#but the way I’ve seen a lot of people respond to this fuckin disgusts me

[impossiblepackage]

pretty fuckin pathetic if your game plan was just to win every election forever and failing that, roll over and die. What happened to “hah I’m illegal in several countries” or “be gay do crimes” or “queer as in fuck you” or “stonewall was a riot” or whatever the fuck? What is wrong with you people?

Gonna be fr grown adult queers should know better than to engage in crazy fear mongering telling other people it’s over and we’re all gonna be sent to camps and lose our rights and be criminalized and whatever like hey how about don’t tell a group of people with unbelievably high suicide rates that there’s no hope and life is over

[akysio]

Pet Names

Pairings: Professor!Zeke x Student!Reader Warnings: Implied smut, language, 18+ minors DNI! A/N: Teacher/Student relationship pls don’t read if this sort of stuff makes you uncomfortable!!!! Female pronouns are used in this too

Mr. Yeager (or just Zeke, as he’s not particularly fond of formalities) beckoned you into his class with those perfectly slender fingers of his. His hands that looked baby soft, you’d think they were calloused, veiny. But no, he maintained his perfect, piano-playing fingers for occasions like this; occasions where he gestures his students to his classroom where he’d reprimand them to hell. Not just any students, just the pretty ones.

You were bricking it. He was an exuberant, witty teacher; notable for infrequently losing his temper- but when he did, there’s nothing more terrifying than anticipating a scolding from him. He transforms from a charismatic, positive law professor to a sour, cold and ruthless individual who’s no stranger to humiliating his least favorite students in the class.

“Sir?” You entreat, shuffling into his personal office. Trophies and awards litter the shelves, books are scattered over his desk and set perfectly on the possibly largest private bookshelf you’ve ever seen. The walls are a warm gray brick, and he has a god damn, richly coloured couch in his office. Who the hell needs a couch in their office? And that’s when you remember you’re attending the most pretentious school in Marley and Paradis put together.

You’re just about to observe the fireplace, but you’re interrupted by a smack on the desk, but those perfectly sculpted fingers weren’t the source. It was a giant pile of folders, books, papers, all that jazz that made you cringe at the thought of organising them.

“Oh good, you’re here.” He rolls the sleeves of his pristine, expensive, white shirt up to his forearms. Without his blazer on, you can see the silhouette of his very muscular arms, and presumably a muscular back. “I suppose I’ll get straight to the point.”

He waits for you to nod in acknowledgement, and you hesitantly do so. You know what he’s going to say... You can tell by his tone and movements, how he’s not as playful as he usually is.

“You’re aware that you’re failing my class, right?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, he knows the answer to that; no. “Yeah, is this a class a joke to you?” His attitude is far too calm for your liking, and you wonder if you’re gonna leave this classroom with a burst eardrum and a black eye. “You’re the only student in my class... that isn’t taking this seriously. Now be my guest to tell me what the fuck is going on, where did we lose the communication?” He’s now leaning on his desk, arms tensing and jawline prominent as he looks up at you.

You can’t help but uncomfortably fidget with your fingers, looking around the room as you think of an excuse to leave this already awkward situation.

“Eyes front,” he speaks up once more, the more he talks the more you find yourself getting pissed off. “I’m the best professor in this college, and you still slack off in my fucking lessons. You know why I’m the best? Because I work hard, I get shit done, I don’t go backwards- I go forwards. People listen to me, work for me and put efforts in my lessons or else- well, or else they’ll end up like you.” You decide to let him lecture you before you speak up, but the more he talks the more he ticks you off and you find it harder to keep yourself together. “Failing, and falling far, far behind. So, what are you gonna do now?” He says in a tauntingly slow manner, he’s trying to get a reaction- you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him a piece of your mind, but you don’t know how long you can hold it in. “Don’t have many options, huh? But I’ve got some, I’ve got a lot. One of them being: I fail you right here, right now. Because sweetheart, the way you act in my lectures shows me that you got no fuckin’ intentions of passing this class. So how about that, huh? I give you the big, fat F? Because I’m done with giving a damn about you-”

“Not my fault that you’re class is the most painstakingly slow, boring atmosphere I’ve ever been in.”

It slipped out, finally.

Instead of reprimanding you some more, he laughs. The motherfucker just laughs, straight in your face. “So you have got a mouth on you, huh? God damn, I thought the other teachers were just fucking with me. I didn’t believe them when they said my fuckin’ favorite girl was running their mouth in their classes.”

“So, you bought me in here to intimidate me, get a reaction out of me and laugh in my face?” You say hotly, expression molded with disgust.

“Not exactly, you’re still failing my class.”

“I don’t give a-” you’re about to give him a piece of your mind, but he swiftly cuts you off.

“Eyes... front.” He berates through gritted teeth, “good girl. Now, sweetheart-”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off, “you won’t get around me with pet names.” You hiss, riding over his charm- as usual. He lifts off from the desk, walking infront of you.

“I can get around you any way I want.” He was approaching abnormally close to you now, too close, too beautiful. Say something, say something, say something! His eyes scanned you from your feet to your face, briefly stopping at your lips for a second. And then, to top it all off; his fingers trace your jawline, up to your chin. He abruptly tilts your face up; those infamous, ocean blue eyes baring into your own. “Cat got your tongue?” He lets out breathy chuckle when you shake your head, desperately trying not to make a wrong move. “Good, because now you’re gonna tell me how you’re gonna get out of failing this class. Because sweetheart-”

It was infuriating how he could get his own way so easily, how he could taunt you without getting a slap because he’s your superior. You glare up to his eyes, to his lips, and back up to his eyes; before you know it, his lips are on yours.

He expected hesitation, but there was none. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck and his hands persistently roam your thighs, your waist, your behind. The penalizing force of his lips over yours, the punishing scratch of his beard on your face. He’s edging you to his desk when you hear a sound outside. Your fight or flight kicks in, and instantly you try to escape out of the room, but his grip on your waist is far too strong.

“What?” He asks, like the cocky bastard he is.

“We can’t do this- what, what if someone finds out?” If you weren’t so shaken up, drunk on his kiss then you would have chastised yourself for sounding so stereotypical and predictable.

He looked confused. “You can’t ignore what’s going on with us. Let me take what I want...” An attempt of persuasion. It wouldn’t have worked; but his hot breath on your neck, the tantalizingly seductive last words had you at ‘let me’, because realistically you’re like putty in his hands and you’d let Zeke do anything to you.

“What is it that you want?” You dared to ask.

“I want you to pass my class.” Oh, disappointment.

He’s waiting for you to react again, but you’re struck dumb. He thinks he’s slick with his words, but his expressions give away his thought patterns- as egocentric as a child. From the small smirk that he struggles to hide, you know he has something up his sleeve.

“But the only way you can do that is by getting on your fucking knees for me.”

Your gaze finds his, and you can only think about how you want his lips on yours again. He quickly leans back as you lean in, “ah ah ah. Only thing you should be kissing is in my pants.” Oh, he was serious. “You look lost. Here, I’ll give you a clue: it’s big and hard and is begging to be sucked.”

He practically pushes you down to the ground, sliding his fingers into your hair. “It’s all yours, baby.” He growls with a mischevious grin, nodding when you slowly slip his belt open.

And that’s how your affair with your law professor started.

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

I’m So Baked (says the pie)

A/N: So I’ve been paying more attention to Topazi (mentally) and I realize that I need more shenanigans between her and Klaus..so here we are.

Warnings: some suggestive material

Tag List:  @joz-stankovich, @misskittysmagicportal, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @ghouls-buddy, @maerenee930, @frogs–are–bitches, @neuroticpuppy, @forenschik, @bisexualnathanyoung, @robert-sheehan, @firstpersonnarrator, @salvador-daley, @lokis-rock-n-roll-chick

“Klaus, what happened to your hand?!” Topazi asked, as her partner walked in, his hand held far away from his body, almost as if it had offended him greatly.

“I was trying to get inside of the house and the patio door shut on my hand. We need to get that fixed at some point.” he said, putting a generous amount of dish soap on his “Hello” hand before putting it under the tap.

“I’ll put it on my list to get to. Do you know when Allison and Claire are supposed to be coming over. I need to make sure I have time to get the flowers done beforehand. And I need to make sure there’s no extra snails in them, like I’ve let slide recently.” she added, getting her tools gathered on the floor of the living room.

“Uh, I think she said around regular dinnertime, 6-7ish.” Klaus replied, and Topazi let out a sigh of relief. That’s plenty of time to construct and reconstruct her design.

  It was a simple bouquet, really. Allison hadn’t asked for a specific type of flowers, but she wanted to get a specific message across. Maternal love and affection. Claire had been through quite a lot, and she wanted to be sure that her kid knew that she loved her very much. Material objects only do so much as well, so Allison planned to write a letter, and just generally try to spend more time with her kid, and be there for her more.

“That’s valid.” T remembered saying, as she picked a few cinquefoils, as well as a few carnations from her collection, looking back at her sketch.

  It reminded her in pieces of a sunflower, actually, how it looked. There wasn’t a darkness in the center, but she chose yellow cinquefoils, and yellow carnations, with regular greenery on the outside, so she’d need to change something up a little. She worked away for some time, and made multiples of the same bouquet, trying different combinations of the flowers.

  In the kitchen, Klaus was looking at a recipe book. He wanted to make Allison one of her favorite desserts, a key-lime pie. He was sure that there were limes somewhere in the house (or if the neighbors have some). There had been multiple occasions where he wished to make a specific dish and lacked a few ingredients. Topazi had mentioned, in passing, of her wishes of having a fruit orchard. That would help with the fruit issue, lest Klaus decide to become a full-time baker. It may not be a huge one, but she wanted to provide for herself. Plus, who doesn’t want to take care of plants?

“Now where is the microblade?” he asked himself as he rumbled through the cabinets, trying to make sure he didn’t let anything drop too loudly.

“I don’t even know if we have one.” Topazi replied, eyes focused on trying to properly tie a ribbon on one of her bouquets.

“Ah, here it is!” Klaus exclaimed, extracting the microblade from between the cheese grater and a plate.

   He finally went into the fridge after a few more minutes of glancing over the ingredient page, and withdrew a few limes from the bottom drawers. Soon enough, Klaus began working on the crust, and took some of his anger out (mostly at the sliding door) pounding the graham crackers to crumbs. A small part of him wanted to taste said crumbs, but then he remembered that it was for his sister, not him. (although her giving him a slice isn’t completely out of the question) He pressed the crumbs into the side of the pie plate, making sure to press from the bottom, going up. He put it in the oven, took note of the time, and got started on the filling.

“T, why do you like flowers so much?” Klaus asked, zesting a lime. He knew the obvious answer, “They’re pretty, and a lot of people like them.” However, he wanted to hear his partner talk, as the sound of the cicadas outside were beginning to annoy him.

“I like them because what’s not to like about them? In a sense. They’re pretty, and were historically used as a means to communicate, when people thought it rude and insensitive to discuss such things in public. Everything about them is made so carefully, down to how they look microscopically. Even though plants themselves aren’t sentient, they still live, and have their own systems to maintain, and how they work. If one was to extract a piece of DNA from a sunflower, specifically one that gives it its color, our perception would be completely different of it.” she stops for a moment to collect her thoughts.

“It’s also how people work, too. I like flowers because they’re easy to maintain, if you know what you’re doing, and don’t forget they exist, or run out of energy. And they’re so nice to look at. You’ve seen me stop in parks to just admire how flowers are placed in the mulch, or soil. They planters may have had the littlest idea of how I would view them, even down to what order they put them in, but they’re there. I find it so worth it to just pause for a moment, and to think, and indulge in the true meaning of something, even if it wasn’t meant to be. That’s why I like flowers. It’s completely fine to just see the surface when someone gets you flowers “Ah, they got me something pretty, and thought of me to give me this. It’s a meaningful gift.” But I want to pick apart every part of it. Because there’s so much more to so many things than what you see.” she responds, and jumps when she looks up to see Klaus leaning over the kitchen island, his face in his hands.

  His hands have small bits of pulp on them, and the “Kiss the Cook” apron that he wears has abstract juice drippage on it.

“I fuckin’ love you T.” Klaus whispers, and bends over to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, and he feels her smile into it. Her hands carefully come to wrap around his neck, making sure not to get any of the stem juice in his hair.

“Love you too.” she whispers back, pulling away “Your crust smells just a smidge burnt (pronounced buent), by the way.” she says, picking up her phone to refresh her memory of other flower requests. A small look of panic passes across his face before he pushes himself off of the counter, practically ripping the oven door off to check on his crust.

  It, fortunately enough, wasn’t too terribly damaged. It wasn’t too crisp, or burnt. He set it on the stove to rest for a moment, and he grabbed the yogurt from the fridge, and sweetened condensed milk from the pantry. He poured the juice, zest, yogurt, and sweetened condensed milk into a bowl, and whisked to combine.

“I never thought I would be so turned on by a man cooking, and the pie isn’t even for me.” T admitted, looking at the way Klaus’ arms flexed while he continued to mix the ingredients together.

“Oh, is that right. I’ll be cooking a lot more then, if your response is openly admitting your horniness to my non-conformity to gender roles.” he said casually, blowing a stray hair out of his face.

 Topazi looked up, and stared Klaus straight in the face, and put a finger up, opening her mouth, only to close it, and put her finger down.

“I’m not sharing my thoughts with a malewife like you.” she uttered, shaking her head in mock disgust.

“And this malewife puts it down every evening for you, willingly that is, and this is how I’m treated, ugh, the gumption.” he mutters, putting a hand to his chest, feigning disgust.

  Topazi and Klaus look at each other once more before breaking out in laughter, urging Minnie, who was sitting on the floor, to wake up from her nap. Klaus snorted, hand gripping the counter. Topazi had to put her head down to prevent any excess spittle from getting on her flowers. Once they caught their collective breaths, Klaus poured the filling into the crust, and put it into the oven to bake. He washed the dishes that he had, and dried the bowl, due to needing it for the topping.

“Okay, good, I just need to write these cards, then I’ll be done with this.” T said, grabbing them, and grabbed a permanent marker.

“These look really good T!” Klaus exclaimed, his eyes shining with glee.

“Thank you love.” she said, dragging a hand across her face. She stood up to stretch, and her back cracked loudly, mildly surprising her. She walked over to Klaus and wrapped her hands around his waist, her head resting on his back.

“Every time you put your arms around my waist like that, I swear I gain 10 more years of life.” he said, wiping his hands on his apron. She felt the vibrations of his speech on her face, and she took a deep breath before responding.

“I wonder what happens when I hug you then.” T said, walking away to put the flowers in their designated “T’s flowers, do not touch nor smell.” place in the fridge.

“I’m so smart, I know.” he retorted, pouring the heavy cream into a bowl, along with a few tablespoons of confectioners’ sugar. T jumped at the sound, and shook it off. 

  She had mentally took note of the time Klaus put the pie in, and took an oven mitt off of the hook, (patterned with tiny cookies on it) The top looked set enough, and she set it to rest on the counter. She turned the oven off, and watched as Klaus finished whipping the topping, holding it upside down to check if it was ready. It didn’t fall on his head, so he put plastic wrap over it, and looked outside for a short moment, looking up the tree in the front yard. 

  He took a breath, and thought for a second. Maybe a bit too long. His mind fluttered back to what it took for him to be where he was. How much it physically took out of him, his siblings, hell, even the timeline for him to be able to have a peaceful life (for the most part) and a loving partner. A tear slipped down his face, and he thought of how silent the ghost had been recently. He still had his powers, but the ghosts seemed to respect his current want for peace. And he loved that. He would float around the house if his feet were tired, and sometimes even do a side gig of being a medium if he felt inclined to. However, something about knowing that he couldn’t physically see Ben anymore, (his Ben, he thought, now with his newest collection of siblings, with a limited edition Sparrow Ben). He still even missed the cult, even with its downsides. He never got the right type of parental love, or familial love. At times, he doubted his siblings’ love for him, even though they’d made it pretty obvious that they’d be there for him, lest he need it.

  “Hey, Klaus, the- are you alright?” Topazi asks. She had been calling a few clients back from her home office, telling them that their bouquets had been completed. She got a random craving for cookies, and planned to go to the kitchen to make them, but she found Klaus in tears, hand covering his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed her there.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I was just thinking too much.” he explained, letting her wipe the tears from his face.

“You sure?” she asked, and he nodded before taking a deep breath, and releasing it. “I was just coming in here to A. make some cookies, and B. tell you that the pie is good and cooled, and it’s time for it to be topped.” she said, rubbing his back gently.

“Okay. Thank you T.” he responded, gathering the willpower to put the whipped cream on the pie, and adding small lime slices and spare zest on top. He smiled at the completed job, and put it in the fridge to finish chilling.

“Go take a nap darling. You’ve been on your feet for a while, and you look tired. I’ll let you know when Allison is here. Or at least 5 minutes before.” she whispered, kissing Klaus’ cheek. She looked at him for a moment more, and cupped his cheek with her hand. The light scruff that covered the bottom of his chin tickled her hand, and she had the urge to scratch her palm. She however, resisted said urge, and took her hand away. Klaus smiled at her once more, and trotted up the stairs, with Minnie in tow behind him. Topazi went back to the kitchen and gathered her ingredients. She spun some vinyl as background music, and got to work on her cookies.

  A couple hours pass, and Topazi is drying the last cookie sheet she used for her cookies, putting it back in its rightful spot. She stretched again, and checked her phone, seeing that Allison had texted her a few seconds go, saying that she was on the way, which gave her about 30 minutes to get Klaus awake. She headed up the stairs, and ended their bedroom, where Klaus was sprawled across the sheets Minnie resting on his pillow. T gently shook him awake with one hand, and giving chin scratches to Minnie with the other.

“Come on, it’s time to get up Klausie.” she mutters, watching as her partner came to slowly, more of his hair having escaped from its confinements.

“Hmmm, I’ll be more up in a bit. You smell good, hon.” he whispered, rubbing his eyes.

 The sun was shining in his face, and although it may have been mildly uncomfortable to wake up to, he looked absolutely stunning in it. His hair seemed to glow, and his skin, albeit a little pale, seemed to reflect every bit of sun that hit it. His eyes though, seemed to be pools of emerald and gold. Topazi admired him from afar, and she ignored the strong urge to climb into bed with him and bask in the sunlight together.

“You’re staring love.” Klaus says, leaning on his arm in bed, petting Minnie, who was beginning to wake up as well. She meowed gently, and purred at his touch.

“Oh, hush. Like you haven’t stared at me in the sun before.”

“.....You got me there.”

“Yeah, mhm.” Topazi said, jokingly side-eyeing Klaus.

“Come here mama.” Klaus teases, pulling T’s arm towards him. She falls into Klaus’ arms, her head resting right below his. He bends down and kisses her lips, breaking away, before Topazi reciprocates the gesture, taking a small handful of Klaus’ hair in her fingers. Klaus smiles, and chuckles, letting his mouth fall to her neck. He nuzzles into it, and they sit there for several minutes, before coming to a realization.

“Oh shit, I forgot that Allison and Claire are coming over.” T said. “I’ve got to get the cookies in the jar...and I need to fix the bed too.”

“Ah, calm down. It’s fine. She’s not going to come up here and see where we engage in sinful activities, is she? No. However, I would love to join you in the cookie jarring.” Klaus mutters, smiling at her.

“Fine, you can help. But so help me god if I find even a crumb on the freshly swept floor.” Topazi said, closing the bedroom door behind her.

  T worked quickly to get the cookies together, and Klaus took a very short shower, as he knew that it would help wake him up, and he could go back to bed without having to worry about showering again. The doorbell sounded, and Topazi almost slipped trying to get to the door. She checked herself in the mirror once more before letting her niece and sister in law into the house.

“Hey Allison! And little miss Claire.” Topazi said, giving the respective people their own hugs.

“How’ve you been T?” Allison asked as she was welcomed in, shoes taken off at the door. She was also carrying a dish of some sort, covered in Aluminum Foil.

“I’ve been good. The business has been going well, and I’m thinking of making an orchard.” T replies, leading them both to the living room. “Let me get that for you.”

“That’s good. Claire’s been begging me to let her go visit the shop, but it’s always been at a bad time. Oh, thank you! I brought dinner as a bit of a treat.”

“It’s much appreciated. I like seeing you both, and having you two visit would never be a hassle.” she replies, petting JJ, the other cat, who just so happened to be waiting for attention.

“IS THAT MY SISTER AND MY FAVORITE NIECE?” Klaus yelled from the top of the stairs, quickly running down them to give his sibling a hug.

“Uncle Klaus!” Claire exclaimed, giving said uncle a very big hug around his middle, only to be picked up.

“How’ve you been, Allison, smaller Allison?” he asked, setting his niece back on the couch before taking the place next to his partner.

“We’ve been good.” Allison says. “We’ve been doing really good.” 

  The four of them sit and converse for a while, and eventually dinnertime comes around, signaled by Klaus’ stomach growling loudly. Allison had brought a very large amount of lasagna, and Topazi immediately dug in, which shocked Klaus, but he’d bring the cause up at a later time. Claire did, however, get a pre-dinner cookie (Topazi’s request because “That’s how you teach kids that good things come to people who deserve them.”)

“So, I do so happen to have a bit of a surprise for the both of you.” Klaus says, standing up and opening the fridge.

“Ooh, what is it?” Allison asks excitedly, and Claire matches her mother’s expression.

  Klaus pulls out the pie, and T moves to gently give Claire her bouquet, asking her to hold it a specific way as to not jostle the flowers, or change the position of the ribbon.

“That’s so pretty, T! Oh my gosh, I need to ask you to make more things for me, I swear I’ll pay you in whatever you want.” Allison exclaims, looking at the bouquet, leaning forward to smell some of the flowers.

“Thank you! The meanings of the flowers, and ribbon placement are on the card. Also your brother made a whole pie...by himself......we need to eat it before he does.” she teases, sticking a pointed thumb back at her partner, who already had a knife out to cut said pie.

“Klaus, it’s my favorite! Thank you so much.” Allison says, taking another bite of the pie.

“This is really good Uncle Klaus.” Claire states, looking across the island at him.

“Why danke. It was made with love. Both the pie and the bouquet, actually.” he said, kissing T on the cheek. She smiled against him, and took a piece of the pie for herself, trying to resist eating the rest of the pie it all of its entirety.

  The night came to an end, and Allison and Claire said their respective goodbyes, and drove off. T and Klaus lay in bed that night, with a book and knitting needles in hand, respectively. Klaus feels a weight against his shoulder, and Topazi had fallen asleep, small breaths escaping her lips. He put a marker in her book, and took note of note of where he stopped in his stitches. It took him some more time to get to sleep that night, probably due to his earlier nap, but he got to sleep, so peacefully. Something he’d wished for many a day, and now it seemed that he was finally getting it answered.

Masterlist

Key Lime Pie

[floralkittygambler]

HuskerDust - More Toxic Than You Think [LONG]

This is the rough version of a deeper and more complex subject I want to ‘decorate’ with more ‘screencaps’.  DISCLAIMER: This is allegedly controversial and led to me getting literal death threats and an ED triggered. Ive about heard a lot of people’s shit on this so dont try it. I’m speaking from personal experiences too - experiences I really fuckin dont wanna be sharin yet they kinda validate my points. I want people to be aware of the damaging image from someone who can speak from experience without attracting dickheads or people twisting things. Again, I aint particularly comfortable sharing this so yeah- Be courteous- TW AHEAD - ALSO LONG ASS READ. DNI STANS OR ANTIS. May tag a few folks, may not.  HuskerDust is an extremely popular ship in the community however there’s glaringly obvious flaws in this one-sided relationship that both the fans and even the team fail to see. Neglecting the dangerous real world implications this ship [as well as many others] present to it’s audience - especially the more influenced of the audience, most who are children.

Angel flirts with all the male cast however one who catches his eye the most is Husk. Now I want to point out a few things [of many... obviously]; Angel is instantly starry eyed upon seeing Husk, likewise he actually started off with a ‘Hey~’ instead of something sexual. However he quickly ruins this after Husk tells him to go fuck himself [defined by: “ go fuck yourselfphrase of fuckVULGAR SLANGan exclamation expressing anger or contempt for, or rejection of, someone.” ie, he rejected instantly] by responding with an offer to allow Husk to essentially watch him masterbate. Alongside this, he cradles his face. Husk pulls away and seems to pull a face to express rage/disgust or growling imagery alongside COMPLETELY withdrawing his body away from Angel as Angel stares with goo-goo eyes. Firstly, Angel loves animals - perhaps it’s Husk appearing cute that adds to this, however Im not going to address animal imagery just yet. Secondly, Angel isn’t really portrayed to respect other’s boundaries BUT he does respect... Alastor’s. Al declines the blowjob to which Angel shrugs and doesn’t push this matter any further. With Husk, he’s pretty harshly told to piss off yet he makes quite and explicitly sexual remark, alongside invading his personal space and touching a man clearly disinterested and pulling away. From the initial rejection, it then becomes sexual harassment.  I also want to add that Husk comes with [some] perks in his feline form. And if my name didnt make it obvious, I work with and live with cats on a daily. Briefly, I have been educated in how to understand cat’s language in various individual cat as well as how to handle and work with them. Cats are often drawn towards me and Ive been successful with various types of cats. My most recent being a cat I’ve dubbed as Big - Big was abandoned quite young and has lived most his life on the streets [where I live is high in crime and drug rings, so you can imagine how strays are treated] leading to him being extremely fearful and hating people, hissing and fleeing just seeing people. I took time out last summer to finally give befriending him a shot. It’s taken just under a year of hard work and now he visits every day for his mush [wet food] and kisses, responds to his name and runs up to me in delight. Ive even taught him a phrase to signal that I dont want him or the other cat’s to fight [keeps them all safe and aids them becoming acquainted under supervision - something that’s been working surprisingly well]. I apologise in advance as this is not going to be the first instance of this sort of thing but they are relevant. Trying my best to keep it as brief.  For Husk, I will be using a mix of cat and human characteristics to break down his reactions.  In this first interaction, he turns his body away in a way to suggest caution, wariness and disinterest. In fact, much of his general body language is that of a man deeply closed off from connections - for starters, he folds his arms quick a bit which suggests lack of openness, shutting off and defensiveness *usually*. Likewise, when touched, he slightly jumps and tenses before pulling back in aggression with flattered ears - a sign cats give to display extreme hostility in a situation. It’s NEVER a good thing but then again, neither is crossing someone’s boundaries. It’s even stated that Husk hates Angel’s advances and wishes for nothing to do with him - the same dislike of sexual advances that Al dislikes in Angel. The ending as they all walk inside, Angel turns to Husk, winking and blowing a kiss his way despite the clear rejection earlier. In fact, Husk once again grows tense and is even irked by such a gesture. This won’t be the last mention of Angel totally disregarding how Husk feels - something that rubs off onto the fans AND the team themselves. And it’s... *concerning*, to phrase it lightly. Angel so far is the most persistent towards the most resistant, and in my post on RadioDust I have already established [briefly] on how Angel seems to chase unavailable men. The more unavailable, the more tempting. The one that got away, mentality. It’s not healthy. And I’m surprised so few have acknowledged this. Taking a break from what we’ve seen in the Pilot, let’s establish some facts about the pair.  Angel died in 1947 in his 30s [some posts specify 34-35], putting his birth year around 1911-12ish. Husk died in the 70s IN his 70s [again, nothing is truly specified, so for both we’ll go with 75 - the same number in his IG username] that puts birth year roughly 1900′s. Now an age gap between two adults of 11 - 12 years difference is actually reasonable and can work, depending on circumstance and whether theres a balance in power or not. But when we account for their life experiences and death ages, it’s something else entirely. Angel died young. Not only that but his mind seems more stuck in his raunchy teens than of an adult. And even THEN, he wouldnt be one to necessarily settle down [by which I mean in life, not romance]. He’s extremely emotionally stunted and his selfishness and wanting his own way come off very spoilt [when Husk is pissed off about the cat costume, Angel gets moody because he’s used to compliments AND is dressing to impress Husk. When Husk wanted the money he was rightfully owed, Angel threw a fit for ages until starting to earn it back - even though he owed Husk a drink, which I’ll be coming back to, Husk still wanted the money in the end perhaps hinting to only accepting a freebie as it’s on offer as well as Angel being overly persistent. He even dumps his pig onto Husk to look after, while theres no issue in pet sitting, Angel said Husk ‘owed’ him due to missing the show yet when HE owed Husk, he threw a fit.]. Angel’s life style is wildly chaotic in life AND death, and even though we all know he’s most likely going to be redeemed, he still lacks a lot of experiences in life. He lacks maturity.  On the other hand, Husk’s been through his own share of chaos and heartbreak. Difference is, he’s had a life time of experience. He doesn’t act immature in a childish sense. He truly behaves like a downtrodden old man. He’s had his days and would feel more secure settling down in a more peaceful environment with fun yet much needed calm. A better way to handle his need for risk. Age gaps in adults that are large [75 - 35 = 40 years!] are far less likely to work for a multitude of reasons. The main reason is the difference in life stages - that difference in mentality and experiences plays such an impacting role on compatibility. Often their goals and energies are polar opposites and their common grounds minimal. There’s also the looming concern of power dynamics. Whilst it’s usually the older figure that’s holds the power advantage, in this case it’s a little bit more complicated. I’d argue that it’s possibly Angel with the higher power. This rarely works irl but it’s POSSIBLE. Look at Hugh Heffner and his last partner before his death. I believe she was around 22. However there’s many common grounds, immediate attraction, and similar goals. Though incorrect, Heffner does give off a pimp-like vibe (he’s not but you get what I’m implying with mothlike imagery). Husk does not strike me as that type. It would definitely cheapen his character. In terms of interests, the main thing they have in common is that they like to drink. A bad habit, especially when one is an alcoholic. Both are also rather lazy except for certain circumstances [Husk will go out of his way to help HOWEVER he’s obliged to under Al, the only one he’s seen to willingly help and bond with/be seen with is Niffty. Angel is when there’s a fight, chaos, drama or any sex work]. Both are also rather snarky and vulgar. In terms of love, both suffer intimacy issues. On Husk, it’s ‘losing the ability to love a long time ago’ meaning he was likely cheated on or at least had a failed relationship. If he was ever ready for a new start, he’d definitely want something stable yet rewarding. For now, he needs a LOT of work - work he is not yet willing to put in, nor does he have a reason to. Angel doesnt want to commit because he’s extremely selfish as well as in an already abusive ‘relationship’ already. Sex work is sometimes VERY taxing on the mental health due to some of the folk you service. He’s seen the worst in many and just enjoys the pay and fuck. IF Husk was cheated on, then it’d make a lot of sense if a sex worker wouldn’t be his flavour, it would just serve as a reminder. Not only this, but Angel HIMSELF actively participates in cheating. Not with Val... but with *Travis*. BOTH know Travis is married (I’d be feckin worried if Trav didnt-) yet they still choose to cheat anyways, regardless of the pain it could cause. Angel even mocks this by sending greetings to Trav’s wife. Honestly this... Reminds me a LOT of Stolas - a main character who sexually harasses another character clearly not interested/comfortable, participates in cheating and we’re supposed to root for them (and before anyone gets offended, I do have more to say on Angel’s behalf so please be patient). Either way, it’s very toxic and concerning. Even if Husk wasn’t cheated on, I dont think many would feel exactly secure after having such a rough past with love, diving into a relationship with someone who’s openly participated in multiple affairs. And that’s no shitting on sex workers either, it’s just a point that some would feel uncomfortable with the idea of being with ANYONE (regardless of their work) having actively and KNOWINGLY took part in having an affair previously - especially multiple. Husk’s in an emotionally fragile place and needs more security. We’ve already established Husk heavily dislikes Angel’s advances. In fact, his responses to Angel are similar to his responses to... Al! His body language is VERY test and closed off to even Al, who’s most likely knew him for a very long time. If even Al gets this treatment (whilst also disrespecting his boundaries) then it’ll be the same with Angel (both force Husk into their lives and schemes, both disregard his boundaries). And he’s shown to STILL go out his way to help both however this is most likely tied to an unspoken ‘debt’ he owes Alastor. Plus he’s been mentioned behind the scenes to be a secret softie and protective grandpa type. But this animosity is very reflective of how Loona behaves and responds to Blitzo as well as how both Loona AND Husk (One being a ‘lowly servant’, the other being a literal old MAN) as pets - even the fans - just because of their forms. But this isnt the first of the disrespect they receive. Now we delve deeper Both are addicts of some kind (Husk - drinking, gambling. Angel - Drugs, possibly sex). Not a good mix at all romantically. Addicts often and unintentionally feed their addictions to each other as well as can increase likelihood of relapsing which even a recovered addict can slip back into. When times get tough (a natural occurrence) both are likely to suffer with their addictions. Interestingly, they can become addicted and dependent on one another, which is genuinely unhealthy for a mindset anyways, regardless whether addiction existed prior or not. Addiction only increases these chances. Angel likes confidence in a man (confirmed on Patreon). Yet, Husk is even confirmed  in streams to be deeply troubled and insecure. One thing he hates is his demon form, something that we’ll touch on shortly. Angel loves quality food ESPECIALLY of Italian origin whilst Husk is willing to eat the shit they give you in bars (admittedly that was painful to type as someone who grew up around pubs - either way it’s not exactly high quality or gourmet is what I’m saying). Interestingly, in some character references of Angel, it’s stated that he hates rejection. Hates. That’s a VERY strong word. This could explain but not justify why he’s persistent with Husk (similar to NiceGuys believing you’re playing ‘hard to get’ - further illuding to an immature and toxic mindset) though it interestingly doesn’t apply with Alastor. Odd.  There’s a counterpoint to symbolism in art. A very VALID counterarguement... If it suited Viv’s style. During Media Studies, Business, Design and Art, hell fucking Silent Hill! - I’ve been educated on effective symbolism as well as artistic trademarks (the most famous that most should know is Alfred Hitchcock!). Hitchcock often appeared in all his films, usually as a sidefacing silhouette, trading marking his films with his very PRESENCE. Viv’s seems to revolve around hearts. I mention this because an IG account made the point that hearts were to symbolise anyone connected with Angel’s story and love life (Valentino’s business and shades/collar, heart behind Angel’s head, Heart tattoo on Cherri’s right shoulder, hearts for Husk’s paws, eyebrow marks above natural brows, wings, and nose as well as most of the playing cards). Thing is, there’s hearts EVERYWHERE in all of Viv’s works and such symbology of Angel and hearts is weakened if it connects to the villains/abusers as well - taking away the positivity in a love symbol. Viv’s used hearts in her font, backgrounds, in characters ears, in all her series just generalised, Blitzo’s forehead, background characters, again the cards, Travis’s eyes, Millie’s right shoulder in the SAME place as Cherris. Even Vaggie had a heart tattoo on the shoulder in some christmas themed artwork (on her left). Heart’s is just something Viv seems to brand herself with. And that’s fine though I feel she could do with cutting it down slightly. One thing to early note on the cards (again, this’ll creep up later and my name should tell you why), most are heart suits and usually either a face card (J, Q, K), Joker, ace or 2s. Face cards/Jokers for more details close up (look at the signing artwork) and the rest are just easier to animate, though a little bit of a peeve to someone into their cards as well as the massive overuse of red in Hazbin overall. It’s extremely unlikely to be symbolic. If they change it to be so, then it’s... Weakened. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Silent Hill is an example of extremely clever symbolism in more darker media (more so, SH is considered a ‘hell’ of sorts and does feature religious iconography WITHOUT causing offence. A great example of how to portray this type of thing - they even mix humour in if you consider some of the sneaky references, dialogues and odd UFO/dog endings).  Discussing Viv’s art further, she drew a gift for her sister (original creator of Husk when he possessed white fur) of Angel playfully dragging a disinterested and annoyed Husk (I believe this was still around the time SpiderMoth was canon). The newish art tends to have Angel putting a holly crown on him or sitting on his knees, Husk seeming too lazy to really do anything about it. Very nonchalant. I also want to include some interesting stream arts here and later to further highlight their bond.  A fan asked Viv in a stream to draw them “actually getting along” - this wording implying that the fan is aware of Husk not enjoying Angel’s company. So Viv did, with an extra doodle of Husk being one of the ‘canadian people’ from South Park who sing “Im not your friend”. The art alone shows Husk’s absolute discomfort, even the extra thing Viv added w/o request. As they’re her characters and the fan asked for what they’d look like getting along, to show this discomfort goes to show the dynamic once planned. Husk just isnt a fan of Angel, especially when he’s being sexual and touchy. It can be great for small comedic parts, however both the team AND fans have now crossed this over to really creepy and triggering realms in their ships. It’s creepy and doesnt look good on Angel (who they actively root for) nor the gay community (more on that).

[Yes Ive already pointed out the comedic side of this ^ but it doesnt bode well considering the other points and issues that arise] There’s also a request for drag angel flirting with drunk husk. Personally thats a lil creepy to specify one of the two being intoxicated and thus not able to truly consent. If Angel is willing to flirt with someone in that state, it doesnt mean he would fuck them, but it does feel the fan was thinking that’s the case. In all truth, I think Angel WOULD flirt with those incapable of consent purely to swindle or pickpocket. I’d like to think [and HOPE considering his own abuse by Val] that he’d never take it further. And I hope Viv, the team and the fans see how incredibly creepy that thought is. I’ll give benefit of the doubt though it is still a concern. Either way, Angel appears... Annoyed? Husk is completely turned away and seems incredibly grouchy and confused. This shows yet more rejection on his behalf as well as Angel’s response to being rejected, which highlights his immaturity towards it. Remember, he’s USED TO and EXPECTS everyone to want him (even saying this in the Pilot). Hell, there’s even a Rich Vaggie request where Viv again randomly includes Husk. This time, he’s faced towards her and relaxed, though seems unimpressed and overall disinterested in this type of behaviour. Behaviour and interests of Angel [Celeb status and rich appearance due to Val, despite getting very little of the cut and the vanity, as well as Husk just not giving a shit about this sort of peacock display]. (Also wanted to note in Viv’s #3 stream 1:50:50, Faust makes out that Husk is a ‘dirty, creepy old man’ as well as him constantly threatening violence towards Angel. I dont see him as *creepy* in this context - as it implies perversion that he blatantly lacks fortunately - though it’s very telling of how Husk feels and again shows this toxic relationship).

/Angel’s Type: First off, daddy issues. He has them. Now let’s look at ‘daddy’. Henroin is shorter than Angel, dark fur, grumpy, old, wears only a hat and tie, big brows... Sounds familiar? Ok, look at his brother Arackniss. Similar to Henroin, dark, short, grouchy, bullied by and bullies Angel, is adverse to Angel and overall possess a bad relationship. Ok.... His main client, Travis! Short, dark fur, moody, Only wears hat and tie, drinker (shown in stream as request so take drinking with a pinch), similar face to- Is no one else seeing this trait? Angel seems to go for these shorter than him grouchier men who either want him for sex or hate his presence. Men who are like his dad and brother. All of these guys are far too similar, and we’ve got enough men in suits, bowties and sharp teeth in this show to boot as it is- The psychology of this type of attachment is rooted in a bad familial relationship alongside the subconscious desire to repair or compensate for it. Unknowningly the person will keep seeking out this sort of guy who isnt good for them to fix this internal issue. The resolution is to NOT go for these types. It’s also connected to intimacy fears, by going for those you know arent good for you/right for you/interested in you is often the manifestation of these issues. Pair them with daddy issues and it’s a disaster! There is science to back this up. Valentino is interestingly the opposite yet still toxic issues arise. Why? Because he’s going from one extreme to the other but with the same mindset. Neither of these men or types for MANY reasons are right for him. And visa versa. Seeing a pattern? ~~~~

Angel w Husk? I mentioned before that Husk hates his demon form. If you’re an old man, a gambler, some Vegas bloke and have this grouchier disposition, why the fuck would you want to look like an oversized pet? Exactly. Angel however adores his own aside from the feet. Now I find it strange how the guy we’re rooting for just so happens to like his own form which was intended for punishment. But that’s not todays post. I said earlier that Angel is heavily fixated on Husk’s appearance. Especially the feline aspects (calling him Husky and Kitty - petnames he hates that also treat him again more like a pet than a man -, dressing as a ‘sexy cat’ to appeal to him which can come off as more mockery. This is even backed up by fans who seem to think an old guy’s gonna act like some school girl anime trope?). All of this completely disregards and disrespects Husk’s feelings and perspectives. Something the fans and team take part in actively. Angel - whether you want to hear this or not - is SELFISH. When Husk ‘owed’ him for missing the show (babysitting Fat Nuggets), Husk begrudgingly fulfils this. The second Angel owed Husk for stealing drinks, Angel threw a hissy fit. The silent treatment, going to other bars and posting about it whilst complaining (again focusing on Husk being ‘cute’). Trying to cop out of it by buying Husk a smoothie (though it looked like a date, lets be real, do you REALLY have to bribe someone to date and be around you? No) and even then he still had to owe the money which was more of Husk’s concern. Yes he did in the end and more money than needed, hence the returning of the extra cash, but that is no excuse for the childish behaviour prior. He’s much too accustomed to being adored and pampered and getting his own way that he cant grasp when people arent a fan or willing to pamper him. If they make them a ship, all it does it make Angel completely into a shitty Gary-Stu that everyone loves and pities for his suffering, rather than teach him to grow, earn his redemption and confronting his own toxicity. Let me make this extremely clear: ANGEL DOES NOT DESERVE ABUSE OR RAPE. But when he starts behaving as shitty, he’s hard to root for. Remember, he’s sexually harassing all these guys, with Husk getting the brunt of it. But it’s treated as a joke for them and only taken seriously for Angel. Val abuses all of his employees. He abuses VOX and even THAT was mocked by fans and staff. It’s... It’s frankly gross.  In every interaction Husk has with Angel, his body language is closed off, tense, uncomfortable, turned away and hostile - look at the IG. He wont even allow Angel to touch him. Compare this to Niffty, who he’s fine with taking pictures with and letting her hang around and touch him. Body language is relaxed (relaxed shoulders, open body language) and he doesnt look hostile at all. What does Angel do? Always tries to get close to Husk (such as sitting as close as possible during Poker) and forces both his OWN hobbies onto Husk (ones that Husk shows a strong disinterest in) and Husk’s hobbies (Poker). It’s very FORCED and not natural. Going back to immaturity, he blames Husk and his cards for being shit at the game. They’re always bickering, insulting, fighting in the comments but fans only see this as a ‘cute couple fight’ or Husk being ‘tsundere’.Tsundere. An anime trope often used in young characters. Irl tsundere is NOT this dramatised. The tsundere you see in anime, apply that irl and you get the recipe for the most toxic, petty and immature relationship going. You get constant fights, unease, not feeling loved/appreciated, little trust - the list goes on. Plus an old bloke really isnt going to indulge in tsundere traits. It’s childish. After his history with love, I doubt he’d be up for games and messing about. For something meaningful, he’d just want open honesty. Their ‘relationship’ feels like it’s written by horny kids attempting a fanfic after being inspired by 50 shades and twilight (both show toxic relationshiiiiiips~). The worst is that these are adult writers trying to portray some realistic yet sensitive topics. This is just ill fuckin taste. Even the warnings in Helluva’s ‘Horny Demons’ leaves a bad taste when the fans are thinking Stolas is the best dad despite both parents ruining Octavia’s mental health. Despite the next day after that episode aired Stolas starts flirting with Blitzo again on IG. Despite Blitzo being clearly uncomfortable and sexually harassed and even co-herced into sex (VERY UNHEALTHY MESSAGES HERE). Viv herself has been in bad relationships so how the fuck she’s blind to this and even borderline fetishizing this sort of behaviour that everyone seems to play off as ‘Awwww cute tsundere <3 BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS’ is abhorrent. I’ll go into this more later on how this really just... It treats male sexual harassment and assault as a fucking joke- Angel’s constant unwarranted flirting is no different from the freaks on IG that send dick pics to underage kids and random women in their dms and fathom that they’re ‘nice’ and have a ‘chance’. Wanna know the creepiest? The candid photo of Husk on Angel’s wall. Something Husk seems horrified about. It’s fangirlish and teenager like at BEST, and obsessive stalker at worst. He’s NOT respecting Husk’s boundaries or feelings. That’s still up despite Husk’s reaction. He still wore the costume despite Husk’s feelings. Angel’s thinking with his dick and it’s such a fucked up message that everyone seems to support just because ‘its FICTION. Theyre in HELL.Theyre BAD people.’ Yeah? Well look at how that’s effecting and warping reality and perspective. It’s glamourising it. Fetishsizing stalking and making it cute. Yer have celebrity or boyband or whatever youre a fan of pics on your wall. NOT your crush. NOT someone who clearly isnt interested or happy with this. If someone who kept commenting on your pictures “sexy” suddenly had a picture of you on their wall, what would YOU think? How would YOU FEEL? Because myself and my own sisters have been in VERY fucking similar situations and it’s traumatic. His paw is even attempting the lens - Angel is crossing his boundaries and not getting the message that Husk doesnt want this. He’s forcing himself onto Husk. Yknow... VAL forced himself on Angel and it ended up in numerous rapes. Angel hasnt raped Husk, but if he wont take no. If he wont respect boundaries. If he only wants Husk to do what he wants but throws a fit when he owes husk - he’s picking up on Val’s bad habits more and more. How are so few - even the very team creating this - not seeing how disgusting this is? Are we only supposed to give a shit if Angels hurt? If so, the message isnt so much of how despicable Val is but how awful it is to upset Angel. Fans constantly blame Husk for being grumpy, annoyed at or rejecting Angel. Look at this real world implication. Not only that but Angel being gay just reinforces one of the worlds most disgusting and inaccurate stereotype of gay men being sexual predators and forcing men to have sex whether theyre comfortable or not. MOST gay men arent like this, and those who are its just because THEYRE shitty people (Jeffree fucking Starr, but look how people ‘stan’ his fuckin behaviour). Val is rubbing off on Angel as much as fiction has a MASSIVE impact on reality - whether we’re willing to admit it or not. Like Val, hes pushing past boundaries, he’s selfish, hes more into visuals than anything else. It’s one sided, superficial and theres no click. No connection. Be in this situation yourself and seeing this sorta shit becomes second nature to stay alive. Angel even says that most of hells residents are ‘ugly freaks’ yet finds Husk cute. It’s all LOOKS. Who else likes appearances alone? Val. I know this will trigger and upset fans, Ive been told to fucking die and have my ED triggered when I mentioned it before. But accept that all of them have flaws. Everyone irl have flaws. But there’s flaws and then theres a fuckin crime. If Husk was a woman, more people would see the flaw, but even then... Look at many romance movies - not all but many go for opposites attract (science proves this inaccurate irl), stalking, or even sexual harassments and assualts but she falls for him and they end up together. That aint love thats Stockholm with extra steps. Think you’re triggered and upset? Go through this shit - have a history with it happening - and then see some show you love and a comfort character get treated the exact same and everyone JUSTIFIES it, including the team themselves. It’s NOT cute.  Part 2 to the previous point: Both do share common interests, but it’s very unhealthy such as excessive drinking, both being addicts and being rather lazy, etc. Otherwise the common ground just isnt good. They’re opposites that really dont compliment each other. (Not a valid point here but I find it interesting how Angel loves aquariums and Husk can fly too). Viv’s writing is mediocre at best (but with glowing potential - a diamond in the rough - hence why it’s so frustrating) but Husk’s writing is the laziest. According to Viv he’s (paraphrased) “easiest to write... doesnt care about anything, almost always grumpy leading to similar reactions to everything”. His voice and alcoholism even has a lot of inspiration from Rick Sanchez. As I said with Angel in the RadioDust post, it’s almost like the addictions are seen as a joke. A running gag is fine if you can play it off well and it’s not about something so serious EVEN MORE SO when the series is about how damaging the addictions are and redemption. Why is this end goal being ignored unless it’s about Angel himself? That’s not just favouritism or bias, that’s also heavily self indulgent and a backwards ass message. Right now, Hazbin and Helluva have this ugly fixation on sex and ships. VIV has a fixation on ‘horny demons’. Her main characters are incredibly sexual bar Al (dont even say Husk, Niffty, Charlie or Vaggie or even loona and Moxxie are even on par with the focus and treatment Val, Angel, Blitz and Stolas are given). It’s very fixated and concerning. Its starting to feel like it’s about to divulge into hentai than a legit series with even a hint of the plot or a message. It reminds me of Family Guy trying to be BoJack. It’s starting to remind me of fucking Sausage Party and the final orgy. Sex and swears makes it inappropriate for kids but that doesnt make it adult or mature, and this is coming from someone who swears more than a fucking sailor whos stubbed his bare pinky toe on a fucking crate corner. Constant swears arent funny or artful in the slightest when it’s over done. It’s just... childish adult humour. We cant be expected to want to root for any of them at this rate- All A24 and other companies are seeing is big cash and easily manipulated child audiences (for easy money). They KNOW it can be better but theyd rather be lazy as they’ll profit big either way. This is going to end up like YanSim and YanDev. Amazing potential, shit writing with a leader too stubborn to accept and act on criticism, seeing it as hate. At this point, Husk isnt a deeply troubled man with vices and interests. He’s just fuck candy and romantic end goal for Angel. To compliment and complete him. Just another accessory to the Angel Show. Vivs sister who made Husk even loves Angel so it’ll only serve to further this already toxic narrative.  The ship doesnt look or feel right. There’s too much established now to see the dynamics and favouritism in the creators. Self indulgence. You cant play favourites when you do this sort of thing professionally. The audience can see it and it turns people away. Ask any nonHaz/Helluva fan what they think and it’s... Well, average.  Another thing is everyone went full hype on Frozen focusing on something other than romance as a form of love. But then go back to “Ok now everyone reenact the final scenes of Sausage Party” afterwards. Not everything is sex and romance, and it really is starting to feel Viv and the fans are focused on that like Incels focusing on ‘chad’. It’s creepy. Helping with food, telling someone self conscious on their weight that they’re not fat, not taking more money than someone owes, even helping out with a pet - that’s something that a good friend would do. In fact, Husk even laughs at the goofy Angel cutout and it being destroyed. It doesnt instantly equate to wanting to fuck. The fact that the fans and even some of the team seem borderline horny is... Completely destroying this show, it’s message and everything about it. Viv said ships were hardly the focus in her stream but look at it now. Look at what Viv focuses on now. It’s just fanservice shit. Nothing more. Self indulgence shit, look at the team making rape into a fetish or shipping themselves publicly with the characters on the public IGs. It’s like watching children run a business and it’s painful because the entire series is suffering when it could be amazing.  Friendship should be more normalised as a valuable type of relationship just as much as love or family are. I’ll also add that Husk adding after the show “Oh fuck... Is this what I missed? Shit.” is ooc like the ‘date’ (that was compensation for stolen drinks, like a tamer version of Blitzo fucking Stolas for the grimoire). It contradicts that he slept it off rather than an attempt at staying awake, as well as calling it a “god damn peepshow” implying a repulsion to the peverse tendencies. The constantly commenting, following and posting Angel related pics makes little sense either from someone who’s blatantly been sexually harassed as well as the clear repulsion of the candid pic on the wall. He outright rejected Angel. What would be realistic are the IGs focusing on learning about the characters, their lives and interests - ALL updating at realistic paces. Old men arent tech savvy usually nor care for social media that much. He’d post drinks, gambling, casinos, life with Niffty and Alastor. Heck maybe a picture of Angel captioned “When will this guy leave me the FUCK alone?”. He even only seems to tag angel, even in the pic that had Charlie and Vaggie [their shared account] or Niffty. Theres a CLEAR bias in the staff room and it’s messy. Look how most the female cast is ignored (Vaggie/Charlie, Velvet who posted a birthday gift to one of the new artists on the merch WHY? Gasu btw, Niffty, Millie only posting twice - heck even Vox and Loona sometimes get neglected. CLEAR. BIAS.) The ships focused on are 1) NOT established canon yet publicly favoured by Viv and the team (Stoliz, HuskerDust, VoxVal - that last pair havent actually got a VA either-), 2) Are TOXIC and theme around abuse or sexual harassment but it’s ‘cute because gae’ - NO. This makes gay people look really bad when they’re not. 3) HD and SL focus on one sided, stalkerish, cop out ‘tsundere’ excused ships to sugar coat the creepiness which only further fuels bigotry, 4) SL has MERCH on it now, so thats also profiting on sexual harassment imagery (again, dont give a shit they arent real - the EFFECTS are. The people who can relate ARE. The people being horridly stereotyped ARE). Thing is, the IGs originally were there to promote ADDICT which started as a fan song anyways despite everyone saying how Viv is stubborn in her ways an uninfluenced by her fans (proof says otherwise) yet shes allowed a fan song to be canon. Theres a focus on forced love for fanservice. The IGs have long outstayed their welcome. The Val account allows glamourisation of the sick shit Val does AND entinses fans to bully as they forget a REAL PERSON runs the fucking account, Val isnt even a scary villain either - hes just a big teen like everyone else - stuck in a teen drama with all this. Pimps are smart. Theyre scary. Theyre masters of manipulati- HOW DO THEY NOT DO THE RESEARCH?! Viv wanted this sense of realism and dealing with sensitive topics in one of the worst executed ways Ive ever seen- It’s toxic. It’s dangerous. These are shit messages and your fans display that when they think all criticism is ‘hAtE’ and actively bully real people w REAL EXPERIENCES. Telling them to ‘stop pls’ does fuck all because you still promote shit messages straight after. Like with Stolas to Blitz in a IG story a day after Ep 2. Classy.  Fanservice seems desperate to keep these fans (rather than market correctly... Just like YanDev) and it leads to fans feeling like they have the audacity to steer the series. Poor business with WEAK boundaries. Viv, you lost your series a long time ago. Want it back? LISTEN TO LEGIT CRITICISM. Stop surrounding yourself with yes men. Even my best fucking friend calls me out when Im out of line because a real friend will fucking take the chance of hurting your feelings if it means helping you in the long run and grow.  Mick joked about the inside of Husk’s ears matching Angels coat, that the ears are cat’s most sensitive and vulnerable parts. 1) Cats vulnerable part is their tummy - hence why you need their trust first (alternatively yer get the odd cat that has full confidence they cat hurt you a lot faster than you can tickle them - I own one), 2) Its weird that Viv doesnt know this considering how many cats she has - its important to learn the language of those you love to give them your full understanding and a great bond 3) This romanticises sexual harassment more than it already is in the media (remember, theres women out there still murdered for saying no!) as well as reinforces the stereotypes of gay men forcing non-interested men into sex (again, a very toxic and unrealistic trope - a dangerous one thats led to gays being murdered!). And the ears design is unnecessarily overly complex considering those fuckin wings he supports. If the design adds nothing to the character but aesthetic, then it can go on the chopping block. Rules for simple animation. Besides from Angel sharing the same tooth as Val (who knows if that was added after he started working for Val as branding?) you could use this argument to say Pent or Al are soulmates for Angel because of having striped suits, or sharp teeth - no, it was intended as a joke that Viv fueled to irresponsibly because it’s not the first time she’s dodged publicly addressing something (something youll NEED to get used to in a big company), and she’s publicly dodged shit after this too so Im not putting faith in her until she can act professionally as the job requires. Likewise, professionals should consider what and how they joke as they’re presenting an image of a company/business. And people WILL eat that shit up face value regardless. In her stream #2, a fan requests for art of flustered angel and smug husk to fuel their ship. at 2:10:21, she does so. She’s also done this for Baxter x Niffty and Cherri x Tom. As a professional, you really should be avoiding this sort of thing in the name of fanservice. I get it, fanservice = financial gain. But it also results in empty meaning. It’s a shell of what the passion project once was, hence why you make the ENTIRE skeleton before involving others. The team help construct the muscles, tendons and organs. The public - moreso critics and the more experienced in those fields help sew the skin. Then you bring it to life, the fans become like blood. They aid to keep it alive. Even Ash and Mick mention Husk being ‘tsundere’. Im had most my piece about it earlier, however I’ll repeat and add some extras. Tsundere is an exaggerated personality, often used in younger characters. In terms of a relationship, it’s very immature, leads to poor communication and results in a toxic love. Science can back this up as well as the lack of realism. It’s more immature minds/hearts that go to what they interpret as tsundere in hopes of the love life the media portrays. A farce. Y’know what Angel needs? Someone open, honest, open to love and comforting. He doesnt need someone rebuffing and him chasing. It’s nothing more than an immature thrill. Once the love begins, it’s burns out QUICK. It’s far from sustainable or healthy. It’s not what either really need and further show Angel’s fixation on men who subconsciously remind him of his father. It’s not healthy. Another thing is a tsundere actually IS interested but shows it in the most immature and childish means possible. Would a really old bloke actually give a shit to play those sorts of games? No. Not one coming from a place like husk has. It’s painful how lacking in research and experience these people are. Science backs up that opposites solemnly attract also. In fact, they often either repel or only get as far as friendship.  Fan and Team Mentality in Brief: Im coming out with my ultimate pet peeve: if you’re going to have one of the MAIN characters be a gambler, do your research. The only background shit is a casino, LOADS of sex references (in Pride? Really?) and drugs. It’s like someone listing what they think is adult and tabboo and naughty. It’s yikes. Cards are almost always aces, 2s or blank. MOST are heart suits (like we need MORE red - we get it, it’s hell. But it’s an immature larvae stage hell). I get 2s and aces being easier to animate, however you have Husks wings, the entire of alastor, angels arms - if youre busting the budget for the menial then bust it to the cards. Theres like ONE spade. The full house isnt a full house (here’s a display of the fans lack of education on the matter as well which serves as a sure sign that they know just as little on any of this as SpindleHorse, they think it’s a sign on him being a card cheat. A card cheat. I aint saying hes not but what I AM saying is poker professionals are some of the most observant people in the world. Especially when money’s involved they’ll ensure youve got your facts right. That wouldnt fly at ALL. But theres more~ fans think Husk spent loaaaads of time staring at angel’s face in the IG poker out of <3 Newsflash. When you play poker you read EVERYONE like a book. Every little twist and twitch of the features. Its not about love. It’s about winning. Its about money. Play enough poker and it’s instinct if you want to actually play decently. Call bluffs. Life aint a fuckin romance.) And playing Poker at a BlackJack table? In a casino? These are all common knowledge and basics if you just research. And this is coming from someone with a history of this.  The fans even believed Tipsy Bartender’s ‘Peach Princess Cocktail’ was something Spindlehorse made as a beverage form of Niffty, Angel and even Charlie because of the name. Now, Im not expecting everyone to be a fuckin boozy either, but to not even consider it’s a very real drink does show that many fans are far too young for that 18+ label.  Fanart of HD often has Husk being OOC OR being held hostage (often via webs - one even being reblogged by Viv, aint that cute!). Some even have Husk completely intoxicated, which would be rape. Im not sugarcoating it. Because too many are getting the sweet treatment and copying Viv’s ‘dont address and it disappears!’ tactic - A LOT of internet celebs do it. The ship is drawn a lot by the team in the public eye, Viv reblogs it publicly (SL, HD, alongside canon only ships, how curious-). Husk is pan yet doesnt behave as the stereotype. And Id FULLY support this with my fucking SOUL (fun fact: you cant sell a soul. Thats myth to scare people-) if it was done correctly. But the way bisexuals, lesbians, gays and aces are portrayed so stereotypically (even Pan in terms of Val’s sexomania), it’s really REALLY uncomfortly coming across as Husk being pansexual JUST to make him an ‘option’ for Angel. Hell even the hets are given a shite representation. Some art btw has husk tricked into a kiss. Cute, we’re really starting to like blurring consent aint we? Remember, Angel has celeb power in his world. In the real world, he has a following. HE has the power in the ship massively. Hell, fans JUSTIFY Angels behaviour and absolutely rip Husk a new shithole if he fuckin even so as to DARE OPPOSE ANGELS MUCH DESERVED LOVE! - sarcasm because I have to make that shit clear now. Fans dont care about Husks feelings, he wasnt even popular until this ship started to explode. Y’know what would be cool and break stereotypes? An old straight white guy actually accepting his friends sexualities. The pan thing feels really fucking gimicky and exploitive and gross based on the history of all this shit. It feels disingenuine. Representation doesnt come from it just being there. What next? Katie whips on blackface to further show shes a bigoted knobhead whos white and straight? Dont get me wrong, Katie’s an arsehole but theres other means to show this rather than ALL HETS HATE THE BIG GAE. They dont. They really dont. But hey, we’ll show a gay man sexually harass every guy and root for him! NO. Thats fucked up. It makes gays look like the predators theyre not. It’s like the fucking 50s with modern tech - is that the real identity of Vox? Fuckin maybe. WHAT THEY NEED - FUCKING FINALLY, ITS THE END IVE BEEN ON THIS SHIT FOR DAYS WHILST SICK LUCKY ME EH? CAN YER FEEEEEEEL MY TIREDNESS OF FANDOMS AND CREATORS EXCUSING SHITTY THINGS FOR CLOUT, MONEY, FAME AND OTHER DUMB SHIT? IF YOU CANT, THEN WHAT THE FUCK, AND OTHER NEWS: Right. Lets get our main shit. Compatibility between the pair is really low - lower than even the team seems to see. And yer old fart of a Hag here’s gotta use my personal suffering as an example because thats what the cool kids do, right? Their friendship compatibility is high. VERY high. But low for love. HEALTHY love. In terms of convo flow, it only has a river when insults are flying, otherwise Husk actively cuts Angel short or outright annoys him. In reality, someone like Husk would gross out Angel, but the cute cat look can turn that the fuck around - JUST the look. Fans and the team oddly think it’s cute though. Yes, I remember being negged at the bar and thinking “BOY arent my pants flooded like the fuckin planet when the ice caps are melting”. There’s no click. Theres infatuation and lust one sided based on looks. Husk isnt even remotely interested and no means delayed yes apparently. Angel as a rape VICTIM should know better than to blur consent like this. Angel isnt a rapist [for the skim reading raging stans ANGELS NOT A RAPIST, YAAAAAY!] but he sure has a shit grip on when he’s looking like Val when Val forced Angel into a kiss by not accepting rejection. It’s. CREEPY. Its fuckin weird. Husk is literally named after being a shell of his former self, I doubt random sex and forced interest is gonna make him spring to life like bastard Zeberdy from the Magic Pissin Roundabout. Honestly, sexual harassment and addictions are treated the same in this - a joke. A punchline. A gag. Sure makes me fuckin gag. Nah, the more healthier Chaggie relationship (needs work on Charlies damn part - dont let freaky taxidermy men sexually assault your life partner like that) is booooring, lets focus on sexual harassment leading to true love like all the other shitty romcoms shall we? Or sugar coat it with ‘getting to know them better <3′ like Beauty and the Beast. A story, by yours truly: My mom’s mates with this woman. Lets call her M because her name starts with an M. M is just like Angel except slightly older, overweight and disabled - so not everyones cup of tea visually (shes neither here nor there to me imo, not like I hold interest in shaggin her). Like Angel, she fuckin flirts with any ANY man around her. She’ll even touch without consent, rub allllll up and down their backs and bodies, and not leave them alone. She even did this with a few gay men. Shes not a horrible person BUT mom and I are constantly trying to stop her and get through her head how DISGUSTING this treatment is. But nothing gets the message across. Shes ALWAYS talking men and sex and has an on/off fling with this one bloke (dont worry, hes the male M, cheats and does the same as her). Everyone, even women, are uncomfortable with this. Irl it’s desperate and a HUGE repellent. Men are visibly SO uncomfortable. She does it to my father too who is - in case youd forgotten - MARRIED TO HER BEST. FUCKING. FRIEND. My father is not a man of fear (and interestingly, hes one of the real life Huskers I know!) but this woman? *insert Heavy bc why tf not* She scares him. My dad does everything in his damn power to pull away, reject, resist, avoid and cut her off. The only reason hes even nice to her at all is because mom likes her (when M isnt a gross hornbag, shes genuinely a good friend to my mother - much like angel and Cherri). My dad’s strictly banned from insulting her or telling her to fuck off from my mother BECAUSE of her nature with him. Even at her non horny times, he’s even said shes not his flavour.  I’ve had numerous accounts like this myself (ask any woman-) but the worst was the guy thinking - THINKING - that Id eventually be his whilst he played up a lot of our similarities up, seemed nice and I actually thought I had a good guy friend (put it this way, Im genuinely scared of men because of guys like this). At this time, there was a character I discovered who looks and behaves SO much like me, and shes married. My simping arse for this fictional BEAUT [Im sorry but Iris is fucking awesome] compared her romantic traits towards Olgerd as something Id do - and this was a STATUS. It wasnt even too him, tagging him, nothing. I was just spamming Iris like the Iris whore I am, and... Yep. Ill be honest and say that God only knows what else I did that made him think I was ready to rip off my clothes and shag him. My post history back then showed Im like this when I find a character I relate to. I also send hearts a lot publicly and to friends to express joy - I get NERVOUS how that’ll be taken now. He tried to pit my ex friend and I against each other for him and even cyberstalked us pretending to be a girl named Raven. My GUT told me this aint no bastard ‘Raven’. The vibes he gave me, and the fact when I kept saying no he took it as a delayed yes (He even said “Ill wait for when youre ready” not “I understand and am happy to still be friends”) gave me literal nightmares of this guy tracking me down and raping me. He’s currently dating that ex friend (I was still willing to be their friend and support them but they said it was hard to keep us separate in her lifes and she didnt want conflict, so I cut it off amicably with her and I fuckin hope he treats her right. I even sensed in my gut she’d like him and he’d like her - even that theyd be good together! But then I found she was 17 and he was 10 years older, that he was cyberstalking and pitting us against each other, that he was secretly an arrogant fuck and that he gives off red flags like her ex’s - but shes passed 18 now and I want to trust her as an adult that she can deal with this. Shes got a good family.) As a kid, Ive been fuckin groped at school in my shitty neighbourhood. One kid even harassed me wanting to know if Id started my periods yet. Hed constantly fondle girls and ‘keg’ them aka yank down their skirts or trousers in public, and 2 years later held a fucking KNIFE to my throat in a classroom with the shittiest substitute teacher, all because I stood up to him (I was not known for my bravery at school so). He was harassing my female friend who suffers from it since as well as her upbringing, bullying her and stealing her stuff. Shes TINY. She was bullied just as bad as I - who was somehow both the school ghost AND pariah somehow- - and I stepped in and told him to cut that shit out before snatching her things back. I told her to ignore the desperate prick. Thats when he took a boxcutter and held it to my throat, threatening me to keep my head down. Now my neighbourhood fucking qualifies as the British ‘hood’ but Id been lucky to avoid this. Ironically, I wondered what this situation would be like a year prior. Im convinced I can fucking foresee bad shit now and with anxiety that aint good. I froze mentally and I just said “Wooow, Im fucking scared- *friends name*, ignore him” and continued my work. I fucking mentally kicked myself for speaking but I genuinely didnt know what to do. Obviously not fucking that. He sat the full TWO HOURS at our table with this knife, jolting forward mockingly and switching who he pointed it at. The knife btw was from that very room as it was graphics and art. Teacher didnt even notice though honestly Ive had an entire class throw shit at me and call me a whore and the teacher in that class looked at me and TURNED AWAY. End of the day, I reported it to my actual graphics teacher when he returned and he told me he’d take this higher up and to get my parents. My home was only 5 minutes away but I had to walk alone when most the students were gone AND through a fucking alleyway. I always walked with my head low but that day I kept it high and tried to look brave because I genuinely thought he was waiting for me. That he was going to rape and kill me because he’s a pervert and Id just discovered a fucking violent one at that. I broke down at my door. Do you know how fuckin hard it is to look your parents who are dealing with two cancer patients and other issues in the eyes and tell them their ‘little girl’ had a knife to her through for standing up for herself? We went back, I described everything and even remember the yellow-orange handle just to get this kid punished? I even wrote an official police statement (well, the written witness account they add to their statement and evidence) and had to speak on mine and my friend’s behalf because she was that shook up. I never even used to speak for myself! He got expelled, but yknow what us jolly folk dealt with? Hearing kids and his mates mumbling about the ‘rat’ and how much of a cunt they were. Teachers and kids praise him for his art skills and even pin them on display EVERYWHERE (one - ONE - was a fucking self portrait and none of the staff seemed to find issue in that) and even an occassion where he came back into the school when he legally wasnt (trespassing). Do you know how hard it is to fucking avoid someone without raising suspicions from everyone around you in a narrow corridor? Im TALL too. I got NO support from this and felt on edge because he could easily sneak into school. I couldnt say shit because his stupid ‘spies’ were about. Just typing this is upsetting enough- I also know a rl Angel who’s like him minus the sexual harassment. She’s... I never used to like her and visa versa but we actually get along really well now, even though she can be creepy and perverse- But she wouldnt be my type either nor I with her. Often we really fuck each other off but we can also bond great. Another incident reminds me of Husk’s candid photo. Ive had people keep my photo despite me saying not to however I had someone SOMEHOW at that school one the fuck up that. There was a cut out from a magazine of a lady who looked like my DOUBLE except she was asian. Now I thought this was cool and it made me feel sorta pretty. This one girl showed everyone and the teacher, pretty much everyone was like “Oh shit that really is you, C!” and it was harmless fun at first. Until I wanted the picture. Again, this woman looked EXACTLY like me. Yet this girl refused and said she wanted to keep it and even carried it around in her pencil case. Yes it wasnt me but due to the similarities, this photo was called me (tbf the fuckin pic got more respect than I did-). This isnt the only creepy instant between me and this girl but the photo reminds me of it. And this tops people keeping photos OF me which happened in primary school. This was me but legal at that time. And asain. It was super fucking neckbeardy the way she treated this photo and stared, often stroking it and looking at me. I just hope she was only trying to scare me. Theres one final instance of a sexual assault but Im just not yet ready to be public about it. 2 here already know. Those are some of my rl experiences and more to come (unfortunately) that show these behaviours in real life. It seems - it comes across - that sexual harassment, MORE SO TOWARDS MEN, is seen as some punchline and not something legitimately horrifying or dangerous. It’s not cute. It’s fucking FAR from it.  Ive already mentioned how putting two addicts together can lead to relapsing, dependence on each other in an unhealthy way. And Ive even mentioned what Angel needs in a relationship in the RD post. Luckily for you, I’ll copy and paste it here: “ We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate.” Sorry for that copypaste clusterfuck. Copy paste is not my forte lol Now Husk. Remember Big? Probably not after the info overload, but if you do GREAT. Big needed love, patience, understanding, someone who could help him, someone who understood and respected his boundaries. I spent so much damn time and now he cuddles up and exposes his tummy because I make him feel understood, loved and safe. He NEVER purred or meowed (why would he need to meow when he didnt speak to humans?) but now he does. He lives on the streets of a neighbourhood with rough folk. He used to draw blood and go rabid on my arms. But I was patient and showed him that I understood his reasons but that he was safe with me and had no need to strike out. I never pushed his boundaries let alone doing it multiple times (the rl angel I know is fucking skilled at pushing cat’s boundaries and wonders why they all huddle up to me and avoid her lol). Husk is an unavailable man. Romantic/Sexual love does NOT heal his wounds. But thats the only thought fans and the team have given on his side. He needs love to ‘fix’ him. The WORST reason to get with someone. Theyre not a project and you arent a fucking miracle worker. Treat them as an equal. He needs a good friend. JUST a friend. Like Big, he needs patience, trust, understanding, and extensive help (arguably more intense than Angel’s). He needs to love himself a bit more FIRST. Someone who respects his boundaries INSTANTLY. Someone relatable and similar, open to love not just sex and not as troubled (if they are, they need to handle it way better, healthily and overall be in a good mindspace). Viv can ship whatever the fuck tickles her fancy, but once your passion project becomes public and funded, you have set responsibilities on how to address and handle sensitive issues as well as having to accept criticism. If Husk goes sober in the name of love (ESPECIALLY with the guy not respecting his boundaries and sexually harassing him), then it’s a fucking INSULT to alcoholics.  I know a few rl Husks but there’s one that anyone who knows me enough knows the man I hold closest to my heart was an alcoholic and spitting of Husk. That’s why Husk’s character means so much to me. But there’s only 2 here who know a bit more of this man. This is something Id hoped to not share so soon, nor as messy. And Im already getting waterworks because this is FAR from easy. I guess Husk became the very thing *I* needed in order to face this. This man was my grandfather. WAS. I cant even fucking accept that. I was a fucking child. I feel stupid being so open about this over some stupid cartoon but it just shows the real life effects this has on REAL fucking people. This man was old and lonely. Always at the pubs. He taught me card games, card tricks and card magic as well as one of his own sons dealing with a gambling addiction. I feel so fucking stupid crying about this- I dont want to open up but its the only way I feel I can get people to understand my side in all of this. This man was a fucking MESS. A closed off, lonely, grumpy old bastard. He lost his love because of his alcohol addiction and never found love again. Never got over that woman. (Shes still kicking and we’re close - im keeping some things under wraps between them as its not my place). Gave up on life and love. Worked hard at his fixation on cards and puzzles, as well as crass jokes and knowledge. But he was very lazy otherwise. Bitter and angry. And you know what? He was my world. I love this man with every fiber of my being because he was the first person to love and accept me for me. He treated me as an equal and helped me grow as a person. In fact... He was only ever happy around us kids. He had hope again. Protected me. He used to hate gays and blacks and you know what? He taught HIMSELF as to why that was shitty thinking. He taught ME about differences in people and to accept it. He taught me that you dont always have to understand to accept. He taught me poker and... swears admittedly. He was a beautiful soul that was broken inside. He needed to love himself. But you know what actually fucking happened? You know what I watched as a kid? I watched as he smoked until every morning he woke throwing up phlegm just to BREATHE. I watched as sometimes the light in his eyes died and through smoke breaks and early drinking how he’d sometimes slip and show me his pain. And we’d have deep talks about it and the world and everything. How alcohol ruined his life yet he craved it. His scent. I remember arguments I wasnt supposed to overhear and growing up seeing him fucking DIE slowly in a hospital bed. The man he was ended up as a fucking husk. His skin was bloated and purple, he was half machine on how much shit he was hooked up to. How he was barely a man at all. He was dying of cancer and he fucking knew and never told us. His cancer meds gave him horrid hallucinations. And I practically spent most of my time in that hospital because TWO people had cancer. Two stunning people had fucking stupid bastard cancer. He was a fuck up. He was flawed to shit. But seeing glimpses of the real him was a fucking ethereal experience. He made me feel like a PERSON. And all we could do in the end was watch him just die. He WANTED to die and you could see it but hed only eat around us to fake fight out of his own hubris and not wanting to let us down. That year, I watched 2 of the only people who ever gave a shit about me die the most dishonourable deaths God could have gave them. Years prior I watched his son gamble EVERYTHING away - his lover, his house, his everything. Hes a moderate gambler now with a partner who never had a history of any addiction. She helps keep him in line as he helps her. But most nights I fucking dream of this shit. I cant even think about my hero because I fucking weep. I still have nightmares. Im still up thinking how I could have saved him from himself when it’s him who was the only one able to. I have to live my life with those memories and I was just a kid. Im a full woman and Im still haunted by it. Even that year is blasphemy and I fucking hate it. I want to take him in my arms, hold him and tell him he’s enough. That its ok and he can get through this. Anything that reminds me of him, I love because I know the other side. The real side. The side not tethered to vices. When I see people like that, I pray they see themselves like that too and I want to help them see it. Tell them that they can live again. It’s better than fucking decaying in a hospital bed. That when people make this sorta shit into a cute quirk it’s not. And it’s dickheads like me who have actually seen it play in the real world to REAL people they love. They arent a fucking accessory to fix for your own narrative. They arent a fuckin performing monkey. At least with Rick and Morty it’s kinda humorous and never played for some shitty toxic ship to appeal to everyone who’s never had to face that shit themselves. And Im like my old man but with more hope and no addiction. I drink and I gamble but I’ll never let myself get that low. Because I honour him but Im not as fucking saft. I wont allow it even though it’s a fucking battle. Those addictions are in the blood. My family history. Its always been so fucking normal. I’ll never knock someone for an addiction or try to preach them out of it because theres often pain fueling it, but I’d never encourage it or toxic faux cures and stupid romance promises as some bullshit MLM remedy either. I KNOW it’s fiction but I want people to see the real side. I want VIV to see the real side. Id willingly for FREE fucking sing that shit if it meant spreading a good message. Because this is fucking hell. FIXING IT: The ship’s basis is too set in stone now - too familiar to change. Best is to never let it be canon. Because you know what else it teaches? That rOmAnCe cures all. Not therapy. Not rehab. Not any REAL work. Just fuck and date it all away as if it’s that easy. It’s a mockery! I tried to be professional about this but when the media bombards this shit constantly, the has the AUDACITY to play like it’s giving a good message is salt to the wounds. A kiss with a fist. An old man dont care for the petty teen drama that Angel and Cherri (even fuckin Al) thrive on. Want this to send a good message still? Angel hates rejection and thinks everyone wants him. Have Husk reject him. Especially because no one should go out with someone whos sexually harassed them there. Been there, done that got the fuckin tshirt. Have Husk reject Angel the way Gravity Falls has Wendy reject Dipper. It helped Dipper move on and mature, and this is what Angel needs for growth and to be more humble.  Husk would be a fucking excellent mentor to Angel, a friend and protector, someone who shows him the ropes like Grunkle Stan like a grandfather figure. To not fall for his mistakes. Husk would be a better expert than any of them plus it balances the power dynamtic. It’s healthy and realistic. Touches the topic with the sensitivity it needs. Not everything needs a ship or romance. Wounds healed that way dont stay healed long. Angel seems more fitting as a son like figure, and he can play that dad like role for him. And if any of the team EVER saw this, fucking take this idea. Its YOURS. FREE. FOREVER. If we wanna play this NDA but still reblog some of the story telling arts and have some of our team indulge in it. I wont sue. Fucking TAKE IT if it means doing this shit right because Spindlehorse have beautifully triggered so many different people and their different traumas to please teenagers sexual fantasies, their own kinks and for a jolly good joke.  This is a bastard long read and Ive had to face the traumas again but if good can come from it then I’ll GLADLY dance this duet again. Stans, Antis, dont even TEMPT interaction. You arent brave sending suicide threats behind a screen, youre a coward and a waste of oxygen. I WANT Hazbin and Helluva to succeed. I want Viv and her crew to do well. Trust me, I wouldnt waste my time if I didnt give a shit. Viv is fucking gifted and its being wasted if it’s not at her full potential for the approval of a rabid army of kids and immature adults who dont know any better (stans and antis). I know she would like a good and decent fanbase. Stans and antis arent it. Tagging you folks because it’s long but yall actually helped me have the courage to open my trap to this. Screenshots are coming later though all of what Ive said is easily sourced. But this has been days, Im sick, im tired, ive been upset facing my own traumas. If any tags wanna help then by all means but otherwise. @honesthazbinarchives, @siaesnow​ (also added age still bc despite the lack of physical aging, theres also the mental aspect and experiences as well as power dynamics side to it, in case youre wondering), @noirellearts, @enchantedchocolatebars​, @galemalio​ (thank you for letting me weep like a bitch), @angel-blitz​, @critical-hazbin​, @what-the-hazbin​, @hazboobhotel​, @pineapple-critiques-stuff​, @devils-advocutie​, SORRY AGAIN FOR BEING A LIL BITCH FOLKS, I feel awkward like my teen years but yeah- fuck it Im old and imma rot soon anyways. If this experience can help then Ill be glad.

[yslkook]

#by the books (5)

#corporate masterlist

summary: seokjin helps you come to several epiphanies. you wrestle with your growing fondness with jungkook, while determining how to talk to him. word count: 5570 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, some alc a/n: this is part 2/3 of being in tokyo!

SUNDAY

Seokjin knows something is wrong when you don’t respond to his texts for over fourteen hours. It’s well into Sunday morning, closer to the afternoon, when he makes the executive decision to camp out outside your hotel room until you let him in. He knows you’ve been on your phone- you’ve been on Instagram. You’re just avoiding him, and probably the rest of the world. As you usually tend to do, when you’re upset.

You don’t know what to do. You’ve never yelled at someone the way you yelled at Jungkook last night, much less literally ran away from someone like that. Embarrassment colors your memories, internally cringing when you replay the night’s events in your mind. It plays like a movie, the same moment mocking you incessantly. Jungkook’s heartbroken, doe eyes haunt you- you’ve barely been able to sleep because you’ve struggled coming to terms with the fact that you put that look on his face.

The reflection in your mirror disgusts you. And yet, you still do nothing about it, burying yourself under the duvet and ignoring anything that wasn’t sleep. It’s easier that way.

Your phone rings again- it’s Jin. You ignore his call. That’s your first mistake. He nearly screeches your name outside the door to your hotel room, menacingly knocking on your door. He’s clearly on a mission to piss off everyone who had the bad luck to be staying in the hotel rooms adjacent to you.

“I’m sleeping,” You shout easily, your voice muffled from the comforter.

“Open the damn door,” Jin demands and you groan. He won’t stop until you let him in, much to your chagrin. You just want to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, is that too much to ask for?

So you finally force yourself out of the bed and drag your feet to the door. “You look like fuckin’ shit,” Jin remarks, taking in your bleary eyes and the permanent frown on your face.

“Thanks, Seokjin. Just what every girl wants to hear,” You mutter and burrow yourself in bed once more. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gets under the covers next to you, curling into your side. Like he’s done a million times before.

“Leave me alone, Jin,” You mumble, without any real heat in your voice, “Yuna wouldn’t like this. Your girlfriend wouldn’t like you to be in bed with another girl-”

“Shut up, stupid. You’re not just another girl,” Jin dismisses you, only tightening his hold around your waist.

“Go away,” You try again, rather weakly. Instead, you let your hand sit on top of his. You both lay together in silence like that for a while. His presence always calms you down, brings you back up a few notches.

“I did something awful last night,” You finally say, voice hoarse from disuse.

“What did you do?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I yelled at Jungkook in front of my favorite ice cream shop… and then ran away from him.”

“What did you yell at him for?”

You tell him- you tell him how he told you he couldn’t keep up with you, how he called you his dream girl, how you screamed at him that your dad died and that you dropped out of school because you couldn’t handle it, how just seeing Jungkook reminded you of when you were happier.

“I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, Jin,” You mutter, pressing your face further into your pillow, “A-and how can he say I was his dream girl, I’m just such an-”

“Shh,” Jin says, muffling your mouth with his hand. Once you stop your self-deprecating train of thought, he pulls his hand away. Jin lays with you in silence once more, only running a hand over your upper arm to soothe you.

“Let’s go get lunch,” Jin suggests and he already hears the protest about to erupt from your lips, “You look like shit and I know you haven’t eaten. Go shower and wear something new. I’ll wait.”

You groan before forcing yourself out of the bed and dragging your feet into the bathroom. Jin rolls his eyes when you shoot a death glare in his direction. Jin was right- the hot water against your skin was soothing. You welcomed the stinging of the water as it pelted your skin with open arms. Feeling a little better coming out of the shower than you did going into the shower, you change into day clothes.

“Lookin’ better already,” Jin says, pulling you into a side hug.

Why is Jin friends with you, when you can’t stand yourself some days? You don’t know what he sees in you. Not when you seem to hurt everyone around you, so selfishly, as if it’s second nature.

But he keeps you close to him, his arm tight around your shoulder and those thoughts don’t throb in your mind as much as they usually do.

Jin sits across from you in a small, quiet ramen shop. You’re in a corner, away from most of the other patrons. There’s only four other people here, including the waitress. Jin says nothing about your outburst at Jungkook from the night before, only noisily slurping his ramen and then screeching with he bites his lip accidentally.

“You eat too fast,” You admonish, shaking your head when he rubs his bottom lip gingerly. Jin immediately takes his phone out to take a selfie and sends it to Yuna, claiming that he needs a kiss to make it better. You roll your eyes fondly and smile at him.

Puppy love is cute on him.

“So,” Jin finally says and your heart races. His tone has instantly shifted to a little more quiet, a little more serious.

“What do I do, Jin?” You whisper, shoulders slumping and avoiding his eyes, “He didn’t know. The kid didn’t know why I left, that Appa died- a-and I don’t know why he’s so hung up over it either. ‘Snot like we were friends like that back then anyway… God, Jin, you should’ve seen the look on his face before I ran away, like a fuckin’ coward.”

You hold your head in your hands above your half finished bowl of ramen and groan. “What a mess. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“Jungkook considered you friends back then,” Jin says slowly, “As far as I know, at least. I mean, I remember him being excited to see you every week for those mentor mentee sessions. And how grateful he was when you pulled him away from mean girls. He’s sensitive, you remember at least that much, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” You laugh despite your misery, “Used to call him Bambi back in the day. He’d get so flustered. But… I just- like, I told him it hurt too much to even look at him. Because he reminded me of when I was happy. Who fuckin’ does that?”

“But are you happy now?” Jin asks bluntly, slurping another mouthful of noodles.

“I don’t… know,” You murmur, “I think I can be.”

“Happy isn’t a constant thing. You won’t be happy all the time, the same way you won’t be sad all the time. But the last few years have been so hard. Let yourself be happy, sweetheart,” Jin says, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “Happy back then doesn’t have to be the same as happy now.”

“How do I just be happy?” You wonder out loud, making a mental note to talk to your therapist about this.

“I don’t know, but for starters, talk to Jungkook. He considered you both friends. You hurt his feelings when you left without a word. And he’s hurt now. And… I know you spent a long time blocking out the last few years, blocking out all of the bad. But there was some good, too.”

“Can’t believe he called me his dream girl. What does he know?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest but you feel a little lighter.

“You gonna tell me you didn’t like that?” Jin asks smugly.

“I didn’t!” You protest unconvincingly. Jin says nothing, only eyeing you with a knowing smile.

“You’re fooling no one. Eat your ramen, stupid.”

And so you do, the spicy broth curling in your belly as if it’s your home.

It feels like it’s been too long since you had spoken to Grandma, so you call her the minute you and Jin part ways. You tell her about the events of the past few days- how you had met up with friends you hadn’t seen in years. And how you had screamed at Jungkook undeservedly-

“I miss Appa,” You mumble, eyes watering, “He would be so upset with me. For the way I’ve been acting. Like he never existed, never talking about him…”

“He’d just want you to be happy, honey,” Grandma says kindly, “And to forgive yourself. To allow yourself to love and be loved.”

And then you cry some more. Grandma does, too.

Later, when you drive Jin, Jimin and Hoseok to the airport, all three of them wrap you up in tight hugs. As if you wouldn’t be in the same city as them in less than 48 hours. You promise to keep in touch with Jimin and Hoseok. Maybe they believe you, because they both hug you again with bright smiles.

MONDAY

Today’s the day. It’s the day that the Seoul team meets the Tokyo team face to face for the first time. Excitement brims in your blood- you’re certain that you have a lot to learn from this team. They’ve been a part of more submissions than your smaller team had been, and it had been a big surprise that Namjoon was named as the main lead of the project. But he was more than capable, as he had shown in the last few months.

The Tokyo team consists of Lisa, Irene, Minhyuk and they’re led by Mark. Mark, who you’ve known for about as long as you’ve been with the company. He had started with you in Seoul, in the same position and had quickly moved up in the ladder. Which seems to be the case for a lot of people, namely men, around you. He had actually beat you out for the job that he currently had. It had left a sour taste in your mouth for a long time- what did he have that you didn’t? But slowly, with time, you had gotten over it. After all, the job was in Tokyo, and you don’t think you were ready for that kind of move at the time. Everything happens for a reason, or so they say.

The company office in Tokyo is a little older than the one in Seoul- after all, the Seoul office had been recently renovated. If there was a word to describe the Seoul office, it was sleek and modern. You quite liked it.

Minhyuk had picked you, Jungkook, Sana and Namjoon up in the lobby to take you to the conference room that you would be working in. He’s a chatterbox, telling you about the history of the building, how long he’s been with the company and how grateful he is to be part of this team.

Jungkook tunes him out, nodding when needed and asking questions when appropriate. He casts his eyes over to you despite himself. You had put on a little more makeup today than usual, trying to conceal the puffiness of your eyes. Not that Jungkook could tell. He thinks you’re pretty. And the way you chew on your glossy bottom lip as you listen to Minhyuk- he thinks you’re cute, too.

You’re hyper aware of Jungkook’s presence next to you as you walk through the hallways and finally reach the conference room. He sits across from you, and for the first time since Saturday night, you allow yourself the luxury of looking at him. Despite a room full of new faces, the only person you want to look at is him. His dark hair is softly tousled over his forehead, barely there dimples dotted in his cheeks when he smiles at his new team members.

His gaze is transfixed on Mark and Namjoon, as they introduce themselves formally to each other and the rest of the team respectively. Mark’s eyes brighten when he sees you, but he keeps it professional, only shaking your hand with a smile that borders on a smirk.

Irene and Lisa eye you almost warily, until you introduce yourself to them with a warm handshake and a warm smile. You’ve been told you have an intimidating persona when people first meet you- in fact, your boss is the one who always tells you to smile more. What a jerk.

Mark and Namjoon both present on the mission and the objectives of the submission, and then what each individual team will be responsible for. You take a sip of your coffee, and cast your eyes around the room. Irene, Lisa, Sana and Minhyuk are intently listening to Mark and Namjoon and taking notes. While you’re staring at Jungkook.

And he’s staring back at you.

You pull your eyes away first, heart doing almost painful somersaults in your chest. You don’t mind being caught at staring at him, but you just feel like there is so much you need to say to him.

Like apologize. You need to apologize for unloading and dumping on him when he didn’t ask for it. But then, his smile fades and his doe eyes are sad. Because of you. It’s all because of you.

You and Namjoon present your slides for your team’s plan going forward, with details on the timelines and deliverables. Jungkook and Sana will be working on the logistics piece to organize another face-to-face workshop, and for the next one, the Tokyo team will come to Seoul.

Despite the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on you, you speak clearly and confidently. Jungkook loves the sound of your voice, the way it floats out into the room and wraps itself around him comfortingly.

Even when you had yelled at him outside of the ice cream shop, about how your Appa had died, about dropping out of school, and about how seeing him reminded you of when you were happy… Even then, he could never wince at the sound of your voice.

Jungkook was pissed that nobody had told him- that he had gone this long thinking so selfishly about you. He could have never have fathomed the gravity of your circumstance. He had yelled at Jimin the next day, but Jimin had only yelled back at him-

“She dropped off the face of the earth! She wanted nothing to do with us and it was her thing to tell!”

“So she was all alone that whole time? Because you all thought it was her thing to tell?”

“Don’t act like you’re better than all of us just because you didn’t know! You and I didn’t reconnect until recently, how was I supposed to tell you? And we tried to reach out to her. She shut us out, literally. What could we do if she ignored us for five fuckin’ years?”

You were alone. With your Grandma and with Seokjin. But still, alone, and possibly thinking that nobody was checking on you. Even if there is truth to Jimin’s words, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s too late. If he had known…. Well, what would he have done?

This crush of his feels more and more childish as days go by. And yet, when you look at him, the way you’re looking at him now. With softness lined in your irises, he can’t help it.

He can’t help but look back at you. Maybe you can see his apology in his face.

“Hi,” A voice comes from your left side. You’re at the coffee bar, refilling your second cup of coffee before noon. His voice is reserved, almost shy. Your heart seizes up immediately at the sound of it.

“Morning, Jungkook,” You say breathlessly, grateful for the coffee cup in your hand for something to hold on to. To channel your nervous energy into.

“Morning,” Jungkook says softly, “Can I talk to you later? Maybe after the happy hour?” He asks, hope shining in his voice and sparkling in his eyes.

No- it was supposed to be you who would reach out to apologize. After all, you were the one who had screamed in his face and ran away. He’s probably only reaching out out of pity, you think cynically. Nevertheless, it throws you off.

And apparently, since you’re the keeper of bad decisions, your response to him is predictable. Despite every synapse in your heart screaming at you to say something else.

“Uh. I don’t think I’m going to the happy hour. I’m not really feeling great,” The lie blooms from your painted lips easily. His face falls and you pretend like your heart doesn’t ache over his doe eyes.

“Oh, okay. Feel better,” Jungkook says and you give him a barely there smile, passing him to head back in the conference room.

A headache is beginning to brew in the back of your head. It’s the last thing you need.

Why does it bother you that Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you first, rather than the other way around? After all, you were the one who caused a scene. What reason does he have to want to talk to you? If anything, you’re the one who needs to apologize, right?

You stare at the shifting trees in front of you, hoping that if you stare hard enough, the leaves will whisper an answer to you.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe he just is that good, to want to speak to you just because.

You’ve been sitting here, at Appa’s park, for the better part of an hour. You’re hoping for an epiphany, or some type of sign. It feels strange that Jungkook is weighing so heavily on your mind. You’re not used to this feeling.

A whistle of wind rustles through the collar of your thin jacket, curling around you in comfort. With a loud exhale, you stand up from your bench.

“Oh, fine. I’ll go to the stupid happy hour,” You scoff into the sky. As if the sky can hear your complaining. And so you turn on your heel and leave the park, begrudgingly making your way to the happy hour venue.

Usually, showing up to work events like this alone was a breeze. It was easy for you to think about these things as just being something to check off in your list of things to do for the day. You stayed to say your hellos and made some small talk before leaving, all within an hour.

But today feels different. Your carefully put together nerves are beginning to fray at the seams. You take a deep breath before swinging the door open to enter the bar. Namjoon and Mark had rented out a corner of the bar for your teams to have your own space. High tables of appetizers and drinks surrounded the bustling voices of your teammates.

Your hands are inadvertently balled into tense fists. This place is littered with people and still, you feel so alone. You wish Jin was here. You wish Jin was here.

Jungkook sees the crown of your head the minute you walk into the bar, even with the dimmed lighting. He had been sulking before, barely interested in the conversation that he had forced himself into under the pretense of ‘networking’. Not that anyone would be able to tell- Jungkook has mastered the art of making it seem like he was present. He would never jeopardize an invaluable opportunity like this, and he’s never been one to allow others to surpass him in settings like this. He knows what the stakes are. But he’s become adept in the art of multitasking.

Your lips are pursed, eyes darting across each side of the room. It feels overwhelming, like too much. Maybe you shouldn’t have come…

You cross your arms and dig your nails into your cloth covered bicep nervously. Before you can calm the thudding of your heart in your ears, you turn your head and see Jungkook walking towards you with a smile.

You can’t help but smile back.

“Jungkook,” You exhale, “Hi.”

“You came,” Jungkook says, eyes crinkling at the sight of you. Has he always had those deep laugh lines around his eyes when he smiled? For a second, you’re breathless but you break his gaze, not wanting to let your eyes linger over the rest of him for too long. At the risk that you’ll be sucked into his warm, brown whirlpools.

“Yeah,” You say faintly. Jungkook can sense your nervousness- you can’t help your eyes darting around you at the number of people surrounding you.

“Wanna get a drink with me?” Jungkook asks, gesturing towards the bar with a flick of his fingers.

“Really? You wanna get a drink with me?” You ask incredulously, with a raise of your eyebrow. How could he possibly want to spend time with you, when you had treated him the way you had?

“It’s on Namjoon and Mark’s company card,” Jungkook shrugs and you laugh. He leads you towards the bar. There are a few people seated at the navy blue leather bar stools surrounding the bar, a few of them eyeing Jungkook curiously. It doesn’t surprise you- he looks good in a form fitting black turtleneck and black slacks. Rings adorn his fingers and small hoops sit in his earlobes, a soft smile peeling across his face when he looks at you.

Yeah. You’d stare at him, too. If you didn’t have the fortune to know him.

“What can I get you?” Jungkook asks, relaxing with his elbow on the bar top.

“You mean what can Namjoon and Mark get us?” You say, pulling a laugh from him. Your heart sings at the sweet sound. “Hmm… I’ll have wine, I guess.”

“Red or white?”

“White?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Jungkook teases and your cheeks heat up.

“Telling you! I’ll have a… chardonnay,” You reply, turning your head towards the bar so he can’t see how flustered you are. But he does, and he pockets the information for later.

Once Jungkook orders two glasses of chardonnay for both of you and you’re both holding the wine glasses in your hands, you gently clink your glass with him. It makes you a little nervous, how easily you find yourself talking to him. How comfortable you feel around him, as if you were old friends. As if you hadn’t been so mean to him only the night before.

You don’t know him well. But you remember that he’s always had a big heart, offering his forgiveness to those who didn’t deserve it. Would you ruin him? But maybe a little selfishly, you want to chase this feeling.

“I went to this park earlier,” You murmur, swirling your wine in your glass, “It’s really pretty and quiet. I used to go there all the time when I was younger.”

“You’ve been to Tokyo before?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid and spend summers here with Appa. Sometimes Grandma, too. Appa taught me Japanese from when I was really young, it’s probably why I’m even on this team…”

“That’s not true, you’re on this team because you’re really smart and good at what you do! And I know Namjoon values your opinion a lot-” Jungkook protests, an annoyed furrow in his brow. Is that really what you think of yourself?

You laugh and give him a grateful smile. With a breath of seemingly transient courage, you part your lips- “Jungkook,” Your voice is soft and small and nothing like what he’s used to, “I want to-”

And then you’re both interrupted by both Sana and Namjoon slinging their arms around your shoulders. Jungkook gives you a reassuring smile, a promise that you’ll talk later. You wonder if you’ll lose your courage by then.

Namjoon pulls you away from Jungkook and Sana, introducing you to some people that you’ve never met. You recognize them as higher ups, Hyo-Jin, the head of submissions for all of Asia and Hae-ri, the head of business development. The realization makes you take a few generous sips of your wine and straighten your back.

You can hear Jin’s voice in your head, telling you to make a good impression. Namjoon easily pulls you into the conversation, giving you plenty of opportunity to insert yourself in-

“She’s my right hand woman, though I don’t think even that is a good enough term to tell you what she is to me,” Namjoon says. Compliments like that always fluster you, and this time is no different.

“Namjoon speaks too highly of me,” You brush him off, “I’m just glad I have this opportunity, I mean being on the submissions team has always been one of my favorite parts of the job.”

“Oh? Do you see a future for yourself in submissions?” Hyo-Jin asks curiously, with a quirk of an elegant eyebrow. She’s a no nonsense woman, you can tell just from the five minutes you’ve had with her.

“I definitely want to lead submissions teams one day. I mean, Namjoon is a great teacher,” You grin, elbowing him, “But even more than that… I’d like to oversee an entire product line end to end later down the line. And I think it’s important to invest in our young talent, too-”

“Young talent? As in people development?” Hyo-Jin asks.

“Yeah, I mean they’re our future leaders, aren’t they? It’s important that they have the tools to succeed now and beyond,” You say vehemently.

Hyo-Jin says nothing, only nodding and taking a sip of her drink. “And you? Do you have the tools to succeed now and beyond as a future leader?”

The question makes you stumble. Do you throw your boss under the bus? But you’ve never been a liar, and you sure as hell won’t start now.

“No,” You say bluntly, “I’ve learned so much with Namjoon and being part of this team. And in general being part of regulatory and submissions projects. But I don’t think my skill set is being effectively used in my current role. If you want an honest answer.”

You can practically hear Jin scolding you from far away. But you won’t build a professional relationship on a fallacy. To your surprise, Hyo-Jin smiles.

“That’s refreshing,” She says, her painted lips splitting into a smile.

“What is?” You ask, feeling rather stupid.

“Your honesty,” Hae-ri chimes in, “People aren’t always honest with us, because of our titles. Like they have something to prove.”

“Yeah, well, maybe people are rightfully more concerned about making a good first impression than I am,” You joke, gripping the handle of your wine glass tighter. Hyo-Jin and Hae-ri both laugh with you, telling you to put time on their calendars to meet with them virtually when you go back to South Korea after the trip. With that, they both slip away from you, making sure you know that they appreciated your presence. And then you let out a breath.

“Holy shit. I fucked that up,” You mutter, “My boss is going to kill me, Joon. What the hell is wrong with me-”

“Relax,” Namjoon says easily, his dimples on display, “They loved you. Trust me, they loved you. They already knew who you were, you know.”

“What? How could they possibly know who I was?” You gasp incredulously, “I’m a nobody!”

“Seokjin’s right. For someone so smart, you’re dumb-”

“Hey! That’s unprofessional of you,” You say, but a smile threatens your lips.

“They never tell anyone to put time on their calendars unless they like them. So just trust me. And this submission has the eyes of all of the higher ups. Our good work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I just,” You sigh, “I’m used to it going unnoticed. So I guess… Thank you. For your leadership, your guidance… and your friendship.”

He smiles at you brightly and clinks his glass with you. “C’mon, let’s go find Mark.”

Jungkook can’t help but cast his eyes in your direction every so often. He knew, he knew you were about to say something poignant at the bar. All of the signs were there- your serious eyes, the way you forced yourself to look him in the face, the barely there nervousness that he could taste.

It seems that everyone suddenly wants a piece of you- you flit around with Namjoon, taking it all in as he introduces you to people. Jungkook is beyond happy for you, that you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve from the company.

But still, he can’t help but crave just a minute alone with you. Especially when he sees Mark’s face light up at the sight of you, pulling you into a too-friendly hug. And you don’t even realize it, it seems. Only offering him a smile in return, surprise coloring your face when he hugs you so tightly.

Jungkook tries his best to stay present in the conversation he’s in, with Sana and a few other members of the Tokyo team. But he has such a nice view of you that he can’t help his eyes drifting every so often. He can’t help noticing the way your pink pants sit on your hips, and the way your black blouse is tucked into them. More than that though, he can’t help noticing Mark noticing.

Do you know? That Mark sees you in that light? He’s so obvious about it, and yet. It seems like you’re oblivious.

Namjoon eventually excuses himself from both of you, claiming that he can hear Sana calling for him. You think nothing of it, shrugging and continuing your conversation with Mark.

“Hey, you did great today,” Mark compliments, stepping just a hair closer to you.

“Oh! Thanks, I know,” You wink at him, “I have a great team, I mean it.”

“Well,” Mark says, taking a sip of his soju, “You’re pretty great, too.”

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with a roll of your eyes, “You don’t need to butter me up, Mark. Save it.”

“C’mon, you know I mean it. We’ve been through a lot, you and I,” Mark says with a crooked sort of grin. You understand why people fawn over him, that smile could get anyone to do anything but you roll your eyes.

“Have we, Mark?” You ask dryly.

“We go way back,” He says self-assuredly, almost cockily.

“No, we don’t,” You mumble under your breath, and he hears you. You subtly take a step back from him, turning on your side. Only to find Jungkook already looking at you.

“You wound me,” Mark murmurs, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. You roll your eyes, but still give him the same grin. It’s polite, nothing more, nothing less.  

The way Mark looks at you teeters on the edge of something more than friendly professionalism. It’s clear that you both have known each other for a while. Maybe through work? Maybe something else? It bothers Jungkook, and he knows it shouldn’t. Especially when Mark leaves you for a minute, only to return with a refill of your wine.

An irritating ember settles in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. Perhaps he has an ulcer, he thinks dryly.

Mark has your phone number, from other projects you’ve worked with him on. He does text you every so often, maybe once every few months. You’ve never thought much of it, only responding to him out of obligation since he is your colleague and technically your superior. You don’t think it’s malicious- he’s always been a charmer. Even when you first met him when you first started at the company.

By the time you manage to shake yourself of Mark, Jungkook has disappeared. How long has it been since you’ve been here? You look outside of the windows quickly, taking in the darkness of the sky and the moon hanging from it.

“Hey, you ready to head back to the hotel?” Namjoon asks, Sana already in her coat next to him.

“Yeah, where’s Jungkook?” You ask, craning your neck to see the top of his fluffy hair.

“He left a bit ago. Said he wasn’t feeling well,” Sana says, fastening the buttons on her coat. The bitter pill of regret settles in your belly. How ironic that he had left happy hour saying he wasn’t feeling well, when that had been your excuse to not attend.

So still, even when you are in your hotel room after the happy hour, changed in your pajamas and about to watch a show to end your night, you think nothing of it when Mark texts you later that night:

Mark: it was good to see you tn :)

Despite Mark’s name lighting up your phone, you feel an ache in your heart. Over the fact that you hadn’t had the chance to speak to Jungkook. He’s somewhere in this hotel, and you could, you really could just ask Namjoon his room number and talk to him. But the bolt of courage from earlier seems to have fizzled out long ago.

So you text Mark back instead. Thinking nothing of it.

[the-resurrection-3d]

I wrote the "feel like I shouldn't like it" comment! I do agree with you about the character dynamics, I just am inclined to subject them to less extreme depths of pain. I wouldn't write about mutilation fantasies, for example. What I meant by that comment is that it would be very easy for me to find that kind of material too much to bear, but you don't lose track of the emotional elements in the pain or warp the characters just so they can suffer more deeply as darker works sometimes do.

(hit the character limit) But I also think you are onto something about not knowing how to use darkness. My first fic is very fluffy because I wanted it to be, but I realized that I wouldn't mind exploring some of the darker elements, especially the dysfunction of the Paguro family. Even in my fluffy story I kept rubbing up against that issue. My work would never be like yours, and that's ok, but it's good to enjoy other approaches to help define my own. Plus, your stories are just good to read!

Thank you again for the clarification! And like I said, that wasn't meant to be any kind of shade towards you. Sorry this took me for-fuckin’-ever to get to-- I wanna emphasize again how much I appreciate getting this kind of thoughtful engagement in my inbox, even if I take a while to respond.

First, it’s always funny to me when people call my stuff extreme because you’re not wrong, I’m just fucked in the head, lol. I’ve been dealing with extremely violent intrusive thoughts for so long that this kind of gore no longer phases me. Though I have been pushing myself out of my comfort zone a lot more with this fandom— actually naming the incestuous intrusive thoughts the way I did in “I was an island” is something I’ve struggled with for years, and even then, I thought for sure people would give me shit for it. (The grooming fic, meanwhile, really makes me feel like I’ve gone insane, even though it will probably never be published in a complete form.) 

Moving on, though, I have just… so many thoughts on the use of darkness in fic it’s hard to know where to start. When I said that this morning, I was specifically thinking of several instances where younger writers have asked me for advice on how to avoid “romanticizing” things like mental illness and trauma in their writing-- and like I said, I get it. I do! But it’s frustrating that this disgust towards work that “romanticizes” “bad things” pervades fandom spaces, yet has no real definition beyond “if it has explicit sex, it’s trash.” (I know I’m using a lot of scare quotes around “romanticize,” so I wanna say that that’s not because I think it’s an inherently useless word, just that fandom has made it one.)

This ties in, I think, not only to something my writing partner for the Grooming Saga said this morning, but to various points I’ve seen brought up by researchers in my pedagogical studies (and my thesis in this class is on the intersection of creative writing and compositional pedagogies so you’ve just activated my fucking autism trap card). Similar to the ao3 comment I was originally responding to in my initial post, my friend felt unsatisfied with a lot of the fandom’s Alberto angst output because it felt, as they put it, “too vague.” There are various reasons for this, the first of which is that writing, even in a school setting, is seen as a reflection of the self. In creative settings like fanfic, this has taken on a moral aspect to it— to be accused of “romanticizing” trauma or mental illness not only means your story is bad, but suggests your story is literally damaging to culture, and how can that not reflect poorly on you as a person? 

But even moving beyond that, a lot of people are afraid of being too specific, too “dark,” because they fear rejection— a lot of young writers need to be given “permission” by other texts to break out of their own ideas of how stories “should” be told, which is how you end up >being me in an undergraduate writing class reading Homesick for Another World because, as my professor outright said, “Some students need to be given permission to go darker.”

It reminded me of this article a colleague brought up in our pedagogy class, wherein the author found that students’ anxieties towards writing ended up making them turn in papers with the same vague generalizations and clichés in lieu of the actual analysis she’d been looking for. Here’s a study she cites that I think is really useful for giving some more language and empirical backing to things I’m sure we’ve all already seen:

Thorne and McLean collected written accounts of traumatic events along with "telling-narratives," stories in which subjects described contexts for the stories' narration, including how the stories were told and how they were received. Researchers identified three positions within the telling contexts: [1] the John Wayne [JW], where the teller presents a self that is tough and well able to handle the situation; [2] the Florence Nightingale [FN], where the teller describes a self that is aware and responsive to the needs of others; and [3] the Vulnerable, where the teller focuses on his or her own "fear, sadness, and/or helplessness" (175). Findings indicated that

audiences were more willing to accept traumatic positions of toughness or concern for the feelings of others than positions of raw vulnerability—unmitigated fear or sadness. Based on their greater likelihood of being accepted by audiences, we speculate that for this sample of European-American college students, John Wayne and Florence Nightingale positions constituted culturally dominant narratives and Vulnerable positions did not. . . . A number of informants commented that listeners do not know how to respond to feelings of fear and sadness, suggesting that there is no general script for managing vulnerability in this sample of late adolescents. (181-82)

In other words, some late adolescents bring to their composing process an internalized expectation that stepping outside dominant cultural scripts for relating distressing events will result in a lack of audience response or even in audience withdrawal.* 

In academic and life-writing, as these researchers have found, people retreat to discursive models that are not only already familiar to them to alleviate stress, but that they think best fits with what their audience wants to read. In creative writing, breaking through the impulse towards vagueness and cliché is all the harder because what do you replace it with? How can you begin to tailor these feelings towards a particular character if you haven’t even fully articulated your own feelings to yourself? 

Also your comment about “warp[ing] the characters just so they can suffer more deeply as darker works sometimes do”... don’t fucking get me started, lmao. If you want to know more of my thoughts on that, we can talk about it in a different post or you can read my unfinished bitter Eraserhead baby of a fic, “but I am home.” I have so much to say about how this attitude of suffering being inherently meaningful has haunted my writing over the last couple of years, and how I hope I’m avoiding it in my more angst-heavy fics (except for the grooming fic which is awful and why I’m glad no one is gonna get to read it), but ultimately it’s not a standard I hold anyone’s fanfiction to but my own. 

I hope the writing goes well! I definitely feel ya on rubbing up against the angst potential even in fluff— people ask all the time why someone would write fucked up content about a kid’s show/movie, but honestly, the fact of the matter is that a lot of kid’s media has fucked up shit in it that they’re not very good at addressing (if they do at all). Anybody remember that time Yin Yang Yo! made a visual gag out of an 11-year-old boy being kidnapped and severely beaten for an unspecified amount of time until he completely changed his personality to the point of being unrecognizable and all his dialogue sounding like a Christian Youth counselor’s script? That wasn’t my favorite joke in the episode but it was pretty alright I guess. 

Alright, I swear I’m done rambling now. Thanks again for the ask c: And good luck on your writing! Godspeed, brother! 

(The study being cited is Avril Thome and Kate McLea’s "Telling Traumatic Events in Adolescence: A Study of Master Narrative Positioning” from Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of Narrative Self: Developmental and Cultural Perspectives, but the actual article I read was “Fear, Teaching Composition, and Students’ Discursive Choices: Re-thinking Connections Between Emotions and College Student Writing” by Sally Chandler for Composition Studies volume 35.) 

[qualidude]

Could you post an excerpt of your writing pretty please?

I’m going to do this under the cut so I’m not just filling up everyone’s dash, but thanks for asking! It’s cool y’all are interested. It took me a while to decide what part would be good to share. I thought about trying to pull an excerpt from each of the three POVs, but I think that would get too long to share in a text post on Tumblr. This is part of the scene where the most characters are present at once. It’s told from Avery’s perspective. She’s basically the dyke of my dreams but also....not. I wrote a little more about her in response to this ask Co-author is @arabdyke​ ! Also, if you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about, follow the link above!

One thing I will say about this book is that we aren’t going for anything fancy, more going for attachment to the characters and readability (since it’s so fuckin long lol). It all takes place in first perspective, so we are just trying to achieve something that feels natural. Let me know what y’all think!

“I’m gonna go smoke,” I say when there’s finally a lull in the conversation. “I’ll come,” Ian offers, which surprises me. I won’t turn down the company though. Amanda heads off to some other part of the house while all three of us make our way outside. I take a cigarette out, lighting it. I try to exhale away from Ian, but the smoke keeps blowing in his face. “Sorry,” I crack a smile. He just smiles back wearily. “Do you think Everest likes that Amanda girl?” I ask. He sighs and shrugs, looking pathetic about it. “Probably. I don’t know. I mean, it’s fine if he does.” “Is it?” He slumps again. “I mean, yeah, it is.” “Why isn’t it fine?” I ask, ignoring what he just said. Ian looks around hesitantly like he’s making sure we’re far away from all other ears. He seems deeply uncomfortable. I seriously feel bad for this guy. He doesn’t know what I know, but even if I didn’t, I’d never be shitty about it. He probably even knows that, but it might not make it easier.

“It’s just hard to watch Everest date anyone now...after Gwen was so awful.” “Mm,” I muse. “Well, Amanda seems nice.” Rudolf’s staring at Ian intensely like he’s trying to will him into just spitting it out already. “I guess,” Ian agrees slowly. “Nice enough.” Rudolf kind of rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Ian just crosses his arms, staring off at nothing in particular. “There are other reasons too,” he mumbles, still not making eye contact. “Like...I don’t know. I like him.” Jesus. Finally. “Aw, that’s sweet,” I tease, not wanting to act too shocked or knowing. “You guys have known each other forever. How long have you been into him?” “A long time. Too long, probably. It’s stupid, right?” “It’s not stupid,” Rudolf cuts in before I can come up with a response. “You can’t help the way you feel.” Ian just shrugs. “Rudolf’s right,” I say. “It’s not stupid.” “It’s pretty hard not to feel that way,” Ian chuckles bitterly.

“Trust me, I get it…” I continue. “I was in love with my best friend too once upon a time, but it’s not the end of the world. He could feel the same way even. You have no idea.” “Yeah,” Rudolf adds. “I mean, he did date a guy once, right? You kinda left that part out before, buddy.” “We were kids,” Ian says, getting red. “That barely counts.” “Of course it counts,” Rudolf insists. “Well, he isn’t gay,” Ian says pointedly. “He literally told me he was bi just a few days ago.” Ian gets quiet and seems confused. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how that could be possible. “He told you that?” he asks finally. Rudolf nods. “He never told me that,” Ian states. I can tell he doesn’t know what to make of this new information. Is it a good thing? Mostly he just looks dazed. “He thought you knew,” Rudolf says. “He said he thought it wasn’t a big deal.” Ian takes a deep breath. “Well, I don’t think that changes anything.”

“Dude, yeah, it does,” Rudolf keeps at it. “You have a chance. That’s something, right?” Ian doesn’t seem convinced. He just looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Maybe,” he says simply. There’s a sense of finality in his tone like he’s putting an end to the conversation. He looks off into space again after that. I chain smoke a few cigarettes, mostly because I don’t know what else to say or do. When I’m about to reach for another, Rudolf takes it out of my hand. “We can go back inside,” he says, handing the cigarette back to me. He looks kind of shocked by what he just did like he acted without thinking. Ian sees the expression on Rudolf’s face and chuckles. “Yeah, alright, we can go back in.”I smile at Rudolf to try to ease the tension. Then I follow them inside, stashing the cigarette back in my pack. By now, it’s louder and a lot more crowded. I don’t recognize anyone, but that’s alright. Maybe it will be better if we don’t see anyone we know tonight. Ian’s surveying the room, probably looking for Everest. He gives up quickly, though. “I might go check things out in the kitchen,” I say. “Wanna tag along?” “Sure,” Rudolf nods, letting me lead the way. Ian doesn’t say anything but follows after us regardless. There are a few people hanging around the table and like Amanda mentioned, one of them’s doing trash rat tats. I greet them with a nod and then pick up some flash sheets sitting on the table, looking them over. Some of them are pretty basic, but some are cool. There’s one of a gory eyeball and another of a fat pigeon that I somehow love as much as I hate.

“Are you getting one?” Rudolf asks, glancing over the designs in my hands. “Yeah, I think so.” Ian looks along with us, but I know this really isn’t his scene. “Which one do you think you’ll get?” he asks. “Hmm, probably this one,” I say, pointing to the eyeball. “It’s so gross,” he cringes. “Yeah, I like gross shit.” “You should see her art,” Rudolf says fondly. I smile at him. “Think this suits me?” “Yeah, it’ll look good.” When the current crowd clears, the person holding the tattoo gun looks at us and asks if there’s anything sparking our interest.“This one’s pretty cool,” I say, handing them the sheet. “Sweet,” they say. “Take a seat.” So, I do. The tattooer isn’t super chatty, but that’s fine. I kind of prefer it. I decide to get the work on my arm in the small space I have left between two stick-n-pokes I got a few years back. Ian and Rudolf sit with me, but Ian just looks queasy. “You don’t have to stick around,” I assure him, but he forces a smile and asks me if it hurts. “Not really,” I say, hoping that’ll help somehow. That’s the truth. It doesn’t really hurt. You get used to it. A few minutes in, a new group of people pile into the kitchen. Amongst them, of all fucking people, is Cameron. Fucking fantastic. 

Rudolf doesn’t notice right away. He’s busy staring at my arm, but after a minute, he looks up at me. I must seem uncomfortable because he raises an eyebrow and then turns around. His expression immediately slips as he makes eye contact with Cameron. Then he turns back to me, looking dead-eyed. When Cameron spots us, he wastes no time heading over. Rudolf wastes no time leaving. I wish I could follow him, but I literally can’t. “Hah, of course you’d be into this lame shit,” he says to me, ignoring Rudolf’s disappearing act. The tattooer scoffs under their breath. “Cameron, fuck off,” I say limply. “I’m not in the mood.” “Ow,” he feigns hurt. “Watch it, Avery.”

Cameron takes the seat that Rudolf was previously occupying. “Hey,” he says to Ian. “Hey,” Ian responds, looking unsure of the whole situation. “Who are you?” “Cameron Fant,” he says, holding his hand out. “You?” Ian accepts his hand slowly, giving it a firm shake. “Ian.” God. Who introduces themselves like that? Was Cameron always this annoying, or did I just not see it? “Are you one of Avery’s friends?” Cameron asks, probably prepared to make himself look perfect in the eyes of a new, handsome stranger. Ian nods, and Cameron asks where we met.

“Weight class.” “Why haven’t I seen you around before?” “This isn’t really my thing.” Cameron laughs and then touches Ian’s shoulder. “Well, yeah, this is awful,” he says. “I’ll show you something better.” Ian’s face is red again. Cameron probably loves that. He’s oozing confidence and it fucking sucks. I wish I could tell Ian right now just how awful and disgusting Cameron is, but I can't. Not without betraying Rudolf's trust. Instead, I zone out and stare down at my arm, trying not to listen. Cameron keeps flirting with Ian and it’s honestly the vilest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen these moves a million times before, but now, with everything coming into the light, I can barely keep it together.“Cam, screw off, you’re not even his type,” I say before I can help myself. Cameron’s eyes snap to me and he looks pissed. Ian looks uncomfortable too, but screw them both! It’s literally just the truth. Besides, this isn’t something Ian wants to get mixed up in even for one second. He knows Cameron’s an ass, but he’s also charming as hell. I don’t want to risk Ian falling for the facade. “Oh you know fuck-all,” Cameron spits at me before turning back to Ian like I never said anything at all. Ian looks so fucking distressed and I feel bad because I know he doesn’t know how to make this stop. “So, what do you do?” Cameron asks, crossing his arms in a way that I think is supposed to make him seem laid back. “Uh, I just graduated,” Ian mumbles.“Wow, me too,” he says and he just sounds so damn sure of himself. “From where?” “U of M.” “Huh,” Cameron smiles condescendingly. “I went to the Academy of Art with Avery and Rudolf before his lame ass dropped out. I’m a sculptor.” “I heard…” Ian says, wide-eyed. “That’s...cool?” Ugh. Don’t encourage him! “It is pretty cool. Probably the best job in the world. I get to do whatever I want and make all my own hours.” Jesus Christ, he sounds so full of himself. I swear to God he’s a complete and utter fucking narcissist.

Cameron keeps talking about himself and I can’t help but notice that he sounds a little more invested than normal. I keep staring at them, trying to figure it out. Ian certainly is Cameron’s type, even if the reverse isn't true. I guess Ian looks a bit like Jackson, which is funny because Jackson looks a bit like Cameron. All these fucking white boys, man. That might be what’s keeping Cameron’s interest. He’s shallow, after all.

Just as Ian looks like he’s about to absolutely lose it, Cameron gets a text. He pulls out his phone and smirks to himself. “I’ve got something I need to take care of,” he says to Ian. “But I’ll see you around.” “Sure,” Ian responds. “Later, Avery,” Cameron says to me before leaving the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, Ian leans into me and urgently whispers, “Was he hitting on me!?”

Ugh. “Yeah,” I say with distaste. “That’s the guy Rudolf slept with, huh?” “Yep...” I say again, getting knots in my stomach. “He’s pretty crappy.” Ian gives a long nod, sitting back in his seat. “That’s what Rudolf and Everest both said.” Hopefully, that’s enough for Ian to put the idea to rest. If he rejected Rudolf’s advances before, then he’s probably not about to fall into Cameron’s trap. He’s just too nice to tell Cameron to fuck off. When my tattoo is done, the artist wraps it for me and I pull my wallet out, handing them a few bills.

“Thanks,” I say, “This is great.” That felt like forever. Usually, I enjoy the entire process, but Cameron ruined it. Now I just want to find Rudolf. I wander through the house, shoving everyone who bumps into me. I am not in the fucking mood. “Let me know if you see Rudolf,” I say to Ian. He nods, glancing around with me for a few minutes until we find Rudolf sitting on a sofa. There are a bunch of other people sitting around him, but I can tell he probably hasn’t been talking to any of them. There’s a drink in his hand and I can’t help but wonder if it’s his first or his fifth. “Hey, man,” I say. He nods, but with the way his head bobs I can tell he’s pretty fucked up. Man, this sucks. I never expected to see Cameron here. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” he insists but his voice is high and slurry. I offer him a hand, pulling him up from the sofa and away from the crowd of folks hovering in the living room. “Cameron’s pretty full of himself, huh?” Ian says. 

I think he’s trying to make Rudolf feel better, but it doesn’t work. Rudolf just scowls. 

“What was he doin’? Talkin’ about how talented and popular and amazing he is?” “Pretty much,” Ian says. “Typical. Was he flirting?” Rudolf keeps wobbling against me, but at least he’s coherent. “Um...I don’t know. Maybe a bit?” Everest reappears finally, clapping a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Hey! Sorry I got swept off! How’s it going?”

“I got a tattoo,” I say, lifting my arm. “Woah, sweet!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to show me later.” “Cameron decided to show up,” Rudolf adds, sharing a look of disdain with Everest. “Oh… ew,” Everest says slowly. “Man, that guy is so lame.” “He hung around, so I left,” Rudolf shares. “God, yeah I would’ve, too…I would’ve peaced right the fuck out.” “Yeah, plus watching him flirt with Ian would’ve made me want to puke. Glad I missed that.” Everest’s jaw slacks. He looks at Ian and then back at Rudolf. 

“Are you kidding? That guy really has no shame.” Ian laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I didn’t really know how to react…”

The tension doesn’t go away. It just keeps building. Ian and Everest don’t know how truly foul Cameron is. They think Rudolf is upset because he slept with Cameron and things went south, but that’s not even close. We stand around for a minute and Rudolf keeps drinking. Hell, we all keep drinking, except Ian who looks like he just wants to go home. “What did Cameron even say to you?” Everest mumbles, pushing a topic I really wish he’d just drop. “Mm…” Ian twists his face like he’s trying to remember. “He mostly just talked about how he’s an artist. He told me I’d like the party scene if I went places with him.” “Gross,” Everest scoffs. “That’s never happened to me before,” Ian confesses. “A guy’s never hit on me like that before.”

He seems put off, but still somehow excited. I wish he wasn’t, but I’m trying to understand. Sometimes it just feels nice to have someone acknowledge you, especially when you’ve been in the closet so long. It makes you feel less alone, even if that person is a total scumbag. “Yeah, well Cameron’s a douche,” Everest snaps. “Oh, yeah, I mean, I know that,” Ian looks taken aback. “I’m not going to keep talking to him or anything.” Yikes. I wonder what has Everest so riled up over this. Did Rudolf tell him what happened? Everyone seems uncomfortable and I’m starting to think that we should just get the hell out of here. It’s such a fucking drag that Cameron sucked the life out of our whole night like this. Too bad my best friend turned out to be an absolute nightmare of a person. 

Too bad my ex-girlfriend hates me now because she can’t see how shitty he is. 

Too bad I clearly have the world’s worst taste in people.

“Do you guys want to head home?” I decide to ask, hoping someone will take the bait.

“Not yet,” Everest says, his arms crossed. I look to Rudolf and he just frowns. Ugh. Jesus Christ. This is why I hate going out! This is why I hate parties. I literally never have a good time. Why do I even try anymore? I hate having to manage everyone’s feelings! “Okay,” I scuff the sole of my shoe against the floor. If I can’t get these guys to leave, maybe I can make Cameron want to. Then I could enjoy myself again.

[calpalirwin]

Since Kindergarten

Summary: Jaz and Michael slowly learn that maybe they shouldn’t be too harsh on Ashton for having a crush when they can’t even figure it out themselves.

A/N: Spin off/alternate storyline of @cxddlyash​’s work Make You Mine

Word Count: 5.8k

And away, and away we go!

__

“Club meeting after school. It’ll be on the announcements, but I know you never pay attention,” I tell Michael.

“I’m Vice President, Jaz. I know when my club meets,” the boy rolls his pretty green eyes.

“Our club,” I correct, patting his chest.

His eyes roll again. “Yeah, yeah. Catch ya later Madam President.” He gives me a mock salute before dashing down the hall to his class.

I laugh to myself as I walk into my science class, stalling as I spot a girl I’ve never seen before in my usual seat. “Uh… you’re in my seat,” I tell her, taking the desk directly to her left.

“Shit, I’m sorry…” the girl mumbles, grabbing her things.

I wave my hand for her to stay where she is. “I’m fucking with you. Mr. C doesn’t give two shits where we sit anyway. Something about encouraging our growing minds to make the right decisions for ourselves. I’m Jasmine, by the way. Everyone calls me Jaz, though.”

“Y/N,” she replies, her voice a little stronger as she relaxes back into the desk.

“So, where’d ya move from?”

“North Carolina.”

“Shit,” I nod approvingly. As if I knew fuckin’ anything about North Carolina… “So you’re probably used to the heat then?”

She laughs politely. “Yeah. It’s a lot dryer here though.”

“Yeah, that’s California for ya.”

“Aw, look at that!” a voice behind us cooed sadistically. “The old loser’s making friends with the new loser.”

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to talk about your friends, Rachel,” I deadpan, offering Rosie my award winning smile.

The girl with strawberry blonde hair that falls in perfect waves down her designer sweater scoffs. “Whatever. You would take in the strays, wouldn’t you?”

“Funny, we say the same thing about you dating Greg, Ruby,” I respond, continuing to butcher her’s and her tool of boyfriend’s names on purpose.

Rosie scoffs again, and I smirk at the little stamp of her foot. “At least I don’t sleep with all my friends. Or are you into girls? I can never tell when you hang out with those boys who’s fucking who.”

“You should ask George, I’m sure he knows. Run along now, Ruth. I heard today we’re gonna figure out why scientifically some girls peak in high school.”

“Ugh! You’re such a loser!”

“Sorry about that…” I apologize to Y/N, who has her eyes squeezed shut and is white knuckling her desk. “Just ignore her. It’s what everybody else does.”

“Not you,” she points out. “You stood up to her…”

I shrug my shoulders. “Nah, standing up to her would be slugging her right in her pretty lil face. I just like to remind her that she’s not the only one who can run their mouth. Anyway... North Carolina, huh?”

~~~

I spot my friends already hanging by the doorway of the cafeteria with their lunches. I mutter a quick thanks as I grab my lunch before making my way over to them. “Sup, losers?” I grin, balancing my tray in one hand so I can throw my other arm around Michael’s shoulder.

The boy laughs, before looping his own arm across my shoulders. “What’s the game plan for lunch?”

I shrug, carefully so as not to nudge off his arm or jostle us into spilling our lunches. “No idea. Guys?” I ask, looking over at our other friends. 

Calum shrugs while Luke suggests, “Outside like always?”

“Works for me, I’m starving,” Michael complains.

“You’re always starving,” we all answer before heading for the doors to go outside. All but Ashton, who’s frowning and still frozen in place. “Ash?” I ask, getting the hazel-eyed boy’s attention. “You coming?”

He nods quickly before jogging to catch up with us. “So… did no one see what Rosie did to Y/N?” he asks as we all sit down at our usual table off in the shade.

I snap my head in his direction at the mention of Rosie. The things I would do to that girl and her snobby friends given half a chance. My eyes scan across the quad, locating the strawberry blonde bimbo with her posse and douche of a boyfriend, Grant. “What?! What did she do?!” I demand, feeling my hands curl into fists at my sides. I hated the way she thought she could just treat people like shit and get away with it because no one wanted to ruin their reputation by standing up to her. And since Y/N was still the new kid, that made her a fresh target for Rosie’s bullshit. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it. Yeah, the girl was shy, but she was sweet as could be, and one hell of a science partner. She deserved better than Rosie constantly fucking with her.

“She roughly pushed her into the lockers, claiming she was in the way,” Ashton quickly explains.

The disgust was clear in his tone, but there was an underlying sadness to it. I scoff and push back a few loose strands of my hair. “Of course she did. She never liked her.” I let out a sigh, remembering every faked “Whoops,” Rosie gave her in science class when she purposefully kicked our bags each time she walked by or dropped our papers so they didn’t get handed in with everyone else’s. God, that bitch was one move away from me blowing up her next science experiment.

“Who really cares?” Calum pipes up. “She keeps to herself. She’s kinda asking to be a target.”

I’m not sure when all this cliche shit went to my friend’s head, so I give him a good punch on the arm to remind him just who he’s friends with.

He groans, moving out of my reach, rubbing at his arm. “Fuck, Jaz! What the hell?!”

“Don’t be a fucking dick!” I snarl, feeling Michael’s hand cover my own as a silent plea not to beat Calum senseless. “Who cares if she keeps to herself? That doesn’t mean she should get picked on.” I roll my eyes at him. Honestly… Plus, was Calum really that dense that he couldn’t see that Ashton clearly had a thing for the new girl? Well… what better way to get Ashton to talk to her than by inviting her to sit with us?

Ashton’s eyes widen as I get up from the table, spotting the girl alone at a table on the outskirts of the quad. “Jaz, what are you doing?” It’s a hissed whisper laced with panic as he frantically waves me back over to them, eyes darting about trying to get help from the other guys.

I look over at him, a smirk on my lips. “I’m gonna bring her over here, duh.”

Y/N’s working on homework when I walk up to her, so I wait patiently for her to take notice of my presence, my hands clasping together in front of me. “Hey,” I smile brightly at her when she slowly lifts up her gaze.

“Hi… What’s going on?” Her fingers shake a little as she tucks a stand of hair behind her ear. Oh, she was like a kicked puppy… I’d like to give Rosie a good kick…

Deciding to just go for it, I reach for her bag. Her hand reaches out to stop mine, but I already have it in my hands. “C’mon,” I coax, nodding my head in the direction of my table. “I want you to come sit with me and my friends. I’ve got one that really wants to meet you.”

Her cheeks flush as she shakes her head. “Jaz… I- I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine right here.”

I sigh, but I’m not ready to give up so quickly. “Please?” I slightly beg. “Just for today?” When her hand grabs again for her bag, I hold my arm out of her reach. Great, hold her bag hostage, that’ll work…

The girl’s eyes dart back and forth between me and the chaos that is high schoolers vying for space despite being out-fuckin’-side. “You guys don’t wanna be seen with me,” she diverts, but I just shake my head. Her excuse is about as lame as my holding her schoolbag hostage. She lets out a sigh and I cheer internally. “F-fine, but just for today.”

I grin, handing her back her backpack. One battle at a time. I stop in front of my table, feeling her bump into me. She mutters a quick apology, but I don’t acknowledge it, instead choosing to start introducing her. “Y/N, these are my friends,” I begin, pointing towards Calum first. “This is Calum. You might know him from the soccer team.” She shakes her head at me, so I keep going. “This is Luke. He’s in the choir.” They exchange a small wave of hello while my hand finds Michael’s shoulder. “This is Michael. He and I created the video game club, and he’s currently still mad that I’m president.” I break off into a giggle, realizing I’m rambling the most about him.

Michael scoffs, moving his pastel purple hair out of his face, that I swear he only dyed purple because I dyed the tips of my own hair purple. Or had I dyed my hair to match him? “Of course you’re the president,” he tells me, sarcasm dripping off his words. “You’re a pretty girl in a club with a bunch of gamers.”

Did he just call me pretty on purpose? I give him a look, crossing my arms over my chest, deciding to keep the banter going with him to hopefully distract from the heat I feel in my cheeks. “Mhm, sure. Keep telling yourself that. It’s really because I’m a better gamer than you.”

Y/N smiles softly, taking everything in before her gaze flutters over to Ashton expectantly.

“And finally we have Ashton!” I grin, leaning in to whisper for just her to hear, “He’s the one that really wanted to meet you.”

I motion for her to sit down as I sit across from Michael. When she does, I turn my attention on the green-eyed boy across from me. Had calling me pretty just been to make his playful insult have a little more sting to it? Or had he really meant it? His nose scrunches up as he tosses a fry at me. “What’re you staring at me so hard for, weirdo?”

“Still trying to figure out how you think you’re the better gamer,” I fire back.

“What? You want me to prove it?”

The idea of playing videogames with Michael? How was I gonna pass up that offer? It wasn’t like I had gone out of my way to make a club just to make sure I had an excuse to be around him more or anything crazy like that… Okay, well I had… sort of. He’d been the one complaining that all our friends had their thing. And running the club together had meant we had been spending more time together which wasn’t bothering me in the slightest, considering I’d been crushing on the kid since we became friends in kindergarten. But, I didn’t want him to know that just yet. Or ever. “You’re on, Clifford.”

Whatever his response is gets cut off with a giggled "Oops! Making new friends I see?"

My attention shifts in time to see Y/N give a shake of her head, while scrambling to get up from the table. "N-No… I was just leaving," she stutters, beginning to walk away. She doesn’t make it far because Rosie sticks out her foot, sending Y/N crashing to the ground.

The quad erupts in laughter as a crowd gathers to watch Rosie’s newest torment. Yeah, laugh harder jackasses, cuz each one of you knows it coulda been you, I think bitterly, rising to my feet. "Hey, Rosie, how about you fuck off?" My voice is a growl. 

My response is a snicker that makes me wanna give her a real reason to get a nose job. "Nice to see you sticking with the loser still, Jaz. Be careful. She might steal your man," she states while her eyes glance towards Michael. She gives Y/N one good last hard look of disgust before slinking off. 

I let out a huff of breath, crossing my arms over my chest. "God, I fucking hate her…” I ignore Michael’s look of confusion, sitting back down and gesturing for her to do the same. “C'mon, Y/N, sit back down."

She shakes her head at my offer, taking a few steps back. "I told you, you guys wouldn't want to be seen with me," she mumbles before walking away.

“Y/N? Y/N!” I call out after her. I sigh in defeat, looking to find Rosie still laughing with her friends. “Hehehehe,” I mock under my breath flipping her off.

Michael grabs my wrist, lowering my arm. “Do you really need to give her a reason?” he asks.

“Oh, please… like she needs a reason.”

“Still. Don’t stoop to her level, Jaz.”

“You say stooping, I say leveling the playing field.”

Michael rolls his eyes, sighing. “Anyway…”

~~~

“Ha!” I laugh in victory. “Told ya I’m the better gamer,” I continue to gloat at Michael. 

“That’s cuz I let you win.”

“Oh, yeah frickin��� right…” I roll my eyes. “You can say it Mikey. I won’t tell anybody. Go on. Say it. Say ‘Jaz, you’re the better gamer.’ Well? I’m waiting…”

“Jaz,” he starts.

“Yes?” I ask sweetly. 

“You’re batshit crazy,” he grins.

I swat his arm. “Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“You actually suck at videogames. I play with my controller inverted so you can win.”

I gasp at the confession, grabbing his controller and checking the settings he has on it. “You lil liar,” I laugh when his controller is set in a manner similar to mine.

His head tilts back as he laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corner. They’re soft when he pauses to take a breath, a crooked smile on his pink lips. “Nah, you’re actually pretty good. But, in my defense, I didn’t grow up with 3 older brothers. So all my gaming skills are self-taught.”

I scoff, jerking my thumb towards my bedroom door. “You think those idiots are helpful? Do you know me at all?”

“What kinda question is that? ‘Course I know ya,” he huffs.

“Mhm… sure…”

“What? Want me to prove it?”

I cross my hands behind my head. “Dazzle me,” I deadpan.

“Well…” he leans forward. “I happen to know that if I do what I’m about to do, there’s a fifty-fifty chance I get slapped.”

My breath catches in my throat. “A-and what are you about to do?”

His tongue wets his lips as he leans in even more. Before he can do what I think he’s about to do, my bedroom door bursts open. “Dinner!” the youngest of my older brothers, Ian, shouts. “And keep your door open when you have guests, Jaz,” he says with a smirk in Michael’s direction.

I stalk over to Ian. “Knocking is a thing, jackass. Try it sometime.” I push him in the chest so he staggers out of my doorway before slamming the door in his face. “So…” I say, turning back to Michael. “You staying for dinner?”

He grabs his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. “Nah, told my parents I’d be home. I probably won’t be on later…” One of his hands rubs at the back of his neck. “Homework and shit, ya know… but see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya...” I was going to kill Ian...

~~~

It was getting harder and harder to be around Michael. We hadn’t talked about what had almost happened in my bedroom, so every attempt at any other type of conversation felt awkward and forced. I hated it. I wanted my friend back. But I also wanted one of us to grow a pair and finish what we had started. And the more time that passed without either one of us bringing it up, the weirder our new limbo state became.

Right now, my only saving grace seemed to be that at least Ashton appeared to be in the same boat Michael and I were in. Only he didn’t have ten plus years of friendship with his crush.

“What are you staring at?" Michael asks Ashton while taking a bite of the pizza on his plate. Pizza sauce gathers in the corner of his mouth, and it takes all my instincts to not wipe it away. Michael’s gaze follows where Ashton’s is. "You're staring at her again?" It’s a stupid question. Of course Ashton’s been staring at Y/N. That’s all the boy does anymore. Problem was he needed to actually talk to her to accomplish anything. Wow… project much, Jaz?

Ashton snaps his head towards his friend, a blush forming on his cheeks. "What do you mean again?!" he asks and Michael gives him a look before glancing towards me. My heart flutters in my chest. I loved the way Michael would always start to say something, then look to me to finish it. Like we were a team. Which I supposed we were. But… ugh…. Teenage boys...

"What he means is that you stare at her a lot, which is okay! You like her, it's cute. But, it'd be more effective if you actually talked to her," I elaborate.

Ash scoffs softly. "I talk to her. We're friends," he states.

I raise an eyebrow. My fingers tap against the table, my eyes scanning over the paper he has covered up with his arms.  "If you're just friends… what's this?" I ask.

Ashton’s answer is in the way he blushes. He picks up the paper as the rest of the boys glance at him. "It's nothing," Ashton mumbles and folds up the letter before stuffing it into his bag. "I've got a concert tomorrow night, so I'm gonna go practice."

"You think he'll have the balls to ask her out?" Michael asks me and I glances towards the lilac-haired teenager.

"I wouldn't talk, Mike," Luke mentions. Michael is quick to smack the blue-eyed boy’s arm, giving him a hard look.

My eyebrows furrow together as I look at my friends. Of course Michael would have told Luke what had happened. I avert my gaze, searching for Y/N. The girl hasn’t eaten lunch with us ever since that first time and I couldn’t exactly blame her after what Rosie had done. I frown when I don’t find her in her usual spot. “Whatever… I’m gonna go talk with Mr. C about things for the club. Make sure we have the right equipment for our kick off to spring break party.” I stand up quickly, grabbing my backpack. It’s a meeting the could definitely wait until after school considering I TA for Mr. C for my last period, but if I was gonna have to sit and listen to Michael deflect Luke’s offhand comment, I was gonna scream.

“Well, shit,” Michael wipes at his face, still managing to miss the pizza sauce in the corner. “I’ll come with.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I should’ve said I was returning a library book… “Well, c’mon then.”

“So…” he says, falling into pace with me.

“So?” I ask as both our hands reach for the door, his fingers wrapping around mine as we both pull the door open.

His green eyes shift around, almost like he’s checking to make sure we’re alone in the hallway, before landing on me. They hold that same trace of softness they had when he had almost kissed me nearly two months ago. I hold my breath, hoping against hope it’s gonna happen again and this time we won’t be interrupted. When he leans down, I stretch upwards on the tips of my toes. Our noses knock together before his lips find mine. It’s gentle and shy, but then there’s a fierceness that takes over. My hands travel across his shoulders and up his neck to tangle in his hair. His arms snake around my waist, one hand settling just above my ass, the other firmly between my shoulder blades. And holy shit… Michael Clifford is making out with me in the school’s hallway…

We both seem to realize that we could get caught at the same time, jumping apart from each other. “So…” he says again, his hand rubbing at his neck and ducking his head down and away from me.

“So…” I breathe, my heart racing in my chest.

“How are my chances of getting slapped now?”

“Depends. Did you mean that?” I point back and forth between our lips.

“Yeah.”

I nod. “Is it a one time thing?”

He chuckles. “God, I hope not.”

I smile, grabbing his chin to pull him towards me. “Good,” I whisper before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

~~~

“Sup, losers?” I grin, throwing my arm around Michael’s shoulder. “Videogames?”

“Soccer practice,” Calum says.

“Yeah, and Ash and I got that concert tomorrow,” Luke adds.

“Mikey?” I ask, looking up at the boy I’m half tangled up with.

“Videogames, huh?” he smirks, his eyes dancing.

“Why, you got a better idea?” I challenge, laughing when the guys go “Oooo!” suggestively. Yeah, if only they knew.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Michael whispers, using the small chance to place a swift kiss under my ear.

I giggle, an embarrassingly high-pitched girly one, clapping my hand over my mouth in shock. “Anyway!” I laugh, trying to quickly move on, until I hear a familiar scoff as my shoulder gets bumped. Ugh, Rosie… which means… I spot Y/N standing in front of her locker, looking dejected. Oh, that fuckin’ does it… “Y/N!” I call out, and start walking her way, trusting the boys will follow.

She glances up towards us, shutting her locker. I expect her to walk towards us, or at the very least wait. Instead, she turns and rushes for the door.

"Hey, hey, wait!" I call out again, before breaking out into a jog. I run around in front of her, but she just continues to walk past me. "Y/N!?”

"Can you just stop?!" Her tone is harsh as she glares at me.

I raise my hands in surrender, becoming more and more mad at Rosie by the second. What had she done to make Y/N ready to bite my head off when I hadn’t done anything?

"What's going on?" Ashton asks when him and the guys finally catch up with us.

She glances towards him, her face falling as she scoffs in disgust. "You know… I thought you were different," Y/N tells him and Ashton looks just as confused as the rest of us. "I really, really thought you'd be different." 

She shakes her head before starting to walk off again, but Ashton stops the girl. "Wait, what do you mean? I… what did I do?" 

She pulls out a piece of crumpled up paper, waving it in his face. "This stupid fucking note. Rosie told me everything."

I was gonna vomit. We’d all seen Ashton writing the note at lunch. Rosie had spewed her lies for the last time "This fuckin' bitch," I mumble and Michael rests a hand on my shoulder. “What'd she-”

“Jaz,” Ashton cuts me off and glances towards me, giving me a look to let him handle this.

I curl and uncurl my fingers at my side, letting Michael pull me towards him, both of his hands now on my shoulders, his fingers rubbing softly to ease the tension in them.

"What'd she tell you?" Ashton finally asks.

She licks her lips, fingers fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist. "She told me that Grant put you up to writing the note. That you don't actually like me.”

Great… Grant was part of this shit, too. Of course he was… Much like Rosie, the guy was a piece of work. Honestly, they really did deserve each other.

Ashton shakes his head and sighs. "That's not true. She's just saying that to get in your head, Y/N," he explains. "Plus, I don't even talk to Grant. Like, at all. Not once."

"Plus, we saw him writing it during lunch before he left," Luke chimes in and we all nod in agreement.

"Did you read it?" Ash asks.

The girl shakes her head. "Not thoroughly," Y/N mumbles and we all turn our attention away so they can have their moment.

“I like you. I really, really like you. You intrigue me. You're funny, sweet, adorable, shy. Your personality is truly amazing. I… I want to be with you," we hear Ashton tell her.

"R-Really?" she asks in a whisper and Ashton giggles softly.

"Yeah, absolutely. If you want I-I could take you out for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that," she tells him.

“Awww!” I croon. Michael, Calum, and Luke join me, making us all laugh.  “Alright. Now that you're seeing each other, I'm gonna fuck Rosie up," I tell them before heading off in search of Rosie and her friends. 

I hear Michael curse softly before following after me, everybody else trailing behind him.

When I spot Rosie, Grant, and a few of their friends standing towards the other end of the school, I yell out, "Ayo, bitch!"

The strawberry blonde glances in our direction, rolling her eyes. Yeah, your eyes are about to roll alright, I think as I cock my arm back before clocking her in the face. Gasps leave some of the girls lips as Grant's eyes become wide. I smirk, putting up my both fists. This shit ends now.

"What the fuck!" Rosie screams. She takes a swing at me, but I duck, my fist connecting with her ribs this time.

"You think it's okay to just pick on everyone here, huh?! Does it fuel your fucking ego?! How's it feel to be belittled?!" I scream while taking a chunk of Rosie's hair in my hands, pushing her back. I’m not sure if I’m gonna hit her some more or keep screaming every insult I can think of, but it doesn’t matter.

Michael grabs me around my waist, dragging me away from her. "Jaz, stop," he mumbles as I fight against him.

"No, lemme at her! She deserves it. He does too!" I snarl at Grant, twisting my body and breaking free. My next punch goes straight into Grant’s eye, causing him to slump slightly forward, his hand flying to where I struck him.

"You bitch!" he growls and takes a step towards me.

My mouth drops open in shock, before a gleeful smile crosses my face. Hit me, you fucker… Make. My. Day.

Michael pushes me behind him with one hand, shoving Grant with the other, his green eyes glaring at the jock. "Yo, were you about to hit a girl?!"

If my heart wasn’t racing before, it sure was now. I beamed at Michael in pride, before glancing around. All of our backpacks were a heap on the ground. Calum had a look and stance that I’m sure matched my own, ready to show these jerks what happens when you fuck with the “losers.” Luke’s eyes held traces of panic, but his hands were clenched in fists at his sides. Michael was still glaring at Grant, daring him to do something, anything to give him a reason to knock him out cold. Ashton looked like his mind was racing to come up with a way to calm this down before it became a straight up brawl. Y/N’s hand landed on my shoulder. Her eyes were soft, pleading for us to drop it.

C'mon, let's just get out of here," Ashton states and urges Michael to step away.

"Please," Y/N adds.

I look over at Rosie, with her bleeding lip, eyes wild and on high alert, stunned into silence for probably the first time in her life. My gaze shifts to Grant and his black eye. Part of me wants to start kicking Rosie’s ass again while Michael wails on Grant next to me. But, I’m satisfied with the damage I already dealt. Fine. I don’t need to hit them again. But… “I don't want you coming near us ever again," I threaten Rosie. I get a sick thrill of how she flinches back when I take a step towards her, her scoff stuck in her throat. "You hear me?!"

She rolls her eyes and nods her head. "Fine, yes. Jesus, just get the fuck away from us," Rosie states.

Good enough for me. I grab my bag and practically skip off. “You alright there, slugger?” Michael asks, grabbing my hand and examining my knuckles. They’re mid transition from red to a purplish blue.

I flex my fingers, wincing slightly. “Just a bruise. I’ll be alright. Were you really gonna hit Grant?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna let him get away with him hitting my girlfriend. Although I probably shoulda slugged him for calling you a bitch.”

“Girlfriend?” I ask.

“Well… yeah… You think I’m just gonna make out with you in a hallway, and then not ask you to be my girlfriend?”

I shrug. “I dunno. You’re the one who made out with me and then didn’t ask.”

“Well I was gonna until you went all Mortal Kombat on Rosie and her little gang.”

“You kissed me a whole two hours ago, but sure… blame the fight.”

“Has it really been two hours?”

“Yep.”

“Huh, guess I should fix that.”

“Mikey!” I squeal with laughter as he starts covering my face in kisses.

“So?” he asks, his eyes bright with excitement.

“So?”

“Girlfriend?”

I laugh. “That is the worst ask in the history of asks!”

“Alright, alright. Jaz, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Where are you taking me on our date, boyfriend?” I ask in lieu of answering.

~~~

I skip over to Y/N when I see her after spring break. “So, how are things going with you and Ash?” I ask suggestively as we fall in step together as we walk towards our first periods.

She hugs the books she’s holding tight to her chest as her cheeks turn pink. "It's going good. We hung out for most of spring break.”

I note the smile on her face with a squeal of excitement."That's awesome, Y/N. You two are fucking adorable," I grin back. "Have you guys kissed yet?"

"N-No," she stutters, looking towards me with wide eyes. 

I blink a few times in confusion. They’d been together for as long as Michael and I have, and Ashton hadn’t kissed her yet? I would kill Michael.

"What?! I mean… should we have? We've only been together for a few weeks,” she continued to sputter.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a huff of breath. "Well, I just assumed that he's kissed you goodbye after a date or greeted you with a kiss," I mention and she just shakes her head, swallowing thickly. "It's probably nothing. He most likely wants it to be special or both of you are just too nervous to make a move,” I explain, hoping to put her mind at ease, and I’m still turning it over in my own mind as we split up.

“Hey, beautiful,” Michael winks as I sit down at the desk next to his.

“Hey,” I smile, leaning across the aisle to give him a quick kiss. “Did you know that Ash and Y/N haven’t kissed yet?”

“So?”

“So, don’t you think that’s weird? Like, they’re dating.”

He sighs, the lilac colored fringe fluttering softly with his breath. “Honestly, babe, I don’t think about it at all. Like… they’re still working at a faster pace than we did in terms of first meeting to first date.”

“Ha-ha,” I laugh humorlessly. “All I’m saying is is that Ash needs to do something about it.”

“Or what?” my boyfriend laughs. “You’ll hit him?”

I crack my knuckles. “Maybe. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Michael laughs harder. “Stop beating people up, Jaz. That was like, the worst week of my life.”

“It was only detention. Coulda been a lot worse.”

“Yeah, detention and your parents grounded you. I was alone, babe. It was terrible.”

“Aw, you poor baby,” I tease, giving him another kiss as the bell rings.

~~~

“Jesus, didn’t Ash just have a concert?” I ask in fake annoyance as I walk hand in hand with Michael towards the auditorium. Nearly a month and the contact still set off butterflies in my stomach.

“That was the spring concert,” Luke informs me. “This is just the band’s showcase.”

“Mmm,” I nod, scanning around the crowd to see if I can find the man of the hour.

“Can you see him?” Y/N asks me.

I shake my head, my eyes noticing the snack bar.

“You guys go ahead, I’m gonna check the band room.

We nod at her, Calum and Luke muttering about how we’ll save her a seat. “Yeah, go get us seats,” I encourage, nudging Michael’s shoulder. “Mikey, snacks.”

“Good eye,” he tells me proudly, before leading us through the crowd to get in line.

“Hey, Mikey?” I ask suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific than that, babe.”

“The first time. The day of the fight.”

“Cuz I like you. Why are you asking me this now?”

Because I’ve been in love with you since we were 6 and don’t want to make a fool of myself by telling you so early into us actually dating. “Keep forgetting.”

“Mmm. Well, it’s like I said,” he tells me, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “It’s cuz I like ya.”

“And… how long did it take from you realizing you liked me to you actually kissing me?”

He lets out a huff of air in thought. “Geez… I dunno… I mean, I tried to kiss you like two months before that. Why? How long have you liked me?” he asks, flipping the conversation.

“Since kindergarten,” I mumble fast and low, my cheeks burning. No sense in hiding it now.

“Jesus…” he giggles. “That long, huh?”

I push his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not, I’m not,” he continues to giggle. “Just… damn… wish I’d known that so I would’ve kissed you sooner.”

“How much sooner?”

“Kindergarten.”

I pull up my shirt to hide how bright red my face is. “Mikey!”

“What? It’s the truth. Well… half the truth anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“‘Like’ isn’t a strong enough word. Now, ‘love’ on the other hand… Yeah. That feels better. So I take back what I said. I didn't kiss you because I like you. I kissed you because I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I beam up at him.

“Since kindergarten?”

“Since kindergarten.”

__

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[detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman]

Chapter 1 - One and the Same

Part 1/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 10,810

Warnings: Swearing. There’s a lot of it, our girl’s a foulmouth.

Genre: Self-insert fic

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: Lieutenant Hank Anderson, while interrogating the android that murdered Carlos Ortiz, brings in one of his strangest and yet uniquely skilled detectives in the DPD - Detective Rachel. Connor, the android sent by CyberLife much to Anderson’s behest, finds himself intrigued by Rachel’s foulmouthed and prickly nature, yet immense and unabashed sense of empathy and compassion towards others.

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

Date: November 6th, 2038  Time: 12:41 AM Objective: Extract Confession Hank - Neutral

“Why d'you kill him? What happened before you took that knife?” A greying man with chin-length hair and a scruffy, but kept, beard asked the man sitting across from him.

Approximately an hour ago, Connor and Lieutenant Hank Anderson had apprehended a deviant android hiding at the scene of a homicide. And now, the android was brought in for questioning. Though it didn’t appear to cooperate with the lieutenant’s questions and simply stayed silent, not looking the aged man in the eyes. 

Stealing a glance back at both Connor and Detective Gavin Reed, a rather disheveled and rough-looking man, through the two-way mirror. A black police officer named Chris Miller was seated at the controls on Connor’s left. “How long were ya in the attic? Why didn't you even try to run away?” No answer from the android. The lieutenant reached across to snap his fingers at it, as if trying to catch its attention. 

Hank seemed to glance back at the others in disbelief before losing his patience and slamming his hands on the table. “Say something, goddamnit!” He shouted at it. 

No response, still. The lieutenant seemed to have enough and lifted himself up from his seat. “Fuck it, I'm outta here..." He muttered, turning around and opening the door, leaving the interrogation room.

It didn’t take long before Hank entered the observation side of the mirror with the others, huffing his complaints. “We're wastin' our time interrogating a machine, we're gettin' nothing out of it!” He sat down next to Chris harshly, getting agitated.

“'Could always try roughing it up a little.” Gavin suggested casually. “After all, it's not human..."

“Androids don't feel pain.” Connor pointed out. “You would only damage it and that wouldn't make it talk.” He took another look at the deviant on the other side of the mirror before he heard the door open beside him. “Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations.”

“So do I. They’re not special.” An unfamiliar female voice replied with a scoff. As Connor turned around to see who it belonged to, he found himself facing a shorter woman with short, wavy, dark brown hair and dark eyes that matched framed by the frames of a pair of rounded rectangular glasses. She was wearing a dark brown sweater with thick horizontal stripes of a much darker grey.

“Hi, Rachel.” Chris greeted pleasantly.

Hank scoffed in her direction. “Well, well, well. Nice of you to finally join us, Rachel.”

“Oh, well sorry I’m late, Hank.” She replied sarcastically, cocking a smirk and a thick eyebrow at him. “I was finishing the paperwork for one of my closed cases that Fowler wanted done ASAP, and I’d rather give him some good news for once.” The woman then fixed Connor with an interested stare, taking in his features as she glanced up and down his frame. “I know you have the whole ‘bear aesthetic’ goin’ on, Hank, but I didn’t realize this was your taste in men. A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

The glare Hank fixed her with could cut glass while Chris was snickering and Gavin was laughing. “Oh, bite me, Rachel.” He growled.

“Oh, relax, Hank. I’m just poking fun.” She said with a playful smile, gently brushing Hank’s shoulder. Connor could tell immediately that they were rather familiar with each other. Rachel then returned her focus on Connor, her eyes glittering with intrigue. “So, who is this tall glass o’ water you’ve got here, Hank?”

Gavin let out a disgusted groan that Connor ignored. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” He answered with his templated response.

Rachel - Warm ^ Rachel then nodded, smiling at him as she extended her right hand. “Nice to meet you, Connor.” She replied pleasantly. Connor, recognizing the gesture, took her hand in his and shook it. “My name is Rachel, I’m the detective requested by Hank, since he apparently wanted me to get some action on this.”

Gavin scoffed at her. “Well, you’re wastin’ your time.” He dismissed. “Machine’s clammed up and we’re not gettin’ anything out of it.”

“Not with that attitude, we’re not.” Rachel retorted, turning away from Gavin. “So what have we got, boy - oh my God!” Once she laid eyes on the deviant, her stress seemed to increase. “What the Hell happened to him?”

“It.” Gavin insisted. “It’s not a he.”

“Piss off, Gavin.” Rachel spat at him.

“We found it hiding in the attic of the victim’s house, Carlos Ortiz.” Chris began informing Rachel. “It murdered the victim after he attacked it with a bat, and it’s been hiding out in the attic for three weeks.”

“Hang on. Three weeks?!” Rachel exclaimed in disbelief. “He’s been in this condition for three weeks, and you just kept him like this?! Why hasn’t anyone repaired him, yet?!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rachel.” Hank groaned. “This thing fucking killed a man, and you’re worried about it?!”

“If he was a human, this would be considered extremely inhumane even if he was a convicted killer.” Rachel shot back with.

“But it’s not!” Gavin scoffed. “It’s just a fuckin’ machine, and it doesn’t even give a shit whether or not you care! So why bother?”

“Because unlike you, I’m not an insecure manchild with the disposition of a barbed wire dildo covered in syphilis dressed up in the attire of a man who looks like he just crawled out of a racoon-filled dumpster.” Rachel responded with a smug tone of voice.

“Okay, smartass.” Gavin said, throwing up his arms in frustration. “What should we do then?”

Connor, seeing that he should likely intervene, interjected. “I could try questioning it.”

That caused Gavin to divert his attention from Rachel, as he was now laughing at Connor.

Rachel then walked past them, groaning and rolling her eyes at them. “Oh my God, you guys are morons.” She admonished. “He’s not gonna cooperate with you guys. Gavin is...Gavin, and the rest of you were at the crime scene and I’m assuming you were the ones that brought him in. He’s not gonna wanna talk to you because all he sees are the humans that are keeping him captive and the cops that don’t see him as what he thinks he is.”

Hank was getting tired of this, but seemed to be relenting more and more. “So, what’s your verdict, then?”

“Simple.” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “If deviants see themselves as alive and - well, not necessarily human - but on par with humans, then I’ll treat him as such.”

“So, what?” Hank asked. “You’re just gonna...talk to it like it’s a person?”

“No, I’m gonna talk to him like a tired doctor who barely has the patience for this, because that’s very much what the mood is right now.” Rachel answered casually. “I’ll be right back, I just gotta go get some supplies. What model is he?”

Connor, realizing that her question was directed at him, he answered, folding his hands behind his back. “HK400.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the room and Connor could hear her footsteps getting further away.

The android detective found himself wondering about her curiously. She was about as foulmouthed and irritable as Lieutenant Anderson was, but she was nearly the polar opposite in her opinion of androids and her attitude towards Connor.

It was a comparison that Connor found intriguing.

“She seems to be a rather unique character, compared to what I’ve seen thus far.” Connor commented.

“That’s one way to put it.” Chris replied neutrally.

“Yeah, she’s definitely not like most of us.” Hank agreed, nodding his head. “But she’s one of our best. So, it’s worth seeing how this goes.” His praises seemed to be genuine, and Connor sensed that the lieutenant genuinely felt some sense of attachment or affection towards the detective. “Besides, what do we have to lose?”

--------

I knew exactly where I was headed. Most parts for androids were held by Cyberlife in their warehouses, but emergency services such as hospitals and police precincts had stores of spare android parts to both maintain and repair work androids should something happen. Some people had special clearance to repair androids due to their qualifications, of which I had on my resume. Granted, I never actually worked with androids, but my sister used to work at Cyberlife and she taught me a bit about their parts and how to repair them. I figured I could easily repair the deviant, and this would allow me to get to know him and build a rapport with him.

And hopefully get him to confess and give us some insight into him.

I made my way towards the centre which was just between the bathrooms and the holding cells, my key-card allowing me clearance inside. The thing I was most thankful for was that this area was always run by an android, and they weren’t going to ask me weird questions. As I approached, I greeted her. “Hello!” I said brightly.

The android nodded. “Hello.” She replied. “What can I do for you today?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll need a toolset and I’ll need a bag of thirium.” I said to her. “As well as a pair of arms for the HK400 model.”

“Of course, Rachel.” She responded. The LED on her head spun yellow and then quickly flickered back to blue. She then went into the compartment in the back behind the desk and came out holding two white unskinned android arms in a package and a packet of blue blood, very similar to the blood bags you’d see when you need a blood transfusion. “Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all, thank you so much!” I said to the android as I was putting it all in a bag.

As I started making my way out, I heard her call out after me. “Have a good night!”

“You too!” I called after her.

No one was giving me any weird looks. There was the occasional curious glance, but I have never in my life felt more grateful for the “mind your own business” environment than I did in that moment. I made my way back to the interrogation room with no problems.

Hooking the bag over my shoulder, I opened the door and walked inside, glancing towards the mirror knowing they were watching me. But I wasn’t intimidated by them. No, I was going to prove a point and they weren’t going to stop me.

But my eyes landed on the android and my heart sank. It was so much worse seeing his condition up close, and I swallowed hard.

His right arm was practically split open, blue blood leaking from it, the other dotted with burns. His face was splattered with red blood, and he was just standing there in front of the glass. I was in so much shock. I had never seen an android that was damaged, but I did not expect it to make my stomach feel so knotted and my throat feel so tight.

Pushing down the lump in my throat, I approached, placing the bag beside the chair across from the android and moving slowly. “Hey.” I said. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered up to me and I saw a quick glimpse of confusion on his face before he glanced downward at the empty space between his hands. “Were you expecting someone else?” No response. “That’s fine, though I’m sorry to disappoint you. And even more regretful to find you in this condition.”

I reached down into the bag and pulled out a bag of thirium, emptying it into a bottle, and placing it on the table. The android’s eyes glanced towards it for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the table. For a moment, I wondered if Hank was getting this too, or if I was making more progress than they were.

Keeping focused on the interrogation, I leaned back in my chair. “Blue blood.” I said to him. “Do you know why I put it here?” He seemed nervous, but still wouldn’t budge. But I wasn’t going to give up. “According to my colleagues, you’ve been stuck in your attic for three weeks. Now, that’s a lot of time for you to be injured and losing blood. And that’s coming from someone who suffers from time blindness. You’re lucky you haven’t shut down.” I studied him and noticed him start to twitch ever so slightly. “And the thing is, I could just give you the blue blood you need to replenish, but in your condition...it could make your bleeding worse if I did. So, first and foremost, I’m going to repair you.”

That seemed to finally get his attention. He finally looked me in the face, confusion in his brown eyes. “What?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

I took this moment to jab a bit at him playfully. “So you do have a voice.”

--------

Hank couldn’t believe his eyes. She actually got the damn thing to talk. He knew that Rachel wasn’t exactly good at being bad cop. Not that she couldn’t be scary or that she wasn’t tough. Far from it.

But in this sort of situation, intimidation wasn’t her strong suit.

Good cop was where she was an asset. She didn’t put on a sap story or make herself seem like a bleeding heart. No matter what she did, she was genuine and earnest. And Hank had a feeling that’s what made her so good at being good cop.

She didn’t pass herself off as a cop. She didn’t try to be overly mushy. And she didn’t try to put on an act. She just acted the way she was and she’s able to get through to a suspect in a way they can understand.

Indeed, the way her mind worked was honestly a marvel. Even suspects that didn’t end up confessing to her, she managed to get to cooperate at least a bit easier because she could easily speak their language just by getting a picture of what they did or didn’t care about.

His focus remained on the interrogation, intrigue pricking at the old man. Hank didn’t have a high opinion of androids for various reasons. And he certainly didn’t see them as anything more than machines. But some part of him wanted to see Rachel prove him wrong, at least in this aspect. She was always an overly empathetic person, as much as Hank saw it as an advantage, she herself admitted that it was also one of her biggest weaknesses. In her own words, she cared too much about others for her own good.

“I’m going to repair you.” Rachel repeated on the other side of the glass. “And I would appreciate it if you cooperated with me doing so, because if you don’t, I’ll have to forcefully repair you, and that won’t be pleasant. And...I’d rather not add more unnecessary trauma to the horrible three weeks you’ve had.”

The deviant seemed even more confused as it just blinked at her. “Why do you look at me like that?” It asked, its voice shaky and uncertain.

Rachel sighed, leaned towards it to rest her elbows on the metal table. “I’ll be honest, I’ve just never seen an android in as bad of a condition as you’re in.” She admitted. “It’s...it’s aggravating to think that people just brush it off. Like it’s nothing. That people buy androids for thousands of dollars just to treat them like shit. But, then again, people did the same thing when they were buying actual human slaves, so I suppose I shouldn’t be that shocked.” She grumbled. Some part of her explanation sliced something deep in Hank and he could sense that an uncomfortable silence had fallen on all of them. Like when someone makes a good point about something really depressing and you can’t think of it the same way ever again. “I know it doesn’t hurt...but it looks really bad.”

“You weren’t there with the other humans last night.” The deviant pointed out, looking at Rachel as if it still didn’t believe she actually cared about it. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, she seemed to ponder something. Likely how much of the truth she should tell it. “Lieutenant Anderson called me in.” She replied. “But I saw the state you were in, and if there’s one thing you have to know about me, it’s that I don’t enjoy seeing people suffer needlessly.” She then turned to the glass to glare inside. “Unlike some people.” She hissed through her teeth.

“Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break.” Gavin complained throwin’ his arms up. “This isn’t going anywhere, just pull her back in here.”

“Just wait.” Hank ordered, silencing Gavin. “She’s getting a lot more out of it than we could, so far. Let’s see where this goes.”

“And I want to help.” Rachel assured him, drawing Hank’s attention back to the interrogation. 

She then reached across to the deviant to touch its hand, but it then recoiled with a yelp. “Don’t touch me!” Rachel jumped back in surprise before she seemed to calm herself down. “Please don’t touch me.”

Rachel then sighed, her face softening. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you if it was okay, first.” She apologized, the deviant blinking at her in surprise. “But if you don’t let me repair you, you’re gonna shut down. And I don’t want that to happen. So...you’re gonna have to trust me.” 

The deviant faltered for a moment before Rachel lifted the bag and put it on the table. It looked between her and the bag before she reached her hand out to it. “Give me your hand.” She ordered. The deviant still seemed to hesitate, so Rachel insisted. “Please.”

Blinking at her, it seemed to get the message and did as she asked, giving her its right hand. “Holy shit.” Hank whispered under his breath.

“Thank you.” Rachel said, lingering there for a moment so that the deviant could see that there was no danger. “Now, can you please deskin your arm for me so I can see the extent of the damages done to you?”

Hesitating, the deviant did just that. She got up, moving towards its right side so she could get a better look. “Don’t worry, I’m just getting a better idea of what I’m looking at.” She reassured it, seeming to help it calm down. “By the way, what’s your name?”

The deviant seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. “HK400.”

Rachel seemed surprised at its answer. “You don’t have a name?” She asked it.

“No..." It replied. “He never gave me one..."

She sighed in what Hank could tell was growing frustration. The kind that signaled that she was getting more and more depressed the more information she was given. “Well, that means you can decide your own name.” 

It glanced up at her, looking confused. “I...can decide my own name?” It asked her.

She shrugged. “Well, yeah.” She answered plainly. “You’re a conscious sentient being, now. And you no longer have a master to obey. There’s nothing stopping you from choosing your own name.” She pointed out. The deviant looked as though it just realized something that was so obvious that it couldn’t believe it didn’t figure it out before. “So, what would you want me to call you?”

The deviant seemed to actually consider this for a moment before it spoke up. “Micheal.” It decided. “My name...my name is Micheal.”

Rachel actually pulled back to smile at it. “Nice to meet you, Micheal.” She said to it. “I’m Rachel.”

--------

Micheal nodded. “Rachel.” He repeated.

He looked up at me, as if to check my movements. Taking a breath, the dark brown android skin on Micheal’s arm had peeled away, leaving only the white plastic polish of the android technology underneath. Although it was battered and split open by damage, dried thirium leaking through the break. Though, after examining his whole arm, I determined that the upper arm where the biceps were was intact, though I would still have to check it to see if it would be worth it to replace the whole arm or just the forearm. 

“I’m going to start working on your arm. I know you don’t feel pain, but I figured it would put you more at ease to know what I’m doing.” I explained to Micheal. “I will definitely have to replace your forearm, but I need to check the whole arm as well.”

He nodded. “Alright, okay.” He said nervously.

Despite feeling as though he trusted me, I wanted to avoid startling him and stressing him out as much as possible. But I had to work on him. “This shouldn’t take too long for me to figure out. Just be patient, and I’ll have you in good condition in no time.” I tried to think of something for him to distract himself. “While I work on repairing you, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Micheal?”

“M-me?” He stammered, looking at me. “W-why?”

I looked down at him. “You’re your own person, now. You can tell me as much as you feel comfortable telling me. I’m not asking for all the ugly details if you don’t trust me enough to tell me them.” I explained to him. “I was more talking about your likes and dislikes. Maybe you have some hobbies, or things you liked doing. Maybe you wanted to do art, or writing, or cooking. I don’t know, whatever you decide to do.”

He blinked a few times at me before he finally asked what I figured was on his mind for the past while. “Why are you doing this?” He said, looking completely confounded. “No human has ever been this kind to me? Why? You have no reason to.”

For someone in his position, I understood why he would ask me that. I found it hard to blame my kindness after what he’d been through. “I guess it’s because I see a lot of myself in you. Well, in androids in general, but more so in deviants like you.”

As I got up to his biceps, he kept his gaze on me. “How?”

“I’ll answer you in a second.” I said as I gripped his arm. “I’m going to move your arm around so I can figure out if I need to replace the whole thing or just your forearm. Okay, Micheal?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He replied.

I bent his arm back in several directions, as I didn’t want to startle or injure him further. As I continued testing the shoulder joint, I felt it lock and stick in places. It definitely wasn’t smooth, and I could tell that something was damaged. “Ohhh, yep. I’m going to have to replace your whole arm. So, I’m going to detach it now and replace it with a new one I have in my bag. I’ll make it quick.”

I located the unlocking mechanism on his right shoulder and reached into my bag, pulling out and opening up the toolset. My eyes scanned over every single one until I found the tool I was looking for. It was made to unlock and unclip the joints in android limbs. Pulling it out, I let go of Micheal’s hand, placing both hands on his shoulder. “I’m going to need you to lay your hand relaxed at your side, straight. Once I unclip your shoulder from your torso, you’ll feel a sudden jerk. Just letting you know so you don’t get startled by the sudden pull.”

“Okay.” He replied. I could tell he was calming down much more than he was earlier. Curling the end of the tool underneath the lock, I gave it a quick jerk and felt Micheal flinch slightly, his LED indicator flashing red for a moment before returning to yellow. 

It unclicked with a satisfying sound and I put the tool down, grabbed his arm with both hands and looked at Micheal. “On the count of three, I’m going to pull your arm free, okay?” I assured him.

He nodded.

I started counting. “One, two, three!” It came off easily without a hitch. As I held it, Micheal’s LED began spinning red again as he looked at his arm. I noted the panic on his face and put my hand on his shoulder to bring him back to focusing on me. “Don’t worry, I have another arm ready for you. It’s for the same model, so it’ll be compatible. And getting it on will be much easier and smoother than removing it.”

I rummaged into my bag and found the right arm. It glinted with brand new quality to it. I removed it from its packaging and easily lined it up with its socket and clicked it in place. It slid in perfectly and the locks clamped around it comfortably. “Alright, that’s your right arm done. Can you please run a diagnostics check on your arm to make sure it’s working right, Micheal?” I asked him.

He nodded, his arm flexing. He flexed his fingers and moved his arm in several ways, making sure it was working properly. His skin was starting to slick over the rest of his arm, and it blended seamlessly with the rest of him. I nodded with a smile. “Good as new!” I praised. I moved over to his left, having finished with his right. “Now I have to check your other arm. I doubt I’ll have to replace the whole thing, so it should be quicker to deal with.”

He nodded. “Okay.” 

Micheal nodded.

I started walking around to his other side, examining his left arm. I noticed that I didn’t have to ask him to deskin his arm this time and that he already grabbed my hand. I took it as a sign that he had relaxed around me and that he was no longer afraid of me. His arm wasn’t nearly as damaged as the other one, and his upper arm wasn’t even touched. All that there seemed to be were the burn marks that broke through to the plastic part. I grimaced in disgust when I realized that they were burns from cigarettes being put out on him, the same marks of which I saw on his face. “Your master really was scum, wasn’t he?”

Micheal tensed up when I said that, but he didn’t hesitate to talk. “He tortured me every day..." He admitted. Finally, the confession part of this “interrogation.”  “I did whatever he told me, but there was always something wrong...Then one day...He took a bat and started hitting me...For the first time, I felt scared...Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die..." 

I winced. I didn’t care if androids didn’t feel pain, they could certainly feel fear. And even if they couldn’t feel physical pain, they could feel emotional pain.

And I knew damn well how real and lasting emotional pain was. “I grew up with friends with parents like that.” I sympathized. “Their parents used to treat them the same way. Sometimes physical. Things from beatings to worse things. But it was usually things that destroyed their senses of self. Making them feel worthless. Forcing them to hide who they really were because if their families knew, my friends would be forced to live on the streets alone.” I snarled. “And all I could do was stay quiet while they suffered.”

He seemed to be confused at my response. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, briefly forgetting my train of thought.

“Why did you stay quiet?” He clarified. “If you knew that it wasn’t fair for them to be treated that way, why did you stay quiet?”

I sighed. It was a fair question, and perhaps my answer would help him understand a few things about himself. “Because my friends asked me to hold my tongue, as it were.” I answered him. “And it’s unfortunately not that simple. Nothing exists in a vacuum. If I spoke out, there would have been consequences, and those consequences would’ve been taken out on my friends. And...I couldn’t do that to them. So the best I could do was be there for them. To help them while they survived each day.”

I could tell that he didn’t quite seem to understand, so I just went about working on his arm. I didn’t have to let him know what I was doing as I grabbed my tool again and this time slid it under the elbow joint lock. “I...grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach..." It was strange not to react much to that. Well, I didn’t have to work hard for this confession. “I felt better...so I stabbed him again and again!...until he collapsed...There was blood everywhere.” 

“Can’t say I blame you. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to do that to some piece of shit. And trust me, I’ve had to deal with several.” I felt something tugging at my brain. Something I was forgetting. “What was I saying before?” I asked. “Before I was fixing your right arm?” Before he could reply, my thoughts caught up to me again. “Right! Why I’m being nice to you.” 

Micheal nodded at me, pushing me to keep going. 

“Well, for starters, I see a lot of myself in both androids and especially deviants.” I quickly jerked the lock and took his forearm off. “I’m not like others of my kind, either. But like you, I’m not the only one. I have defects in my program, to put it in terms you’d understand.” I began explaining as I leaned forward to retrieve the other arm in the bag and detached the forearm from it as well. “I have depression, anxiety, Apsperger’s Syndrome, and ADHD. These certain mental conditions impede my ability to do certain tasks. My Autism impeding my ability to communicate effectively with others and makes understanding others difficult.” 

I quickly clicked the new forearm into Micheal’s arm, it sliding into place effectively. “Things that make me rather strange and odd to other humans. There are other humans like me, just as there are other deviants like you. But to people who can identify what I am and figure me out, not a lot of people care too much, but there are some people who treat me the way they treat you. Like nothing. Like I’m less than human. Like I’m just a defect and that I deserve to be destroyed. But at least in regards to my ADHD and my Autism, these aren’t things that really negatively impede my life. Sure, they come with disadvantages, but they also come with a lot of unique advantages as well. Depression and anxiety, on the other hand, have made my life a lot worse than it needed to be, which is why I had to get treated for them.” 

He was flexing his hand as the skin peeled over it again. “I’m afraid I can’t really do anything about the marks he put in your face, but I think I did a pretty good job fixing you up, Micheal.” Noticing the bottle of thirium I had placed a distance from him, I slid it towards him. “Drink it. You’ve lost some thirium and you’ll need to replenish it. And now, you don’t have to worry about bleeding out.”

He hesitantly took the bottle and started to down the blue blood. As I returned to my seat across from him, he looked towards me, his LED finally turning back to blue for the first time since I laid eyes on him. “Thank you...for all this.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I said to him. I glanced at both of his arms. “You know, now that your arms are working and are brand new, maybe you could try something for me?” He looked at me skeptically. “Do you want to try drawing?”

He blinked in surprise. “I...I guess I could try.” He said sheepishly. “I’ve never drawn before. But I did make a small statue.”

“Really?” I asked him, smiling at him. “I used to sculpt with clay, when I was younger. The kind that gets all over your hands and dries and has to be put in a kiln to bake.” I started to go on. “I didn’t really like how it dried on my hands or how it got under my nails. I preferred modeling clay. It’s more like plasticine. It’s a lot easier and cleaner to work with for me. I haven’t sculpted in a long time.”

He actually gave me the first smile I’ve ever seen on him. Despite his blood-stained clothes and face, I felt completely comfortable around Micheal. “I can try to draw it for you, if you want to see.”

I smiled at him. “I’d like that.” I dug around in my handbag and pulled out my personal sketchpad. I tore out a page and handed him both it and a pencil. “And, if you don’t mind, I want to draw you, too.”

He gave me a patient smile and went to work drawing. I took note of all his features and began sketching the simple shapes and curves. The basic structure of his face. I wasn’t exactly a master artist, but I never passed up an opportunity to practice. Once I got a basic shape done, I began sketching in the finer details. His eyebrows, eyes, ears, and the strange inconsistencies in his buzzed hair. But the thing I wanted to capture the most was the joyous light that was now abundant in his eyes and the smile on his face. I wanted to immortalize it while it lasted.

After a little while, I decided I was done, and showed it to him. “I’m sorry if I’m not as skilled as you were expecting, I’m not exactly a professional sketch artist.” I apologized, handing it to him. “But I hope you like it.”

His eyes scanned over it, his LED flashing back to the yellow it was when I first met him. “I’m smiling.” He said, laughing a little. “You made me smile.”

I snickered a little at him. “No I didn’t, you were already smiling.” I pointed out. “You’re smiling right now!”

He touched his cheeks, as if he had to physically check to see if I was right. But he couldn’t stop smiling, almost catching himself. It was honestly adorable and endearing and I couldn’t help the little flutter of happiness that erupted in my stomach. He then handed me his paper. I widened my eyes in surprise and adjusted my glasses. “I see the little statue you drew.” I said, but I was looking at the other thing he drew. He drew me. I was sitting in a position with my left shoulder turned towards the metaphorical observer, my head tilted in an endearing manner with a crooked dimpled smile. “And you drew me. You made me look so pretty.”

He laughed softly. “You can keep that, if you want.”

I looked at my drawing of him and leaned over. “Here.” I said. I took the sketchpad and the pencils and ripped my drawing out and gave it to Micheal. “You can keep mine.”

He looked as though he was going to refuse before he tentatively took it from me. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said graciously. “I’ve never been given anything like this.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I know how important it is to have belongings, so that’s yours now.”

He looked at me confused, his LED flickering yellow again. “What do you mean?” He asked.

I simply shrugged. “Well, when you have something that’s yours,” I started off. “Something that you can touch and see, something you’ve made, something made for you or given to you, something you’ve gotten for yourself, something that’s yours is very important. Because belongings have sentimental value. They mean something to you. And having something physical that’s yours makes you feel more like your own person. More grounded in your sense of self.” 

I tugged on my sweater, pulling it closer to me. “Take my hoodie, for instance.” It was a large dark zip-up sweater, clearly much too big for me, as the sleeves extended way past my arms and the bottom covered a large percentage of my thighs. It was a thick striped sweater of dark shades of brown-tinted greys, and it had large pockets. It was clearly worn for a very long time, but well kept. “It’s pretty obvious to see that it’s way too big for me. But...it’s something very important to me. Something very sentimental.” I felt my throat get tight, the memories surrounding the sweater resurfacing in my mind as I tried to choke them down. “It was given to me by someone very important to me. I’ve worn it for years. It’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.”

I could feel tears threatening to well up and I tried to blink them away, even as I felt my throat tighten. Micheal seemed to sense my distress and put a hand on mine. “I’m so sorry.” He said softly. 

I looked up into his brown eyes and could see the sympathy in his eyes. I didn’t care what people said about androids or deviants. Micheal could feel, and I knew it. “I appreciate your condolences.”

As much as I wished I could keep him here, safe and without worry, I couldn’t keep this up. And since I was only passively familiar with this case, there weren’t any more questions I could ask him. With the most difficult control I could muster, I got up from my seat. “I should go.” I said, looking at Micheal.

He looked as though he was going to cling to me and not let me go, but let me slip out of his hands. But just as I had tidied up my bag of supplies and slung it over my shoulder, I felt him grab my hand again. “Wait!” He cried.

I looked at him expectantly. “Yes, Micheal?” I asked him.

“What...what are they gonna do to me?” It seemed as though the words were caught in his throat. “They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?”

His fear was palpable, but...one of my worst vices was that I was a terrible liar. “I don’t exactly know what CyberLife procedure is...but it’s likely.” I replied.

“I don’t wanna die. I’m scared to die. I,” he looked up at me, his LED spinning red. “I’m not gonna die, right? Promise me I won’t die.”

I felt my chest tighten. I desperately wanted to help him, but realistically speaking, there was little I could do for him. I furrowed my brows together in determination. But damn it, I might as well try my hardest. “Not if I can help it.” I said firmly. I then gestured to the glass next to me. “But cooperate with them, and there’s a higher chance that you won’t.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Rachel.” He said, a bitter smile on his stained face. “For everything.”

Giving him one last nod, I walked away and exited the room, my bag of equipment slung over my shoulder.

--------

Connor observed the scene before him and couldn’t help but feel astounded. In the span of approximately fifteen minutes, Rachel had successfully built a rapport with Micheal and got it to confess without pressuring it.

But it was only a partial confession. There were things that Connor needed to know and understand, but couldn’t until he was the one asking questions.

Rachel reentered the room, dropping the bag on the floor and placing the deviant’s damaged arms on the ground beside it. “Well, I did what I could.” She lamented with a shrug, smirking at Gavin. “Was that enough to convince you, ye of little faith?”

“You got lucky.” He said, clearly not wanting to admit that he was somewhat impressed by Rachel. “Don’t think of this as anything else than a fluke.”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel replied snarkily, unfazed by Gavin. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever you need to tell yourself, bud.”

“You got it to talk way more than I could. There’s something to be said for that.” Hank offered with a nonchalant shrug. “So, what now?”

Software Instability ^ Connor then felt Rachel elbow him in a friendly manner. “Well, you haven’t gotten to show off your interrogation skills, yet.” She suggested encouragingly. “Though, I did warm him up for you. You’re welcome.”

Connor noticed the indication for an increase in his software instability pop up. Which was strange since he didn’t do anything that would have triggered it. Dismissing his brief concerns, he nodded, looking over to Hank for his input. “I can certainly try questioning it now, Lieutenant.”

Hank simply waved at Connor, giving him the go ahead. “Go ahead, suspect's all yours.”

Hank nodded, leaving the room and turning the corner to enter the interrogation room. Looking down at the deviant, it was at least responsive, making eye contact with Connor. As the detective approached, he looked at the file on the table, opening to look at the photos.

Taking a seat where Rachel once sat, Connor sat across from the deviant, Micheal. Taking the opportunity to properly analyze it, Connor catalogued a few important details.

Processing LED: Signs of software instability Probability of self-destruction: Low

Model HK400 - Housekeeper Manufacture date: 05/09/2030 Property of: Carlos Ortiz

Dried Blood DNA Analysis: Ortiz, Carlos Sample date: 19 days old

Once Connor had taken in every detail he could, he formulated the best approach. However, Rachel’s grown rapport with Micheal was what was at the forefront of his program at the moment.

Software Instability ^ So, deciding to follow in her stead, Connor decided to approach in a similar direction.

[Fear] 🔓

[Show Photos] 🔓

[Wounds] 🔓

Name

“Micheal.” Connor started, causing the deviant to direct its attention towards Connor. “My name is Connor.”

Comfort

Reassure

Threaten

Blame

“I'm not going to hurt you.” Connor reassured Micheal. “I just need to ask you some questions, so we can understand what happened.” Micheal still wouldn’t talk to Connor. Perhaps a more harsher prod would be necessary.

Sympathize

Threaten

Probe Memory

Trust

“If you won't talk, I'm going to have to probe your memory.” He threatened.

“NO!” Micheal whimpered, its LED spinning red before slowly turning back to yellow. “No, please don't do that!” The deviant then glanced over at the mirror, no doubt thinking of the lieutenant and of Rachel watching it behind there. It then looked back at Connor, its eyes pleading. “Why did you tell them you found me?” It asked. "Why couldn't you just have left me there?”

Lie

Truth

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you.” Connor admitted. “I just accomplished my mission.”

Micheal seemed unnerved and fearful. “I don’t wanna die.”

Connor, wanting nothing more than to get answers, pleaded with Micheal. “Then talk to me.”

“I...I..." Micheal seemed to hesitate, looking wide-eyed at Connor before it glanced down at the paper in its hand. The drawing of it given to him by Rachel. Taking a breath, it looked Connor in the eye and nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll talk.” Rachel - Warm ^ Hank - Warm ^

[Writing] 🔓

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

“Why did you write ‘I AM ALIVE’ on the wall?” Connor asked, leaning forward.

“He used to tell me I was nothing...That I was just a piece of plastic..." Micheal lamented. “I had to write it...To tell him he was wrong..."

[Statuette] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture in the bathroom, you made it, right?” Connor asked. “What does it represent?”

“It's an offering..." Micheal answered. “An offering so I'll be saved..."

[Offering] 🔓

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“The sculpture was an offering..." Connor echoed. “An offering to whom?”

“To rA9..." Micheal replied, pleadingly. “Only rA9 can save us.”

[rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9... It was written on the bathroom wall.” Connor pointed out, connecting the dots. “What does it mean?”

“The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves..." Micheal whispered cryptically. “No more threats, no more humiliation..." It continued, its eyes boring into Connor’s. “We will...be...the masters.”

[Insist rA9] 🔓

Attic

Trigger?

“rA9,” Connor repeated, growing frustrated with the lack of concrete information on this mysterious entity. “Who is rA9?”

Micheal did not answer this time. Either because it refused to, or because it didn’t have one.

Attic

Trigger?

“When did you start feeling emotion?” Connor asked, wanting to know what the cause of this android’s deviancy was.

“Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything..." Micheal explained, its gaze hardening. “But one day I realized it wasn't fair!” It growled that last word. “I felt...anger. Hatred...And then I knew what I had to do.”

Attic

There was only one question left for Connor to ask. “Why did you hide in the attic instead of running away?”

“I didn't know what to do..." Micheal admitted meekly.  “For the first time, there was no one there to tell me..." Micheal seemed extremely timid now. “I was scared...So I hid.”

Extract Confession

Connor then turned towards the mirror, speaking directly to the police inside. “I’m done.”

Leave Interrogation Room

As Micheal sat there, trembling and twitching, Connor got up from his seat, making his way towards the exit of the room.

Opening the door, Chris and Gavin made their way inside, Rachel and Hank followed behind. “Chris, lock it up.” Gavin ordered.

Chris then uncuffed Micheal as Rachel stood beside Connor. He then reached to grab Micheal to take it out of the room. “All right, let's go.”

“Leave me alone!” Micheal whimpered, its stress levels rising dangerously. “Don't touch me!”

Chris tried once again to grab it, only for Micheal to continue to struggle and whimper. “The fuck are you doing?” Gavin asked irritably. “Move it!”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Okay, come now.” Chris grumbled, trying once again to move Micheal. “Don't be difficult, it'll only make things harder!”

“You shouldn't touch it.” Connor warned Chris. “It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

“Stay outta this, got it?” Gavin threatened Connor. “No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do.”

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Hey! Cool it!” Rachel said, stepping towards Chris and Micheal. “He’s scared! Lay off!”

“You don't understand.” Connor warned again. “If it self-destructs, we won't get anything out of it!”

“I told you to shut your fuckin' mouth!” Gavin shouted at Connor.

“NO!” Micheal yelped, its stress continuing to climb to dangerous levels. “No, don't touch me!”

“Hey, back off, Gavin!” Rachel snapped at Gavin, shouldering herself between Gavin and Chris. “Just leave him alone! He’s scared and he doesn’t wanna be fucking touched!” 

“You stay out of this, Rachel!” Gavin snapped at her, getting in her face.

“Like Hell, I will!” It seemed that Rachel had finally snapped, as she grabbed Gavin by the throat and shoved him against the mirror, pointing at Micheal. 

“Let go of me!” Gavin snarled at Rachel.

Software Instability ^ “Look at him! He’s fucking terrified!” She started shouting at him, harshly forcing his face in Micheal’s direction, even causing Chris to give pause. “You look at him and you tell me how his fear is any different than ours! Look at him and tell me what difference you see!”

Gavin then shoved Rachel off her, breaking her grip, but she was not a woman who was about to back down as she got up in his face. But Gavin simply ignored her, ordering Chris again. “Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?”

“I'm trying!” Chris huffed, once again trying to move Micheal.

[Give Up]

[Intervene]

“Please, please leave me alone!” Micheal begged, pleading with the humans.

Rachel - Warm ^ “I can't let you do that!” Connor snapped. He had had enough and was immediately stepping forward to physically intervene. He pulled Chris off of Micheal, facing Gavin head-on. “Leave it alone, now!”

Gavin immediately pulled a gun on Connor, threatening him. “I warned you, motherfucker!”

Software Instability ^ Immediately, Rachel put herself between Connor and Gavin, staring her fellow detective down. “Back off!” She snarled at him.

Gavin laughed in her face. “You’re really gonna protect this fuckin’ tin can?” He mocked. “I didn’t realize you were already so into him!”

“You really don’t wanna do this, Gavin.” She warned him. “Touch him and you’ll be on the ground faster than you can fucking blink!”

“You don’t scare me, Rachel.” Gavin growled.

Hank - Warm ^ “That's enough!” Hank warned him.

“Mind your own business, Hank.” Gavin warned the lieutenant, not taking his eyes off the pair.

“I said ‘That's enough.’” Hank threatened once again, pulling his own gun on Gavin.

Looking between Connor and Hank, Gavin’s grip tightened on his gun before he finally relented. “Fuck.” He spat, enunciating the curse in a strange way that sounded more like a sneeze rather than a swear. He then glared at Hank, pointing at him. “You're not gonna get away with it this time.” Taking one last look between Connor and Rachel, he marched out of the room in frustration. “Fuck!”

Once Gavin had left, Hank put his gun away and it was just the four of them in the room. Rachel moved to approach Micheal before Connor stepped forward past her, kneeling down and reassuring the deviant. “Everything is alright. It's over now.” He spoke softly, noticing its stress levels gone down significantly. “Nobody is gonna hurt you.” Connor then stood back up on his feet, addressing Chris. “Please, don't touch it.” He instructed. “Let it follow you out of the room and it won't cause any trouble.”

Micheal got itself off the floor and reached to grab the drawing Rachel had given him. It then walked slowly past Connor and her, glancing between them. “The truth is inside.”

Software Instability ^ Once it followed Chris out of the interrogation room, it was just Connor, Hank, and Rachel left in the room. Rachel shook her head, leaning on Connor. “Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all.” She said ironically, making the tense air in the room loosen slightly. “But, all things considered, I think that went pretty well.”

Hank - Warm ^ “Yeah, it definitely could’ve been a lot worse.” Hank agreed, glancing between her and Connor. “Good work, you two.”

“Thanks, Hank.” Rachel said appreciatively, her hands behind her back. She grinned rather confidently at him. “Told you treating him like a person would work.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off as he turned around and started to head out. “I’m headed home. Goodnight, Rachel.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold it right there!” She scolded, marching up to stop Hank before he could leave. “You’re not off the hook!”

Hank rolled his head with an annoyed groan. “What?” He asked exasperatedly. “What is it this time?”

“Chris told me that you were at Jimmy’s Bar drinking and that you drove to the crime scene and then to the station!” She continued scolding him. “What have I told you about drinking and driving, Hank? If I ever caught you doing it again, I would taser you! Again!”

“Which is precisely why I didn’t fuckin’ tell ya!” Hank snapped back.

“This is serious, Hank!” Rachel continued reprimanding him. “I could have you arrested for not just one count, but two counts for DUI since I caught you doing it once before!”

“So do it, then!” Hank shouted, throwing his arms up. “I don’t care!”

“You know that line doesn’t work on me because I’m obviously not going to do that!” She then turned to Connor, her dark intense eyes boring into him in a way he couldn’t quite define that made his synthetic skin feel as though it was peeling. And he made certain to check that it wasn’t when he realized it. “Connor, was Hank drunk when you found him?”

Truth

Lie

Hank - Warm v “Yes.” Connor answered. “Though, I wasn’t sure exactly how many drinks he’d had when I found him. I did buy him another for the road.”

“Can you drive?” She asked him pointedly.

“Yes.” He answered immediately. “I’m capable of driving both automatic and standard transmission road vehicles.”

Rachel - Warm v “Then why didn’t you drive him?!” Rachel scolded Connor.

Justify

Apologize

Explain

Connor, realizing that he had made an error in judgement, took Rachel’s ire into consideration. “You’re right.” He relented. “I wasn’t thinking about the lieutenant’s condition and I irresponsibly put his safety at risk. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She then put her hands together flat-palmed and sighed at him. “Thank you.” Rachel breathed. “I appreciate that.”

“For fuck’s sake..." Hank grumbled under his breath.

“And as for you.” Rachel hissed, whipping back around to face Hank. “You’re taking a taxi home and I’m paying you for it in the morning.”

“I don’t need -”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” Rachel asserted, glaring him down. “I’ll pick you up for work in the morning with my car. Just get home safely and stop fucking doing this! I’m not having you die doing something stupid and irresponsible. If you die, you’d better die doing something cool.”

Hank, seeming to give into Rachel’s demands, put a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, fine.” He begrudgingly agreed. “If it’ll get you off my damn back.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.” She said, her stern tone softening. “Goodnight, Hank.”

“Night, Rachel.” He said, turning around and walking down the hall.

“I swear, he never fucking learns.” Rachel shook her head and approached Connor, letting out a tired sigh. As she approached the android, her rich dark eyes were clouded with concern. “Are you alright, Connor?”

Software Instability  ^ “I’m fine, you needn’t concern yourself with me, although it is appreciated.” He replied, giving her a small reassuring smile in an effort to ease her nerves. A simple scan revealed that her heart rate was still higher than normal and that she was trembling slightly. “However, I feel as though you should be more concerned about yourself. I’ve detected an abnormality in your heart rate and increased adrenaline causing visible tremors in your limbs.”

She briefly widened her eyes in surprise before she quickly brushed it off. “Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s just my anxiety, I’ve dealt with that my whole life. It’s nothing new. But, um, thanks for checking on me?”

“Of course.” Connor assured her. “I want to make sure you’re unharmed.”

Hank

Androids

Deviant

Protect?

“Why did you put yourself between Detective Reed and I?” Connor asked Rachel. “That could’ve been extremely dangerous for you.”

Software Instability ^ She seemed flabbergasted that he would even ask that. “Because Gavin was threatening you at gunpoint!” Rachel said as though the answer was supposed to be obvious. “And he obviously wasn’t going to just fucking shoot me. The only reason he threatened you in particular is because he stupidly thought he could get away with that without suffering any consequences.”

Connor raised his eyebrows at that remark. “Even if he did shoot me, he would’ve had to pay CyberLife for the damages.” He informed her. “And I feel as though you should know that I’m worth a small fortune.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked curiously at him as she cocked one of her own at him. “Really?” She asked indignantly. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty priceless to me, dollface.”

Connor was briefly taken aback by her brazen comment towards him. He simply stared at her curiously before he noticed her eyes squint as she focused more closely on his face. Before he could comment, she reached out with her hands to grab his face and gently massage his cheeks with them. As Connor quickly dismissed the gesture as a non threat, he couldn’t help but notice how small and delicate her hands were as they worked into his skin. “What are you doing?” He asked, confused and feeling inclined to comment on her strange behaviour.

Software Instability ^ Rachel seemed to realize her faux pas and quickly retracted her hands, her capillaries brightening to a rose tint as she looked away from him, shame tracing her soft facial features. “Oh! Shit, sorry!” She hastily apologized. There was something about how meek and embarrassed she quickly became that made a strange unfamiliar sensation prick at Connor. “That’s one of my problems, I tend to act before I think and it tends to get me into trouble. I was just curious about how android skin feels, and wow I was not expecting it to be so lifelike!” She suddenly seemed to completely forget about any shame or embarrassment there might’ve been at that moment and had been completely overtaken by what seemed to be an innocent fascination with the android. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t plastic, obviously, but I figured it would feel more like silicon, since it’s the most commonly used for body modifications and replicas. But no, it’s almost identical to human skin. I mean, I knew it couldn’t be silicon, because androids can peel back their own skins and heal their injuries after their biocomponents are repaired or replaced, and silicon very obviously can’t do that. There’s just so much about androids that’s absolutely fascinating to me especially about how they’re built and made.”

Connor cocked his head at her, perplexed by her. Indeed, Rachel was a rather fascinating character, much like the lieutenant.

Hank

Androids

Deviant

“Have you never interacted personally with an android?” He asked her.

She just gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Aside from the ones sitting behind desks or standing behind cash registers, no.” Rachel answered plainly. “I don’t even interact with the android officers we have here. Never really needed to. And I never owned my own.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, curious to hear her answer.

“I just don’t like the idea of buying and owning something that looks and acts so human. It’s a bit too Uncanny Valley for me.” She paused, furrowing her brows at him. “You do know what the Uncanny Valley phenomenon is, right?”

The android nodded. “It describes the emotional response in humans to an aesthetic.” He began to explain. “It’s a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object’s resemblance to a human being and the emotional response elicited from humans towards it. Humans are typically disturbed by something that looks human enough to be recognizable as humanlike, but are not quite human. It’s that area between something inhuman and something completely human where humans tend to react with revulsion. It’s why CyberLife has devoted so much time and resources into making androids as close visually to humans as well as making them behave as closely to humans as possible without straying from the purposes they’re programmed for.”

“Right, you definitely get it.” Rachel nodded. 

Connor felt as though he should probably go, but something strangely kept him rooted here. He wanted to hear everything Rachel had to say. 

Hank

Deviant

“You seem to have a rather familiar relationship with Lieutenant Anderson.” Connor remarked. “Have you known him for very long?”

“Not really.” Rachel answered casually. “I haven’t exactly been here for a long time, at least not as long as everyone else. And we really only started talking when I had just made detective. But ever since then, we’ve been pretty good friends.” Connor nodded, her explanation making sense to him. “So, you and Hank have both been assigned to the deviancy case, then?” She then suddenly asked.

“Indeed.” He answered simply. “My mission is to discover the reason why more and more androids are becoming deviant, and Lieutenant Anderson is my partner until my mission is complete.”

“I see.” I replied. “So, you’re not Hank’s android, then. You’re just assigned to him until you’re done. By CyberLife, I’m guessing.”

He nodded. “Correct.”

“So, what are you planning to do in the meantime?” She asked him. “I mean, because Hank’s never exactly been the most consistent when it came to his work schedule. And I doubt he’ll just let you crash at his place.”

“I’ll be taking a taxi to CyberLife.” Connor replied. “So that I can be properly calibrated and have manual diagnostics run on me before I depart on my next mission.”

“Ah, I see.” Rachel said nonchalantly. “That makes sense.”

Deviant

Rachel - Warm ^ “Interesting approach with the deviant.” Connor praised. He had to admit that Rachel’s method of extrapolating an initial confession out of Micheal was effective. He now understood what Lieutenant Anderson meant when he said that Rachel’s hyperempathy - a term Connor discovered by cross-referencing what Hank described and Rachel mentioning she had both Asperger’s Syndrome and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder with a search he quickly conducted - had its advantages. “Admittedly, I was skeptical at first due to Lieutenant Anderson’s lack of results when he initially tried questioning it.”

“That’s because you all approach this like cops. Like detectives.” Rachel scoffed, a smirk on her face. “I get that you’re basically programmed to be an android detective, so I at least get you. But everyone else? If you limit yourself to one role and act and think only from that perspective, you severely limit your options and thus leave out huge lists of possible solutions. I’m a detective, too. But I’m also known for thinking outside of the box.”

Connor nodded. “Well, clearly it proved to be effective.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel blinked a few times at him, glancing away from him. “Well...thank you. I appreciate the compliment.” She swallowed, looking back up at Connor curiously. “You should probably be heading out, then. I myself should probably head home right about now, it’s like one in the morning.” She then gave him a genuine smile. “But...it’s been fun chatting with you.”

“Indeed.” Connor agreed. “I enjoyed talking with you. You have a very introspective and insightful perspective that I find incredibly intriguing.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel chuckled, the smile on her face seeming to be involuntary. “Anyways, I should probably head home.” She said, making her way towards the exit. “A pleasure meeting you, Connor.”

“Likewise.” He said pleasantly, watching her walk away.

She then glanced back at him as she lingered in the doorway. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow in the station?” She asked him.

Connor nodded. “Most likely.”

Software Instability ^ Rachel then gave him another genuine smile. “Then I look forward to seeing you.”

“And I you, Detective.” Connor replied in kind.

“You don’t have to call me that.” She corrected him. “You can just call me Rachel, I don’t mind you using my first name.”

Connor nodded, returning her smile with his own. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel.”

Her dark eyes glittered with excitement when he said that. “See you tomorrow, Connor.”

Just as she was about to leave, Connor remembered her curiosity about his skin and felt the need to educate her on it. “It’s a synthetic fluid.”

Rachel stopped as she turned to face him again, visible confusion on her soft round face. “Huh?”

“Android skin.” He clarified. “It’s a synthetic ferrofluid that spreads over an android’s body that is also combined with manipulative silicon and magnetic plasticine that is controlled by the android. Our biocomponents can manipulate the skin and control where it’s skinned onto because of its specialized magnetic properties. Everything is specifically designed to feel as close to human skin as possible, particularly in the cases of androids that are bought and sold into red light districts and industries.”

Rachel - Warm ^ She was seeming to take all this information in, filing it away into her vast and expansive brain. “Huh. That makes a lot of sense!” Rachel said, having brought her hand to her chin as she processed it. Looking back at Connor, her expression softened once more. “Well, Goodnight, Connor.”

Software Instability ^ “Goodnight, Rachel.” Connor replied in kind.

And in a second, she had disappeared down the hall, likely on her way home.

And as Connor stood in the interrogation room all alone, the hum of the fluorescent lights above him and the whirrs and audible processes of the tech surrounding him occupied his passive attention, there was one curious thought that was becoming ever apparent to the android.

Software Instability ^ He had noticed a significant spike in his software instability, and many of those instances were just from Rachel’s smile alone.

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

Next Chapter

[ittakesrain]

I’m hesitant to say this round is over. I won’t say that just yet. The remnants of unbearable fear are still with me, the trauma is still too recent.

Like, fuck. It was (I’ll use the past tense there) like 15 or so days of just. Well, if you’ve read my shit before you know what it was like. Or if you’re unlucky enough to suffer this sinister fucking disorder, you know. You don’t need me reminding you.

It always starts with the violent, aggressive, uncontrollable irritability. It has no actual cause and therefore no clear way to be diffused. It’s terrifying. I notice it in the car the most, driving. No matter who’s in front of me and no matter how they’re driving, I am angry. Intensely. White-hot rage is literally all I know or have ever known.

Then major depression. I noticed that when I was driving during that phase, I was angry as fuck still but literally to weary to respond with anger. It turned inward and tore me apart from the inside. It literally radiates off of me (like my anxiety does). My boyfriend always comments when he feels it radiating off of me.

Sidenote, I love that he senses/sees the changes that happen within me. They’re so sudden and for no reason, and they leave me feeling crazy (I already feel crazy like, generally, but I’m constantly questioning like “did that really just happen, did I really just sob hysterically for an hour?”).

After that (or along with it) comes anxiety. Fuck the fucking anxiety. Like, physical panic attack symptoms coupled with the racing thoughts, none of which I can fully latch onto, most of them scary, many of them about death. It’s just indescribable to not have a safe place in your brain. No amount of visualization or breathing can fix it. Not even having someone next to me speaking words of comfort. Not even a hug, and I love hugs.

I had family stuff all weekend, and my cousins were visiting from another state. And it was terrible because I spent one day holding back tears and hiding and then actually letting the tears just fuckin’ flow. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone that day. Yesterday was a little better. I was mopey and uncomfortable and distracted and totally not myself.

Then, of course, I got home and was hysterical for a little over an hour. And not that I wanna put myself back in that terrible, terrible moment (or any of the MANY previous ones I’ve had), but I just remember so vividly wondering how I’d ever be able to function again. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever been able to function before. There was no escape, nothing else but inward-pointing disgust and depression and fear. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that I’m only fucking 28 and that this thing is gonna live with me for the rest of  my ever, and it might get worse and there’s no cure and like. Yeah, the cure thing. I explained to a friend of mine that “cure” is not a thing. Meds are not a cure, therapy is not a cure, doing all the right things is not a cure. They help. They give me better tools to survive the next round. But that’s all it is, most times: survival.

Sounds like a totally negative way to view it. And I feel no guilt for feeling that way. This. Shit. Sucks. I deserve a pity party after every fucking episode. At least grant me that (not that I need or am asking for permission).

Also, could timing possibly have been any worse? Ugh. I missed them all and they were physically here. The guilt I felt made things worse. The longing didn’t help either.

And I’m pretty sure none of them have ever seen me quite that bad. I was afraid I scared or upset them. But honestly, they are all so understanding and helpful and supportive, and the tremendous amount of love I feel for them is mind-blowing. I am so lucky, and I’m at a loss for words. I doubt that in a lifetime of writing and collecting words, I’ll ever get enough to explain how lucky I am or how much all that means to me.

And I have to mention my sister. And brother in law. Not only their actually support, but they were sending pictures of my amazing perfect adorable pure nephew. Immediately puts a smile on my face. Lots of people reminded me that he’s a big WHY. I want to be the aunt he deserves. And I know I can be, although I dread having to explain to my little guy why Aunt Laura loses it every now and again (but there’s a Dr Seuss book about feelings which is actually totally about bipolar disorder that I’m gonna use when he’s old enough). It sometimes hurt that I had to feel so shitty and have that someone be connected to how he was making me feel better. There was some measure of guilt that I can’t explain. But my god is his little face and his little rolls worth it.

Right. So I’m feeling better but not ready to call it being out of the woods yet. If nothing else I think it’ll be less dramatic from here on out, and I think it’ll be less rapid cycling. I think I’ll be at least somewhat less reactive to tiny insignificant bullshit going “wrong.”

Mind you, this is all sheer optimism and positivity. And I do not for a single second take for granted the fact that I am, at this moment, capable of thinking that way. It’s fleeting. All of this is fleeting. I mean, life can be looked at that way by everyone, which might be a helpful push toward “living in the moment.” But bipolar fleeting. Moods are fleeting. Flux is constant and its effects are omnipresent.

I’m just trying to find the silver lining. Wrap this up in a bow, as I tend to do. Actually no, as I need to do. And like, don’t we all? Part of what made this episode suck so bad was that I couldn’t write (even though I had some deadlines) and I couldn’t describe this bullshit in a way that I haven’t already. Each bought of insanity brings with it new…shit. And it is infuriating to not be able to explain it again. Also, I couldn’t move let alone form words. Couldn’t make eye contact let alone summon the energy to talk with other human beings.

I dunno. I guess for now I’m gonna focus (something I’m able to do again!) on finding the beauty in the spaces in between the chaos. Find a way to drill it so deep in my brain that I’ll inherently remember it (or just fucking FEEL it) next depression (well actually this was a mixed episode but whatever).

Until I get around to doing that, peace out, internet.

[liquidmcgarnagle]

Que piensa; What do you think?

The diner was just another hole-in-the-wall built in to the Tower District.  One young and very beautiful woman was the only one on shift tonight even though there were seven people at the bar, and nearly all the booths were full.  He felt disgusted with the fact that she should have to put up with this as he snapped his finger in the air for service.  He hoped she hadn't actually seen him do it, but she was there right away with a fresh face.  

“Are you survivin' the night?” he asked.  “This place is packed!”  

 “Well, I like to think that I'll never get jaded, but I do get a little from a friend.”  She places her left pointer curled against the right side of her nose.  The thumb presses against her cheekbone and outward, opening her nasal passages and she sniffs cleanly in.  “It ain't so bad, just gotta keep on keepin' on ya know?  More coffee?”

“Thanks...” he squints at her chest, taking time to look without seeming pervert-y.  “Delia?  Delaila?  Diladid?  No wait...”  She chuckles.  He tilts his head to the side like a bird getting another vantage point for its food.  You know how they do.

“Cute...” she wants to roll her eyes, but she does so rapidly enough that no one notices.  Hard to fake sarcasm on the go.

“You know I can never tell when someone in the,” he air-quotes “service industry is having a good time with me, or just after tips.”  Gretchen sinks lower in to the booth reading Nietzsche.  It almost pissed him off the type of stuff she was reading these days, like she would start dressing in all black any minute now.        

“Ah, gotcha” double-tapping a click to his teeth like a check mark.  She worked hard even though she had substantive support.  He hated waiting on people; she must put up with a lot.  Jesus, He knew the owner too, and he was a dick.  Literally... his name was Richard.  

“So, you good then?”  she sniffs.  He can still see a little bit of white Halloween in the crevice between her thumb and forefinger.  He was always observant regarding psychoactives.  Why?  It was like something like that always finding him and staring straight in to his eyes.  Staring him down almost

“Um, naw, we're ok.  You doin' ok honey?”  She took off quickly emptying the coffee pot in to three different cups.  

“Miss, I had decaf” one of the patrons at a booth said.

“Then just drink a little bit Henry,” she retorted.  “Besides, I've always given you regular... you tip better when I sneak ya some.”  Henry shrugged his shoulders.  

“Don't address women, like that, or anyone for that matter.  It can be perceived as demeaning Dad.”

“Well, shit, maybe you should start calling me Mr. Dad?”  He was slightly embarrassed at the remark, but maybe she was right.  The times were changing and change made him very uncomfortable.  He thinks about all the changes in his life that he fought tooth and nail against and how they bit him in the ass.  The change happened and he didn't like the fight.  Ugh, he thought.  He missed not caring.  He missed the booze.  He missed the fun times he thought he had.  

“Are you familiar with honorifics Pop?” she asked snootily, knowing he had no idea.

“What do you think daughter?” curling roughly the way he called her to show he was a little pissed off at the educational lecture he was about to endure.  

“In Japanese culture, politeness is key.  After the feudal era, the status of people was highly important to contrast the lack of order during war.”  Stephen rolled his eyes.  Pissing him off gave her fuel for some reason; medieval fuel for a modern era.  She would 'sophen' him up a bit to get him pissed off enough to go to work today... this time.  

“So, honorifics are expressions of respect and endearment like the nature of a relationship when people talk with each other.  Like, if I was a student and you were my teacher, I would refer to you as senpai.  You would call mom, mama-chan.  I would call someone in a grade below me kohai.  You would refer to everyone around you as bozu cuz you hate everyone.”  She enjoyed teaching her father random stuff at random times.  He couldn't take it otherwise.  Knowledge had to be peppered on to him as if from the mill.  She couldn't tell him this or else he would figure it out and be shut out permanently; or at least until he forgot.  

“This is too much shit honey... fuck... shit... goddamnit...” he smacks the table hard, rattling the dishes.  You hear the spoon next to his daughter's cup of coffee.  She drinks it black referring to it as Mississippi Mud.  Mmm, smacking her lips every time she takes her first sip.  She falls in to her seat.  'that ain't right he says to himself.'  

“I am only saying that this is another way to think.  And it's nice, right?”

“Yes.  Yes it is Gretch.  But that kind of stuff would never fly here.  Everyone is just sitting in their own shit, thinking their better than everyone else, waiting for the right time to strike when the iron's hot and the people, ripe for the picking.  Let's talk about something else.  What'd you do in school today?”

“They had us take apart owl pellets.”

“What the hell are those?”

“Ok, you know, owls catch mice and eat 'em and stuff?  It's not like they have a knife and fork with their bib tucked in when they go to town,” she eyes how ridiculous her father looks with his done in.  It would be nice if the whole Beethoven look was still the style, but it's not.  “Well, they regurgitate whatever is left over from the carcass.  Owls eat the rodent.  Then, after their body sucks all the meat and nutrients out of it,” she imitates vomiting “Ughaah ughaah!”

“Oh, that's cool!  Not!  Haha,” he laughs at himself tritely.  “What the hell's the point?  I feel like they are wasting their time with this kinda shit.  My taxes pay for someone to go out, catch fucking shit-ton of owls, and go through their shit?!?”  

“Our tax dollars daddy.” responding slowly to make sure he doesn't feel so alone.  “And besides, that's not how it works.”

“Whatever,” he looks away and throws his arm in the air.  

“Alright what else?” he regretfully asks, but these are his fatherly duties, to know what's going on in the life of his offspring, especially at such an early age.  It's only our current cultural climate of capitalist consumerism that has begun to lay the tile of family disruption.  

“Well in health class after seeing all of those fucking STD's!  I find that sex can be summed up into this: 'a stinky yellow discharge.' And that's on both sides!” she doesn't care what she said.

“I told you to stop swearin' like that Gretch.”

“I like to think that I have a spice rack that sits on my tongue.  You haven't taken me Costco for a while.  And I'm all out of “like, really? damn and cun---”

“Stop right there young lady!  Goddamnit!  Sometimes I wish your mother was here to teach you how to speak proper.  But then I remember how big a' cunt she is.” looking off in the distance he moves his eyes towards her to make sure she knows he's fucking with her.

“How else am I supposed to put some flavor on what I say?” snickering.  

“You're smart, I know you'll think of something.”  He sighs with his forearms propping up his entire upper-torso.  He feels the weight of being a father in his brain.  It's emotionally exhausting.  What were the payouts?  What was the reason he had a kid in the first place?  Oh yeah.  

Such weird juxtaposition.  The dissociation of church and state.  The association between church and state.  Dangle the lusty lace in our faces while those we were supposed to love tell us what we think is wrong.  Just gotta explore.  Just gotta find out... find out... find out... for yourself.  

“You need any money for school tomorrow before I forget?” Stephen asks her squarely, and then immediately nonchalantly.  Gretchen looks around, slightly unsure, slightly disgusted, but she says something anyway.  

“I don’t know.  Look at everyone.”  Stephen looks around.  “What, you don’t see it?”

“See fuckin’ what?” he tries to take out the meat of the fuck as he speaks.  

“Look at how sad they all are.  We all come here to get something.  To get something we have to give something.  We feel bad that we have to have this exchange; always feeling that we’re being cheated, scammed, or not getting our money’s worth.  This has given life to this negative connotation with even receiving something for free, like ‘What do you want?’”

“This is the way the world works Gretch.  Scratch my back, I scratch yours.  Quid pro quo.  Nothing is free, except freedom.  They like to say it isn’t but that’s just one more piece of bait.  Tradition!!!”  he imitates Fiddler on the Roof.  

"I don’t want to accept it.  That cannot be the final say of how we turn out; hating the fact that we have to get together just to hate each other through barter.  And then!  And then we retreat back to whichever hole we found to hide from them,”  she is enamored with the anger and logical emotion she produced.

 “Look, I just don’t want people thinking I’m a deadbeat Dad.”  An obvious tweaker stumbles in like an electron firing in every direction.  The camera speeds up and slows down, like in Donnie Darko as the montage music plays.  The camera pans for the first time through Middlesex school depicting the main characters how the director wants you to see 'em.  His body parts flail while still seeming like he's about to fall over any second.  He walks toward the bathroom and stops dead.  He turns around looking at Stephen.  He collapses with his ass out and his elbows on their table, jumbling the words “How much?”

Stephen sticks his hand down his pocket, grabbing an ugly wad of cash and lots of change.  Gretchen grabs her backpack and stands on top of the trampoline-like pleathery booth.  She weighed practically nothing compared to the bounciness of the seat.  Stephen turns with the fist full of money and plows the presently degenerate right in the face as the cash flies everywhere.  The faces of the patrons all looked up at the scene, like a frozen applause.  Gretchen jumps in to the air towards her father as he's shaking his fist in painful disgust.  “Gretch!” he yells. “Fuck that hurt!”  He catches her and tucks her under his arm like a football; she and the backpack flailing beneath at the mercy of her father's panicked and happy gait.    

The camera pans upward: -25 to -32.5 degrees, quadrant IV of basic geometric circumstance...    Aside from the third dimension, vantage vector is at y=-1/3x +1, where the y axis presents the door, and the vantage point is just a few feet in front of and below Stephen and Gretchen; with Delia halfway out the glass door, waving the coffee pot in her outstretched and snowy appendage.  This is slow motion of course...

He says panting in run “I wish that pot pie place hadn't close hun.”

“I know Pop, we'll find another place soon.  I'll find somewhere we've never been before.  A unholy, holier hole in the wall, K?” her voice staccatos with every bounce, like when a baby is trying to make noises when you bounce it on your knee.  It sounds funny.  

“Fuck, that's the third place this week.”  

“I know Dad.”

You know I love you Gretch.  Everything ”

“I know Dad.”  They are both smiling while he sprints heavily away with his most prized possessions.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 74

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Tonight

Summary: Alfie gets Genevieve out of the house and they're met with annoyance at the appearance of a fellow businessman both despise. A disgruntled party from a transaction gone wrong tries to ruin their night and get them both arrested. They succeed in one of those things. But Genevieve proves more adept at being a gangster ('s woman) than even she expected. **Chapter song is Tonight by Hard-FI .**

Warnings/Tags: Intimidation. Night Out. Protective Alfie. Arrest. Gangster’s girl stuff. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Alfie had gotten you out of your rut that you'd put yourself in with your tendency to over think when it came to things you genuinely cared about. So instead of staying in and reading and studying on a Friday, he took you out to his club like it was your first date again.

The dancing girls were in full swing under the bright lights of the stage. The club was dim otherwise, a typical blanket of mystery applied on a busy night to make the patrons want to enjoy themselves. A gentle nudge of encouragement to think they were safer than they were. You were among them, hanging off of Alfie's arm as you made your way into the warm and loud space from the dreary cover of outside.

You had reasons to celebrate and he had made sure you were dripping in jewels and a new gown to not only show your importance to those that would see you together, but to yourself. You had heard whispers of Alfie spending time in the jewelry quarter as of late. You had admittedly gotten a plume of butterflies inside you at the mention of it, springing up thoughts of engagement and proposals. You couldn't help but think the large and sparkling jewels he'd gifted you earlier in the night might be a cover for such activities. He was a very clever man after all, he would know that you would hear he was spending time with the tradesmen. The thought of him hunched over a glass case, bickering with the best of the best in their profession over something for you added a certain twinkle to your eyes on this night when you looked at him. Even when he would grumble and curse as you yet again, kissed his cheek only to have to swipe away at the schmutz left behind. But then again, it never took much for you to look at him adoringly.

You're standing at the stairs that divide the levels of the club, watching the expressions travel across Alfie's face as he speaks about you, praising your talents to a woman who had seen you speak at a charity function. He was a salesman and he was the best you knew, talking you up so people couldn't help but be tempted to buy your works.

"But aren't artists known for being difficult to deal with?" a man's voice that you unfortunately recognized comes from out of sight as the woman you spoke to looks at the tall and daunting man with rapidly blinking eyes, not accustomed to such a rude interruption in part of society.

"Excuse us, Miss." Alfie says politely, a nod given to the woman as she gives the interruption a dirty look and walks away. "What are you doin' here?" Alfie groans, looking Cyrus Horne up and down as he stood with his hands latched to the lapels of his jacket.

"Heard you two love birds were out and about tonight and had to stop by. Not every day I get to speak to both of you at once, is it? Hard to talk to you two, you know."

"I'd prefer it be more difficult." you say with a sigh.

Giving you an amused tilt of his head he smirks down at you. "Even though I know you people don't work on Friday nights. Or at least you say you don't, we know you aren't exactly keeping it all level when it comes to your little foray into being pillars of your community and all that...I thought you might be willing to answer some questions for me."

"If it's business you could make an appointment." Alfie says obviously.

"And you wouldn't see me would you?" he says crossing his arms.

"What is it?" you say exasperated, just wanting him to leave.

"I wanted to check with how you two were doing. Together. I've heard some nasty rumors about you Solomons. Other women...in cities far from here while little Durand here plays homemaker. Never took you for liking blondes." he sneers.

Alfie's shoulder rise and fall but his face stays indifferent. A skill you wish came as naturally to you as it did for him. "If you are accusing me of infidelity I would be happy to say your accusations are false."

You knew what he was referring to and you stand by Alfie's statement with a strong face and squared shoulders. "And what if I had heard he was seen cozying up to a little blonde up in Manchester at some other club?" Horne asks, looking over to you.

"I'd say you don't know what you're talking about." you respond curtly with pursed lips. "And even if he were, which he is not. What business would it be of yours?" you give him a glance of disdain as you flip your hair.

"Well the breaking up of two businesses would be my, in fact, my business. Seein' as you've already caused a bit of trouble for me already."

"What the fuck are ya on about? We ain't been dealin' wif you."

"Not directly. But it seems there was interference with some friends of mine...some Americans. I had a lot riding on their entry into the London business world and they suddenly all pulled out. Calling London businesses undignified and uncivilized."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"From what I hear you were doing some business with some Americans a few weeks ago." he says with certainty.

"I have not had any contracts with any Americans." you shake your head.

"No but there was a meeting." he says with a lilt of superiority.

"No. I had no business with any Americans. If there were new Americans in town in the industry, I would know. I'd be working with Abeille to set up with them before anyone else did." you defend your skills.

"It was about both of your businesses."

"You know I innit been workin' with no bloody Americans." Alfie huffs out.

"I mean both of HER businesses."

"I only have Abeille." you retort.

"Let's let go of that lie for a moment shall we? Between old friends?"

You and Alfie both roll your eyes. "Then fuckin' get on with it, mate." Alfie groans. "Out wif it!" he says with an accompanying hand gesture.

"Durand had a meeting with Americans. This meeting did not come to pass as it should. And I've been told that it was directly due to your interference Solomons." he answers in a snappy tone. "So I want to know why you are involved in Abeille business, as that was what the meeting was originally for, and I want to know why you made a handful of American businessmen fuckin' disappear." he asks, leaning in with his almost white blue eyes that made your stomach churn.

"I ain't been in works with no Americans." he states again definitively. "I certainly not makin' so bloody business men "disappear". What load of bollocks is that? I'm a businessman. I conduct business not snuff it out before it comes to pass. And I don't meddle in Gen's business. It is hers, in whole. It will remain that way. She built it up herself, she handles the contracts and I have no part in it. So I don't know where ya gettin' ya information from. But it's not correct."

"And I have no idea what you're talking about. I'd love to do business with the Americans. An international agreement with some restaurant owners would benefit me greatly. I have no reason to turn away their offers."

"I know you don't. But perhaps your darling here might that you don't know about." he leans into Alfie, speaking quietly. "You've caused a very large disruption in my assets Solomons because of your men interrupting that meeting. I don't know why you did it. But those men turning tail and going back home has cut significantly into my profits. And I am not a man who fucks around with money."

"Neither am I." he sneers back, not backing down from Horne's intense delivery. "And if you got a fuckin' point to make. You better bloody well make it fast because we are here tonight to celebrate and I'll not have to likes of you and your rubbish accusations ruining what should be a night of revelry for us."

"Horne. I don't care for your baseless threats one bit. If you have something, say it. We're both very busy people and I want to get on with this evening, apart from you. Now I have many things to be thankful for and I'd like to continue talking about my achievements with people that have some bloody manners instead of you."

He leans away, his posture pin straight. "I know you're both very, very busy people aren't you?" he says with a cool, calmness to his voice that you do not care for one bit. "I was merely seizing the opportunity to speak with you both. It's so hard to get ahold of you Genevieve, one would have to steal you away to get a word in. And what a shame it would be to have to separate you from your darling, hmmm? A man like him can only make problems for a woman like you."

"I won't have you speaking to her that way." Alfie says pushing up chest to chest with Horne. Despite Horne being taller, Alfie didn't back down with his jutted chin and low brow. You could feel the tension in his muscles as your hands stayed around his arm, your face indifferent to make the scene not look as tense as it was to onlookers.

"And don't speak of him in such a manner." you snap back. "Leave. You know we'll have you forcibly removed and I'd like to avoid you soiling an otherwise lovely night." you say in an offended tone and a sharp nod of your head.

"Very well." he says, readjusting his jacket. "But don't be surprised when his actions come back to bite you, sweetheart."

"Fuck off Horne." you bark at him, not hiding the disgust in your face as you gently pull Alfie back to your side.

Alfie stares him down as he saunters out of the club. People are whispering and trying not to be obvious as they look at the two of you. Alfie lets his shoulders relax, knowing his anger would serve no purpose at the moment, only fueling whatever rumors would be started by the public exchange. "I'm sorry 'bout that love." he mutters under his breath.

"No, no. You did nothing wrong." you insist, reaching over and patting his chest. "He's an animal. Any interaction I've had with him has been absolutely awful and that's without you around as well. He's just a disgusting person. No getting around it."

"You supposed to be celebratin' your fing's tonight and he..." he takes a deep breath and gives a nod to a passerby to show everything was fine.

"Come here my darling." you say, using your gloved hand to move his face towards yours, a gentle kiss to his lips. "I will forget it and enjoy the night with you. Can't let such people ruin our free time can we?" you give him another peck. "So let's forget that fucking tosser and enjoy ourselves, yes?" you say with large endearing eyes that called out for him to play along, even if he was still fuming.

"Right." he guffs out. "Let's go get ya a drink, love." he says, his hand going protectively against your lower back as he moves first through the people towards the bar. ----- Later in the evening, a few glasses of wine in, which nowadays is enough to give you a happy buzz, you're slow dancing with Alfie as the peak crowds have passed. The floor is still alive with moving bodies, lovers in each other's arms as you all sway and stay in your enclosed bubbles of adoration. As much as Alfie disliked dancing in public, he would indulge you on the rare occasion with a slow dance. Tonight happened to be one of those occasions. You were caught off guard as you heard his annoyed tone of voice begin, your eyes closed as your cheek rested against his chest, totally oblivious to the people around you. But he was never oblivious, that was part of his job. His lack of fantasy indulgence afforded you to be able to forget about the less appetizing bits of your life for small suspended moments. It was something that you were grateful for.

"I'm busy innit I?" he says after one of his men tries to pull him away.

"Sir this is. This is important." he says with a stuttered delivery.

"Fuckin' wot then?" he says, keeping you to him as the man sighs and gives in, whispering something to him in his ear. "Fuckin' 'ell." he says and you feel his shoulders slump as his hands are already moving to your back.

"What is it?" you say with an almost sleepy delivery.

"Right. Now pet, I'm afraid I got some bad news." he begins eyes looking over to the entryway as his bottom lip disappears under his full mustache. Your heart sinks and your lips pout involuntarily. He speaks very quietly, his hand moving to your chin to keep your eyes on him. "There's gonna be some policemen comin' in 'ere in a few minutes. They're on their way." he says in a very calm and steady voice.

Your eyes open widely as your back straightens at the news. "They what?" you squeak out.

"Apparently they are comin' to get us for some questionin'." he says as your chin pushes into your neck.

"Us?" you say with a shaky voice.

"'At's what the intelligence is sayin'. Now we innit bein' arrested, yeah? They ain't got nothin' on us. Just like I promised. Me guess is someone has done one of 'em anonymous tips and we know who we've both pissed off tonight." he says with pursed lips. "But you remember what we went over, yeah? In case somefin like this did happen?"

"Of course." you say with a quick nod of your head.

"Then there's nuffin' to worry 'bout is there?" he says with a smile. "They are still on my payroll, right? Probably a call in from a higher up. They can't keep us long. They gotta let us go after a bit. This may end up bein' a long night in a way I had no intentions of it ever bein'. But fink of it as practice, eh? You never really messed with these boys so you'll get some real gangster experience in under ya belt innit ya?" he grins, his nose grazing yours as he keeps his attention split between you and the doors.

"Do you know what it's about?"

"I do not. But no matter what it is, we got a game plan dunnit we?" he gives you a reassuring nod. "They's coming in the doors now, pet. Don't you worry 'bout me, eh?"

You pout despite knowing you both had a strategy for these sorts of events, no matter what happened. "I love you. Don't worry about me either. I've been through worse I'm sure of it." you respond softly with a smile.

"I love you too." he coos back, you both looking into each other's eyes, totally ignoring the pause in the music, the eyes all turned towards you both, still swaying in each other's arms. You ignore the stern words of the policemen as they approach. "Now give us a kiss for the road, eh?" he grins.

You keep your lips together, eyes shut as your arms are pulled behind your backs. Both your faces strong and dignified despite the situation, back straight and proud, eyes non-plussed as you're finally torn apart, sharing an apologetic glance before you're both shown into separate cars.

-------

You sit in the bare room with your hands clasped in your lap and a cup of tea in front of you. You were waiting for another round of questions, your face looking bored much to the annoyance of the men that had been trying to break you.

It had started out as them trying to get any information out of you. You simply sat still and looked at them with large innocent eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about." being the response most commonly given. Then the questions became more specific.

"You were both seen on the night in question when Lord Prittance went missing." one of the two men in the room with you began. One was short and had a mustache and kept his jacket on, he was the one demanding things of you. The other was lean and had bright green eyes, a slight stubble of ginger on his face. You're assuming they were growing tired of being there as well.

You sit and blink at them. Not responding to anything that wasn't a question.

"Did you see him there that night?"

"Where?" you say with a tilt of your head, deliberately messing with them and making them be specific so they couldn't misuse your words.

"At Alfie Solomons club."

"I did. He's rather tall. Wore a dated top hat on top of that. How could a woman with a fashion sense such as I not notice an atrocity like that?" you exclaim.

They both roll their eyes at your answer. "And did you see him leave?"

"No. Alfie and I went back to my home for the night shortly after I saw him."

"Did Solomons interact at all with Prittance? Any arguments, anything to make him react in violence?"

"Absolutely not. My Alfie is not a violent man." you say with complete honesty in your voice as they both narrow their eyes at you. "I was tired and I wanted to retire back to my home with my beau. So that's what we did."

"And you left together?"

"We took his car back to my home outside the city. Where we had a nightcap and went to bed."

"And he was with you all night?"

"We were in each other's arms the entirety of the evening."

"At no point did he leave?"

"No. We sleep in a rather close way after we've been intimate and we had on this particular night and I would know if he had left."

"How would you know?"

You purse your lips at the man. "Because we fall asleep with him inside me." you answer in an offended tone, leaning forward with a furrowed brow. "Do you need to know how we fucked as well? My goodness." you say with a shake of your head as your response makes the man slumped back in his chair at your language.

"Maybe we do." he retorts back with a back attitude.

"I had been enjoying wine all evening and chatting with my dear friend Arthur Shelby. Yes, that Arthur Shelby. He was also staying at my home that evening as he was in town and I wouldn't dare have a friend stay anywhere else but with me if they were so close. He stayed at the club after we left, but I was informed he came home later in the evening my staff. So if you'd like to discuss Alfie's whereabouts with him as well, he would also tell you he was with me the entire evening."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because Alfie was with me the entire night. Pink wine makes me rather amorous and it's possible poor Arthur had to hear us making love as we do go about it for some time after a few drinks. You see Alfie's a rather patient man and he likes to take his time as much as I might be opposed to the idea when I am a bit drunk. Seeing as I was a bit tipsy that night he was on top and it was rather romantic I do recall. He is a surprisingly soft lover. What for how gruff he seems outside of bed. With his harsh appearance and sharp words. But he's always very soft with me. And that night was no different. We made love well into the night but were asleep before the sun came up. We slept in that next morning and had tea in bed. I have my staff that can also attest to this. They most certainly heard our lovemaking if Arthur did not. Alfie can make me rather loud as he's very well endowed and especially gifted with his-"

"Alright!" the cop standing against the wall says, making a rather pleased look appear across your face. These men certainly didn't want to hear your retelling of another man's cock.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." you snark back, drawing your lips together before taking the cup of tea. "Rather good brew." you say as they sit and stare.

"Thanks." the stout one responds. "I made it meself." he says as the other man knocks his arm at the softness and pride the man heard in his voice at a compliment coming from a woman.

"Oh yeah? Cheers." you say, raising the cup before taking another drink.

"I think we're done for now. You wait here." the more cross looking of the two says as he yanks the arm of the sitting man and takes him outside the room.

Your tea is long since finished before they come back in again. One standing in the doorway as the other motions a long arm towards his direction. "You're free to go."

"Oh thank you boys." you say gathering your coat and putting it back on. "Everything check out?" you ask with a polite and sweet face as you stretch before leaving the room, the men in front and behind you.

"Everything checked out with the Shelby's." he says with a tired voice.

"And what of Alfie? Should I be expecting him?"

"They're still talkin' to 'im." the shorter one says with a mumble, his head knocking back in the direction you came from.

You hear raised voices come from down the hall. "I think shouting is a more apt description. You better not have been too rough on the old boy. He has a bad back you know." you pout, adjusting your fur collar and fluffing it with a prissy exterior as the two men looked at you with both annoyance and interest.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." the taller says. "You can wait or he'll be released shortly. They've been at it all night." he says, his hand running down his face before he sighs with a groan and walks away.

"You know Miss Durand. You seem like an intelligent lass. Why are you mixed up with Solomons, eh?"

"Because I love the man."

"Eh." he says with a shake of his head. "You don't seem like the type to led around by your heart. Most women break under interrogation. Not take it like it's gossip at high tea like you." he says with a huff of amusement.

"Perhaps I can be both, yes?" you say with a smile and pat the man's arm. "Thank you for your time, sir." you say with a small bow and turn to walk out into the morning sun.

It's breaking over the mountains, Ollie sitting on the hood of one of Alfie's car's as you emerge from the confines of the dark and musky station.

"Oh Genevieve, are you alright?" Ollie asks, forgetting his place in the absence of Alfie and putting his hands to your shoulders.

"Quite alright, Ollie. Thank you. Any word on Alfie? They were still yelling at him last I heard." you say, rummaging through your purse for your mirror.

"Nothing yet. Time's almost up on the hold though. So should be any time. We can take ya home or call another car. Whichever ya like."

"I think I'll stay and wait. I'd like it if he did the same for me." you say, using your gloves to wipe under your eyes, erasing the smeared makeup that was left as proof of your long night. "He'll probably want to go home after anyway. We'll save some petrol this way." you say dismissively, waving your hands as you snap the compact shut after fixing your makeup.

"I can get you some food if you'd like?" he asks with genuine concern. "Thank you Ollie but I'll wait until I get home. I just had some tea in the station, I'll be fine." you pat his arm and move towards the car. "But I am rather knackered so I'm going to sit in the car to wait." you say with a lazy nod as he shuffled forward to open the door for you. "Any other news? Everything alright while we were in there?" you ask, settling into the seat and talking to Ollie as he had his weight against the side of the car.

"Nothing that I've heard." he shrugs. "Closed up the club at the normal time. Everything was as usual, didn't want to cause a panic. Tried to kill any rumors with answering questions as people left. Just wanted to ask ya some questions in regard to a missing acquaintance we said."

"Not entirely a lie."

"Did they not ask ya that?" his head turns back to you.

"They did but they were really just casting a very wide net for anything. It was rather strange. The informant for the tip must've been right. They didn't know anything. Just knew that Prittance was missing."

"Was that his name?" Ollie asks.

"Yes. Best we don't say it again." you say with a long exhale.

"Yes Miss. My apologies." he ducks his head and looks back to the doors of the station.

"What's the time darling?" you ask, starting to nod off in the car.

"Quarter eight, Miss." Ollie replies, his fingers fidgeting.

"My word. Alfie will be too old to bear children when he's released at this rate. Christ." you groan, slouching in the seat.

"Perhaps not." Ollie cheekily answers you quickly, rushing towards the doors as a roughed up Alfie appears.

"Speak of the devil and he will appear." you say with a broad smile as you approach him with open arms. "My darling, they didn't fuss about you too much did they?" you ask with pouted lips as you take his face and kiss his cheeks.

"Nah. Buncha twats, they are." he groans, rubbing his head before putting on his hat, his hair a right mess underneath.

"Shall we go home?" you ask, taking his arm and rubbing his back.

"Are you alright love?" he asks, looking closely at you with a furrowed brow.

"Oh quite alright. Not to worry, darling." you coo as you hold his hand.

"Good, that." he nods, grunting and resituating himself in the benched seat. "Take us home. Night's gone on bloody long enough." he says loudly with a shake of his hand. "Seems they called up your Shelby and after that, they didn't 'ave much else to say 'bout anyfing."

"Arthur? I did tell them he was around." you nod and snuggle into his arm, crossing your legs towards him as his splayed out, taking up most of the back seat.

"Nah. The other prick." he grins.

"Tommy? Oh our Parliament boy?" you chuckle.

"'At's the one."

"Well it seems he's come in handy hasn't he?" you say with a hopeful sigh, patting Alfie's thigh before he takes your hand into his.

"Never thought I'd agree to that, yeah?" Alfie huffs out a coarse laugh.

"Looks as I've come in handy again for you Solomons." you reply defensively but with a smile.

"Ya always do, love." he says with a kiss to your forehead. A deep grunt, his muscles exhausted as he puts his arm around you and cuddles you close on the lengthy drive home.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi   @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

[hollandbaby]

honey whiskey - shawn mendes

a/n: first fic i’ve written in a while. sorry I’m a little rusty. uh this is like 4.9k words which is the longest thing i’ve ever written? also there’ll be a part two!! i never thought i’d be much of a series writer but, hey, i guess uni has changed me

warnings: swearing, sexual references, some sexual harassment language

The run up to Christmas means that bars are getting a lot busier; people meeting up for business before they get too busy with family priorities, friends meeting up for drinks and planning gift giving, even some couples just wanting a nice night out before they’re completely flooded with responsibilities to buy presents for the ‘obnoxious mother’ or ‘uptight uncle’. That’s how you find yourself now; pouring shots, pulling pints, swept off your feet as the bar fills up with people. Your manager, John, is helping you along with your coworkers, it’s truly all hands on deck in this situation.

“Fucking hell, I wish people would choose somewhere else to go for christmas cocktails,” your colleague Katie says to you as she stands beside you, shaking a cocktail shaker as you pour some Jäger bombs. You laugh at her attitude, wishing the exact same thing. You’ve been working since 3PM and your bar doesn’t close til 1, meaning you won’t be home til about 2AM.

“You and me both, but nowhere else has absolutely delicious Christmas cocktails,” you laugh, sending her a wink.

“Ugh! It’s so annoying though, I hate this time of year,” she sighs, pouring the cocktail into a glass. You put the shots onto a tray, laughing as you walk over to the front of the bar.

“You’re such a Scrooge, Katie.” You laugh, walking past her to continue serving your customers. You feel overwhelmed with the amount of people who are at the bar in comparison to the people who are behind it - there’s only 4 of you. That is, until John comes round the front of the bar with a guy you don’t know, but recognise. He’s wearing a denim jacket, some black jeans and black boots and god he’s tall, and so handsome. His silky curls are messy on his head, his jawline is sharp and his smile may be the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His cheeks are rosy, possibly from the cold weather outside.

“Everybody, this is Shawn,” John shouts to you all, trying to be heard over the commotion that is the customers and music. “He’s gonna be helping us out this evening!” A chorus of ‘hey’s and ‘hello’s follow John’s statement, he and Shawn immediately get to work as you continue your own work

“Shawn is so fucking hot,” Katie says as she comes over to you, taking a bottle of beer out of the fridge and popping the cap open. You laugh at her, “I’m serious, dude! Look at him!”

“Yeah, Katie, I’m not blind. But I don’t think Sam would be too happy about you drooling over someone else,” you nudge her.

“Oh she won’t care! She trusts and loves me. Besides, I was thinking more for you,” she chuckles, lowering her voice as she notices Shawn approaching your end of the bar, retrieving a bottle of beer from the fridge. He flashes you both a smile, saying a small ‘hey’ as he does so. Katie laughs at your reaction, you mumble a quick and squeaky ‘hello’ before turning to continue serving your customers. You can’t help but cringe at yourself, you’re not usually so baffled by attractive men but Shawn is so different.

As the night goes on, people start getting more drunk, and making requests. You have a laptop behind the bar controlling the music, and it isn’t until Lost In Japan begins playing over the speakers that you finally realise why you recognise Shawn. He’s in the corner with John, pouring shots and laughing along with him, John teasing him for the amount of girls dancing around and throwing themselves over the bar. “Katie!” You yell to her, trying to get her attention even though she’s pulling some pints for customers. You rush over to her, temporarily forgetting the gin and tonic that you’re pouring and telling her; “Katie, this is Shawn’s song!” She looks at you and laughs, looking behind you to see Shawn bopping along to the music.

“Holy shit! I thought I recognised him, but I didn’t realise that was him. Sam is gonna freak when I tell her!” She shouts excitedly, almost spilling the pint she was pouring. You laugh with her, before she turns to you and says “you should seriously go talk to him, babe.” You laugh even harder, saying “yeah, right, as if he’d ever talk to me!” Before returning to your almost forgotten drink.

Throughout the night, you catch a lot of glimpses at Shawn. You almost always catch him smiling, and his smile is so infectious, you find yourself smiling as you shake your head and attempt to concentrate on what you’re doing. You go over to a customer with the card machine, asking for them to insert their card and enter their pin. However, the card is declined, leaving you with the unfortunate task of telling them that their card has been declined and to try again. After 3 attempts, her card is still being temperamental, and you can see she’s getting angry.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am, but your card is still being declined. Do you have any cash or another card, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t have another card or any cash. Can you just try it again?” She snaps at you, clearly annoyed and drunk.

“I’m sorry, I’ve tried your card 4 times now and it’s still being declined.” You say politely, even though your heart is beating in your chest and you feel like crying. The next thing you know, Shawn is beside you, gracing you with his warmth and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Hey, honey, is there a problem? John asked me to come see what’s up,” his hand subconsciously resting on your back gently.

“Oh, uh, this lady’s card keeps being declined-“

“I told her to try again, but she’s being useless. Shawn, would you be able to help?” Her finger twirls a strand of hair and she pushes her cleavage up, clearly flirting with him. You don’t blame her, he is gorgeous. But your focus was on how she called you ‘useless’.

“Y/N isn’t useless at all. In fact, she’s doing an amazing job considering how busy it is in here. I think you should apologise.” He says, making heat rush to your face. You’re flattered that he’d even notice you’re working hard.

“Well, I’m sorry. For snapping about my card. Uh, I’ll contact my bank and see what the problem is. Forget the drinks for now, thanks.” She says before walking away almost bashfully. You turn to him, and see he’s already smiling down at you.

“Thank you, for helping me out,” you say, your attention on Shawn now. You notice that John and Katie are both serving the last two people waiting, so your undivided attention goes to Shawn.

“No problem, she was a bitch anyway,” he laughs and god it’s a beautiful laugh.

“You should see what it’s like when someone gets really angry at me. It can be a lot worse than how she acted.” You chuckle, trying to laugh off the situation.

“It’s not fair that you get treated so badly,” he says, smile replaces with a look of concern for you. You grab a cloth and some spray, wiping down the counter before taking some of the glasses through to the glass wash. Shawn follows you, grabbing some glasses from off the counter. He helps you load the tray, the close proximity meaning you can smell his cologne; a musky smell which is so enticing. “So, what’s it like working here constantly?” He asks, as he passes you some more dirty glasses to put in the wash.

“You really wanna know? It’s uh, hard at times. There are always drunk people who can either be overly nice or overly ... disgusting.” You let out a breathy laugh, it’s insincere and Shawn can tell.

“Disgusting how?” He knows what you’re talking about. He’s never been to a bar or club where the pretty girl behind the bar isn’t hit on, or talked about extremely sexually. It infuriated him.

“Disgusting like ‘let me see your tits’, and that’s not even the worst of it.” You feel shy telling him this, for some reason. You’d met the dude a couple hours ago when he offered to help - which Katie pointed out was ‘super generous of him’ and winked at you - but you felt so comfortable around him already.

“God, that-that’s fuckin’ horrible, I’m sorry people are like that, honey.” He hates it, hates that he can’t help you, hates that he can’t protect you from disgusting people.

“Anyway, how’s your career? I hear you play music sometimes?” You chuckle, lightening the mood. Shawn could talk for hours about his music, it’s the only constant in his life. He’s fulfilling his dream, he’s got a lot of love and support behind him and god he could talk for hours.

“Yeah, I sing occasionally. I’m not that good though.” He laughs along with you, and he loves your laugh.

“Shut up! You know you’re good, Mendes.” And it’s true. He knows he has talent, he knows he puts a lot of work into his music, he works so hard for it, and he knows he’s good. But when you tell him he’s good, he can’t help but smile and he can’t help the rush of blood that covers his cheeks, making them rosy. He’s just glad the lights are dim enough out in the back that you haven’t noticed he’s blushing. Before he can respond, Katie comes out the back telling you they’re about to call last orders.

“Jesus, is it already 1 already? Fuck,” you run a hand through your hair, tying it up before preparing yourself to go back out behind the bar to serve the last rush of people for the evening.

“God, time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” Shawn says, a hand running nervously through his own curls. He doesn’t want the night to end, he’d only just started talking to you and he didn’t want to ever stop.

“Wow, you sounded so Canadian then,” you chuckle, before serving a customer. He smiles at you, but you don’t see.

As the atmosphere dies down, with people slowly making their way out of the bar and heading home, you and Katie clean the bar whilst John and Shawn scoot the last remaining people out. It proves difficult for Shawn as a lot of the girls want pictures, and he’s just too damn nice to say no. You can’t help but smile at how kind he is, stopping to take a photo with everyone even though he’s clearly ready to go home and they’re all clearly drunk. “So, how is lover boy?” Katie asks as she takes the nozzles off of the pint levers, ready to clean them.

“Katie,” you whine, annoyed that she keeps insinuating you and Shawn are already dating. “You know he could probably get anyone he wanted, why the fuck would he want to date me?”

“Dude you’re hot as shit for a start, and second, that shit doesn’t matter. He likes you, I can tell,” she continues scrubbing the bar as you unload some clean glasses from the tray. You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating what she’s saying. Does she really think he likes you? How do you go up to him and ask him out without looking like an idiot if you’re rejected? You weren’t usually so bashful or shy about talking to attractive people, but Shawn truly is something else. You look up, before turning to move the tray out into the back, and catch Shawn’s hazel eyes. He looks so pretty under the light, his jacket long forgotten after the rush of business, his crimson shirt unbuttoned more than before, creating a slightly disheveled look. But, fuck, he looks hot. He catches your eye, giving you a dazzling smile before he has to take another picture with someone. You send him a small wave before going out into the back, loading trays of dirty glasses into the wash. John returns behind the bar with Shawn, announcing that he’d offered to help close down and clear up, but John had to get home due to his early morning start. “Alright, buddy, you��re in perfectly capable hands here. Call me if you guys need anything, thank you all for your help tonight!”

“So, what can I do to help?” Shawn asks, leaning on the bar. You can see his broad chest, his rosy cheeks and his hands. His curly hair is slightly sweaty, and you can’t help the dirty thoughts running through your mind.

“You could sweep the floor for us, please?” You ask, and Shawn smiles at you, nodding his head as you go to retrieve the dustpan and broom. “We usually sweep and mop the floor behind the bar last as it’s always dirtier.” You send him a small smile, and as you pass him the broom your hands gently scrapes against his, and you feel so cliché and stupid for the rush of electricity shooting up your arm, causing goosebumps to form and the hair to stand up. Shawn smiles at you again, and you wonder if he realises how he’s affecting you. Katie waltzes over to you, box of beer from out the back to put in the fridges, chanting a quiet ‘y/n likes Shawn’ causing you to turn and gently slap the back of her head.

“‘The fuck was that for?” She laughs, knowing damn well she’s winding you the hell up.

“You gotta be quiet, man, he could fuckin’ hear you. Besides, I barely know the guy-“

“Which is exactly why you should get his number! Start texting, then ask to meet up for a coffee or something!” She interrupts, squatting down to stock the fridge. You pass her a few beers at a time, saving her from getting up and squatting back down every so often.

“Between studying and working, I don’t have time for a date!” You laugh, trying to convince yourself that you don’t need a date with Shawn. But, truth be told, you’d really like one.

“That’s bullshit! You don’t have any time for one coffee date? Babe, you have lectures for 4 hours, tops, and then you’re free for the evening!” She’s right. You know she is, and that’s why you stand, biting the inside of your cheek and contemplating whether to get his number or not. You look over to him, and see that he’s dancing along to the music which is now playing softly over the speakers as he sweeps the floor. He’s singing quietly to himself and it’s so endearing and sweet that you might explode. You just cannot get over how sweet he is, he came to the bar with the intention to hang out and have fun, yet he gave that up to help you out and now he’s helping you close? Oh, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Katie, I’m fucked.”

“What?” She laughs, confused. She finished her sentence a good 2 minutes ago, not realising you were contemplating this entire time. “You mean, you wanna get fucked?”

“God, you’re so gross,” you laugh along with her, helping her to her feet. Shawn comes back behind the bar, emptying the contents of the dustpan into the bin before turning to you both, clapping his hands together and asking what’s next. You can’t help but smile at him, he’s just so fucking sweet and hot and he can sing and play guitar? He’s a triple threat.

“Actually, we need some stuff from the cellar, y/n was just about to go but it’s quite a bit, would you mind helping her?” Katie says, smirking to herself. It’s subtle, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah, ‘course I’ll go with.” And there’s that damn smile again.

“Great! I’ll mop up the floor while you’re doing that and then I think we’ll be good to go!” Katie smiles, such a cheeky smile as she turns to hand you the list of things you need to bring up. You shoot her daggers before leading Shawn down to the cellar.

“God, it’s freezing down here,” is the first thing he says when he steps into the cellar; “are you not cold?”

You let out a laugh, something you’ve found yourself doing a lot tonight. “I’m kinda used to it by now. It has to be cold for all the draft pipelines, and a lot of the stock too.” You and Shawn grab the things you need; a few wines, beers, ciders and spirits. The whole time you’re down there, you and Shawn are laughing and chatting. The conversation flows so easily between you, he asks about your studies and where you’re from, and you ask about his music which he unfortunately didn’t get round to talking about earlier. When he starts talking about it, his face lights up like a kid on Christmas. And that makes your heart beat real fast, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Sorry, I’m talking too much, huh?” Shawn says, a hand moving to scratch the back of his neck as his face flushes a rosy pink.

“No, no no! Not at all! It’s great that you’re so passionate about your job! Wish I could say the same but I’m kind of stuck here,” you laugh, nudging him gently with your shoulder. Shawn looks at you and laughs with you, his eyes crinkling as he does. You can’t help but feel a little vulnerable; sharing your thoughts and life stories with someone you’d only met a few hours ago, let alone Shawn Mendes. “Gotta pay the uni fees somehow.”

He shakes his head as he smiles at you, the cold air in the cellar turning his face pink again. You grab everything and head upstairs, and Shawn is impressed by your strength; watching you balance a few cases of ciders on top of a box of wines which is stacked up on top of a box of prosecco, all whilst walking up the stairs is highly impressive to him. He’s so enticed by you already and he’s only known you for a couple of hours. But he also feels like he’s known you forever. You reach the top, holding the door open for Shawn as he passes through, saying a small ‘thank you’. You follow him behind the bar, putting your boxes down onto the countertop before opening them to top up the fridges. Shawn gives you a hand, you kneeling on the floor as he passes the stock down to you to put in the fridge. You see Katie out of the corner of your eye and she’s still smirking to herself, she’ll probably make a joke later about how you were ‘on your knees for him’, which will earn her another smack and a ‘shut up’ from you.

“How’re you getting home tonight?” Shawn asks, as he passes you the last bottle of Corona. God, could he get any sweeter?

“I was gonna walk, actually, I only live about 5 minutes away,” you say, getting up to your feet and taking the cardboard boxes out the back to the cardboard bin.

“You were gonna walk? By yourself? At 2AM?” He sounds confused, almost upset, that you’d walk home that time of night.

“Yeah, I do it every week, it’s no biggie,” you laugh, emptying the rubbish bin, replacing the liner with a new one. Shawn looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. There’s no way he’d let you walk home alone, probably not even in broad daylight.

“What about Katie? Does she never drop you home?” He asks, concerned. He’s a caring person normally, but damn he seems to care more about you than he has about anyone else in such a short amount of time.

“Katie’s girlfriend comes to pick her up and she goes a completely different way to me. Honestly, I don’t mind walking home it’s quite nice,” you shrug, but he’s not having it. Katie has offered to take you home before, but you didn’t want to be out of the way. Sometimes she demands it, other times she gives up against your stubbornness and just lets you be, telling you to text her as soon as you’re in the door safely. You never fail to let her know you’re home, and she never fails to tell you she is too and that she’s about to do some nasty shit with her girlfriend. They’re very in love.

“Okay, then I’ll walk home with you,” he suggests, taking the bin from your hand. Your hands touch again and, god, you hate that schoolgirl feeling you get. But you really like him, his hands are so large and so warm and you wonder how they’d feel holding your own, or running along you-

“Earth to y/n?” Shawn chuckles, noticing the slight flush of your cheeks.

“Sorry, um, you don’t have to walk me home, Shawn, it’s fine, really-“

“Nonsense, I’m not letting you leave this bar without me.” He smiles his perfect smile again, and you melt into a puddle.

“I mean, if you don’t mind? It’s not far, uh, how far do you have to go to get home?” You ask, hoping he’s not going out of his way for you.

“Not far, don’t worry honey,” he chuckles again, taking the bin outside to the large general waste bin. Katie takes this opportunity to come back behind the bar, walking over to you and wiggling her eyebrows.

“He’s walking you home, huh?”

“Oh, shut up, Katie it’s not like that,” you say, but your stomach is turning and you can’t help but smile a little.

“It’s absolutely like that. You should get his number when he drops you home!” She nudges you, causing you to drop the sanitizer spray you were holding.

“Katie! God, you’re so annoying sometimes,” you whine, but you don’t mean it. Katie knows that, and she knows that she’s right. Deep down, you know it too. “We still need to sweep and mop behind the bar but you’re in my way.”

“Well, I’m sorry, boss,” she jokes, moving to in front of the bar and leaning in the counter, on her phone.

“Texting Sam?” You ask, moving along the floor with the mop, scrubbing the floor until it’s squeaky clean.

“Yeah, she’s on her way now. And, by the way, I want a long text from you, either tonight or tomorrow morning, with every juicy detail about Mr Mendes and your night,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you, but you roll your eyes at her. Even if you wanted something to happen, you wouldn’t after only knowing him for a few hours. Would you?

“I doubt anything’ll even happen, Kate,” you move to put the mop and bucket in the back, emptying the bucket and cleaning it out. When you move back out, Shawn has returned, his cheeks and nose a little red from the cold, and he has his jacket back on. But his shirt is stil unbuttoned, and you can still see some of his broad chest and god you just about die right then.

“Is that everything? Sam’s outside,” Katie asks, putting her own jacket on.

“Yeah, that’s everything. Do you have the keys? I’ll lock up,” you ask, Katie taking the keys out of her jacket pocket and chucking them to you, which you catch perfectly. You let out a chuckle as you move round to the front of the bar, turning off the lights in the process. You give Katie a hug goodbye, telling her to tell Sam you say hey and to text you when you home. She tells you to text her too, and then winks at you to which you roll your eyes. You notice Shawn is stood by the door, on his phone.

“Sorry we took so long to clean up,” you begin, but Shawn shakes his head and smiles at you.

“It’s okay, honey, you’re doing your job,” god you love when he calls you that. You smile back at him, putting your leather jacket on before turning off the final light, Shawn opening the door for you and following you outside. You lock the door, checking it about 3 times before you’re satisfied. “Can’t have anyone breaking in and stealing all the booze.” Shawn jokes, flashing yet another gorgeous smile at you.

You laugh at his joke, replying with a “yeah, that’s my job!” Before heading home. The walk home is lovely; the cool air is nice in comparison to the overly heated, busy bar. You notice Shawn is quite close to you, possibly for body heat, but you’re not complaining. It’s nice to have him close, you feel safer.

“Do you drive?” He asks, wondering why you’d walk home every night if you had a car.

“Yeah, I do. I have a car too, I just don’t want to use it when there’s a more environmentally friendly option of walking just 5 minutes down the road from my home.”

“That makes sense. But, it still scares me that you’d walk home by yourself at 2AM.” He says, genuine concern laced in his voice. You smile at this, biting your lip. It’s so cute how caring he is. “I have a little sister, she’s only 15 so she doesn’t go out but I won’t want her walking home by herself in the dark when she’s older.” He seems kind of sheepish when he admits this, but you find it lovely. This is the first he’s spoken about his sister all night, but you can tell how protective he is of her and how much he loves her.

“Must be pretty cool for her having you as a big brother,” you say, voice sounding a lot louder than it actually is due to the lack of surrounding sounds. You’re starting to feel the cold, even though you’re only a few minutes away from your home. You notice you’re walking a lot slower than usual, because you want to spend more time with Shawn.

“I think she’d say otherwise,” he laughs again, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. You look up at him and smile, you can’t seem to stop smiling around him. God, it’s all so cliché and cheesy but he’s just one of those people; his smile lights up a room and his laughter is so contagious you physically can’t help yourself.

“So she doesn’t think you’re the cool, famous big brother?” You nudge him with your shoulder, smiling up at him. The wind is blowing your hair all over the place and you can’t tame it, but Shawn thinks you look gorgeous. The street lamps are dim, but nice; accentuating your facial features but casting a shadow.

“Nah. She loves me, but I think she thinks I’m pretty lame and overprotective. Which is true,” you round the corner and see your apartment building, causing you to pout a little. You’ve enjoyed spending time alone with Shawn, even if it was for a mere 5 minutes.

“So, uh, this is me. Thank you for walking me home,” you say, as you retrieve your keys from your pocket, “do you have much further to walk?”

“No, I’m about 15 minutes that way,” he points behind you.

“Do you want me to call a cab for you? lt’s the least I could do considering you walked me home safely,” you offer, pulling your phone out of your back pocket to check the time.

“No, thank you, honey. I’ll be fine,” he smiles yet again, and your heart beats a hundred miles a minute, yet again. The way he calls you honey is so sweet and smooth; exactly like honey itself. “Have a good night, y/n.”

“Wait, Shawn, would you wanna get a coffee sometime?” Your heart is beating out of your chest, your palms are sweating and you can’t control your breathing; this is a first for you. You’re not usually so nervous around boys, but Shawn is so different. And, god, when he smiles, you just about die.

His cheeks flush, again, and he says “yeah, I’d like that. Gimme your phone and I’ll put my number in, drop me a text when you’re free, students seem to be really busy these days.” And there you go again, letting out a breathy laugh alongside him. You unlock your phone, going to contacts and handing it to him. He puts in his number and gives his phone back to you, telling you to text him when you’re inside. “Okay, Mr Protective, I didn’t realise I’d have my own personal bodyguard,” you chuckle before telling him, more seriously, “text me when you’re home okay, please.”

He smiles at you, putting his now cold hands in his jean pockets before saying, “promise. Goodnight, y/n.” And flashing you one more dazzling smile. You smile back saying a soft, “night, Shawn,” before heading into your building, stupid smile plastered on your face as you text Katie ‘im home safe, and i got shawn’s number’. with a response of ‘omfg are u serious?! get that D bb yessss’

You get into your flat, immediately putting your pyjamas on and making yourself a cup of tea to warm you up. You sit in bed, texting Katie, telling her about Shawn and everything you enjoy about being in his company, when you get a text from the man himself. Your face lights up, his text saying ‘honey i’m home :)’. You chuckle again, responding with a ‘good, i was worried my bodyguard was gonna get hurt’ and a ‘thank you again for walking me home’, to which Shawn replies ‘lol i’d be a bad bodyguard if i got hurt myself ;)’ ‘anytime, can’t wait for that coffee date :)’ and you fell asleep with a giddy feeling in your stomach; a sickly feeling of happiness.

[hoe-imaginess]

replies

a lot wowwie

I’m okay! Trying to catch up with life while I get ready to go back to school, trying to find work, trying to stay healthy and happy!

@fckmeroger-ina THANK YOU!!!

for the record like 8 years ago I was the biggest Queen stan I remember scouring the internet for Queen fanfiction and there was none so I had to write my own I was all alone and now… Queen hoes everywhere… 2011 me is screaming. Fck me too Roger  

Oh god I didn’t even see this I’ll write it and get it out tomorrow!

You’re very welcome!! Post-partum issues are very difficult and I’ve seen it first-hand. I know it might make those sort of headcanons angstier than people expect them or want them to be but it’s reality! And I think it’s interesting to write how our favs would handle very real situations like that. I appreciate this message <3

Message me privately and I can tell you more! In general, it’s a fun way to get a few bucks, and if you have time for it I would definitely do it! Just make sure you’re specific with your rules and emphasize them so there’s no miscommunication 

OKay honestly his height doesn’t make sense no way he’s as short as the data books list him. 5′9? Excuse me? Have you seen how tall he and Hashi are next to Minato? Hashi and Tobi are almost the same height and Hashi is 6 feet+??? It’s not adding up here. What IS the truth. 

See this is why Madara likes the data book stats

LMAO depends on the situation. He would either think “that’s what you get” or he would have an existential crisis about it. No in between.

THE TRUTH!!! Don’t make me write a fic about it, I been wanting to…

what episode of the Twilight Zone are you living in just wondering

Hmmm I like so many. Enemy to lovers, arranged marriage, reluctant co-workers/partners, SO MANY 

I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference tbh he would probably think that he could see them in his dream after his plan is done

honestly I’m tryna work up the motivation to post the next few chapters I fuckin loveeee fwb tropes

Thank you so much!!!!!

very… interesting

Hmmm probably. Bnha is good about backstories for their villains, but Overhaul also may just be one of those inherently bad guys? Probably has a lot to do with his quirk, too. I get his sense of past trauma via his quirk 

thank you ahhhh <3

And Tobirama tries not to play favorites but he can’t help it ok because his nice daughter just makes his day and his defiant daughter makes him want to tear his hair out 

thank you so muchhhhh I’m happy it’s finally over because I loved it and hated it. But I do love that you guys loved it <3

it is known

I think I have a few more in my inbox yes!

He definitely wouldn’t. So you have to have a solo date with that thicc dick sorry

BOTH NAILED IT

LMAOOOOOO I love this so much ily

both true 

She doesn’t understand my obsession with Tobirama she’s a Minato hoe. A Minahoe, if you will 

This!!!!!!

Honestly I have horrible writer’s block and not many ways to get around it. I usually go back to stuff I’ve written that I actually like (personal stuff and not really stuff I post) and it motivates me to do more?

Shisui is like… dating the job. But yeah Tobirama is married and has 3 kids with the job 

It’s disgusting right I love it <3

I think he definitely is! He’s very devoted to his life as a shinobi and to the village. He just gives me those vibes

I love vampire Uchiha ok one of my favorite AUs

Honestly it overflows

Hmmmmm All Might for sure (not like he has trouble getting it up but he can’t have sex for too long) and Itachi?? Possibly. He can’t really get kinky or hot and wild. It’s too much on his condition to work himself up too much

He for sure on that Gaara shit BUT he does get a lil out of hand ngl 

(hahaha out of hand I’m so fucking FUNNY)

(actually it’s really sad if you think about it)

hey sorry for the late reply!!! Unfortunately I don’t promote OCs on this blog for the purpose of keeping my stories and fics pretty vague and up for audience interpretation. Some other blogs might be able to help you out though! And I know there are a lot of Kakashi-specific imagines blogs out there!

idk what this means. but I agree

<3 <3 <3

thank you I’ll be there and say a few words 

we love subtle savage Hashi…

i HOPE IT DID!!!!

ty ty ty <3 well it was finished so I hope you liked it!

I will take fries with that uchiha shake

Don’t ever send me something like this agAIN

MADARA IS FRANK ALREADY I HATE IT

BUT Hashirama is Charlie for sure and Tobirama is Dennis THE SERIAL KILLER PART HAHA. A mix of Dee and Dennis AND Mac tbh

this is why all Uchiha are uncut the penis match the outfit 

He really… REALLY does 

Wow I can’t believe myself either 

Honestly Tobirama being good with kids is a BIG mood and canon you can’t tell me otherwise

Im sorry ): is it that you click the link and it doesn’t work? Or that you can’t see it?

They definitely aren’t shhhh don’t tell them

I don’t know how to take this and respond so just know this is wild and I understand 

this is the TRUTH 

Tobirama did what he had to do… but… you still right 

I have some Tobirama, Hashirama, Madara (so yeah lol) and I also get a few Bleach every once in a while, HxH, and occasionally bnha!

LOL this would be funny 

Lmaoooo this would be a mess tbh 

Ima keep it real with you I didn’t understand this 100% but I think I get what you’re saying and I agree yes 

Weren’t they like??? 10?? Maybe??

Honestly the founders timeline is REALLY REALLY messed up thanks Kishi

I wouldn’t doubt that Hashi and Tobi were a year apart, maybe two years at the most. And yeah I can see the fight at the Valley happening in their 30s

Lmao I don’t know anything about Dragon Ball I was just talking about the hair

[milkytcake]

Claimed (ShigarakixReader)

I’m here with another fic I randomly thought would be cute!

 *Gender neutral, cute fluff*

“We’ve been walking for hours Y/n. Are you done yet?” 

“If you’re gonna complain, then why did you come along?! Besides I haven’t found it yet. I’m starting to think they don’t sell those cute kitty stickers anymore” you pouted. The hooded messy light blue hair male made a disgust sound with his tongue, “I have to keep you safe from those Pro Heroes. Besides I need fresh air to clear my head and think of my next move.” Shigaraki Tomura was keeping you company as you search for your beloved stickers at the mall. It’s been 3 hours of searching and it was surprising he was still with you. It seems he had all the patience for you and kept zero for others, it was quite endearing. 

“I give up. I’m never gonna find those cute stickers here. I hate looking online because of the shipping prices. I swear villains control eBay.” You slumped your shoulders and laughed at your own joke, too bad he didn’t seemed to get it as he was looking elsewhere. He was serious about keeping you safe, his eyes darting about. “Hey, Tomu” That was the first time you called him by a nickname. His head looked up to you eagerly in response mixed with surprise. You could tell he raised his eyebrows by the way his eyes widen. It made you laugh to yourself sometimes; the way his unkempt hair framed his handsome face made him look… adorable. Though you never said it out loud to anyone, you kept your feelings about the male to yourself. It was mostly likely out of insecurity and/or stubbornness. Shigaraki was the complete opposite. He made it clear that he was attracted to you from the start. Little gifts were given to you almost daily and they weren’t really anything except tiny keychains or various of cute items you reminded him of or that he kept in mind what you commented that you liked one time. He talked a lot with you around and prefers to have just you for company like to explain his ideas of the world and how he was going to achieve them. The others can ‘go fuck themselves to death with a hamster’ he quoted one time. You like to think he loves them in his own twisted way. But that was not the case. Shigaraki hated almost everything that moves but you were an exception. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit as he took in the name you gave him: his heart was soaring thinking that you finally returned the feelings of affection. You became flustered, “I - I’m actually gonna head to the restrooms really quick before we leave!” With that you lurched forward walking briskly before he said anything else. 

The excitement was too much so your stomach felt like it was doing flips and having a fuckin’ party because you felt like hurling to the nearest trashcan. Throwing water in your face from the sink you stared at yourself in the dirty mirror, “Ok calm down Y/n. Play it cool. You’re just calling him Tomu because you guys are in public! Nothing to be embarrassed about, he obviously likes you yeah no biggie…,”Then you started to sweat, “FUCK! I LIKE HIM SO MUCH BUT AM I ENOUGH?! HE’S TOO AMAZING AND I’M A PRACTICALLY A FREAKING QUIRKLESS POTATO TURD. WHAT IS A STUPID QUIRK LIKE OMNILINGUISM GONNA DO FOR HIM SAY ‘HEY! IMMA FUCK YOU ALL MIGHT’ IN 15 DIFFERENT LANGUAGES?!” A parent ushered their child out of the bathroom as you started talking to yourself in a high pitched voice that escalated in a pterodactyl-like whale sound. You took a deep breath and fixed your hair. Walking out of the public bathroom while calling yourself stupid under your breath, you sensed and heard something, no, someone that you loathed. “Y/n! Wow I haven’t seen you in years!” A guy with a stupid snarky grin waved to you. Your body seized and your mouth dry as you faced your ex. You hated him. When you dated him in high school, he was a dick because when he broke up with you after 2 weeks, he only did it as a prank for $50. It seemed he never changed after 2 years. “What brings you here? I thought you moved cities. I’m lucky! I’ve seen your picture on the LineApp and thought damn. You’re smoking hot now! Hey let’s trade emails” He reached for his cell and held it out. You didn’t trust him, it was that same smile that kept you up every night for the rest of your school years. “No.” You said. “Huh? What you mean no? C’mon, it was a joke in school and that happened yeeaaaarrrrssss ago! Give me a chance to redeem myself.” He took a step forward while you a step back, “I said no. Go fuck yourself.“ “Look I know it was a shitty thing of me to do but believe me I feel bad! Just give me your cell Y/n.” “St-stop!” You raised your tone in distress before a hand came to grab your ex’s wrist that was near you.

“Ahh… Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you but I see you’re talking with a friend?” It was Shigaraki. He had a big smile on his face while he talked but you knew he was putting a front. Your ex was confused, “Yea- yeah, Y/n was and is a close friend of mine. Let go of my wrist.” He tried tugging it back but Shigaraki held tighter with four fingers making your ex wince in pain and then drop his cell in Shigaraki’s other hand. The smile was now replaced with a deep frown and unhinged eyes, “No… I don’t think my Y/n likes you very much by the tears in her eyes and to be honest, I hate you too.” Shigaraki clenched all five of his fingers on your ex cell and letting the ashes fall slowly to the ground, fully displaying his deadly quirk. Shigaraki then got close and spoke lowly, “If we weren’t in public I would have killed you already. Next time, if I see you even in the same building as Y/n, I won’t hesitate (Ex’s L/n F/n).” With that Shigaraki released him, and your ex scurried away in absolute terror, pushing people out of the way. He probably recognized Shigaraki but that didn’t matter to him. “Disgusting piece of shit… Let’s leave. I’m pissed off now.” Shigaraki sent a text to Kurogiri for a portal asap before he had a chance to kill someone near him. You quickly followed the seething male through the exit gate. Turning into a alleyway near, and Kurogiri was there with a warp and didn’t dare to ask questions from the look in your eyes and Shigaraki’s.

The sound of many decaying newspapers filled the bar room. Shigaraki felt it wasn’t therapeutic enough because his fist came down on the table. If his eyes could kill just by looking, everything in the room would be gone. You were quiet, you couldn’t voice what you’re feeling but it would be described as safe or secured. Whichever one you chose, you showed it by hugging Shigaraki from behind. He froze on the spot when he felt warm as you wrap your arms around his thin torso. Your forehead against the middle of his back. Kurogiri took this as a sign to leave the bar for sometime and walked to the back. “Thank you” you whispered. You felt him jolt and his chest expanded and contracted. But you released him from your grip wondering if you crossed the line, “Sorry, I just couldn’t say anything and I just hugged you and… You were amazing back there Shigaraki.” Shigaraki eyes widen but uncharacteristically looked elsewhere bashfully while scratching his neck, “I rather you call me Tomu” he said lowly. Your face lit up remembering the nickname you slipped up. It felt like you were going to die on the spot. He was dropping his walls for only you, making you feel almost worthy for him. “I mean! Uh You’re always amazing with everything you do! You’re super badass and you almost killed the number one hero All Might. I feel like a crazed fan sometimes and I don’t feel worthy for you at all!” You almost felt regret from gushing about him in his face but you were floored by what he did next. “You’re so cute,” Tomu said softly caressing your left cheek with the back of his index finger. Your lips quivered from the affection and your face red as a tomato. “So, um…” You started and he stopped his gesture. “You.. like me?” 

He waved his hand about responding in glee while sitting on a bar stool, “Of course! If I didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be mine.” He replied. “Oh yeah I forg- wait. What. I’m yours?” You stared at the lanky male incredulity, “When, how?” 

Tomu started scratching his neck again, ”What you mean how? Was it not obvious? Kurogiri even said I was too forward. He said I needed to actually ask but I hate asking for things.” 

“Usually the person ask the other person out but I don’t mind at all.” You stiffed a laugh. He was so unique and charming; he didn’t know how to properly start a relationship but you loved how he had his own way of doing things. “So I don’t need to ask?” He asked giving me his full attention. “No it’s fine. Either way I would’ve said ye-mmphf!” You weren’t paying attention. Tomu wrapped 4 fours around your wrist to pull you forward on his lap for a clumsy kiss. His nose brushed against yours as his long wavy bangs tickled your face and his hands kept you steady on him. Your eyes softly fluttered closed to mimic his own. His damaged lips were pressed hard against yours and it ended as quickly as it started. He eyed your half lidded eyes and flushed cheeks then he beams feeling proud, “Nice.” You felt so happy as he put his chin on top of your head, swallowing you in his arms. And you swore he said mine under his breath but you didn’t question it. Tomu started checking his pants pockets then pulled out a pair of anti foul gloves. They covered his pinkies and ring fingers. “So when is it normal to have sex Y/n?” Gasping, you pulled his hoodie over his face feeling mortified. You crossed your arms while he smiled big even though half of his face was covered. “You said I don’t have to ask right?” You squeaked and instantly turned around, arms crossed in a huff. “I didn’t know you were a pervert!” He didn’t reply but you felt his head on your shoulder. A minute past before you started to feel a bit worried by his silence.

“Y/n…”

“Hm?”

“Know that I will never let you go.” Tomu held you tight in his grip. It was almost a threat but you couldn’t help but smile. He needed you as much as you needed him. “Never. I’m going to be by your side forever and watch you kill All Might.” 

[spencecreates]

An old scene with Anthony. I tried to fix it up a little but it’s still woefully unedited so prepare for mistakes. Also it’s kinda long so that’s fun

Tw: mentions of abuse

“You always did look so pretty all decorated like this.”

Anthony knew that voice well and what it referred to even more so. He didn’t react, swirling his drink around in the glass in his hand. He’d have turned to look at his lover if he’d thought he could. The healing lines down his back and the few on his chest burned too much for him to think of doing much else. Each breath lit his body on fire.

“Oh, Tony, don’t go giving me the silent treatment,” came the same cool voice, accompanied by the man’s choking cologne. Anthony always hated the smell. It was something between pine and what he assumed was the stench of other people’s suffering. He wouldn’t put it past Lester to be able to bottle such an intangible smell. “You know this wouldn’t happen if it didn’t need to. You wanted someone to help control your temper and this is the way.”

Anthony tensed at the hands that came to rest on his shoulders, the added weight doing nothing to help the pain his body already endured. He didn’t respond, bringing up his drink to finish it off. He expected the tightened grip that came with his continued silence, though it didn’t stop the grimace that crossed his features.

“I didn’t mean to be helped like this,” he finally said, voice a soft rasp. He cleared his throat, his voice coming stronger when he spoke again. “I didn’t tell you my past so that you can continue it.”

Lester clicked his tongue and stepped around him to ease himself in the seat across from Anthony. His black eye was prominent against his pallid skin and the bruising had even spread across to the other. Anthony looked away, guilt adding to the anguish he already felt.

“Of course that’s not what you meant,” Lester said and reached forward to grab Anthony’s chin, turning his head sharply so he was forced to look at him. “You wouldn’t know what you’d need, would you? No one does. After all, you’ve tried everything already and look at what your temper did.” He gestured to his black eye. “I know what’s best for you, baby, even if it doesn’t seem that way. You know I love you.”

There was a moment of hesitation and then Anthony slowly nodded, eyes flicking away from Lester. His lover gave a smile and leaned forward to kiss him before letting him go.

“Good,” he said in a voice that set Anthony’s teeth on edge. “Now come on, let’s go to bed, baby. I think we both need some rest.”

He stood, his hand being held out to Anthony. Hesitantly, the larger man took his hand and stood, legs feeling weak as he instinctively brought his arm around Lester’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

Each step towards the room made the feeling of disgust and unrest flare up. He didn’t want to sleep beside Lester that night; he didn’t want to sleep next to him ever. He stopped then, earning a look from his lover. He cleared his throat.

After a moment, he said, “I think I should sleep out here tonight. I’m just gonna be tossin’ and turnin’ anyway and I don’t want to disturb you.

Lester gave a nod. “How thoughtful of you, babe.”

“Goodnight. love you, Les.”

Lester smiled and kissed Anthony’s cheek. Anthony gave a tired smile as he pulled away, watching him go to the room and then moved slowly over to the couch. The pain set in again as he settled onto it, unable to even close his eyes. There’s be no sleep that night but he at least wanted to try.

He stayed on his side, eyes staring unfocused out of the window across from him. He could see the clouds rolling in but he hoped that there wasn’t a storm that came with them. A bit of rain he could handle but not anything else. Not that night. It already resembled enough of those nights he spent in the godforsaken home.

He finally closed his eyes, thinking of this mess he called his life. Lester had picked him up out of the gutter, cleaned him up. He owed him everything. Or at least quite a bit. He sighed and pressed his face into one of the couch pillows, willing himself to sleep.

When he finally did fall asleep after who knew how long, he was plagued with nightmares. The same as the one he’s been having for the past few years. He’s immobile as he stares at Gabriel, eyes wide and trying to scream for him to watch out but nothing comes from his mouth. Though this time he doesn’t get to the end.

“Gabriel!” he shouted, eyes snapping open. He sucked in a breath and then felt someone’s hand holding to his shoulder. Instinctively he slaps the hand away and sits up to get away, instantly wincing as the pain flared up again.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s just me.”

Slowly he’s able to focus on Lester kneeling beside the couch, the man looking half awake and pissed. Anthony took a deep breath and his voice is soft and shaky when he speaks, “S-sorry, Les. I just… it was just a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lester nodded and stood up, casting a glare to Anthony.

“Better do something about those or I’ll have to gag you when you sleep so I don’t have to hear this shit,” he said menacingly and Anthony nodded, though he doubted there was anything he could do. He laid back down as Lester went back to the room, mumbling under his breath. Sleep felt even farther away than before.

Not a moment later, he was sobbing. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle it so he didn’t disturb Lester again. Never in his life had he felt so broken. He had no hope to be whole again, not as the shattered mess he was and certainly not while under Lester’s “care”.

He couldn’t handle this anymore. He needed to do something. Change something.

He took a moment to pull himself together and dry his eyes before standing. He wavered a bit and took a moment to regain his balance as the pain flooded through him once again. He had to grit his teeth and sucked in a deep breath before he finally moved, taking slow shuffling steps from the living room.

His mind whirred to make some sort of plan. He glanced to the room he shared with Lester. Nothing he needed was in there, thank God. Everything important was kept in his truck just in case the police ever got on their case and a way to escape was needed. Then his attention shifted to Lester’s office.

He had money, a lot of it left to him by his parents, but he hated using it. He knew that what he did would have disappointed them with his life. He didn’t want to taint their memory with it. But if he took money from Lester, it was already tainted. Stealing from a criminal wasn’t a bad thing to do. They canceled out, didn’t they?

Anthony sighed and went to the office, to the vault that resided in the hole in the wall behind a picture. As he input the combination, he considered briefly if this was what it was like to have a Bond villain as a partner. As the lock finally clicked, he heard Lester sigh deeply in the doorway.

“I tried to tell myself that you weren’t stealing from me,” Lester said. Anthony was frozen, not moving as he heard Lester’s slow heavy, footsteps move towards him. He swallowed. “After all, you love me, don’t you, Anthony?” Anthony’s chin was gripped tightly and his head was jerked to the side to look at him. “After all, you tell me every night. And my darling little Tony wouldn’t ever lie to me.”

“What do you think,” Anthony said coldly. He fully expected the slap to the face, the force of it making him stagger. He brought his hand up, pressing it to his cheek as he worked his jaw. “…I said what you wanted to hear, Les. Everytime. But I’m done with that.”

“Oh are you? Need I remind you of the new stripes, pet?” Lester asked. “You’re not such a well-behaved dog as you like to think, Tony.”

That was what made Anthony crack.

Lester always stood that way, the way that was supposed to make him seem bigger and taller than he actually was. And it worked. Anthony always let it. He always hunched his shoulders, wanting to be smaller and less of a target. But not this time. He straightened up, standing at the full six feet two inches God had allotted him.

“Not anymore,” he said. Lester went to reply but Anthony didn’t allow him the pleasure. He ignored the painful protesting of his still torn up body to grab the front of Lester’s shirt, yanking him close as he glared down at him. “I’m not your puppet, Les. I’m sick of taking your shit. I’m leaving.”

With that, he shoved him away, watching with satisfaction as he hit the wall with a loud thud! and let out a groan of pain. Anthony took a deep breath and straightened up, pushing his hair from his face. He truly needed a haircut.

“I’m leavin’…” he said, his voice softer, speaking mostly to himself as he convinced himself that was what he had to do. He shook his head and looked at the vault. “Keep your fuckin’ money. I don’t want it anyway.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by Lester’s voice, “I swear to fucking God, Anthony, you go out that door and I will hunt you down like the fucking dog you are.”

Anthony swallowed, the threat sending a chill through him. He’d seen what Lester could do to someone, how he could tear them and their life apart. He hesitated for a moment.

Then Lester stepped closer.

“Did you hear me? I said I’ll hunt you down, you idiotic bastard,” he snapped. Anthony clenched his jaw and turned, his fist connecting with Lester’s jaw hard enough to knock the man down. “Fuck.”

“Do it,” Anthony snarled, standing over Lester. Just that was enough to make him feel bolder. “I see your face again, Les, I’ll shoot that smug grin off.”

Lester stared up at him with hatred burning in his eyes, reaching up to wipe the blood from his face. Anthony took a deep breath and turned.

“I’ve killed men before, Les. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

Anthony held his breath as he left the small house and then let it out once he stepped through the door. The beat up blue pick up sat in the driveway and his hands shook as he fumbled with the door. He didn’t relax until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, surrounded by the familiar atmosphere of it.

He wasn’t out of the woods just yet, he knew. He likely never would be. Paranoia settled in him as he thought to Lester’s threat to hunt him down. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the steering wheel, his breathing coming fast and shallow. His chest tightened and the suffocating feeling he’d come to expect at times like this settled over him.

No, he couldn’t afford this now. He needed to get away.

It took several moments for him to get a handle on himself and by that time tears were streaming down his face again. He straightened up, wiping his eyes angrily. He hated crying, hated how vulnerable and weak it made him feel.

“Come on, Anthony, you need to go,” he muttered to himself. Finally, he dug the keys out from under the seat and started the car up, pulling away from the house.

He glanced back only once as he drove off, feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Only a moment later was it replaced with the even heavier burden of knowing that Lester would never stop until he found him.