pretending like you care!”

“I do care!” he shouts back so forcefully you are taken aback, sinking into your seat. “Of course I fucking care! How would I not?! I care about you so fucking much, how do you not see it?!”

At this point, you’re certain Harry has lost all self control and he is about to load he has been holding back out on you, while you’re just sitting there, staring at him completely speechless over how his whole being is filled with anger and fury.

“Stop fucking telling me that I don’t care when all I think about is you! Every damn day! I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, because every time my mind snaps right back to you when I’m trying to think about something else! Do you know how fucking painful it is?! See you fucking waste your time with that dickhead when I want to be with you?!”

Eyes widened you forget to even breathe as the words leave his lips and soon enough realization hits him hard about what he just said. His chest is violently waving, eyes staring straight ahead. Next time he speaks up the shouting is over, he is clearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Y/N, I-- what you told me last time, about ending up alone, that wasn’t the first time you told me all of that.”

“What?” you gasp.

“You broke down the same way at the wedding. Told me all about how you think you are just simply unlovable and will probably die alone.” His eyes snap down at his hands on his lap as he continues. “I was shocked how you’d ever think that way about yourself, because I was… I was already falling in love with you and I barely just met you that night. I couldn’t imagine what happened to you that made you believe that nonsense. I never felt like that with anyone else before and it was so fucking scary. Every time you looked at me or touched me, I could feel… the sparks. The fucking sparks, Y/N,” he lets out a bitter chuckle. “I never believed in that, but you made me feel that way. Then… one thing happened after the other and we were up in my room. I saw the way you looked at me, like I was your fucking everything and I have never experienced that. You fell asleep in my arms and I told myself that this is exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as you listen in complete shock as Harry is still avoiding to look at you.

“I wanted to be the person who shows you how lovable and amazing you are, how worthy you are to be loved. Like I found my mission all of a sudden.”

“Then what the fuck happened in the morning?” you ask choking out the words. Harry finally turns to face you and you see his watery eyes. He was crying.

“You fell asleep and I was just watching you… and I realized that… sooner or later I would do something to hurt you. Because that’s what I always do and I didn’t want that. You didn’t deserve that, but I just knew I won’t be able to give you what you wanted and needed. And you told me all about how you just want to be loved and… I didn’t want to disappoint you in any way.”

He rubs his eyes turning back to look straight ahead and you see his lips tremble before he speaks up again. 

“I said all those stuff so you’d have a reason to hate me and you wouldn’t try to stay with me.”

“This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you chuckle bitterly as the tears keep rolling down your cheeks. “Do you have any idea how fucking horrible I felt after that? I felt so ashamed for fucking weeks, Harry!”

“I-I know. I mean, I figured.”

“You made me feel unwanted and dirty, it took me so long to build my confidence back and be able to think of myself as more than just some used rug that was thrown out!”

Harry sits there in complete silence and just lets you load everything out on him, because he knows that’s what he deserves. He has tried to punish himself in so many different ways for what he did to you, but he knew he had to face you someday. Now the time has come and he is done trying to run away from the consequences of his actions in the past.

“I was blaming myself all this time, thinking that I must have done something wrong, when in reality it was you! It was fucking you!”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it to end like this.”

“You didn’t mean it to end like this?” you snap. “You literally continued to treat me like shit for years! If it wasn’t for Valerie, you’d still be a complete dick to me! And what was your intention with this now, huh? Why did you tell me all of this now?!”

“Because I couldn’t stop… seeing you be so unhappy with someone who clearly doesn’t deserve you in any way. I’m selfish and I realized that I made a mistake, but I now know what I should have done, because…” He finally turns to face you again, you see a tear roll down his cheek as he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I love you. I love you, Y/N, and I’m fucking done pretending like I don’t.”

You stare back at him, breath caught in your throat and it’s the breaking point. You reach over to his side and unlock the doors so you can open yours and you jump out of the car wanting to get as far away from him as possible. He can’t just throw all of this on you after everything the two of you went through, that’s not how it works. Does he even mean it? How are you supposed to believe him after years of hatred?

You try to get inside the building, but he is quick to catch up with you, he grabs your upper arm and pulls back, but you yank his hold away. 

“Where are you going?!” he snaps towering above you.

“Home. And don’t fucking touch me!”

“But I literally just told you I love you, you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

At first you plan on not even answering, you make your way towards the door, but then you change your mind. Turning around you unload on him once again.

“You don’t have the right to tell me you love me! Not after all the shit I took from you! How am I supposed to believe it when you literally made me feel like shit for all these years, saying the meanest stuff to me every damn time we met! I was avoiding you like the plague because I can’t even count how many times you made me cry calling me names and treating me so fucking horrible! No, you are not just gonna waltz in here, tell me that I have to break up with my boyfriend because you’ve been in love with me all along. I don’t fucking believe you, Harry. So stay the fuck away from me,” you tell him and push your way inside. This time he doesn’t follow.

By the time you reach your front you’re sobbing, barely seeing from your own tears. With shaking hands you unlock the door and get inside shutting the door behind you before you collapse on the floor. 

Harry lives in delusion if he thinks he can just unload all of this on you and make everything right magically. Not after more than three years of the shit you took from him. How are you supposed to believe that he is telling the truth? If he loved you all along, how could he treat you like that? That’s not what love should feel like. All those countless times when you came home after seeing him and you couldn’t help but cry after some of his meanest comments… and now he is trying to make you believe he did it all to protect you from him? Bullshit.

It doesn’t work like that and now he is gonna have to face the consequences of his actions. 

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[capricorn-stark]

Othello Pt 2

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am again, kinda long, swearing

a/n: i mention Dana Harlowe and Annie B’s diner, they’re both from RHATO’s final two issues lol. still dedicated to @tadpole-san even though she hate crimed me 

part 1

“I thought you said you wanted to get coffee,” you started when you noticed Jason veering away from where your regular coffee shop should’ve been, choosing to cut through the street and venture to a different path entirely. “Because you just-”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hungry,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards another row of stores illuminated with neon-lights and flickering street lamps. “This place has better stuff than overpriced coffee, promise.” You let out an exaggerated gasp of shock at that notion and he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. 

It was always strange to be walking around Gotham during the night, but with Jason by your side, it was far less worrying than it usually was. On your own, you couldn’t even imagine traveling around the dark streets littered with muggers, petty thieves, and the occasional evil clown prince or two - one minute, you’d be speed-walking down the streets, the next minute you could end up as the lucky winner of Scarecrow’s fear-gas testing special.

You actually knew someone who had been in that very situation. They were in Arkham now.

With Jason, it was almost ridiculous how much safer you felt. It didn’t take a whole lot of observational skills to notice how the men who usually leered at you and your friends when you passed shrank and slipped into the shadows when a man over 6 feet in height and built like a tank walked past them. Jason himself was in a good mood tonight, his shoulders relaxed and a slight smile playing at his lips while he told you about the local theatrical-adaptation of Othello that was currently under production near Gotham University. 

You were getting used to seeing him like this - not so moody, smiling, present - but you had also noticed the expressions he had when no one was looking, when he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, when his gaze had a certain intensity to them that you hadn’t ever quite seen before. He didn’t really like talking about himself or his life, preferring to keep conversations centered around school or you. The few times you had tried asking about his family and work had all led to him clamming up and quickly dropping the subject, his body language rigid and completely closed-off, the crease by his brows deepening as his expression transformed into a scowl. It was the first time you realized that Jason Todd could actually be genuinely scary - and the first time you realized there was a much, much darker side of him that you weren’t sure if you wanted to see.

You knew it wasn’t your place to pry, and you had never brought it up since - but you couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened to make someone like him so angry. 

“...and I figured we could - did you just zone out on me?”

You snapped back into attention at his rather dramatic tone, flinching out of your character analysis to pay actual mind to the man in question himself. 

“No, I just-” 

“Yeah? What did I just say?” Jason challenged, grasping your arm to pull you away from the traffic lane you had nearly walked right into. His disbelieving expression made your face burn red - but much to your relief (and embarrassment), he was laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t completely zoned out-” 

“After you literally walked into traffic? Yeah, I can tell,” he deadpanned, tugging you towards him right as the cars slowed to a halt, the pedestrian signal blinking above you. The sudden action and the sudden closeness made your face heat up - something he apparently noticed when his bright green eyes flickered across your features and caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Instead of the teasing you had braced yourself for, you watched as he tilted his head towards the diner across the street, letting go of your arm. “It’s right over there, c’mon.” 

He was already moving towards the crosswalk when you shook yourself out of your stupor, quickly moving to catch up with him and glancing up at the diner. The big glowing red letters on the sign beside it read “Annie B’s”. 

“They got good food,” he explained at your questioning look, leaning forwards to swing the door open for you. “I used to hang around here a lot when I was a kid.” 

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen this place before,” you commented, entering and hearing Jason close the door behind him, taking a quick glance around before you took a seat in one of the cherry-red and white leather booths. “Kinda wish I had.”

The entire diner had a vintage touch to it, from the luminescent pink and blue lights lining the ceilings to the multicolored tile floors, the cherry-red barstools, and even the jukebox in the corner cranking out old-timey tunes. There were only a few other people sitting at the bar and chilling in a booth a few down from your own, all too absorbed in their own worlds to pay much mind to the two of you. You could hear the sizzling of the food being made back in the kitchen, emitting a heavenly aroma that made your stomach growl not-so subtly. Jason laughed as he slid down across from you, sliding one delicate paper menu over as he scanned over the other. 

“Pretty cool, huh? And like I said, they got great food.” He nodded at your stomach and you rolled your eyes, eliciting another laugh from him. “Knock yourself out, ‘cus dinner’s on me.” Before you could open your mouth to object, the kitchen doors flew open and a woman stepped out holding a heaping tray of food. 

“One chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and rings,” she announced as she set down the trays in front of a man sitting a few booths down, already moving to refill his glass with a pitcher of water. “Enjoy your dinner, Phil.” 

“Thanks, Dana,” the man told her as he picked up his fork and gave her a crooked-toothed grin, already digging into his food. “Always do.” 

“I sure hope so,” the lady agreed, moving to walk back towards the kitchen before catching sight of them. She broke into a grin at the sight of Jason sending her a playful salute, changing course to head towards their booth instead. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed, securing her curly black hair out of her face with an orange-and-green bandana as she stopped in front of them. “Jason Todd decided to drop by for a little visit, did he? And he brought a friend.” 

The sight of her beaming at you was too contagious for you to not smile back up at her in return.

“Hi, Dana,” Jason grinned, nodding at you as she looked between the two of you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Dana Harlowe. Her dad runs this place.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana told you with another grin, leaning forwards to shake your hand in greeting. “When I decided to help out at the diner tonight, I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I definitely didn’t think this boy would ever walk in here with a date of all things-”

“Oh as if,” Jason scoffed loudly as the two of you laughed, face reddening beneath the bright colored lights. “Have you seen me? I was born a lady-killer.” He shot you a wink and you sent him another playful eye roll.

“Yeah, you sure killed me alright.” Dana burst out laughing again as Jason immediately let out a protest of betrayal at your words.

“I like you,” she decided when she finally managed to straighten, taking out her notepad and pen with another brilliant smile. “Did y’all decide what you wanted yet, or do you need another minute?” Jason glanced over at you and you nodded back up at her.

“Sure, I’m ready.” 

Dana headed back into the kitchen for your food after you ordered, leaving the two of you to sit in a comfortable, familiar silence, the sound of forks scraping against porcelain plates and vintage beats being the only disruptors. 

“I used to hear these songs on Gotham City Radio all the time,” Jason finally began after taking a sip of his water, fixating his gaze back on you as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the leather seat. “Growing up, I mean. I still do, sometimes.” 

“Classic jazz?” You grinned, taking a small sip of your own water in turn. “You? I didn’t get that vibe from you.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.

“At my old place, I had, uh, a butler. He wasn’t really a butler, honestly, he was more like a dad than anything. Or, like, a really cool grandpa. He had a whole rack of guns and shit he kept polished in this big cabinet thing-” You raised a brow, attempting to hide your amusement by taking another sip of water. You were a little surprised that he had actually started talking about his family at all - you weren’t about to ruin it, and boy, did you want to know more about the guy. “And he used to play that station all the time at home, GC Radio Classics. I guess I kinda missed hearing it.” 

“He does sound pretty cool,” you admitted with a smile, setting the glass back down. “Do you still visit him?” Jason hesitated a few moments before attempting a nonchalant shrug. You noticed the tightness in his body language again, the same sort of tightness you saw when he was closing up around you. 

“Not much anymore,” he finally said, letting his shoulders drop a little bit. “It’s been...a while. Just got some shit going on.” You watched him take another drink before you spoke again.

“If you ever want to talk about it with me - or talk about anything, really - you can, Jason.” It wasn’t just the products of your psych major showing through you - you meant your words, and the slight smile playing at his lips seemed to signal that he had understood that as well. 

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. But thanks.” You nodded, looking up again when the kitchen doors flew open once again, Dana heading out towards your table with another two trays heaped with mouth-watering food. 

“And here you go,” she smiled as she set your respective meals down before you, taking your glasses to refill them as well. “Enjoy your food, you two. Call me over if there’s anything else you need, yeah?” You both thanked Dana as she sashayed away again, letting the doors swing shut behind her once again after checking up on the rest of her customers. 

Neither of you wasted any time digging into the food as soon as it appeared, finishing most of it in mere minutes like the starving university students you were, breaking the silence with the occasional offer at trying something the other had gotten. The aroma had been no false-alarm - it tasted even better than you had anticipated, and that was certainly saying something. Savory fries, buttery biscuits, and smoky burgers were better than anything else you had in a while. 

“How did I not find this place sooner?” you sighed as you pressed a napkin to your lips, leaning back against your seat as you tried to process just how full you really felt. At this rate, you would have to roll your way out of the place. “I know you said it was gonna be good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.”

“I told you,” Jason grinned as he finished up the last of his burger and fries, crumpling up his own napkins and setting them into the tray to throw away. “I know good food places! I grew up around these streets.”

“So did I!” you protested as he laughed and stood up to throw all the trash away, setting the trays back where they were supposed to go and pulling out his wallet just as Dana appeared by the kitchen’s window with two milkshakes. 

“You can count these on the house,” she told him as she slid them over, ignoring his protests and sending you a wink as you stood up from the booth as well. “Enjoy your night - and it was real nice meeting you, Y/N. Todd, I better be seeing you around more often.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he deadpanned, his smile warm as she waved them out anyways. “Thanks, Dana.” 

You called out a thanks to her as well, tightening your jacket around you as you left the warmth of the diner and felt the chill of Gotham’s dreary night hit you once more. Jason handed you your milkshake, bringing his own straw to his lips and taking a sip. 

“You guys seem close,” you noted with a smile as you took a sip yourself, relishing the cold, sweet taste of the shake in delight. Jason chuckled at that, shrugging as you walked along the illuminated sidewalks in no particular direction. 

“She’s like an annoying sister to me. I’ve known her since I was a puny kid.” You watched as the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile as he took another sip. “Dana, her sister, and her dad were good to me growing up. They’re great people.”

That, you had been able to tell just from meeting the woman herself. 

“I liked meeting her. She was pretty cool.” He chuckled again and spared you another glance. “And thanks, by the way, for dinner tonight. It really was really good. And way better than just coffee.”

“I told you,” he grinned, flickering those brilliant green eyes across your face again. “I know where the good spots around Gotham are. We don’t have a lot of them, but when we do have them, they’re pretty damn good.” That elicited a laugh from you and Jason stopped beneath one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. 

“You did better than I expected, Todd.” He made a big show of popping his collar and scoffing at your comment.

“What, you expected me to not impress you? Do you think that low of me?” 

“That theatre minor of yours is really starting to make an entrance, you can put it away now-” 

“Hey!” You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join. You felt pretty sure that he looked the happiest right then and there than you had ever really seen him - whatever that might’ve meant. Pretty soon, your laughter was residing and he had taken a slight step forwards, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You looked back up at him with a nonchalant shrug despite fighting back another smile yourself. 

“Yeah, it was a pretty good night.” His gaze flickered towards your lips before settling back on your face. 

“Yeah?” The sounds of honking cars and the murmurs of people walking past all around you felt like they were being drowned out somehow when you felt him get a little bit closer. The smile tugged at the corner of your mouth again.

“Yeah.” Another moment passed before Jason finally closed the distance between you, meeting your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss for a man who looked like he could snap a baseball bat with his bare hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck after yet another moment, feeling him draw you even closer to him at the action. 

Literally and figuratively, it was a sweet kiss. The milkshake truly had done wonders. 

You were a little breathless when he finally pulled away, and you hoped the shitty streetlight would keep him from seeing just how red your face had gone. Jason was grinning at your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C’mon, that was better than pretty good.”

“Shut up,” you told him immediately, swatting his arm and moving to continue your walk again as he laughed and easily moved to catch up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“It was! You gotta admit it, that was pretty great-”

“Shut up, Jason.” 

Just like that, once again, you had Othello of all things to thank for your night. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been such a terrible book after all. 

[thelastspeecher]

A Case of Mistaken Identity - Chapter 4: Fear No Weather

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   AO3

I don’t often just sort of, discretely, without warning, update a multichap.  I usually mention ahead of time that I’m working on the next chapter and it’s getting close, maybe I even post a small screenshot.  But this time, I was so focused on getting the next chapter of this fic up that I forewent that.

Anyways, this chapter has Stan being a cynic and Mabel being a delight and Fiddleford being suspicious of what exactly Ford is up to when he’s not around.  Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Ford gaped at Stan.

              “What do you mean, ‘who are they’?  They’re your children!” Ford protested.  “I told you that-”

              “Yeah, you said that I had two kids that showed up at your place,” Stan said.  He crossed his arms.  “I was an idiot to believe you.”

              “They are your-”

              “Hey, kids,” Stan barked.

              “Yes?” Dipper squeaked.

              “You twins?” Stan asked.  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  “How old are the two of you?”

              “Twelve,” Mabel replied.

              “Twelve.”  Stan narrowed his eyes at Ford.  “If they were mine, I woulda had to knock up some poor girl while I still lived at home. I know you don’t think much of me, but do you really think I’d be a teen dad?  After everything Pops pounded into our skulls?”

              “I wouldn’t put it past you,” Ford said shortly. Stan huffed impatiently.  He began to walk away.  Ford raised his voice.  “After all, you seem perfectly fine abandoning your children!”  Stan rounded on Ford, his face beet red.

              “Fuck off, you prick!” he snarled.  Fiddleford let out a yelp.

              “Stanley, please, there are children here!” Fiddleford protested.  Stan didn’t even look over at Fiddleford, instead continuing to glare at Ford.

              “Shut up, Ford’s ‘partner’,” he ground out, etching air quotes around the word “partner”.  Fiddleford flushed.  “First off, kids should learn swears.  Second, I don’t give a damn about keeping a clean mouth when Ford’s telling me I’m a deadbeat dad and fine with it.  He knows that I always swore I wouldn’t do that.”

              “You also swore you’d stand by me, only to sabotage-” Ford started.  Stan threw his hands into the air.

              “Wow, it only took you five minutes to bring that up, huh?  I went outta my way to come see you ‘cause you insisted-”

              “As if you were doing anything of note-” Ford scoffed.

              “For all you know, I was solving cancer!”

              “You were either dumpster diving or being thrown out of a casino!”

              “Like you’re doing something more important, holed up in a romantic cabin-”

              “Gentlemen!” Fiddleford said loudly.

              “You’re not involved, hayseed.  And trust me, you don’t want to be,” Stan snarled.

              “Don’t call Fiddleford-”

              “I’ll call him whatever the damn well I want to!” Stan’s voice was now a low roar. Ford raised his to match.

              “Oh, Lord,” Fiddleford muttered, kneading his forehead.

              “Just let them tire themselves out,” Mabel said. Fiddleford shook his head.

              “Sweetling, I grew up with five siblin’s.  I know when an argument will turn into a fist fight,” he said tiredly.  Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look.

              “Should we spill the beans?” Mabel whispered.

              “They’ll figure it out eventually.  We might as well tell them before they bring the house down,” Dipper hissed back.  Mabel nodded. She hopped off her chair and walked over to the brothers, who had progressed to screaming at each other.

              “Stan’s right,” she called over the noise.  Stan gestured at her.

              “See, Sixer?  I told you I didn’t have any kids.”

              “What?  But…” Ford seemed heartbroken.  “I don’t-”

              “Stan isn’t our dad.  He’s our great-uncle.  And as far as we can tell, so are you, Ford.”

              “Great, huh?” Stan snorted.  He crossed his arms.  “Kid, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to know what I’m like as an uncle.”

              “Not great as in like, good.  Great as in…”  Mabel looked at Dipper, who got down from his chair and joined her.

              “Great as in two generations removed,” he explained. Ford frowned.

              “A great-uncle is the brother of a grandparent. Are you saying that Shermie is your grandfather?”  Dipper and Mabel nodded.  “That’s impossible.  Shermie’s children aren’t old enough to have children your age.  Not to mention, Shermie’s too young to be a grandfather.”

              “Right now, he’s too young,” Dipper agreed. Ford’s eyes widened.  He crouched down to the twins’ eye-height.

              “Are you suggesting you are from the future?” he asked breathlessly.  Dipper and Mabel nodded again.  Ford’s eyes, brown like theirs, sparkled behind his glasses.  “Remarkable.”

              “Really?  You believe them?” Stan demanded.  “You’re not even gonna ask for proof?”

              “I’ve seen far stranger things in Gravity Falls than time travelers,” Ford said.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Though maybe Stanley has a point.  Do you two have any proof to offer?”  Wordlessly, Dipper drew the journal from his jacket.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “My journal!”

              “Don’t read anything in it,” Dipper said quickly. Ford nodded.

              “I won’t even open it, my dear boy.  Just seeing the outside is enough to fully sway my opinion.”  Ford looked the journal over a few times, then handed it back, despite clearly wanting to hold on to it longer.  Stan scoffed.

              “He shows you some book and you’re convinced, huh? Y’know, pulling a prank doesn’t have to be this damn complicated,” Stan said snidely.  Ford stood.  He frowned at Stan.

              “This is no prank.”

              “If you want me to believe you, I’m gonna need some proof.”  Stan stared directly at Dipper and Mabel.  “Tell me tomorrow’s lotto numbers.”

              “We don’t know those,” Dipper said.  Mabel shook her head.

              “If you’re really from the future, you’d have some fancy future tech,” Stan said.  Dipper and Mabel shook their heads.  Stan’s face hardened.  “Yeah. Figured.”

              “Uh, give us a moment,” Dipper said.  He pulled Mabel over to the side to whisper to her.  “How are we supposed to convince Stan?  He’s a notorious cynic!  I mean, he lived in Gravity Falls for years, but refused to acknowledge the existence of the supernatural!”

              “Well, we don’t have any technology that is future-y enough,” Mabel said slowly.  “Maybe we let him know something that we know about him?”

              “That would only work if Ford didn’t know it, either. If it’s something Ford would know, then Stan will just think Ford told us.”

              “So it has to be something that happened after Stan left home,” Mabel said.  Dipper nodded.  “Hmm…” Her eyes brightened.  “Oh!  I’ve got it!”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah!”

----- 

              A couple weeks into their stay in Gravity Falls, Mabel woke up before Dipper.  Knowing how late her brother tended to stay up, she decided to let him sleep in, and happily traipsed downstairs for some breakfast.  Her bubbly mood was slightly stifled by the sight of Stan in just his boxers and undershirt, cooking at the stove, looking more ogrish than usual.

              He probably just hasn’t had a chance to freshen up yet.

              “You’re up early,” Stan grunted.  Using a large wooden spoon, he poked whatever was cooking in the skillet.

              “I don’t need much beauty sleep,” Mabel replied. To her delight, the comment elicited a small smile from Stan.  She bounded to his side.  “What’s for breakfast?”

              “I went classic today.  Bacon and eggs.”

              “…Bacon?”

              “Yeah.  You heard of it, right?  It’s the best dam- darn food in the world, kid.”

              “No, I’ve heard of it.  I’ve even had it.  But Dad told us that you keep kosher, like Grampie Shermie.”

              “Heh.  He probably thinks that ‘cause Shermie told him we kept kosher as kids.  But the day I left home, I said ‘screw it’ and tried bacon. Never looked back.  Best decision I ever made.”

              “Really?  You haven’t done anything else in your entire life that was better than deciding to eat bacon?” Mabel asked doubtfully.  A sudden somber fell over her grunkle.

              “…No,” he said.

              “Oh.”  It was as though Stan’s mood was contagious.  Mabel could feel herself getting more serious as well.  “That’s kinda sad, though.”

              “Eating bacon is the best thing I’ve done so far,” Stan said brightly.  His mood switch was so abrupt that Mabel doubted it was genuine.  “I might be old, but I’ve still got some time to do something even better than eat bacon.”

              “Like what?” Mabel asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow at her.

              “Whattaya think?”

              “Hmm…”  Mabel frowned thoughtfully.  She beamed. “Oh!  You could write a series of mystery novels called Crime Grandpa!” Stan snorted.  Mabel took this as a sign to continue.  “You could teach a bear how to drive!”

              “That’s actually not half bad,” Stan said.

              “You could save Dipper from magical math!”

              “Magical math, huh?” Stan asked.  Mabel nodded.  “How would I do that?”

              “You’re the one that saves him, not me.”

              “Heh.”  Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair.  “Guess I’ll have to work on that one, then.  Now, stop bugging me, or I’ll burn breakfast.”

              Mabel went over to the kitchen table.  She sat in her chair, kicking her legs idly.  As she waited for food, she could barely make out Stan muttering to himself.

              “I bet Dan could find some bear I could use…”

----- 

              “What did you think of?” Dipper asked, dragging Mabel out of the memory.  Mabel grinned and trotted over to Stan.  She leaned her head back to look into his face.

              “Grunkle Stan, your favorite food is bacon!” she said. Stan’s face went slack.

              “No, it’s toffee peanuts,” Ford said.  “Stan’s never even had bacon.”

              “The day after he left home, he tried bacon,” Mabel said, “and he never looked back.”  Stan swore softly under his breath.  “Do you believe us now, Grunkle Stan?”

              “I don’t think I fully believe you, squirt,” Stan said after a moment.  “But you’ve got my attention at least.  I’ll hear you out.”  Mabel’s grin broadened.  Stan looked over at Fiddleford.  “Why are you so quiet, hayseed?  No comment?”

              “I already said my comments when they told me the truth the other day,” Fiddleford said with a shrug.  Ford’s jaw dropped again.  “Stanley, since yer willin’ to at least listen now, would ya mind joinin’ us fer breakfast?”

              “A free meal?”  Stan marched over to the table, grabbed a chair, pulled it out, and sat. He put his feet up on the table. “Like I’d turn that down.”

----- 

              While Dipper and Mabel told their great-uncles how they wound up in the past, Stan practically inhaled multiple bowls of breakfast scramble doused in sausage gravy.  The kids watched in almost awe as their grunkle put away food at an unnervingly fast pace.  The speed was actually concerning to Dipper, who began to wonder if there was a nefarious reason for Stan’s appetite.

              It’s like he hasn’t had anything to eat in days. A strange sensation squeezed Dipper’s gut.  That might actually be the case.  Who knows what he’s been up to?  Judging by Fiddleford’s concerned expression, he was thinking along similar lines.

              “Where is this time travel device?” Ford asked, once they had finished their story.

              “We gave it to Mr. McGucket,” Mabel said. Wordlessly, Fiddleford drew the tape measure out of his back pocket.  He placed it on the table.  Ford picked it up.  He let out a long breath of astonishment.

              “This is incredible.”

              “Looks like something you could get at the hardware store for two bucks,” Stan said in between mouthfuls of food.  “Why are you believing these kids?”

              “Do you still doubt they’re from the future?”

              “Yes.  I already said that,” Stan said impatiently.  “I’m just hearing them out so that I can decide whether I actually believe ‘em or not.  So far, I’m leaning towards thinking they’re pulling some sort of weird con.”

              “How else can they convince you?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.  “If you can’t provide an example of the evidence needed, how-”  Ford was interrupted by a beeping sound.  “What is that?”

              “Hell if I know,” Stan muttered.  He began shoveling food into his mouth again. “Some sorta weird, nerdy, mad science thing?”

              “If it was something Fiddleford or I made, I would recognize the noise it makes,” Ford said irritably.

              “Maybe it started working right while you weren’t looking,” Stan said.  Ford glared.

              “You-”

              “It’s my watch,” Dipper said quickly.  He shut off the alarm on his digital watch. “It’s letting me know the battery’s getting low, that’s all.”

              “That’s yer watch?” Fiddleford asked.  Dipper nodded.  “I’ve never heard a watch make that sort of sound.  What kind is it?”

              “Uh…a digital electronic wristwatch?” Dipper said warily.  Ford and Fiddleford’s eyes widened.  Stan, however, held out a hand.

              “Show me,” he instructed.  Dipper hesitated.  “I won’t steal it from you.  I know better than to pocket something people are looking at.”  Dipper reluctantly removed his watch and handed it over.  Stan held the watch up to his eyes, squinting.

              Why is he holding it so close?  Dipper abruptly remembered how blind Stan was in the future.  Does he need glasses?  Ford does.  Finally, Stan set the watch down on the table.  He slid it back to Dipper, who put it on his wrist again.

              “Why didn’t you show me that from the beginning?” he asked.  Dipper and Mabel’s jaws dropped.

              “Wait, you believe us now?” Dipper asked.  Stan nodded.

              “But…it’s just a watch,” Mabel said.

              “It’s a watch I’ve only ever seen in movies. There’s no reason someone like you would have one.  So I’ll ask again.  Do you kids know any future lotto numbers?” he asked.  The twins shook their heads.  “Dammit,” he muttered.  “Coulda used the dough.”

              “Even if we knew, we wouldn’t tell you,” Mabel said. “We can’t change the future too much.” Stan smiled, but the expression seemed more sad than amused.

              “Kiddo, you two definitely already screwed things up.”

              “But-” Mabel started.  Ford held up a hand.  She fell silent.

              “Stanley is right,” he said solemnly.  “You two have, undoubtedly, altered the future from the one you came from.”

              “So…we won’t be able to get back home?”

              “Not by using the device that took you here alone. You’ll need to also utilize a tool allowing you to travel between realities, as you now come from an alternate universe, as well as the future.”

              “How are we supposed to find something like that?” Dipper asked.  “We stole the tape measure and wound up breaking it!  We have no idea how to go to a different reality.”  A smile spread across Ford’s face.

              “Luckily, I happen to know someone who has much expertise in other realms.”  That got Fiddleford’s attention.  He watched Ford warily.  “I will go consult him.”  Without another word, he got up from his chair and left the kitchen.

              “Great, just great,” Fiddleford muttered under his breath.  He began to clear the table.  “He’s gettin’ his lil friend involved.”

              “You seem peeved, Fiddlesticks,” Stan commented. Fiddleford sighed.

              “I ain’t met this person he said he’ll talk to, which ain’t a crime in and of itself.  But I get a bad feelin’ ‘bout it.”

              “You gotta trust your gut,” Stan said softly. He eyed Dipper and Mabel.  “And my gut says that there’s something big that you two are either leaving out or just flat-out don’t know about.”

              “Why?” Dipper asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “You guys only think Ford’s your great-uncle. Which to me, makes it sound like you two didn’t even know Ford existed before you came here.”

              “I mean…sort of,” Dipper said, rubbing the back of his neck.  Mabel looked at him questioningly.  “We might as well tell him, Mabel.  You heard Ford.  We already messed up the future.”

              “Yeah,” Mabel said.  She took over for Dipper.  “We knew you, but we thought your name was Stanford.  We didn’t know you, or Ford, or, uh, both of you, had a twin.” Stan swore.  “What?  What’s wrong?”

              “How long was I going by Ford’s name?” Stan asked.

              “You didn’t go by Ford, you still went by Stan,” Dipper said.  “You just said it was short for Stanford.”

              “That’s a bit better, but still not great. Answer the question, kid.”

              “I don’t know how long you went by Stanford. But as far as we knew, our dad thought that was your name, and so did Grampie Shermie.”  Fiddleford, who had progressed from clearing the dishes from the table to washing them, froze.  “We were really confused when we got here.”

              “Yeah.  Yeah, I can see why,” Stan mumbled.  He closed his eyes.  “Shit.”

              “You need to explain yer sudden concern, Stanley,” Fiddleford said, propping a sudsy hand on one hip.  “We can’t read yer mind.”

              “Like you’re not concerned about this new information,” Stan snapped.

              “Oh, believe me, I am.  But yer clearly comin’ to some conclusions that ya need to share with the rest of us.”

              “Fine.”  Stan paused. “I don’t always like my life, but I wouldn’t try to take over Ford’s.  Sure, we pretended to be each other to confuse people when we were kids. But this isn’t tricking our mom. This is…this is something serious. I mean, what happened to Stanley? Ford wouldn’t be me, so what did I do with my real identity?”  Stan was silent for a moment.  “There’s only one circumstance I can think of, where I would pretend to be Ford for years and act like the real me didn’t even exist anymore.  Ford isn’t around.”

              “You think he’s passed, by Dipper ‘n Mabel’s time?” Fiddleford asked softly.  Stan shook his head.

              “I wouldn’t take over Ford’s life if he was dead. That’s wrong on more levels than I can count.  No, Ford’s alive.  Or at least, future me thinks he’s alive.  But he’s missing, in some sort of trouble, and I decided the easiest way to help would be to pretend to be him.”

              “Would you try to help him?” Dipper asked quietly.

              “Am I pissed at Ford?  Yes.  Do I hate his guts?  Yes.  But would I do everything I could to help him?” Stan asked.  He paused. “Yes,” he said.  “We might not be friends anymore, but we’re still brothers. We’re still twins.  I wouldn’t turn my back on him if I thought he was in danger.”

              “Maybe right now, that’s yer reaction, but there’s always the chance that you change,” Fiddleford said.  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, hayseed, that’s possible.  Maybe I’m a different person in the future.  But at least right now, I can only think of one way to wind up in the situation these kids are describing.  Ford’s in trouble.”

              “What kind of trouble?” Mabel asked.  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

              “If I had any idea, little gremlin, I’d tell you.”

----- 

              Glad to have a reason to leave his twin’s presence, Ford entered his study.  He closed the door behind him, then sat cross-legged on the floor.  Excitement filled him at having such an excellently unique circumstance to consult his muse for.

              I highly doubt, even in his millennia of existence, he’s come across a situation like this.  Ford closed his eyes and began to empty his mind of thoughts.  His excitement made the simple act difficult; it took much longer than usual.  But finally, his head had been cleared.  And in the darkness and silence, his muse came.

              “Well, well, well,” sounded the familiar and welcome voice.

              Ford smiled.

              “Hello, Bill.”

[ziracona]

Pretty sure your sudden spike in Fate content is gonna be like the third time I check something out bc you started posting it (I know next to nothing about Fate. In fact, I think I now know less than before you started). I'm rly not sure what the best starting point to get into it is, though. Any recommendation? (also I got Moriarty on your quiz and now I want to know why he's so beloved)

Oh sick! Awesome! I hope you enjoy it! 

Uhm, so, Fate notoriously swaps out like their whole creative team from work to work, so some of it is really good, and some is really bad, and some in the middle, because it’s made by very different people. The things I am most into are UBW, and Fate Go. Fate Go is a little gatcha phone game, that suffers from the fate of the whole fate franchise but as a single unit. They swap out writers from arc and event to arc and event, so sometimes you’re living and thriving, and sometimes you’re like *thousand yard glazed, pained stare* ‘why the fuck did I download this game?’ Very mixed bag. I enjoy it because I just kinda blow through any arc I don’t like and skim, and then go hella into the good ones, but it’s very much an individual matter of taste one. It’s very fun to collect spirits and get to know them though, and some of the arcs are fantastic. Also, they have made/are making some of the Fate Go arcs into shows, and I expect the ones that are of good game arcs are good? But I haven’t actually checked any out myself yet--I really need to watch E Pluribus Unum, because it was an easy top 3 arc for me in the game.

I’m big into Fate, but I actually have approximate knowledge of many things? And have not consumed as much media as you’d think. I tend to hear people really like Fate Zero, and very mixed reviews of Apocrypha, but I would wholeheartedly recommend the Fandom Classic(tm) and my personal fave as where to start, which is Unlimited Blade Works.

Sorry this is so long. Okay, so. Originally, Fate Stay/Night was a visual novel with three paths/routes: Fate, Unlimited Blade Works, and Heaven’s Feel. All of these are shows now. Unlimited Blade Works was made twice. Do not watch the early one; it’s bad. Watch the 2014 TV series--it’s on Netflix right now. Don’t watch the English dub--the VAs are...not great. 110% recommend watching it in Japanese/original dub, with subtitles. (This one)

My usual pitch is that if you’re a normal person, you’ll probably go “This was a little confusing, but I really got into it: 8.3/10″, and if you’re like me and you never really gave up on wanting to become a superhero and save the world some day, you’ll go: “It was fantastic, 18/10, but it also ripped out my soul and left me wounded but somehow in an okay way.” Either way very worth watching. Since it’s not the first route, there are some things they don’t explain about the world because they kind of assume the viewer will know, but that’s pretty minimal--it’s def coherent enough that the more confusing bits are more of a “Uh, okay. I think.” than a “W-What the fuck is going on?”

It’s really good. Two seasons, the most beautiful fighting in almost anything I’ve ever seen, phenomenal soundtrack, and one of the best show opens (Season 2′s) of any show I ever saw. All around a just big blanket rec from me. It’s a long-time fan favorite for a reason. It’s one of my fave shows ever :’-] It was. Very personal to me.

Uhhhh what else--okay so, on Netflix if you watch it there, and a lot of streaming sites, they list “Episode 0″ or “Prologue” as the first episode? This was originally bonus content, not the first episode. It’s basically the first episode from not the MC’s point of view, but a different major character. It’s got some really great character moments and insight into Rin and Archer, and it’s fun, but since it was originally bonus, the pacing is super weird? So I would recommend you start with actual episode 1/Winter Days, A Fateful Night instead? Unless you just want to. Like it won’t mess up the show, but it might give you a weird idea of what the pacing is. So you can watch it first if you want, or later whenever you’re curious about those two, just like, if you start on it, don’t get overwhelmed by the stuff they’re not explaining, or the weird pacing. It’s supposed to be bonus content haha.

Very happy you’re interested! I really love UBW so I hope you enjoy it! If there’s anything else you want to ask feel totally free! I just don’t want to ramble for eight years about my special interest and fall into a black hole unprompted haha. : D Very happy you’ve been intrigued by my weird spike of fate content WAIT YOU ASKED ABOUT CRIME GRANDPA HOW COULD I FORGET.

Woof this is gonna be a long ask answer. Uhhhh, so Moriarty is from Fate Grand Order/Fate Go, the phone game. The game has three major arc sets so far: Grand Order, Epic of Remnant, and Cosmos in the Lostbelts. He’s from Epic of Remnant, and he’s universally beloved because he’s amazing. The MC in Fate Go is like 16, but he or she (you get to pick) is constantly having to risk their life and be hurt and traumatized and watch people die to save the world because there’s no one else to do it, and usually people are...not super nice to them. Moriarty shows up in the first of the second set of arcs and is like ‘Haha that’s a wholeass human child tho. Guys. Guys, a-are you sure about this?’ and he’s really there to pull of a massive evil culmination-of-my-life’s-entire-work-and-value scheme, but this kid is nice to him, and has nobody who looks out for them, and Evil Has Standards, so (Arc End Spoilers for that one ahead) he ends up giving up basically at the last minute. He had a plan that was totally working and could have won, but can’t really pull the trigger, because winning would mean this kid who has been nice to him and is already a massive pile of trauma and pressure and mental illness would die, and he cares more about them than his life’s goal. In Go usually boss fights are progressively harder, but his is super easy because he throws it, and chooses to lose, and basically throws away his life’s work for this one kid because nobody else is taking care of them, and lets himself get killed. This is a pattern with him. Other high points include later being 5 seconds into a scheme when Frankenstein (the girl one, who in fgo is like 14) stops him to call him Papa and asks for help, so he adopts her on the spot and just is her dad forever after that. He’s very goofy and I love him; he’s evil, but I’d trust him with my life, because he’s more good than he is evil, even though he’s both. Basically he’s just a very interesting and well written villain, but he’s also like, the /best/ dad in the game at the same time, and his dialogue is amazing. Evil Has Standards team dad poster man. He’s like the only adult in Fate Go who actually is responsible, which is fuckin wild. I’ll try to find some good screenshots of his dialogue. Anyway he’s incredible and I’m so happy you got him; Crime Papa is life.

Here have some Moriarty junk: (Shinjuku arc you have 3 partners, and the other two are adults but harass the MC constantly, and this was the dynamic. Bless Moriarty) 

And here’s some him roasting Sherlock memes and being good dad to the MC

[trying-write-fanfics]

OverhaulXreader part 23

Time went on. Gramps got a granddaughter. He stayed away though due to the strained relationship. He still had Kai. Y/n would come over here and there, and even cooked for gramps sometimes.

The add-on bakery was stressful to say the least. Y/n was working double time for the restaurant and starting the bakery. Menu, ingredients, advertising, permits, inspections, and management were all struggling. Those were the problems Y/n was trying to control. Then there was villain activity which was also stressing her out. They were just people using their quirks and destroying buildings and stealing. Organized crime was a lot less annoying, they didn’t involve civilians like Y/n. Sometimes she had to take a different route home or wait for subways to get repaired. Witness reports also took up her time.

Though her least favorite was the hostage situation. Mainly because all she wanted to do was cash a check out to have a fun weekend with friends on a holiday. Some villain who has never robbed a back shot the ceiling and told everyone to get down.

“I need a hostage-you” the villain pointed at her.

He grabbed her by the wrist and held the gun to her throat. She had mixed feelings, one being scared, the other being done with life. There was no easy day and she was a little done with life.

“C'mon this way.” The man said.

How did these situations happen? Sometimes she wishes she was a zombie detective or at least had a cool quirk to defend herself. Her mind was nowhere near where her actual body was.

“Maybe after this you and I could go on a date, I got money.” The man said.

“Yeah, we’re gonna tell our grandkids that grandpa went to jail for shooting grandma at the bank?” She sassily said.

“You didn’t have to be such a-“

A police officer took them out like an American football player. Her shoulder popped when the three hit the floor.

Luckily Y/n was going to a hot spring resort with some girl friends. They were from the choir group, but the ones they were around her age. She however bought her own separate room. They gossiped, laughed, and truly relaxed in the communal spring. It was all nice and she felt the stress melting away. In a robe she went to her hotel bed and just laid on it. She let her legs hang off the side. The phone rang and it was her non labeled love.

“Saw you were on the news.” Kai said on the other side without a hello.

“I can’t even cash a check without someone rubbing their damn quirks or guns in my face.” She groaned .

“Come over tonight. I got you a bottle of wine.”

“Sorry handsome, I’m at a resort this weekend.”

“You’re what?”

“Girls from my choir group thought it would be fun to sit in a hot spring together.”

“Did you get naked with those old ladies?”

“No younger girls joined my group awhile back.”

“You know you’re sitting in your own filth in those baths.”

“Good thing I couldn’t come over this weekend.” She told him.

“You could shower in my shower.” He offered.

“Is that your attempt at foreplay?”

“I can try can’t I?”

“I do miss you.” She told him, making sure the air was clear.

“What day are you coming back?”

“Why, you miss me?”

“I haven’t seen you since your period incident.” He told her.

“Work has been hard. Sometimes I wish I was just a housewife without any kids. Like maybe I have hobbies like I garden and I smile and wave at people and it’s enough contribution to society.” She rambled.

“You know-“

“I don’t mean it Kai. I’d be so bored. I’d have to have like a small army of kids to be the same amount of work as this bakery.”

“So when can I see you again?”

“I’ll let you know after the trip. I've been working overtime last month.” She whined.

“I’ll be waiting for you. Are you fine with the whole hostage situation that happened?”

It was weird hearing Kai being emotionally worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams angel.”

Y/n had a nice time and the weekend ended. Some of her choir friends joined her to clean the new

Bakery. They bought the building, and now they had to clean it.

“So, you seeing anyone Y/n? My brother was kinda interested at the last concert.”

“Uh-yeah I am.”

“Ooh a boyfriend?”

“No...he’s uh.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone or you’re talking about….” her friend trailed off.

“Is he a lame ass no labels type of guy? Y/n you’re so hard working you deserve someone who wants to give it their all!” Her other friend said.

“It’s not like that, we just haven’t talked about that.” She tried to explain.

“Wait are you like that? I never took you for someone so casual, Y/n.”

“It’s not like that.”

The subject died down, but Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what her and Kai were. He called her his angel, but never his girlfriend. After the hard work, the girls started drinking, and not thinking, Y/n took the subway to the main compound. She was looking for Kai. She knocked the door over a million times and Pops answered.

“Y/n, what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night?”

“Oh my god, I’m looking for Kai and looking back at it I should have just texted or called or, something instead of showing up, but I really wanna talk to him, is he here? I saw a dead rat on the subway.” She drunkly rambled.

“Kai should be home soon, why not wait with me.”

“Okay.” She started crying because that’s just how drunk she was.

The two sat at couches as they tried to play shogi. Instead Pops let her pretend to know what she was doing as she talked.

“I just don’t know Pops, what are Kai and I? He’s so cute and he’s so nice to me, but he doesn’t even want me talking to his crew. God every time I talk about him I make him sound like a hip hop rapper.” She sobbed.

“Well when he gets here you can ask him, but I promise you, Kai likes you very much.” Pops promised.

“Yeah? When he gets old is he gonna own a koi pond and just feed the fish all day?” Y/n asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m in a choir group to make friends and there’s a bunch of old ladies, maybe you might want to meet them if you’re not seeing anyone. I know you lost your wife to cancer.” She was still sobbing but Pops wasn’t judging. “And I told them that if they don’t find anyone at the retirement home I’ll take them clubbing and I’m not ready for clubbing with anyone.”

“Kai won’t make you go clubbing.”

“He’s such a prince, you raised him right.”

The front door unlocked and the awkward situation for Pops to be over. It was not the man of the hour, but instead Chrono.

“Oh my god, it’s you, the guy who bought a gun from my mom.” She was still sobbing.

“You don’t remember my name?” Chrono asked.

“No, I’m drunk and conflicted about so many things.”

“Chrono why not keep Y/n company, I’m old and tired”.

“Goodnight pops.” Y/n said like a person.

“This situation keeps happening. You drunk, me sober.”

“Oh my god, where is Kai?”

“He is taking care of some final things, I thought I would leave some paper work here.”

“Does he talk about me?”

“No because he told us not to talk about you, remember that?”

“I don’t even remember your name, and want me to remember things. Does he even like me?”

“Yes. That is an easy one.”

“You think he thinks I’m cute.”

“I would bet money on that.”

“I saw a dead rat on the subway and I thought that was an omen for my death and Kai showing up to my funeral saying he’s my friend and my mom is gonna be like damn wish he would have said more because she knows on the down low him and I are you know…”

“Wait you think Kai is gonna speak at your funeral.”

“He’s gotta be a leader. He’d be like Y/n was sufficient at cooking and she made people smile, her only downfall was having periods.”

“I’m sure he knows that periods are inevitable.”

“You were friends with him after I left, you there when school gave him the puberty talk? We’re they honest?” Y/n asked.

“Let’s call him to make sure he knows the truth about periods.”

“No, I’m too drunk to make phone calls.”

“But not too drunk to go to someone’s house?”

“I just feel like if I explained my system, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I would travel with you.”

“Girls trip!” She sang. “But on the real real, I don’t know if you could handle my thunder I love hotel rooms and pools.”

“Is that a-“

“Oh my god, that wasn’t sexual.”

Kai came through the door, he was stressed that the meeting took longer than intended and he didn’t understand why they had as many questions as they did, unless they were undercover cops. He found Y/n and Chrono sitting in the front room. She looked a little disheveled.

[synthient]

Could you elaborate on what you mean about Death T re stanning and fairness? It sounds interesting and I'd love to hear about it if you don't mind sharing.

ajhfakj hoo boy. Okay.

So some time around the summer before last (judging by the point where the first baffled and frustrated readmores start showing up on this blog), I read Death-T. It made me feel…some kind of way. An…unpleasant kind of way.

Here’s the thing about me: I can’t just let myself have an emotional reaction to a piece of fiction. I have to, first, pick apart my own emotions to figure out why I had that reaction, and second, pick apart the story to figure out how it works and how it made me feel that way.

On the Feelings Front, I’ve isolated two main causes:

1. I have a brain that Needs Things To Be Fair. That doesn’t mean I can’t handle unfairness in a piece of fiction. Unfairness creates conflict, and conflict is what makes for good storytelling. But it does mean that I need the story to be aware of its own unfairness. I need the unfairness to be the point. Otherwise I start vibrating at high speeds and shaking my fist at clouds.

2. I’m a Kaiba stan. I accidentally got emotionally attached to the Funny Card Game Boy from the Funny Card Game Show. 

There’s the feelings part. That leaves the “picking apart the story” side of the equation. And I’ve been trying to do that in nice punchy little one-or-two-paragraph text posts for the past year or so, but I don’t think I’ve ever really done the argument justice that way. So I guess that leaves only one option: writing a giant wordvomit essay on Yugioh (1996-2004).

Why This Is A Death-T Hateblog: The Masterpost

An important note: I like being able to back up my thoughts with Evidence From The Text, but I’m specifically working off the (Viz translated) manga. You can read Cards with Teeth here, Capumon here, and Death-T starting here if you want to check any of my facts or draw your own conclusions. Keep in mind that the Toei anime made pretty huge changes to the s0 Kaiba storyline, and the DM anime skipped most of it entirely–if you’re more familiar with those continuities, there’re some major differences in the manga.

(Also this thing probably reads better on desktop. I think the formatting got screwed up on mobile)

How We Got Here

Before we can actually dig into Death-T, we need to start at the very beginning (♫a very good place to start♫). So that means taking a look at “The Cards with Teeth (Part 1)” and “The Cards with Teeth (Part 2).”

For its first 8 chapters, the Yugioh manga chugs blissfully (if repetitively) along with an episodic, conflict-of-the-week formula. No overarching plot. Next to no sense of continuity. No trading cards in sight.

Then this asshole shows up. 

His name is Seto Kaiba (or “Kaiba,” at least–not sure if this is just a Viz thing, but my copy of CwT never mentions his given name). Not that he bears a whole lot of resemblance to the Seto Kaiba we later come to know and love (and/or love to hate).

Almost none of his most defining traits are there yet. There’s no mention of Mokuba, no mention of Kaibacorp, no indicationthat he’s especially rich (besides the fact that he’s carrying around a wholebriefcase of trading cards), no reason to believe he has a specific obsession with Blue Eyes (he just thinks it’s a strong card and it’d help him win tournaments), and no sign of any special hacking/strategy/hand-to-hand-combat/etc. skills (the kid is hilariously incompetent). 

This dude was never supposed to be a recurring character, and it shows.

But anyway, let’s run through the basic series of events:

- Kaiba wanders into the game shop looking forbooster packs. Yugi recognizes him as an acquaintance from school (not as a famous kid CEO, and not as a recent transfer student)

- Kaiba happens to notice the Blue Eyes card lying out onGrandpa’s counter (in this version of events, he hasn’t been stealing rare cards for months before this, he didn’t creep on Yugi’s conversation and followhim home, he had no idea going in that the Blue Eyes was there, and he didn’t already have the other three)

- He offers to trade all the cards in his briefcasefor the Blue Eyes (although he doesn’t tell Grandpa to name his price—again,the millionaire CEO element isn’t a thing yet)

- Grandpa refuses, so the next day Kaiba comes up with alaughably badly thought-out plan to steal the card

- Shockingly, Yugi notices that the “color copy from the catalog” isn’t the real deal. He gently tries to confront Kaiba about it in private

- Kaiba (without showing an ounce of the cool head you’d think you’d need to take over and run a company) panics, starts stammering and unconvincingly denying it, and then smacks Yugi with his briefcase

Annnd then Part 2 plays out like a standard s0 chapter.

“Yami Yugi” takes over. They play a shadow game. Kaiba cheats by slipping the stolen Blue Eyes out of his sleeve (Atem’s like “That’s my Grandpa’s card!” and Kaiba straight up goes “Whaaat, nooo, that’s my card that I, uh, found on the street just now.” A teen genius criminal mastermind, everybody). The shadow magic gives him a spritz from its metaphorical Karmic Cat-Training Spray Bottle and makes his Blue Eyes dissolve (I’d like to think that was Kisara going “I’m not mad, just disappointed,” and Memory World tries to retroactively make that connection, but it’s pretty abundantly clear that nothing about this series was planned that far ahead). He loses. Yadda yadda yadda.

And then Atem goes in for the penalty game.

To recap: 

Some random 10th grader from Yugi’s school stole a trading card, hit someone, and was generally kind of a jerk. As punishment, he was trapped in a hyper-realistic illusion of being ripped apart and slaughtered by half a dozen monsters at once.

Y…ay…?

Let’s Stop and Reflect for a Sec

In theory, I shouldn’t be that much more upset about Cards with Teeth than I am about any other part of s0, right? It’s not like the manga framed it as horrific and wrong when Atem set off an explosion in some teenage bully’s face a couple chapters ago. Giving us the vicarious pleasure of punishing our bullies in over-the-top, Carrie-style ways without actually exploring any of the consequences is, like, the early manga’s whole thing.

But even taking into account the fact that I already had an attachment to this Nasty Bowl Cut Boy thanks to the anime, I do actually think that there are at least two factors that set CwT apart.

The first is that Atem’s karmic punishments are usually…well, karmic. If he inflicts physical harm on someone, it’s because they already inflicted or tried to inflict roughly the same amount of harm on Yugi & co. If the crime was relatively minor, then he only gives out a minor punishment–like, say, when the homeroom teacher was Just Kinda Mean, all he did was allow the class to see her without her makeup on (…setting aside the Let’s Get Into Gender Politics-ness of that chapter).

There’s even a few cases where you could argue that the punishment is too light to fit the crime. Ushio beat Jonouchi and Honda half to death and tried to murder Yugi with a knife, and all he got was this lousy t-shirt an illusion that made the trash on the ground look like money.

In another chapter, the villain of the week tried to rape Anzu, and the only punishment he faced was having his side business exposed as a scam (Let’s Get Into Gender Politics).

Yet in CwT, we see one of the most harmless villains in all of s0 (no prolonged beatings or attempted murder? unheard of!) receive what’s arguably the most horrifying penalty game in the whole manga. At least when that guy got set on fire, it was over fast.

And that brings us to factor number two: Kaiba is the first penalty game victim in s0 who comes back. 

Capumon: Gotta Catch ‘em All!

Well, technically he doesn’t come back in person, at first. Someone else shows up to fight in his name.

Oh hey Mokie. How’s it going?

Rather understandably (imo), Mokuba wants the guy who tortured his brother last week to face some actual consequences for it.

Now here’s an interesting opportunity that the manga has set up for itself. Is it going to dig deep into the balance between defending yourself vs lashing out and causing undue harm? Is it going to remind us that most of the penalty game victims so far, whatever their crimes,have been children? Is it going to demonstrate that when you take out your anger on someone, you don’t just hurt your immediate target, but their loved ones as well?

Nah, who am I kidding.  

Hurting or inconveniencing the Good Guys in any way is Bad. Anything the Good Guys do is Good and Justified. Using magic to stick an already-hurting eleven-year-old in his own personalized hell? Good and Justified.

Before he’s shoved screaming into the Giant Vending Machine Capsule Where Bad And Naughty Elementary Schoolers Go To Atone For Their Crimes, Mokuba mentions that the other penalty game he heard about “made my brother go crazy!”

He also drops a hint of things to come with all the subtlety of an anvil. So I guess by this point, the numbers had come in and the card game chapter had proved unexpectedly popular enough that a sequel was in the works.

Death-Twink? Death-Tastic?Death-Two: Electric Boogaloo?

I’ve been pretty hard on Cards with Teeth and Capsule Monsters Chess so far. But you want to know the truth?

On their own, they aren’t necessarily that bad.

What really matters in a story isn’t the literal events: it’s how those events are framed. At the moment, we’re only midway through an incomplete storyline. Maybe we’re supposed to be horrified. Maybe we’re supposed to be questioning whether or not the hero is really in the right. It all hangs on what these chapters are building to.

As it turns out–as Mokuba just helpfully clued us in on–they were building to Death-T.

And that’s where the shit hits the fan.

Over a dozen chapters after we first met Kaiba, a whole bunch of completely-unforeshadowed facts about him are suddenly dumped on us all at once. He’s rich! The kind of rich that allows for limo rides, a giant mansion, and flouncing around in a fur-lined cape like feudal European nobility! And he’s the president of a company, even though “Whaa?!! But he’s still in high school!” Speaking of which, apparently Kaiba “hasn’t been at school recently.”

The Death-T arc opens with Yugi and Jonouchi attending the world’s most awkward sleepover–the host never shows up, and they don’t even get to paint each others’ nails or watch movies. Also Mokuba tries to murder them in the night, but you know what? If someone tortured my brother, “made him go crazy,” and left him huddled in the house feverishly working on a bizarre project and refusing to go to school for the next few weeks, I’d probably poison them too.

The morning after the sleepover, we learn another new Kaiba Fact…

Ever since the Experience of Death happened, he’s been having horrible recurring PTSD nightmares about it. As you do. When you get tortured.

(This is why, even though I know intellectually that it’s Not That Deep and people arejust having fun, I still get a little skeeved out when I see jokes about howDeath-T happened “just” because Kaiba was that mad about losing a card game or “just”because he had a crush on Yugi and he didn’t know how to deal with it. I’malways internally like “Nnno, I’m pretty sure it was the torture?”)

So far we’ve been shown in pretty brutal detail that our “hero” psychologically broke a fifteen-year-old for no good reason. The manga’s going to have its work cut out for it if it really wants to do a convincing redemption arc for its protagonist. And there’s no way it could possibly try to spin that random act of torture as an acceptable thing, right?

…right?

Crime and Punishment

That’s one of my first big problems with Death-T: to me, it reads as a way of trying to retroactively justify the Experience of Death.

That seems to be the purpose of suddenly giving Kaiba all this wealth and power that was never hinted at in Cards with Teeth. See, he wasn’t just some random high school kid who had the bad luck of crossing someone with magic powers; he was (however improbable that is, as the story lampshades) a high school-aged CEO. He’s so ludicrously powerful that he can torture an old man in front of a live audience and get away with it. Punching up looks a lot better than punching down, doesn’t it?

And you can’t really fault the hero for torturing someone evil, can you? Kaiba used Grandpa’s sanity as a blackmail chip! He ran experiments on human test subjects! He wants to kill Yugi and everyone he loves! Surely a little torture is no worse than he deserved.

There’s only one one problem with that: the Experience of Death happened before Death-T. There’s no way Atem could have known any of this was coming. The audience couldn’t have known it was coming. Takahashi didn’t know. Chronologically speaking, the Experience of Death wasn’t revenge for Death-T. It’s the other way around.

Best Served Cold

So Death-T is a form of eye-for-an-eye vengeance: “Yugi” beat Kaiba at Duel Monsters and tortured him, so now Kaiba’s gonna beat Yugi and torture him, using his own perfect virtual recreation of “Yugi’s” penalty game (oh yeah, that whole “the average person goes insane in about 10 minutes” thing? Kaiba was able to program that detail from personal experience).

But wait! This isn’t really eye-for-an-eye! Kaiba’s going after Yugi’s loved ones, not just Yugi, and that’s worse than what Yugi did to him! And even if it was proportionate, revenge is bad and wrong. That’s how you get endless back-and-forth chains of vengeance and generational blood feuds and stuff. Two wrongs don’t make a right!

And those could all be reasonable points, except…

This entire story is about how great and badass eye-for-an-eye justice is.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you could take everyone who ever hurt you and make them suffer even worse” is practically the thesis of Season 0. You can’t make something look awesome when the protagonist does it and then turn around and make it seem evil and inexcusable coming from anyone else.

And while Kaiba does wind up targeting Yugi’s friends, that wasn’t part of his original plan. He’s surprised when random people start jumping out of the bleachers/the Kaibacorp employee roster and insisting that they won’t let Yugi do this alone. The writing uses his surprise as proof that he just doesn’t understand The Power of Friendship, but it’s also evidence that his original target was just Yugi.

“If you’re gonna side with my torturer, then you can have the same fate as him, I guess.” It’s not even that far outside the logic Atem’s been using all this time. Just because there’s only one main gang member who personally hurt his friend, that doesn’t mean that Atem won’t rope every random mook who gets in his way into the death game too. (Granted, this doesn’t really apply to Kaiba’s treatment of Grandpa. Or the offscreen experimentation/blackmailing. Or Mokuba, but…we’ll get to that).

…But like I said before, the big issue isn’t the events. It’s the framing. Maybe the point will ultimately be that if penalty games are wrong when the bad guy does them, then they’re wrong when the hero does them too. Maybe this is all leading up to a big reexamination of Atem’s moral code and some much-needed character development.

Maybe. Let’s keep going and see.

*Great Gatsby comic voice* Baby? What Baby

Death-T runs for 14 chapters, but Kaiba isn’t actually there for, like…half of them.

I mean, he’s technically there? Occasionally? He’ll show up long enough to dramatically play chess for a panel or so, or to stick his head on a TV monitor and provide some Helpful Death Game Hints. But for all practical purposes, he’s pretty much absent for the entire middle section of the story arc.

And, uh…let’s just say I 100% understand and respect the DM anime’s decisionto go straight from Grandpa’s heart attack to the final duel and skipeverything in between.

If Kaiba’s real goal is to beat Yugi at Duel Monsters, then all the death games leading up to that one are basically filler. And they manage to be just as contrived and nonsensical as any anime filler arc, without a fraction of the fun.

It’s largely a tonal issue. The writing swings wildly between grimdark dramatics, sentimental conversations about friendship where everyone hugs and cries (tbh that’s one of the few redeeming qualities of the arc), and “comic relief” where the “““comedy””” is all either bodily function jokes or sexual assault jokes (L̠̤̯͍̦e̮̪͎̞t's̞̮̳̱̰̦̲ ̲G͖͉̹̻̯͉͖e̜̝̗͓̟͚t̖͚ ͚̰̞̮̝̫͎I͓̜̦̳̭͚͎n̪̪͈t͍̥̰̼o͚͎͇̣̘̝ ̪̼̜̣̳G��̠̫e̳̝̗̪ṋ͚̞͎ͅd͔̙͓̯̹e̯̺̯̩r͔̣̲͔̳̗ ̘͙P̖̦o̩̺͖͎̞̬l͎̺͕̹i͇̣̼̦t̰i̬̰̝͙̗̝c̜̼̺̪̲̞s).

Honestly, in terms of the “stanning and fairness” argument, there’s not much to talk about here. It just adds insult to injury that not only does Death-T throw my fave under the bus, but it’s really badly written.

The Mokuba Thing

Okay, let’s fast-forward through the filler zone and stoppp…here. 

In the context of the anime, where we know (and see multiple flashbacks demonstrating) that their whole life has been an “us against the world” story, this scene is tragic. Seto’s trust in people has been eroded so much that he even thinks Mokuba is conspiring against him? Their love and support for each other, which has survived through so much hardship, has finally cracked under the weight of this latest trauma? There’s a lot of dramatic and tearjerking potential there.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that most of us bring our baggage from the anime with us when we read the manga. The vast majority of the western Yugioh fandom did start with DM. 

But if we look at this purely in the context of the manga–if we can pretend, for a second, that none of us have ever heard of the anime–this is the first time we see the two of them interacting onscreen. And none of those touching flashbacks of Seto comforting Mokuba and defending him from bullies and promising to be his father exist here. All we ever really learn about their relationship before this point is “They used to be a little closer when they were younger. Source: one (1) photo of them playing chess.”

So instead of serving as the tragic lowpoint of their relationship, this scene sets the baseline for it: Mokuba desperately wants to make his brother happy and earn his approval, while Seto responds with dismissal and cruelty.

In the anime (and to a certain extent in the later manga), Mokuba’s purpose in the narrative is to humanize Seto. But in Death-T, he serves the opposite function. Every interaction they have is an opportunity for Seto to kick the dog and prove what a monster he is.

And it’s all downhill from here.

………………

…So.

I have…mixed feelings about this.

On one level–a meta level–I think this scene serves the same purpose as taking that random high schooler from CwT and suddenly giving him ridiculous amounts of money and power and mustache-twirling levels of villainy. It’s a way of making the Experience of Death seem retroactively justified (and also a way of making the upcoming penalty game look fair).

On the other hand. It’s. 

Horrific.

This scene is supposed to make us hate Kaiba, and it does it’s job really really well.

Personally speaking? I’m of the opinion that trying to hurt the child under your care as badly as you conceivably can is a “don’t pass go, don’t collect $100″ kind of deal. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no fixing or salvaging this relationship.  

(God, this whole thing is wrapped in so many layers of fantasy that I’m not even sure what the real-world equivalent would be. Trying to beat your child not quite to death?)

Mokuba should not have had to continue living with his brother after this, any more than the Ishtars should have had to stay with their dad or Seto should have had to stay with Gozaburo. Mokuba forgiving Seto for this isn’t touching to me, it’s gut-wrenching. Every “heartwarming” brotherly moment in the later manga (all, like…2 and a half of them) feels hollow and sad.

As far as I’m concerned, this scene doesn’t “complicate” their relationship in any interesting or meaningful way. Their anime relationship already has plenty of complications–their sometimes unhealthy co-dependence, the fact that Seto is still a kid himself and he’s not really equipped to be a parent,Mokuba’s difficulty understanding that Seto can’t just “go back to who he was” before his trauma, the times when Seto is too caught up in his own pain to really be there for Mokuba, the manipulation involved in Seto’s takeover plan, etc. This just makes their relationship outright child abuse.

But hey, they hugged that one time in Duelist Kingdom, so it’s fine, right?

ExODiA iiiIIIIT’s not pAHsible

The final duel happens. The big Blue Eyes vs Exodia showdown.

*Bill Wurtz voice* So that’s pretty nifty, I would say.

It’s..? A genuinely cool and dramatic duel. There’s a reason it’s one of the, like, three Death-T elements the DM anime actually bothered to keep. Not much to say about it.

Sure was a whole lot of buildup just to end things with one (1) deus ex machina instawin card, tho.

The Tragic Backstory

So if all this happened because of a penalty game, what do you think the solution could be?

Did you say “another, even harsher penalty game”?

Ding ding ding!

This time, instead of torturing the fifteen-year-old, our hero puts the fifteen-year-old in a vegetative state as he begs for mercy.

Yaaaayy! 

Some fun facts about the Mind Crush that we don’t actually learn until Duelist Kingdom:

1. It lasted for 6 months

2. Mokuba spent that entire time alone, in the big empty mansion, with no parental guidance or adult supervision except the butlers and maids, caring for his brother’s comatose body 24/7

3. When Atem put Kaiba in that coma, he had absolutely no idea if he’d ever be able to wake up or not. He thought he could, maybe–Kaiba’s pretty strong, right? But he also finds the idea that Kaiba died in his coma and came back to haunt him perfectly believable. “Fixed,” dead…eh, it was kind of a coin toss.

But wait, the story’s not over yet! First we have to find out Why Kaiba Is The Way He Is (“Because your buddy tortured him last month” isn’t enough of an answer, apparently).

This is communicated in the most natural way possible: Mokuba just starts monologuing about all his brother’s deepest darkest traumas to a bunch of strangers his brother hates.

The claim that Kaiba’s backstory is “more complex” in the manga than it is in the anime has always confused me, because this is…it. These three pages are the whole backstory. I mean, in Battle City we do get one more passing line of dialog about how Kaibacorp used to be a weapons manufacturer and Gozaburo “sold Seto’s soul to the military industrial complex,” but other than that… The anime took these bare bones and fleshed them out significantly, but from a pure manga canon standpoint, it’s not a whole lot to work with.

But there’s still enough here to rub me the wrong way.

For one thing, this sequence is almost an exact parallel to two later moments in the manga: Pegasus’s backstory dump at the end of Duelist Kingdom, and Malik’s backstory dump mid-Battle City. In both of those cases, the purpose of the scene is to take a villain whose motives seemed cruel and inexplicable and finally reveal the reasons behind his actions. We’re supposed to be seeing these characters in a sympathetic light for the very first time.

But Kaiba’s motives in Death-T, uh, weren’t exactly a mystery. He already made it pretty explicitly clear that this was about the torture. So as a narrative tool, Mokuba’s monologue:

1. seems a little superfluous

2. seems like a way of taking any responsibility out of the protagonist’s hands. Kaiba didn’t snap because of anything Atem did, he just had a bunch of fucked up baggage that Atem couldn’t possibly have known about or accounted for. Who knew some people take it badly when you torture them??

3. seems to suggest that we weren’t supposed to be sympathizing with Kaiba before this point. If this is the big “oh, now that I know why he did it, I guess I feel a little bad for him :(” moment, then that means the part where he got tortured…wasn’t?

And, as always, there’s the issue of the framing.

The grace note of the monologue–the thought it leaves us with, the intended takeaway–isn’t “If only he hadn’t gone through years of abuse, in circumstances he had no real control over because he was a child.” It’s “If only he hadn’t brought all this upon himself by cheating.”

Even if we ignore the fact that it’s physically impossible to cheat at chess (which seems like kind of a big oversight for a gaming manga, but oh well, That’s Yugioh Babe)…

How can you possibly present a ten-year-old cheating at a board game in a desperate gambit to get himself and his brother out of an orphanage as his start of darkness?

Yet that’s exactly what the writing does. This is a story about how games “reveal the true hearts” of their players and bring karmic retribution down on anyone who doesn’t respect the game and follow the rules. The implication is that the child abuse Seto suffered was karma. He rightfully earned it by cheating at chess, just like he brought the Experience of Death upon himself by cheating at Duel Monsters.

Oh yeah, speaking of which…

Wheel of Morality, Turn Turn Turn, Tell Us The Lesson We Should Learn

What was the outcome of Death-T? What impact did it actually have? 

Did it bring about any big moral reckoning? Any questioning of the heroes’ values? Did Atem learn the difficult but important lesson “torture bad”?

Nnnnope!

Death-T is immediately followed by a series of episodic chapters that take us right back to the status quo like nothing happened. Atem keeps merrily handing out penalty games all the way up to the very end of Duelist Kingdom. When he does finally stop doing them, his decision has nothing to do with Death-T. It takes a comment from Pegasus about the Millennium Items having an “evil intelligence” to make him wonder “wait…I’m from a Millennium Item…I’m an intelligence…could evil…maybe include…torture????”

And even after the manga lukewarmly reverses its position to “torture sort of bad I guess,” it never really does anything with that revelation. None of the past penalty games are ever reexamined. No apologies are made. The Experience of Death is quietly swept under the rug, and the Mind Crush, when it’s brought up at all, is framed as noble act that “fixed” Kaiba (because “if you make someone suffer badly enough, you can hurt them into being a better person” is a great message).

Basically, we learned nothing from Death-T, nothing changed, and our takeaway is supposed to be “Atem was 100% in the right and Kaiba was 100% in the wrong, and also he’s an evil monster who deserved everything he got.”

Guess I Need A Satisfying Conclusion of Some Kind Even Through Death-T Didn’t Really Have One, Huh

Wow.

That was…a whole lot of words of Death-T rage that I apparently had in me zjkghzkkf. 

I tend to feel less justified about constantly harping on Death-T then I do when it comes to, like, the racism in Memory World, or the series’ general Miss O’Gyny. It’s not like “magical vigilantism” is exactly a real-word social issue that’s being reflected in this piece of fiction. I realize a lot of my anger pretty much boils down to “hey,, ! thats…my fave. stopp...being mean to him >:(”

But I also feel like the issues in Death-T aren’t limited to Death-T.

The manga has this…this thing where it wants to be able to pinpoint a few clear, unchanging moral rules (“cheating is bad!” “graverobbing is bad!” “patricide is bad!”) and just apply them neatly to every situation, without having to take into account any of that inconvenient stuff like “what were the circumstances of this specific situation,” or “how many choices were actually open to this person,” or “how much harm was done by this choice compared to its benefits in terms of basic human well-being.” Yet at the same time, that moral absolutism is somehow coupled with a reluctance to apply any moral judgement to its protagonists at all. 

The two points where that becomes clearest are Death-T and Memory World. And I feel like even when people acknowledge the issues with those arcs, they still want to be able to write it off as “oh, that was just a problem with the early chapters, it was fixed as the writing matured,” or “oh, that was just a problem at the end because of the mad rush to finish the story before it got canceled, it was never a thing before then.” But it’s not an isolated problem. It’s there at the beginning of the story, it’s there at the end, and it’s baked into everything in the middle.

…but anyhow. 

hey,, ! thats…my fave. stopp...being mean to him >:(

[jiminglers-blog]

Double Meaning | Pt. 2

Pairing: 2Jae

Genre: Comedy, fluff (?)

Word Count: 2,635

Description: Jaebum and Youngjae are both suffering after the incident, and they only get more surprises. 

A/N: ...The tissues lol.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 (coming soon!)

Jaebum is pretty awful at sports. He wakes up every morning resenting how terrible at sports he is. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, being a singer and all, but ever since his angel ran away and his awful sports ability rendered him helpless and unable to keep up, the fact taunted him.

“Youngjae why? Why did you run away from me? Did I not come on strong enough?! I'm sorry Youngjae! Come back to me please!” Jaebum shouted to no one in particular, maybe to the heavens, where Youngjae may be resting right now.

“Shut up!” Jaebum's roommate, Mark, yelled from the other room. Sick was the only word to use in his feeling towards Jaebum’s behavior. Mark was a quiet man, and this new found addiction of yelling Jaebum adopted in the last week was annoying at least, driving Mark to the brink of insanity at most. No matter how dead inside Mark was these past seven days, he was also lowkey pleased. Jaebum always wrote the best songs when he was depressed, and Mark used these lyrics as his music partner to create magnificent works of art that allowed the two of them to excel in the music world recently.

Jaebum pouted (chicly), and continued to yell, at Mark this time. “Let me mourn in peace dammit!”

“Mourn? He isn't dead he just ran away!”

“Our potential relationship is dead! And that is something worthy of mourning over.”

Jaebum stared out the window looking at the stars that reminded him so much of the angel the slipped through his fingers. A lone tear fell, followed by many more tears….and loud sobbing. Mark walked into the room to see what was going on.

“Why are you staring at a blank wall?” He stared, feeling disturbed at his broken friend’s mannerisms. He needed to do something.

Jaebum didn’t notice Mark poking his head through the doorway, he was blinded by his own tears. Yelling, sobbing, and...other things, were the only things Jaebum could possibly do ever since he met Youngjae. Jaebum became rather irritated at the memory of the angel. All he wanted to do was talk to him one more time, possibly learn about his magical life, perhaps share a kiss under the moonlight, perhaps continue the moment with something more of which Jaebum had only dreamed for so long-!

But no. Youngjae ran. “Beauty is forever fleeing,” Jaebum thought he heard that somewhere to justify the pain. He made it up, however, because he is not fond of remembering random quotes. “Seriously, who does that?” Anyways, Jaebum continued to sob, continued to wallow of self pity of losing the light of his life, his one true connection to a higher being. Oh, how he loved to think in similes and metaphors when he was depressed.

The deafening noise coming out of Jaebum’s mouth droned on, but Mark ignored it (to the best of his abilities) as he looked up the name of this Youngjae fellow on google. It took an accumulative time of two seconds to find him and his studio. “That idiot,” Mark thought as he printed directions to the studio. “Hopefully this works. I’m sick of his whining.” Mark walked back into Jaebum’s poor excuse of a bedroom, the floors were covered with tissues, and Mark didn’t know whether it was tears or...other forms of mourning, and he didn’t really want to ask.

“Hey Jaebum, can you go to this address and pick something up for me?”

Jaebum, who was still crying at the wall, turned to face Mark. He wiped away his tears and instantly became his normal, suave self, all signs of crying instantly gone. “How does he do that?” Mark wondered as Jaebum walked towards him in the hallway.

Jaebum cleared his throat to sound as if the love of his life didn’t just tease him with his presence and instantly run off, showing off his angelic abilities that Jaebum had no chance of competing with. “Uh, yeah sure.” He grabbed the papers nonchalantly, not caring to check the name of the place he was about to head to.

Mark waved him goodbye, smiling at the fact he could finally get some goddamn peace and quiet for once. Jaebum then went on his way, attempting to keep his suave facade. He couldn’t really do so, however, for people don’t exactly look cool when they have a paper two inches in front of their face in an attempt to read the directions. Another attempt at looking cool, not wearing glasses, was in theory a bad idea. “This place is kinda far away, what the hell does Mark need?” Jaebum looked up, noticing he arrived. “Where am I,” he pondered. Jaebum was completely lost (and blind), despite being told he was at the right place on the paper. That was until his angel saved him once again.

The directions now at his side, he was graced by a flying sheet that blew right into his face and refused to leave. “Ouch, what the fu-” He pulled the paper two inches away into his view and instantly lost his breath. It felt as if his eyes had deceived him. “Y-youngjae...is that you?” Observing the flyer for a show on Saturday, he found the beautiful smile of the one he loved so dearly... Jaebum held the flyer close to him. “It’s really you! Oh, you look better than ever! You smell great too!” Jaebum proceeded to sniff the paper, which did not smell like Youngjae at all, in fact, but he was not one to insult his angelic being. Minutes of Jaebum admiring the one he lost passed, and finally Jaebum’s grandpa-eyes noticed the name of the label that Youngjae belonged to. “It looks familiar…” Jaebum slowly shifted his eyes from the paper up to the building he was currently standing in front of. He could barely make out the words, but the blurs were indeed close enough to what the flyer said. “This couldn’t be a coincidence,” Jaebum thought as he simultaneous thanked Mark with a thumbs up to the sky. He had no choice, even Mark was an angel in disguise! An angel who truly did the god’s work.

Jaebum couldn’t stop himself from walking into the studio. It was a new beginning for him and his soulmate, and this time he wouldn’t let him run away.

Youngjae sat in his studio, dealing with his 10 o’clock stress-writing session alongside his partner. Jackson, his partner in crime, or music making, looked at him pitifully for a moment before averting his gaze, attempting to continue writing lyrics of his own. The stress-writing session was a new addition to their already busy schedule, but Jackson felt it was something he could grant his partner after he ran into the studio one day in a heaving, panting mess- and not in the mess that one would be in the bedroom as much as when you ran away from a murder scene.

Jackson thought about how Youngjae had changed ever since the incident. Youngjae refused to go into details about it (even though Jackson basically saved his life that day, Youngjae’s words, not his), but he did say that a guy with weird vibes started flirting with him to the point where he ran away. Jackson didn’t take him seriously that day. He kept asking Youngjae whether he was cute as well as making fun of him for over-reacting. But now, three songs about stalkers, not being interested and feeling unsafe later, Jackson realized that Youngjae was quite affected...and also is really good at suspenseful lyric writing. All of Jackson’s thoughts about Youngjae distracted him from writing his upbeat masterpiece, so he decided to let Youngjae stress-write by himself for a moment.

“Uh, I need to go to the lobby and get something,” Jackson said awkwardly and he stood up and stretched. Youngjae continues to scribble furiously, tongue sticking out in concentration. His silence Jackson took as acknowledgement as he stepped out the room.

Youngjae sighed in relief at Jackson’s disappearance. “Finally I can take a break! It’s been so long since I had the place to myself.” He knew Jackson would only be out for a moment, but he was going to cherish this time and chill out. Jackson refused to leave Youngjae alone, for good reason of course. Who knows what a traumatized Youngjae might attempt- although the most he  thought about was taking a trip to Japan to chill out and reside in an internet cafe for a week or something, nothing overly-dramatic, that’s not “Youngjae style.”“A week has passed already,” Youngjae thought as he too got up and stretched his body. A week was probably way too long to be dwelling on the situation at the cafe that day, but Youngjae just couldn’t shake the vivid image of Jaebum winking at him and talking in tones that shook Youngjae to the core. It was terrifying the effect Jaebum had on him. “He...just…won’t...leave...my...brain!” Youngjae hit himself repeatedly on the head, trying to forget the stalker he hated so much. He failed to realize however, that Jaebum wasn’t stalker; he hadn’t tried to find Youngjae this entire time.

He was thinking too much again. It was a new habit he developed. But he always thought of Jaebum, nothing- no one else. Maybe in the back of his mind he found Jaebum cute, maybe he felt uncomfortable for no other reason than not ever having come across an attractive person taking interest in him. Maybe- “Nope! He’s a creep! Case closed.” Youngjae looked out the window after lashing out at himself (he liked to believe he was secretly made of two completely different people that bickered all of the time), to attempt to clear his mind. Nothing cleared his mind more than people watching...until then. He spotted some usual business people in their suits, the occasional person on a bike, but then, he looked down right in front of the studio.

“Am I hallucinating?” Youngjae asked as his eyes widened to unimaginable sizes. There he was. Jaebum. The stalker (man), the myth, the legend! Youngjae’s “he’s a stalker I swear” side of him felt justified and panicked at the same time. There was another feeling mixed in there as well, but it was shadowed mostly by the panic. “Stay calm, stay calm,” Youngjae took deep breaths as he kept his gaze on the well dressed man standing in front of the building. He wasn’t moving at all, and he kept a white piece a paper glued to his face. Youngjae couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous he looked. Suddenly Jaebum took the piece of paper away from his face and looked up at the building. Youngjae gasped. “Does he know I’m here?!” More panic flooded through him. If there was ever too much of something in Youngjae’s life, it was panic right now. It affected him in weird ways. Hallucinations, maybe?

Youngjae never took his sight off of Jaebum as Jaebum looked back down and scanned what looked to be the street in front of him. Something told Youngjae that Jaebum looked confused. He noticed how Jaebum’s head whipped from side to side as if he didn’t know where he was. But soon enough he was back to being still, the only thing moving was his jacket waving in the wind. That same wind blew a bright sheet of paper right into Jaebum’s face. Youngjae would’ve laughed, but this was no laughing matter. Those bright colors could only be from one flyer: his. He prayed that the flyer would keep flying away, away from Jaebum’s reach, but unfortunately Jaebum grabbed the paper and looked at it manically for what seemed to be minutes.

Youngjae already knew that Jaebum was a weird dude, but what he saw only proved to him more that he indeed was insane as well. It started with that smile, that peculiar smile. The smile that only the devil, and some rude ten year olds in his apartment complex, could reproduce. Then the smile began to move, and Jaebum began talking. This would have been normal had there been someone there to talk with him, but the people Youngjae saw moments ago were nowhere in sight. Jaebum could only be talking to the Youngjae on the flyer (Jackson was also on the flyer, but Jaebum would never look at Jackson, Youngjae was sure). Youngjae continued to stare, now with a trouble looked on his features. He kept moving his mouth a few more seconds before he began to sniff the flyer. He really just sniffed it! Youngjae started feeling lightheaded, but he needed to see Jaebum go, he needed to know that this was all a coincidence and Jaebum was about to leave any minute now. What a mistake that was.

Vision going in and out of focus, Youngjae was determined to keep watching this strange event. Jaebum’s shoulders dropped, telling Youngjae that he exhaled the smell of the flyer. “This has to be it! Please go away I beg of you!” Jaebum was not done. Just as Youngjae had his tongue out before, Jaebum poked his pink little tip of his tongue out as well. Then unsurprisingly he released his entire tongue and placed it on the flyer, staying still for a moment before swiping it along the entirety of the flyer. Youngjae fell to the floor. Eyes shut, he let the silence consume him for a second before his obnoxiously loud thoughts came back. It was a moment of peace, but racing thoughts caught up to him and he curled into a ball.

“Why is he here? What does he want from me? He must’ve known I was here, there’s no other explanation! Who licks a flyer? Maybe I’m seeing things?” Too many questions at once and Youngjae couldn’t take it. And as if on queue his cell phone began to ring. Youngjae was so messed up at the moment that everything seemed like a horror movie. He got up from the ball he was curled up in and reached for his phone. It was Jackson.

“Hello?” Youngjae asked, feeling dizzy still.

“Hey come down, we have a visitor.”

Youngjae didn’t like the sound of Jackson’s voice in that moment. It felt like Jackson was in association with the murderer and Youngjae was the unsuspecting target. He knew there was only one person that visitor could be- the murderer (Youngjae began to convince himself Jaebum was a legitimate murderer now as well).

“Do I have to?” Youngjae tried his best to sound as if he didn’t just have a mini-mental breakdown.

“Y-yes of course! It’s someone you’ve been wanting to meet for forever!” Jackson sounded excited and Youngjae began to feel slightly normal again. “Someone I’ve been wanting to meet? So it’s not...Jaebum?”

“Fine, give me a minute.” Racing down the stairs, Youngjae needed to meet this person. He needed to get away from the trauma of the events of a few minutes ago. He needed a distraction.

Just a few more steps until he’s at the lobby and he can already see Jackson’s silhouette. Inching closer and closer until Jackson hears him and turns around, Youngjae freezes and mentally curses himself for thinking it could be anyone else.

Jackson smiles a huge smile and cheerfully introduces him.

He smiles and it takes a lot of might for Youngjae not to dissolve at this very moment. He wants to leave, but he’s in too deep. It’s gone too far.

“Hi, Youngjae.”

As if his life couldn’t get any worse.

“Hello, Jaebum.”

It seems as though this time, Youngjae won’t be able to run away...but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

[imagining-supernatural]

Avenging Angel: Part 9

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 1591

Warnings: None

A/N: Guys, I am so exhausted today. We got so much snow over the last few days that it took my roommate and I two hours, a trip to three stores to find a shovel, a snowplow, and her mechanic grandpa to dig our cars out of the snow. We were both late for work and we were both icicles. But hey! Now I have a better idea of how cold the reader was in the beginning!!

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6 -- Part 7 -- Part 8

Quentin walked in and you tossed the rag you were using to wipe down tables at Kallista. "Taking my fifteen."

After grabbing the order that Quentin had texted you a few minutes ago, you led him to a booth. It had been a month since you started working here, and despite your agenda, Quentin and you had actually become friends.

"I went on a date last night," you started while he took a bite of his sandwich.

"Oh yeah? How'd it go?"

"He didn't even know who Cyndi Lauper is. How can I be friends with someone, much less say yes to a second date if they don't know that girls just want to have fun?"

"You're telling me that his mother has never asked when he's gonna live his life right?"

"And he told me that his dad has never asked him what he's gonna do with his life. Unbelievable, right?"

"But you know that we're not the fortunate ones, and that daddy dear is still number one, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Duh," you glanced away just the right way to get Quentin to dig. You hated playing games with him like this. He was a good guy and a great friend. But you still needed info from him. After all, Daddy Dear was still number one in your life.

"What was that about?" He asked, setting his sandwich down.

"What was what about?"

"You did a thing just then." He made a vague hand motion in you general direction.

"It's just... my dad. He's in jail for a crime he didn't commit and I can't seem to do a damn thing to get him out."

The skin between Quentin's eyebrows creased in concern. "That's rough. I'm sorry."

You pretended to get so into your emotions that he would think you didn't realize that you were oversharing. "It's just... I lived with him my whole life. You think I would be the best person to know if he was capable of something like that."

"Something like what?"

You connected eyes with him and blinked a few times as if coming to your senses. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was-"

"Hey," he reached for one of your hands. "Whatever people think he did, I promise I won't think less of you."

"Even if I tell you people think he killed fourteen people in one night?"

Quentin stiffened, obviously putting the pieces together and figuring out who you really were. But you pretended to take his reaction a different way and pulled away. "See? Even you can't help but think that I'm the daughter of a killer."

As if offended, you stood and took a step away. But Quentin's hand in your arm pulled you to a stop. "Your father is Kemuny Y/L/N?"

"You—you know him?"

"Yeah. I actually worked with him a few years ago. Well, my firm did and I was kind of like a liaison." Quentin looked at you in a new light. “I forgot he had a daughter at MIT. What happened?”

“MIT was great. But there was the trial and everything and I don’t know… Life.”

Quentin motioned at the side of the booth you had just been sitting on, and you sat down again. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw the news.”

“Yeah, imagine getting that phone call.”

“I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but I really don’t believe that he’s actually guilty.”

*****

*****

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Sam said from the front seat.

“Then you can let me out at the next bus station and I’ll do it alone.” Neither Winchester said anything to that, but you knew that it wasn’t an option to them. They seemed pretty set on sticking around to help you. “Look, I’ve become level-eleven paranoid lately. If I thought there was even a chance that the Covingtons could be keeping an eye on where we’re going, then I wouldn’t go. But this is my secret. No one else knows.”

“And you’re just going to bring us right to your secret hideout?”

You pulled the oversized hoodie closer around you and looked out the window in the backseat. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda learning that you two are breaking all of my rules about trust.”

“What if there was some way the Covingtons could download all of your memories? Then they would know about this place and what is in it.”

Your head snapped toward Sam. Downloading memories as Sam put it, was some of your father’s research that he’d hidden away in his storage unit. Why would Sam know about it, much less be bringing it up now? “You… you believe in that sci-fi stuff?”

Sam glanced at Dean for a moment before twisting around in his seat to look at you. “You sound shocked.”

“Yeah, and like you know something,” Dean added.

While you contemplated how best to answer that, you arranged your face into a stony expression and kept your eyes on Sam’s. You trusted these men, despite knowing them for just over a week. But you couldn’t trust them with everything quite yet. They still owed you some answers.

“On your laptop you have this icon,” you spoke in carefully measured words. “The unicursal hexagram. What is it to you?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Uni-what?”

“Wait, are you talking about the Men of Letters symbol?” Sam asked.

“That thing has a name?” Dean asked.

“Men of Letters?” You took a moment to flip through your mental filing cabinet for anything on the Men of Letters, but came up short. “Who are the Men of Letters?”

“What did you think it was?” Sam shot back. From the way both Winchesters had squared their shoulders, you could tell this was a touchy subject for them.

“No idea. I saw it a few times and looked it up, but got nowhere. Who are the Men of Letters?”

“Long story.” Sam turned back to face forward.

You sighed. The three of you were professional secret-keepers, which was great for going through life alone. But if the Winchesters expected you to tell them about your personal mission, then they had to give you something too.

So you unbuckled, slid to the middle of the seat, and leaned forward so your head was between theirs. “Cards out, boys. Men of Letters, memory downloads, and I heard you whispering about eye flares and shifters a few days ago. What the hell is going on? Don’t try that long story crap with me. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that some of my dad’s research had to do with memories, and another set of research talked about eye flares a lot. Those were the ones that I saw the hexagram doodled in the margins of his notes.” You caught Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror for a moment then turned and locked eyes with Sam as well so that both of them would be able to see the truth. “If you know something, I deserve to know.”

Sam sighed in defeat. “You’re not gonna believe us.”

“Or what you have to say will clear up a lot of confusion in my life.”

“Fine. We think that the you that Braxton proposed to is a shifter. As in shapeshifter.”

Shapeshifter. The nagging thought that had been dancing at the corner of your mind for the last few months finally had a name. “Alright. Evidence?”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow and turned his torso to face you. “Just like that, you believe me?”

“I’m keeping an open mind. Why do you think it’s a shapeshifter?”

“Uh, well shifters get this eye flare when caught on camera. In the videos of the press conferences, I thought I saw a small eye flare from you.” He gave you a moment to take that in before continuing. “But the other thing about shifters is that they become the person they shift into. They get all of that person’s memories. That’s why I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go to your secret place.”

“My dad inoculated me against that. It was one of his bigger projects and I saw in my notes that he injected me with a serum that supposedly protected your memories against any invasion when I was four. I didn’t understand any of that project until now, though. That’s how I know this place really is safe.” You pushed down the feeling of overwhelming insanity and forced yourself to focus and accept everything right now. “He also worked on these contacts that controlled how light reflected off the eyes of whoever was wearing them. That’s the eye flare project. What else should I know about shifters?”

“They can only be killed by silver.”

“Killed?” That had you sitting back in the seat. When had your life gotten to the point that death became a normal part of the conversation? Where someone would leave you for dead? “Alright. Silver kills them. There were a few tests and notes about silver throughout his research.”

“Maybe we should take a break and let you—“

“No! I don’t need time to think about this all. I need to know it all. Shapeshifters are real. Okay. I accept that. Moving on. What do I need to know about them?”

You grew up with the scientific method and you had shaped yourself with the structure of computer coding. As long as there was a shred of logic, you could keep going.

And you needed to keep going.

Part 10 of Avenging Angel

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