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thepersonperson · 3 months ago

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More complaining under the tab.

Tags from @nyan-bynary: #oh thank god I'm not the only one that hated the letters thing and the pacing is driving me insane slightly ngl #like gege's style is how he doesn't really dwell on dead characters more on people's relationships to them

Currently, there is more time dedicated to Megumi helping a mother grieve the loss of her criminal son than there is his reaction to Gojo's passing. Even though Megumi despised the man at the detention center for accidentally killing a child, his death causes him to be visibly upset. Yuji coming back to life is also a bit difficult for him to swallow. It takes him a couple of chapters shake it.

Like we all saw how badly Gojo and Geto reacted to Riko's death and they barely knew her. We saw Yuji's breakdown at Shibuya. Maki and Yuta snapped from the deaths of their loved ones. Megumi killed his sister and his not-dad with front row seats to the carnage. Thematically and characterization wise, he should be a little more messed up. Dude spent his 16th birthday in gore soup.

#but gOD everything about everyone's reaction to gojo dying. to THE LITERAL PILLAR OF JUJUTSU DYING has been a whole lot of nothing😭😭😭 #like even if no one cares as a person (which gege's established that people DO) the lukewarm non-mention is still baffling HELLO???? #I hope that whatever gege does next he's able to negotiate a better contract for his and his stories' sakes bc this is baaaaaddd

Gojo changed the balance of the world by being born. Therefore his death should also cause a significant upset in some way. (Unless, huffing copium, he's not dead and will be coming back!!!)

But yeah this is something where you can literally feel the burnout of the mangaka. If Gege had the schedule of the Dungeon Meshi creator, I think it would've turned out much better. JJK 265 & 266 are so fudging good because they take a step back to feel out emotions like the earlier parts of the manga. But Gege isn't getting that breathing room workload wise, so the story suffocates with its creator.

#(manifesting heian spin off SO hard) #also yea sukuna might still be alive there's one whole finger left #it'd be interesting to see him try to live as close to 'normal' as he can bc he can't just slice his trauma away anymore #hopefully gege gets to add what's missing for the anime I HOPE we get some things paced better there

This manga needs the Bleach CFYOW treatment so badly. It doesn't sit well with me that Sukuna, Tengen, and Kenjaku aren't given arc-length backstories despite causing literally everything. For less impactful characters by comparison, it's bonkers that Geto, Mahito (tbh Jogo and Hanami too), Toji, and even Naoya have better fleshed out motivations and character relationships. (I'm usually pretty lenient with Gege's narrative choices and will take the manga as is, but this isn't defensible...)

And if the story is going to continually draw attention to nature vs nurture debate, you have to show how the antagonists wound up like that. Mahito vs Yuji is the argument of nature. Sukuna vs Yuji is the argument of nurture. But unlike Mahito, Sukuna's side of things only has hints.

I'm ok with Sukuna dying like a hateful blobby worm. It's the lack of reaction to it and the lack of emotional explanation for it that makes everything feel odd. This guy saw off several characters into the afterlife while addressing their personal hang ups. Even non-Sukuna kills like Rika, Junpei, Nanami, Choso, Toji, and Nobara's fakeout got that. I really am betting it all on that final finger cheese and rice.

Since Sukuna still has that final finger. Maybe that’s where we’ll get an afterlife scene or even a backstory? Yuji basically confirmed Sukuna is only like this because of circumstances. So…I would like to be shown those circumstances.

I’m ok with Sukuna dying and all the students surviving. But the execution of that has been so poorly paced and unsatisfying. Can I please get a proper grieving scene? Megumi and Nobara being all smiles at the Gojo letters is...weird.

I think there’s something to say about a manga where overwork/exploitation kills people having its mangaka rush the ending because of overwork/exploitation.

#cactus gets yapped at #cactus shut up #Now that Gege has established a popular series it should be easier to get a better working schedule.#The Baki mangaka literally just posts whenever he feels like it. He will take massive breaks without warning and nobody stops him.#The Baki art and story has only improved as time goes on. And I think it's because Itagaki is allowed to to whatever the hell he wants.#Anyways. This has given me the confidence to post my insane Sukugo fic.#I was worried new lore would make me rewrite large portions. But that is clearly not happening.#The heart of the earlier chapters is missing from JJK 268 and that's why I'm upset.#jjk spoilers #jjk 268 #jujutsu kaisen

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peachyysugaa · 3 years ago

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scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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there’s one thing on my mind (it’s all for you)

i didn’t have a wip for jatp fanworks appreciation week, so i made one?? but i got too into it and finished it in a few hours. thanks to @ourstarscollided for sending in the incredible prompt that led to this fic!!

home didn't seem like home anymore for luke patterson, and so he was desperate to find a new place to write music. after an especially brutal fight with his mother, he finds himself in front of l.a. books. he isn't expecting to get much out of it, it was solely a last resort. but then he sees her, julie molina, and he ends up coming back every week just to keep seeing her.

bookstore au

masterlist

If three years ago, someone were to tell Luke, he would actively be spending his Friday night in a small, but cozy book store, he would have laughed in their face.

He was a rockstar. If he wasn't jamming it out at some club with his boys, he was doing something wrong.

But life didn't always work out in his favour, and it wasn't long before he decided he couldn't write out of his home anymore. Home. Sometimes the mere word made him laugh. Home was supposed to be warm, welcoming and loving, and he felt none of those things every time he walked through the front door. It was starting to take a toll on him. Not only on his mental health, but also in his creative abilities. The songs he was writing in his bedroom had taken a dark turn, so dark they felt more like a cry for help than anything else.

So, he decided it was time to find another place to write songs; somewhere that could get his creative juices flowing. When Reggie first suggested this bookstore on the corner of Madison, Luke pinched his brows, not understanding how that was a viable solution. Reggie defended his suggestion by saying bookstores were quiet and he would be surrounded by millions of words of inspiration.

Luke never took Reggie's suggestion until one brutal fight with his mom left him pulling at his hair, desperate to leave the house. He would go anywhere at this point, but his fingers were itching to grab his pencil and book; there was so much he just needed to get out onto paper. If he didn't, he would explode. So, he grabbed his song book, a few pencils and stuffed everything into his backpack before he hopped out his window. At first, he just started walking to nowhere in particular. In the back of his mind, he was intending to drop by Alex's, but instead he found himself standing in front of L.A. Books.

He walked in with the intention of taking one quick walk around and most likely walking right back out. He was pissed off at the world and he didn't think Shakespeare would solve his issue.

But then he saw her.

She was stocking a book shelf, putting up new books as far as he could tell. Her curls kept getting in way of her vision and she was continuously tucking them behind her ears. He could only see the side of her face at this point, but when she was approached by a younger girl to help locate a book, Luke quite literally forgot how to breathe. She was stunning in every which way; her soft smile to the young girl made an unconscious smile spread over his own lips. There was no specific thing about her that drew him to her, but for some reason, he was rooted to the floor. Even when she started moving in his direction, leading the girl to a new section, he couldn't even move just enough to grab a book and look like he wasn't creepily stalking her.

But she only sent him a warm smile as she walked by.

So, maybe Reggie wasn't so wrong about this place after all.

After that, Luke found himself stopping by at least once a week, maybe twice if things at home were really bad. It was a quiet establishment for the most part, and Luke found a corner table that was perfect for his writing. He knew his song writing was starting to take a hit; he knew that. But since he started writing in the bookstore, an obvious shift was clear in the words he scribbled down.

Even the boys noticed.

"What the hell is this?" Alex had demanded one late night after Luke handed him his songbook so he could filter through it. They'd mostly been playing their old originals while Luke worked on some new stuff, and he was finally starting to share.

Luke frowned, biting his lip nervously. "What? Is it that bad?"

"Reg, look at this," Alex ignored Luke, reaching over to show the other brunette. "When were you going to tell us?"

Luke merely blinked, gaze flickering between the two. Reggie, to his credit, looked just as confused, meanwhile Alex was fighting a smirk. "Dude, I'm so confused. What the hell are you talking about?"

Alex placed the book down in his lap, finally letting the smirk take over. "When were you going to tell us you were in love?"

Luke immediately started to sweat. "What?"

"If you're writing these love songs about me, I'm flattered," Alex teased, to which Luke could only roll his eyes and snatch the book back into his possession. "But you know I'm taken."

"I'm not in love," Luke muttered under his breath.

And he wasn't. He would stand by that.

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't stop by the bookstore solely to see his curly-haired goddess. Every time, he would look at her and a sudden burst of inspiration would blindside him and he would be writing into his book without even realizing. He wasn't going to tell the boys that, though.

After about a month of hidden glances and polite smiles, he figured it was about time to say something. He also figured it could only look a little strange, him being at a bookstore every week and never buying anything. To his credit, many others took advantage of their tables to work quietly; he wasn't the only one. But he was the only one who couldn't take his off the employee with kind eyes and a mega-watts smile. Sometimes she came over to organize the tables, or wipe them down, and so Luke decided it was now or never.

"Hi," he blurted one night when she came to grab a stray book someone had left on his table. Her gaze lifted to meet his. Her face broke out into a warm smile and he nearly broke his pencil from how hard he was holding it.

Luke's eyes dropped to her name tag. He'd never been close enough to read it (with the exception of the first time he saw her, but he was understandably starstruck and couldn't focus on anything).

Julie.

He debated saying something else, it almost looked like she was waiting for him too, but the words were caught in his throat. He merely sent her a pained grin as she retreated. God, that was awkward.

Over the next few months, his confidence grew some, but he was never able to hold a full conversation with her. He was working up to it, but in the meantime, he was content in his corner writing songs about the girl who had unknowingly captured his heart.

This week had been particularly gruelling. School had taken a lot out of him (every mark counted for college admissions) and his parents were on his ass about his grades. He knew he had to do well, even if he wanted to pursue music, he needed the grades to get into a good music program; he knew that. He didn't need his mom yelling at him about it every day. So, this Friday he'd spent the entire evening at L.A. Books, anything to just get away for a bit. He knew it was almost closing time; there weren't many customers left and he could see Julie cleaning up out of the corner of his eye.

He was trying not to spend all his time watching Julie, instead focused on his latest creation. So, he didn't see Julie apprehensively watching someone shove a few books into his backpack. He was young, but probably a bit older than Julie. Why he would want to steal some books, Julie had no idea, but it was the wrong day to mess with Julie Molina.

She hadn't had her best week either, and watching someone blatantly try to steal like he was, severely pissed her off. Protocol be damned, Julie stalked over to the individual and blocked his exit. Protocol insisted on not confronting the shop-lifter by any means, but Julie was too annoyed to care.

"Are you going to pay for those books you put in your backpack or can I have them back?"

Julie was impressed with how confident she sounded. Even when he met her glance head-on, she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"What? Sorry, I think you're thinking of someone else," he replied, but after meeting her gaze the first time, he couldn't hold it as he spoke.

"Just give me the books and I won't call the police," Julie reasoned. She sounded exhausted, and that was because she was; this was honestly the last thing she needed this week, and yet, here she was.

But as soon as the man noticed her change of tone, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "I already told you, you have the wrong guy."

"I saw you put them in your backpack!" Julie argued, her anger crawling back up her throat.

"No, you didn't, because I didn't do anything!" He replied angrily. "Are you going to move, now?"

Julie stood her ground. It was probably quite comical, considering she was a full head shorter than him, but she wasn't moving. "No. Give me back the books."

The man let out a furious snarl. "Get out of my way, bitch."

His words didn't offend her in the slightest. Honestly, she felt sorry for him, that this was how he was raised to treat women, especially someone as young as her. But she was perceptive, and she could tell he was getting agitated and possibly aggressive. She didn't know this guy, she didn't know what he was capable of.

Luke had kept his eye on Julie the entire time, he always did. But as soon as he realized what she was doing, he swore under his breath. He tried to keep his distance, to let her do her thing, but the second the man called Julie a bitch, Luke was up and out of his chair, ready to throw hands.

There was a point in his life where he wouldn't even think about the consequences of his actions, but as he approached, he caught Julie's eyes and figured punching this random guy in the face probably wasn't the best course of action. So, he hung back, close enough to be noticed, but not enough to be considered a threat.

Or so he thought.

The man noticed Julie's eyes focused on something behind him, so he whirled around to see Luke. What with his height and obvious biceps (that were currently on display because what were sleeves anyway?), the man scoffed.

"Is he coming to your rescue or something? Need someone to fight your battles?"

Luke merely raised his eyebrows.

The fact that he was saying all this to a high school girl seriously baffled him.

When the man tried to step around Luke, he side-stepped to be in his way again. Luke didn't smirk, didn't show any facial emotion. It was enough to unnerve him.

With an angry huff, he reached into his backpack to pull out the two books in question. He slammed them into Luke's chest as he stormed past him, muttering, "I don't need this crap."

The moment they heard the door slam closed, Luke's eyes slid over to Julie. Her face was blank, but her eyes were stormy, angry even. He didn't blame her; that guy was a right dick. He hesitantly handed the books back to her. Her gaze flickered to the books and back to him. She probably had no idea how absolutely intimidating she looked.

But then she smiled. A proper, full smile that had Luke merely staring. "Thank you," she said, reaching forward to grab the books. He was hoping she'd say more, but instead she took the books and walked away to put them back in their place.

It was fine, because she had talked to him and he was so ridiculously happy about that. He had also helped her out in that less than stellar situation, but not overbearingly so that he treated her like a damsel in distress who couldn't handle herself. Julie definitely held her own, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her and he was right there sitting in his corner. Pleased with himself and how the situation played out, he skipped back to his seat in the corner, feeling more inspired than ever to finish the current song he was working on.

He glanced up one more time, surprised to catch Julie's sparkling brown eyes already looking at him. She immediately averted her gaze, mouth twitching as she held back a smile.

That was when he decided, no more pining around; it was time to officially ask her out.

What was the worst that could happen? She would say no. And he'd be okay with that, because it was 2021 and respecting women and their decisions shouldn't even be questioned. He'd be disappointed, sure, but for now, he was still holding out hope that maybe she would be into him too.

It was nearing eight, and Luke could tell when he saw the remainder of customers heading for the door. He spotted Julie making her way over too, getting ready to lock the door behind the last customer. He gathered up his things and shoved them into his backpack as slowly as possible. His heart was hammering in his chest and his palms were sweaty; he was actually nervous to ask Julie out.

How couldn't he be? She was absolutely gorgeous.

Luke made it to the door, taking a deep breath before he met her eyes.

Julie stepped in front of him, blocking his exit.

He stumbled in his step, grabbing onto the door frame to keep from toppling straight into her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, tucking a curl behind her ear. For the first time literally ever, Luke observed the tell-tale signs of her shy and apprehensive behaviour. She was always so confident, so in tune with what she seemed to want, this was unusual to him. Not only because of that, but he'd never been this close to her, and he was suddenly finding it extremely hot (and he was barely even wearing a shirt).

Luke tugged on his backpack strap, because he needed to do something. He needed to focus, or else he'd end up doing something stupid, like blurt out that he was in love with her. "No, it's okay. I actually wanted to ask you something anyway."

Her sparkling brown eyes widened for a split second. "Actually, I want to ask you something — are you free to grab a coffee?"

It was safe to say Luke's brain started to short-circuit.

"Uh, what?"

He was so intensely focused on gathering the courage to ask her out, he didn't even know how to reply when she suddenly flipped the plan on him.

He started to lose his mind even more when a soft blush spread over Julie's cheeks. "I'm just closing up, and I could really use a dose of caffeine. I'd really like if you came with me."

Luke can't do more than simply stare at her; his body was failing on him. Julie held his gaze, biting her lip apprehensively with a nervous smile because he wasn't saying anything, and she really hoped she didn't misinterpret his signals. But then he finally fights for control of his body again, and a soft grin spreads onto his lips. "Yeah. I'd really like that."

She matched his grin, closed and locked the door behind her. "I only have a few more things to do. Just a few more minutes."

"No worries," he replied, shoving his hands into his front pockets. "Oh! I'm Luke, by the way."

Julie mulled over the name for a moment. "Julie," she responded.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes solely focused on hers. Even when she looked to him in surprise, he couldn't focus on anything but her eyes. God, she was so gorgeous. "Your name tag," he added, just to ease her fears about him being a stalker (I mean, he was there almost every week...).

Luke leaned against one of the tables as he waited for Julie to finish closing up. He watched her silently, unable to remove the excited smile from his lips the entire time he waited. When she told him he was ready, he diligently held open the door for her and then waited, hands dug into his front pockets, as she locked up behind them.

There was a coffeeshop right around the corner, and as they both started walking in that direction, there was an unspoken agreement, that was where they wanted to go. Luke hated himself and his weirdly awkward nature on their walk over. He couldn't find any words to say to her, none. He chanced a few glances in her direction, but she seemed content with just walking in silence, so he went with the flow.

Once again, he held the door open for her and smiled when looked at him with amused eyes. Julie headed straight for a table near the window, removing her jacket and setting it on the back of her chair. Luke followed, lingering when she didn't sit back down.

"I can go order," he offered, "What would you like?"

Julie looked up at him with a smirk, and dear God, his knees nearly buckled. "I invited you. It's my treat."

"Oh, come on," he nearly whined. "Let's not do this, please."

Julie pursed her lips. She was a very determined person, and if he didn't know that yet, he'd be quick to learn. "I invited you. It's only fair."

He ran a hand through his hair, shooting her the most charming smile he could manage. "Julie, I've been waiting to take you out for months. Please let me buy you a coffee."

All her determination died there and then on the tip of her tongue.

"Okay," she replied with a cheeky smile. She diligently took a seat. "I'll take an iced coffee, please."

Luke nodded, once again, skipping away from her for the second time that night. He ordered Julie an iced coffee (and a cookie because who doesn't like cookies) and a regular coffee for himself. He was already jittery enough but he could never say no to coffee.

"Here you go." He said softly, placing her treats in front of her.

Julie took a quick sip of her coffee and narrowed her gaze on Luke. "I want to hear more. You said you've been waiting to take me out for months."

Luke had never felt him blush so quickly before in his life. He nearly choked on the coffee he was currently drinking. "It sounds really creepy when you say it like that."

"I know you've been coming to the shop for months," she continued, breaking apart her cookie. She wasn't looking at him, and it honestly made Luke all the more nervous. She made him nervous. "And you've never bought anything, but you're always writing in a book."

"I needed a quiet place to write music and I found your shop."

Julie nodded along, humming. "I catch you looking at me a lot."

Luke scratched the back of his head. "Well, honestly, that's not entirely my fault. I can't help but stare at beautiful things."

Julie looked up at him with a smirk. "That was smooth. I feel like it's only fair I be as honest." She leaned her elbows onto the table, leaning in close. Luke started sweating again. "I always look for you during my shifts."

It was as if the air was entirely knocked out of his lungs. It was the reassurance he was looking for, the acknowledgement that his feelings weren't one-sided, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"You're the reason I come back every week," he admitted, the words flowing freely out of him now that he knew with certainty she felt something for him too.

Julie leaned back in her chair. Her eyes tracked his movements, mostly because she didn't know what to say next. Where do they go from here?

Who makes the next move?

"I'll keep dropping by. But under one condition," Luke reasoned, hiding his smirk with his coffee mug.

Julie found herself leaning in again. There was something about him that was so alluring, always drawing her in for more. "What's that?" She didn't want to give her real answer: anything.

"I'll keep coming by if you give me your number," he told her, running his finger around the rim of his mug. "Maybe go on another date with me?"

Julie didn't reply at first; she kept him waiting until he looked at her with curious eyes. She kept him on the hook, just enough that for a moment, he wavered in his confidence. "I'd love to give you my number."

He let out an obvious sigh of relief. Julie was definitely going to wreck him in the most beautiful of ways.

"And that date?"

Julie clicked her tongue, monitoring the way his eyes absentmindedly dropped to her lips. "I'll decide that after you walk me home. But your chances are looking pretty good."

A delicious smirk crawled over Luke's mouth, and now it was all Julie could focus on.

"Then I guess I should up my game," he winked, shrugging as he added, "Just in case."

When Luke walked Julie home hours later, she confidently latched onto his hand, mostly just to give him an ego boost because he acted like the perfect gentleman all night. And when he lingered at the door, unsure whether it was too soon to kiss her or not, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

"How's next Friday night?"

It took Luke a moment to form the words after that, but he was anxiously waiting for her response.

"I'm off at eight, you know where I'll be." Even with all the coy flirting, she couldn't help but shoot him an excited grin.

Luke stuffed his hands back into his front pockets and started retreating down her walkway. "I'll, uh — I'll text you."

Julie leaned against the front door. "I'll be waiting."

And somehow, after months of pining on both ends, all it took was one attempted theft to bring Luke and Julie together.

It would take a lot more than that to separate them now.

taglist: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics |

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanworks appreciation week #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters #juke au #jatp au #jatp fic #jatp fics #juke fic #juke fics #fics

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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Have you ranted/expressed your thoughts on Peter Pettigrew yet? If not, then I'm sure we'd love to hear it!

I don’t think I actually have yet.

Wow, this brings us to the last of the Marauders. What an age.

Peter, what to say about Peter?

Well, I guess to start, for me he’s actually the closest to what JKR intended to write with him. He’s the sniveling cowardly character who sells his very soul if only to save his own life and reaps the rewards for it. This is a rare experience for me, as shown by my many rants, I rarely agree with what JKR actually intended.

In fact, it gives me this strange surreal feeling inside that I’m not sure what to do with. Peter wasn’t secretly good? He wasn’t secretly a coward? He wasn’t somehow 10,000x worse than what I already thought he was? I mildly agree with JKR? What is this?

But yes.

I see Peter as the fourth guy in the dorm room and somebody who’s distinctly aware of it. When it came to James, Sirius, and Remus he’s the friend that nobody likes and in his desperation to not be that friend he just makes it worse. He happened to be sorted into the same year, into the same room, and because of that he was included in on things. I imagine him laughing way too hard at Sirius and James’ jokes (therefore making them awkward and not funny anymore), probably subtly bribing his friends with expensive things/food by picking up the bill at the Three Broomsticks or buying the fanciest gifts, trying to make his own jokes that are probably just as bad as James and Sirius’ but they just look at him and say, “Dude, you can’t say that”, and always nearly being left behind or left out of the adventure of the day (and when he’s brought along it’s probably because James and Sirius’ know he’ll give them so much grief if they leave him behind).

McGonagall talks briefly about Peter in “The Prisoner of Azkaban” and notes that even the professors didn’t really like him. He was this whining, obnoxious, fat kid who was always hanging on to James and Sirius while everyone wondered when the pair would dump him. So, basically, no one likes Peter and he’s trying way too hard and is desperate for friends.

Then the war happens and shit gets real.

All his friends immediately sign up to be a part of Albus Dumbledore’s secret guerilla army. As Peter always does what his friends do, and would probably lose all his friends had he not signed up, he signs up too. He then realizes that Dumbledore’s serious about sending untrained school children into combat. Peter, I imagine, barely squeaked by in Defense Against the Dark Arts and is probably an awful duelist. He, in fact, is probably an entirely useless member of the Order and is there for moral support. Well, several members of the Order of the Phoenix are entirely useless, most of them actually... I think Dumbledore just kind of likes telling people what to do and then making them babysit Harry and only ever giving real work to Snape who is both a) competent b) is kind of forced to be loyal to Dumbledore.

BUT ANYWAYS.

Shit’s getting real, I imagine Peter starts shitting bricks. He wants out but if he gets out then James and Sirius will never speak to him again. And here’s where I start headcanoning things. I think Peter’s betrayal was fairly late in the game.

Here’s how I imagine it goes. The order starts suspecting Remus of being a traitor not because information is necessarily leaking but because he’s a werewolf and has literally 0 reason other than his gratitude to Dumbledore and his shitty one-sided friendship with Sirius and James to be loyal to the ministry. This is a government that will keep him homeless for the rest of his days and with a snap of their fingers might send him to a penal colony simply for existing if not murder him. When they realize that Voldemort’s made an active alliance with the only really organized werewolves in the country, Remus, just by sitting in the Order, looks really really really bad.

I imagine this gets Peter thinking. Before, hypothetically, he could simply leave. He won’t because James and Sirius would call him a miserable coward, but he could. Now, what if Remus is a spy? What if Remus starts leaking names? Peter would have to leave the country, and even that might not be good enough, the Dark Lord could probably track him down anywhere and when he does... Peter will wish he had never been born.

I think that’s when Peter gets the idea. Remus might not be a traitor now, maybe, but he probably will become one. Worse, the war’s not going well at all, the aurors are completely useless and the government’s virtually run by Voldemort already and the only thing seemingly in its way is this collection of school children and housewives called The Order of the Phoenix. Some of whom, I imagine, have very loose lips and could make it all too easy to find out who these people are.

Peter has to beat Remus to the punch. Peter decides to become a mole for the dark lord. Now, canon implies that Peter was a spy when Lily and James go into hiding. Personally, I don’t buy it. I think it’s more that they were convinced Remus was a spy and that James was such a loud mouth he was probably awful at keeping anything secret, Voldemort didn’t really need spies.

Because Peter has no skills to offer Voldemort other than an ear in Order meetings. He’s not a good duelist, he’s not like Snape where he’s a potions’ master, he doesn’t appear to be particularly good at anything. He’s just nicely slimey.

So, I imagine he is the one to convince James, Lily, and Sirius to make him secret keeper so that he has leverage. He becomes a Death Eater, is offered protection and security, and in return he gives the dark lord the Potter’s location. He sells out his best friend’s family to save his own life.

Only, it all goes horribly wrong. The Dark Lord dies, Sirius immediately comes for Peter and he has 0 protection, the fight happens and then Peter Pettigrew must disappear. And he finds himself stuck as a rat for over ten years.

He probably debates whether or not he could miraculously come out of hiding or not. Except too much time passes. How would he explain where he went and why he didn’t show up immediately? What if they interrogated him with veritiserum? What if they went back and actually questioned Sirius? What if some other vengeful Order member figures it out and tries the same thing Sirius did?

Peter is so debilitated by terror that he chooses every day to live as Scabbers. And he grows used to it. Just, god, the level of sheer slimy cowardice to live as a rat for the rest of your life eating god knows what and sleeping in the pocket of little boys. God, Peter’s such a great awful character. You beautiful, terrible, man.

The rest is history: Peter’s found out, has to flee back to Voldemort, and then spends the rest of his days in surreal hell as he has to nurture devil baby Voldemort back to health, cut off his own hand, and probably wishes he was never born but is just too cowardly to die with any honor.

Peter’s in this hell ride until the very end and it just keeps getting worse.

What a legend.

#ask #anon #headcanons #peter pettigrew

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hopelesshawks · 4 years ago

Text

Official Accounts Part 17- The Patrol Redux

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning: Very slight spoilers for the provisional licensing exam in the anime and spoiler for the manga

Masterlist

Hawks was well accustomed to the jovial persona he was expected to put on in front of pretty much everyone outside of the commission. After all, it was one he’d cultivated almost his whole life. Of course he had days throughout the years where it felt all too exhausting to play the joker, but hero work was exhausting. That was the nature of the business. But since he’d watch your heart shatter in real time, since he’d heard you crying on the other side of a bathroom door all while you texted him about his betrayal, the persona hadn’t just been exhausting but absolutely suffocating. Yet he couldn’t turn it off. It was almost more natural to be Hawks than it was to be Keigo now. Even when Mirko had pointed out how rough he looked, his instinct had been to sit up straighter and perk up his wings as if that would hide the bags under his eyes. Hawks never dropped the persona. But as he sat on the roof of a building by where he intended to meet Chargebolt he realized he would probably have to.

Mirko had given him a plan. A really good one at that. If it worked he’d have to thank her later. But there was no way it would if he wasn’t genuine and that meant meeting Denki Kaminari as Keigo Takami. If the conversation stayed between Chargebolt and Hawks he was screwed. Knowing it was necessary and actually doing it, however, were two different beasts entirely. He would have to ignore every instinct he had honed over the more than decade he’d been a ward of the HPSC.

It had taken all of Denki’s strength to leave the apartment. You had looked so sad bundled up in his comforter staring blankly at your laptop screen as you went back and forth between attempting to work from the safety of his home and Netflix. Eventually though he had managed to pull himself away from his heartbroken friend, no matter how much it pained him, to go join the very person who had shattered you so thoroughly. He had wanted to cancel his patrols with Hawks but after the gossip blog had tweeted out about a potential feud his agency had demanded he keep it in order to avoid a pr nightmare. Who knew being a hero came with so much politics.

He expected Hawks to swoop down from above once he arrived at their designated meeting spot. He did not expect Hawks to look as bad as he did. “You look like shit,” Denki says by way of greeting. Hawks let’s out a humorless chuckle, “you’re the second person to tell me that today. Let’s go.” Everything about the experience is odd. As the two begin to walk Denki notices the bags under his eyes, the heavy set to his shoulders. For the first time ever Hawks truly looks like a man who carries the weight of Japan on his shoulders. “I know I have no right to ask this but how is she doing?” Hawks asks. Denki wants to snap back something snarky but something tells him not to. “Not good,” he says instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his costume. Hawks thinks for a long moment, debating whether to ask the next question that comes to mind. In the end he decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “What happened at the provisional licensing exam?” “Dude.” “Not investigating. I swear.”

It’s weird to see Hawks so serious. Even when Denki had been injured during their first patrol Hawks hadn’t stopped bantering even once. It’s what had made Denki want to continue patrolling with him in the first place. At the time he thought they were similar. Class clowns who knew how to pull it together when the going got tough. But now all traces of that joviality seemed gone, except for the few moments the two of them would pass by a civilian, then he’d watch it slide back on like a second skin. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You explain the whole funny guy act thing you’ve got going on right now. It’s creeping me out a little seeing you switch back and forth dude,” Denki says.

Hawks stops dead in his tracks. His jaw clenches because it’s fair, trading one personal fact for another, but it goes against everything the HPSC has taught him. On the other hand, if he refuses, Denki will assume he’s just investigating again and then his chances of winning you back would really be gone. Denki looks confused as Hawks agonizes. He didn’t think it was that deep a question. Expected something along the lines of why All Might used to smile as he saved people. “It was the commission’s idea. I was a quiet kid and quiet doesn’t play well for a top hero,” Hawks finally admits before resuming walking. Denki has to speed up a little to keep pace. It’s an odd answer but he recognizes it must’ve been a difficult one to give. And, well, a deal is a deal.

“Like I said, (y/n) only took the exam because I pressured her into it,” Denki starts. He expected Hawks to perk up at learning new information about you but the man only nods in acknowledgment that he’s listening. “I thought if she got her license it’d convince her to try to be a pro hero again and then she could switch over to the hero course and join my class. She absolutely crushed the first part of the exam too. Yknow we had to tag targets on each other with these balls they gave us. It felt like a game so it was fun for her because she just smoked people out of the water. You should’ve seen Bakugo’s face when he realized she passed before he did! But uh, not the point.... The, uh, the point is uhm second round didn’t go so hot. We were helping some of the fake civilians when Gang Orca broke into the arena to play a villain attacking during a rescue and it, uh, it hit a little too close to home. Reminded her too much of how her mom died. She ended up having a panic attack. That’s why she failed and that’s why she didn’t bother going to any of the supplemental classes afterwards.”

The weight on Hawks’ shoulders seems to grow. “God I really am the worst aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Yea you kinda are,” Denki agrees, “but you’re kinda making it hard for me to hate you. Looking all torn up over this like that. It’s depressing seeing the number two hero like this yknow.” “Hence the persona,” Hawks shrugs. It’s quiet today, although they both expected as much. At least it gave them the space to talk. “Why’d you do it Hawks?” Denki finally asks. “Because she was too good to be true.” “Funny. She said the same thing about you that day.” “I’m many things but I don’t know if good is one of them anymore.” “Because of what happened with (y/n)?” “No. Not just that.” “I think this is the most honest I’ve ever seen you.” “This is the most honest I’ve ever been.” “How’s it feel?” “Terrifying. Mirko says I have trust issues.” “Yea that lines up.” “I need to talk to (y/n).”

Denki is the one to stop in his tracks this time. “I swear to god Hawks if you’re just trying to jerk her around I-“ “No! No it’s not that. I-,” Hawks sighs, “I just want a chance to explain why I am the way I am. Why I was so suspicious in the first place. If she wants nothing to do with me after that then that will be the end of it. I’ll write her a glowing recommendation letter for whatever hero agency she’d rather work at instead and she’ll never hear from me again. I swear.” Denki gives Hawks a considering look. Part of him wants to deny Hawks. That’s what Bakugo would do. Tell him to fuck off and keep his stupid explanations to himself. But he thought about you, curled up in his comforter, and decided it really shouldn’t be his decision whether Hawks stayed in your life or not. And if you were going to decide, you deserved to do so knowing all the facts. “Fine. After we finish patrol you can come with me to my place and talk to her but I swear to god if you make her cry again or I detect any bullshit, I’ll fry you Hawks. Number two hero or not I’ll send a million volts straight through your face with my fist.” “Thank you.” It was sighed out like a prayer. For the first time since you’d seen his texts, Hawks felt hopeful.

Author’s Note: Denki and Mirko are good friends to (y/n) and Hawks :’) In my mind there’s no way the HPSC didn’t know about Touya so I assume they helped Endeavor cover it up and would do their absolute best to make sure word didn’t get out about him being a literal child abuser

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut

#hopelessoa #hawks #hawks x reader #wing hero hawks #hawks x y/n #hawks smau

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metalheadkells · 3 years ago

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Can u do the sunday morning walk of shame au drabble thingy.❤️❤️

“We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame” AU

“Too old for this shit,” Marshall mutters to himself as he gingerly crouches to retrieve his keys from where they’ve fallen to the floor of his car, careful not to exacerbate the soreness in his muscles.

He catches his reflection in his side view mirror when he rises to his feet, and winces anew at how awful he looks, rumpled and unshowered and sallow-skinned. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, his brain keeping him up with obsessive playbacks of a hookup that had turned more than a little weird earlier in the night. The worst part is, he can’t blame anyone but himself for it. He had opened the lid on some of his most closely guarded kinks, deciding for some reason that that was a thing he wanted to do with a random call boy about five times bigger than him and a decade his junior.

Marshall shoves away the utterly humiliating scenes that try to creep back into his consciousness and slams an iron door over them, shuddering with the mental effort it takes.

Focus, asshole.

Keys in hand, Marshall locks his car and ensures the brim of his hat and the hood pulled over that are firmly in place before slinking into the convenience store, empty but for the clearly sleep-deprived cashier and someone else perusing the assortment of Hostess snacks.

Marshall keeps his head down and moves quickly, snagging two Red Bulls and a bag of plain pretzels. He’s furiously debating between Cool Ranch Doritos and a Slim Jim, because god damn it he needs a not-depressing snack right now, when someone jostles him, immediately putting Marshall’s body on high alert.

His heart races and his hand goes to his phone in his back pocket as the guy says, “My bad, man,” in a voice that sounds worse than Marshall feels.

Marshall doesn’t respond, and doesn’t look at him, backing up to put a safe distance between them and turning to resume his miserable shopping.

“Hold up,” the guy says, like a realization is dawning on him, which… “Eminem?!"

Fuck.

Marshall whirls around and shushes him aggressively, his temper flaring. “Be cool. What you want, an autograph? If you have a pen on you, I can - ”

“Bruh,” the guy says, and at least he’s lowered his voice so as not to ping the drowsy cashier’s radar, “You don’t even fuckin’ recognize me, do you.” Marshall glances up into his face for the first time, blinking. And…

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Wow. Nice, dude.” Machine Gun Kelly curls his lip, awe giving way to pure scorn like he’s stepping into a well-worn costume, which isn’t even as ugly as the literal costume he’s wearing - a painfully bright neon green sweater with a transparent panel in the front that exposes a slice of his tattooed chest, ludicrously oversized jeans that appear to be covered in black paint splatters, chunky silver hoop earrings just large enough to be considered effeminate.

“You’re blocking the chips,” Marshall says, keeping his voice perfectly and infuriatingly level.

Kelly’s glare grows even fiercer, somehow. “Fine, whatever. I’m too hungover to fight your old ass anyway.”

Marshall takes a deep breath through his nose. “You don’t wanna antagonize me right now, trust me.” “Ha, sure. You pissed yourself when I touched you just now, but sure. I’m super threatened.”

Don’t explode don’t explode don’t explode don’t explode

“Fuck you, have a nice day,” Marshall manages, gritting his teeth and starting to take his Red Bulls and his depressing pretzels over to the cashier, not even caring to resolve his Doritos vs Slim Jim dilemma anymore.

“Wait, wait,” Kelly blurts, sidling up to block his path once more, big palms open in front of him in apparent surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, stunning Marshall into stillness. “I had a rough night. Like, a really rough night. But I’ve put so much thought into what I’d say to you if we ever ran into each other like this - which by the way, what the fuck are the odds - and I don’t wanna fuck it up just ‘cause I feel like ass.”

Marshall stares at him for a moment, and then, when he doesn’t elaborate, says, “Well? I don’t got all day.”

Kelly grimaces, and Marshall wonders if he’s already regretting apologizing. “Just, like - I need a minute, alright, my brain ain’t all there.”

“You can’t blame that on the hangover,” Marshall snarks, “It’s the first thing I ever learned about you.”

Unexpectedly, Kelly looks more tired than angry at this comment. “Fuck, man, I’m tryin’ here.” He scrubs a hand over his face, drawing Marshall’s attention to his red-rimmed eyes, to the fresh bruise blooming on his left cheek and the specks of dried blood caught in his wildly tangled hair.

Something catches in the center of Marshall’s chest, and because he’s weak and exhausted and really fucking stupid, he says, “C’mon. We can talk in my car. I’m not tryna hang around here long enough for some other asshole to recognize me.”

Kelly shrinks a bit, fidgeting and casting his eyes around the store skittishly when he says, “Um. A’ight.”

“You’re not gettin’ anything?”

“Nah,” Kelly says, “I’ll just wait for you.”

Marshall buys him a packet of Sour Patch Kids from the checkout counter anyway, and when he quietly hands them to him as they’re walking through the gas station to Marshall’s car, Kelly gives him this look that’s as wide-eyed and grateful as if he saved his fucking life, or something equally significant. It makes electricity shoot up Marshall’s spine, and he instantly thinks, No. Anybody but him.

And yet, he is folded into the passenger seat of Marshall’s car, and he has sugar crystals on his fingertips and the corner of his mouth, and he is confessing dangerous truths as freely as blood pouring from an open wound, and Marshall is maybe kind of fucked.

#emgk #anon #asks!#mine #m: fic #requested #longer than i expected...uh. ok lol

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dinopopduck · 3 years ago

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Ezekiel Only Being Unaffected By Certain Kinds of Magic

Let’s just start with me saying this isn’t exactly a new theory. It’s the demigod thing, and it’s a fairly popular one. If you haven’t heard of this headcannon, I put as much as I can find here. If you have, I found a bunch of new stuff that I haven’t seen anyone else mention, so reading this isn’t a complete waste of your time, I hope.

I tried to keep this from becoming wordy, but it got really long anyway, because there was a lot to talk about here.

Ezekiel being unaffected by magic is sort of an ongoing thing in the show. He is influenced by it much of the time, such as by Santa’s Hat, Pan’s Flute, Prospero’s spell, lycanthropy, etc. When it comes to the stuff he was seemingly completely immune to, there is one link that connects them all.

Apple of Discord: Everybody knows this one. The Apple is a Greek artifact, meant to turn you into the worst version of yourself, and Ezekiel was only one completely unaffected. It’s blamed on “he’s already the worst version of himself” or whatever.

Zeus Lightning Bolt: the episode where Ezekiel ends up decked out in Greek armor, and is sent to pick up Zeus’ Lightning Bolt, which was freaking out and zapping everywhere. He picks it up just fine, and he’s then able to hand it off to Flynn. It may have been purely because of the Greek armor he was wearing, but Flynn did not seem so sure about that working.

Cindy’s Love Potion: Ezekiel is able to be near the potion without becoming obsessed with Cindy. At first, it’s blamed on him being obsessed with himself, then later Jacob tells Ezekiel that he was already in love with Cindy. It was an obsession, not a love, potion you literally spent the episode proving that blah blah, he didn’t even recognize her at first blah blah, anyway, I have a better reason.

There are two Greek mentions in this episode. First, the potion project itself is called Project Aphrodite, a Greek goddess. Second, the sunflowers; when asked, Jenkins mentions how sunflowers are a Greek symbol of unrequited love. In addition, “love” potions may have originated in Greece, or at the very least, were common enough to have multiple sites claim that, lol. At the end of the season, where each librarian uses their gifts to turn Apep mortal, this greek potion is what Ezekiel ends up using.

See a pattern here? Everything that he was completely unaffected by was Greek in some way. So, he has an immunity to these kinds of artifacts, but why? I vote demigod.

Anyway, moving on.

Here’s some magic he could have been immune to, or could not have been. Its pretty debatable.

Fortuna: Technically a Roman Goddess, but the show does acknowledge how similar they are to Greek Gods. He may have been affected by the spell, but broke out of it pretty quick. Some think he may not been affected at all; slot machines aren’t exactly fair, especially in a casino that exists to cheat completely. As for Ezekiel getting so upset over losing, what he says, “Not the guy that loses, I’m the guy that wins” sounds very similar to what he was saying in Point of Salvation, but that’s a whole nother topic.

Alternately, he was affected and this point shouldn’t be here. I don’t know, I’m not the writers.

Libris Fabula: He was a little bit affected, just far less than the others, as he acted pretty much the same. He did get a barely noticeable clothing change, became luckier than normal, and was just able to cast a spell for some reason? Speaking out that spell, it froze the guy, and a certain Greek God does have the ability to put people to sleep. Not really the same thing, but worth thinking about. Maybe. More on that later.

Most people think he was immune, but he could have just been similar enough to the character he was portraying that he didn’t need to change a whole lot.

These ones are barely worth mentioning, because have other reasonable (though I guess your definition of reasonable may be different from mine) explanations, but you could see them as magic immunity as well:

Silver Screen: Ezekiel gets into character the least, while Cassandra and Jacob are out singing and calling people by their character names. Maybe less affected, maybe just a spoilsport. Probably the last one.

Point of Salvation: Was the only one able to remember previous loops. Since they were in a video game, it’s explained that since he was the first through the door, he became the player while everyone else became NPCs. I mean, sure.

Christmas Thief: Saint of Thieves only used his truth telly power on Ezekiel’s mother, not him. Ezekiel did not feel obligated to say anything. Could just be that the guy wasn’t talking to Ezekiel. Or, earlier in that episode Ezekiel tells his mother he doesn’t steal anymore (at least for anything other than the Library, I assume, cause he still kinda does) and therefor that made him immune to the spell, since it only works on thieves.

Image of an Image: Both Cassandra and Ezekiel got their pictures taken, and Cassandra was the only one affected by the transfer spell. However, Ezekiel wasn’t one of the “chosen ones” because he snuck in, and jumped in front of the camera while Eve (one of the “chosen ones”, who was later able to be affected) turned away. Either that, or he just didn’t have time to feel the effect, since his picture was taken after Cassandra’s, and Eve’s was placed in manually.

That’s all the possible instances of magic immunity I could think of.

Next, we have some other stuff that is relevant to this point, but wasn’t necessarily artifact/magic immunity.

Prophecy Cube: Created by the Oracle of Delphi, who is from Greek mythology. This isn’t about whether Ezekiel was affected by something, as he was still able to use the prophecy glass/get stuck in the cube. Rather, it’s about the Zeus Challenge in the cube. They probably would have died in there, but luckily, Ezekiel had just happened to steal, and keep on him, the exact thing they needed to get through– a bunch of golden coins, and a prophecy that ensures at least one coin can’t be destroyed. Luck? Prophecy? Divine Intervention? Plot convenience? Okay its probably the last one but STILL

Also, Ezekiel getting pissed at Zeus.

Zeus’s Bolt (again?): There is a promo image I think for season 4? that has each of the Librarians holding their tools. Jacob had his axe, Cassandra had a notebook, Flynn had Excalibur, all normal, except for Eve and Ezekiel. Eve had this big staff thing I didn’t recognize, and Ezekiel had Zeus’ Bolt for some reason?

Lightning, just, in general: If there is wild electricity in an episode, Ezekiel is probably around.

Examples:

City of Light: Gets shocked and knocked backwards into Jacob by a very electrified fence, gets up right afterwards and is fine.

Broken Staff: The Zeus Bolt thing, you get it.

Image of an Image: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob. Jacob was not really fine. He lived, though.

Point of Salvation: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob part 2 Electric Boogaloo, but this time on purpose. He was not fine. He died. But don’t worry, he lived.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Mentioned a little bit above, Ezekiel, Jacob, and a student get stuck in the Zeus Challenge, and Ezekiel uses some coins he just so happened to steal recently. Throwing them on tiles shows whether or not lightning will strike if it was stepped on. Seriously, why is it ALWAYS Jacob?

The Dark Secret: Ezekiel is the one sent to wrap a cord around a lightning rod constantly being struck by lighting. “Why am I bloody doing this”, he asks? I mean, Zeus probably isn’t going to kill his descendent(?), right?

Werewolves: Have you heard of the Lycaon of Arcadia? It’s a Greek myth. Basically, this dude named Lycaon wants to test how smart and all-knowing Zeus is. To do so, he kills his own son, cooks him, and serves him to Zeus to see if he notices, ya know, no biggie. Zeus was like “wtf man” and brings the son back to life, and turns Lycaon into, you guessed it, a wolf. So, Zeus creates a werewolf of sorts, maybe one of the firsts. In Fangs of Death, Ezekiel just so happens to be the one (main) character to be turned into werewolf. So, if he was a descendant of Zeus, imagine how big of a “fuck you” that was to the god. That all being said, Ezekiel was turned by an Egyptian god, so that might not have been intentional. Also, they may have just been avoiding turning Jacob, because there is already a werewolf named Jacob and they didn't want another Twilight reference in that episode.

Family/Name: Ezekiel is adopted, and his adoptive mother mentions how she took him in off the streets. Because of that, we don’t know who his birth parents are, and whether or not he, or anyone else, knows is unknown. Soooo, we can take some creative liberties as to who his parents might have been.

As for his name, it carries some religious connotations. It should be remembered though, the meanings I’m talking about here are Biblical, not Greek, so again, might mean nothing for this argument. “Ezekiel” is “God’s Strength” or “God will Strengthen”. Jones might also be something like “God is gracious” or “God has favored”, thought different sites say different things. However, I’m pretty sure the name Jones came from his adoptive mother, and apparently Jones is a common last name in Australia. His first name is more relevant, because all of his siblings have themed names; Mercy, Charity, and Honor. So, either his mom named him differently because she knew something we don’t, or he already had the name before she adopted him. Either way, this probably means absolutely nothing. But what are we here for? To analyze a dead show like an English teacher analyzes the color of curtains in an 100 year old text. If it wasn’t for all the other stuff, I probably wouldn’t think about this too much.

Okay. So Greek stuff, lightning, and Zeus himself come up a LOT when it comes to this guy. So is Ezekiel the son of Zeus? Possibly, but a more popular theory is that he’s Zeus’ grandson. Because Zeus’ son just so happens to be Hermes; god of things such as luck, travel, money, trade, and most importantly, thieves. Oh, and animal husbandry/shepherds and sleep, I don’t know how much those apply but I will try.

Time for some comparisons, honestly most of these don’t even need to be explained so I’ll keep it short-ish, cause this shit has gotten way too long already.

Luck: Ezekiel, especially in the first season, likes to rely on luck, and tends to be very lucky in general. Examples where this is mentioned include Fables of Doom and Apple of Discord. “Smarter to be lucky then lucky to be smart!”

Travel: We can assume that he ended up traveling in his previous job (that being heists all over the world) fairly often, even before the Library. Becoming a Librarian with a teleporting door increased that of course.

Money: Steals very high-value items to sell. Also apparently likes to take money from his coworker’s wallets. And probably everyone else’s.

Trade: The aforementioned high-value pieces he steals are traded/sold for money. In Christmas Thief, we find out he kept none of the money or items, giving it away to others who needed it. That kinda fits this category, I think.

Thieves: I really don’t need to explain this. Unless you haven’t seen the show.

Animal Husbandry/Shepherds?: Basically the care of animals. Um, well he doesn’t keep cows or anything, but he has a tendency to “adopt” magical creatures that need help. Stumpy, Nessie Jr., maybe Frankenstein’s Monster as well?

Sleep: I mentioned earlier how Ezekiel froze a guy (not really in an icy way, just couldn’t move) by hitting him with his coin. Hermes is able to send people to sleep with his Caduceus (the snake wand thing). Yeah, it’s not really the same thing, though you could consider being frozen a kind of sleep. He could have just been lucky enough to find a magical coin, and lucky enough to figure out how to use it at the exact right time without even knowing what it did. It’s a stretch either way, really, and was never explained in the episode at all. Yeah, I can't find anything else that fits.

Hermes is considered to be a thief and trickster, and a lot of the things he is god of are Ezekiel’s main occupations. With all those similarities to Hermes, frequent events related to lightning and Zeus related things, and immunity to Greek artifacts, we can conclude that he is perhaps the son of Hermes, taking after his father in abilities and getting visits from grandpa.

Alternatively, his somehow IS Hermes, but I doubt that. He’d probably be way more powerful. He was also able to see the future with Prophecy Glass, which Jenkins claims is impossible for immortals to do (although in that case he was talking about a Prophecy Cube, but close enough). It’s more likely that he is a demigod.

Okay, that is all I can think of that is relevant. I binged the series about two months ago, and have been thinking about this theory. I went ahead and re-watched the episodes that I mentioned in more detail, as well as parts of others that I remebered. The reason I bring this up is because I may have missed things. I did not rewatch a majority of the episodes, more that I looked at a list of episodes on wikipedia and tried to remember what happened in them, watching clips and episodes if I needed to.

The show was cancelled, so we’ll probably never get a confirmation as to who Ezekiels’ birth parents were, and as such, you can’t prove me wrong! That being said, if I got any facts incorrect in this, please tell me so I can fix it. I’m not well versed on Greek Mythology, in fact I know basically nothing, and did the research as I went along. So again, there could be more. This is just what I found in like, less than a day of searching.

Join me next time on “How is Cassandra magical, where’d she get it from? Also, were we ever gonna meet her parents?” And “In the first episode of season 3, Jacob is just able to hit a heavy punching bag of its chain, across the room, at bullet speed, just because of a shift of his wrist, and later in that episode do the same thing to Apep, and it’s just…never addressed or spoken about again? Like wtf man?”

I'm probably not doing that

If you managed to get through all of this, thank you, and I hope this wasn’t too painful to read.

#the librarians #ezekiel jones #greek #hermes #zeus #this took so long #magic #magic immunity #theory #headcannon #demigod #curse of cindy #apple of discord #broken staff

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curly-bangtan · 5 years ago

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Heatwave Drabble #8: contaminated

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: We’re always gonna be contaminated.

Genre: drabble, angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: more feels!

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Title named after the song Contaminated by BANKS. (Should give it a listen after reading!) Unedited!!!

“So what you’re telling me is, you fucked your roommate slash best friend who thought you were seducing him in the middle of a heatwave, and now, 9 months into sleeping together, you’re in love with him. Not only sleeping with, but also doing domestic coupley things like cooking together and cuddling during Netflix, but you guys not once made it official, or even exclusive because you both have commitment issues. And you thought he loved you too, so you decided to test him by saying you’re going on a date with someone to see his reaction, only for that to backfire right in your face because he slept with someone out of anger.”

You blink. “Man, why d’you have to put it like that?”

“Put it like what? I just summarised everything you told me concisely.” He laughs and pulls you in closer. You can’t help but note how different he smells, not bad, but just not what you’re used to. “So in conclusion, you’re both idiots and now you’re heartbroken.”

“I- I’m not heartbroken, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just… a bit bummed out.” You avoid his gaze, squirming in his arms because the heat under the covers is starting to get to you.

“Wow, one night with you and I already know how stubborn and headstrong you are. You literally teared up a minute ago when you were talking about him. This is your problem: even now, you’re not willing to admit your true feelings. How well has that worked for you so far?” He shakes his head in dismay, his investment in your predicament surprisingly genuine.

This is a weird as fuck situation you’ve gotten yourself in. Out of desperation for relief from your, okay fine, heartbreak, you went out last night and came home with a guy. Taehyung had also gone out, and judging by the fact that it’s now the morning after and he still has yet to return, you can guess the direction in which his night went. It stings, but now you’re a hypocrite. This guy who you don’t even know the name of, Club Guy, has turned out to be more than just a fuck though. He knew he was the rebound for someone else, and he was more than glad to help. But one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, after your third round, you are pouring your heart out to this guy - this random, incredibly attractive, amazing at giving head, guy from the club.

It would be awfully strange, except he is unusually good at comforting people. You’re might consider keeping this one as a friend.

“Dude, I know it’s not my forte. I’m not good at expressing my emotions, okay?” You revel in the softness of his fingertips as he feathers your back. The sun is peeking through your curtains; you’re counting down the minutes until Taehyung returns, but at least speaking to Club guy is taking your mind off the fact that he was with someone else last night. “Yes, I’m heartbroken. I… I fucking love him. I know it was my fault for trying to get a reaction from him, but I just wanted him to say it, you know? Say that he loves me out in the open and that he wants me to… I don’t know, be his girlfriend. Girlfriend? Is that the right word? It sounds so weird. I don’t fucking know.”

Club Guy rolls his eyes, sighing at your ineptitude to grasp the simple concept of love. “Yes, girlfriend. God, you’re so annoyingly cute.” He smiles a smile at you that others would surely swoon for, and though your mind is too preoccupied with the boxy grin of someone else, you appreciate the warmth in his eyes. “Look, was it the night before the last that this all went down?”

“Yes.” Too fresh, too soon for you to be sleeping with someone else, you know. But you needed it so badly, you just needed to take your mind off him.

“What about the morning after? Surely you’ve seen each other since. From how you described him, I feel like there’s no way he could bring someone home knowing that you’re in the room next door.”

The memory sears.

You distinctly remember hearing their awkward morning-after conversation out in the dining room. After a long debate of whether to go out and reveal yourself to them or not, you decided that, fuck it, you’d already cried yourself to sleep last night because of this stupid son of a bitch, there is no reason for you to inconvenience yourself just to save Taehyung an even more awkward encounter. And so you stormed out of your room, eyes probably still a bit puffy and red, pretended you can’t see them and proceeded to make yourself a smoothie.

Yes, a homemade smoothie. You made sure to turn the setting of the blender all the way up so it was as loud and noisy as possible. You’re petty like that.

Especially because she’s using your mug.

Taehyung’s look of surprise when he saw you come out of your room did not give you even a fraction of satisfaction. Just a sad pang in your heart.

“I- Oh. I didn’t know you were home.” There was shame in his voice, and you hated every twist of your heart that it elicited.

You ignored him, not even a second of eye contact, poured that mango and berry smoothie and padded back into your room.

You had cried into your smoothie because his hair was messy like it usually was in the morning, voice still a deep rasp and eyes not fully open yet. And you had wanted to hug him so badly.

“It was awkward. I was a cold bitch and ignored him when I interrupted their breakfast. But no, he didn’t know, he was shocked to see me home.” You mutter, burying your face into your pillow to try to forget yesterday morning.

You could have said something, at least shown how hurt you were so he would apologise. Because you know he would apologise. But of course, you had a prideful image to uphold. Classic classic.

“Then…” Club Guy runs his fingers through your hair, twirling at the ends. “Then I feel like it’s really not too late. I’ll be out of here soon, and when he comes back, just sit him down and speak to him calmly. Calmly being the key word here. Explain to him that you weren’t actually remotely interested in the guy you went on a date with, and just wanted to prompt him to make you his. Tell him that you made a mistake and you’re hurt by what he did, but you can look past it because you were both in the wrong. Or maybe just tell him that you love him and don’t want to be with anyone else. It’s your choice whether you tell him about you and me, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him is all I’m saying.”

You contemplate his words. It sounds easy as hell when he says it like that, but you know when the moment comes, you will freeze up, panic, and muck it up somehow. It’s just a ‘I’m sorry’ and three simple words. Yet it feels like the most difficult thing you’re going to do.

“But what if he doesn’t understand. What if he doesn’t even like me like that, I feel like I could be grossly misinterpreting things.” You’ve pondered about this possibility since two nights ago. Afterall, how could he just go out and sleep with someone like that right after your fight if you mean so much to him? But then again, look at you now - likewise in bed with someone, albeit mostly for therapeutic reasons.

Club Guy shakes his head looking at you, almost in pity at how you could possibly still not get it. Smirk playing at his lips that remind you so much of Taehyung’s smugness. Fuck, it hasn’t been two days and you already miss him so much that your bones ache.

“Look, your best friend is head over heels in love with you and you’re seriously blind for not being able to see this earlier. Didn’t you say he would stay up all night with you during exam season to make you coffee and massage your shoulders? There’s no question about it, the guy is more whipped than whipped cream.”

Club Guy sits up, the covers falling off his front to reveal his toned sparsely tattooed body. You watch him wordlessly get dressed, the storm that is your mind whirling you into pieces. He’s right. He’s so right, and you hate it. The solution is honestly so simple. You and Taehyung are like two dots on a blank page. Instead of a mere straight line to connect the dots, you drew spirals around each other, closer and closer but never touching.

Should you tell him about Club Guy? You feel like you should. Though he is right, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But you don’t want any more games, anymore dishonesty. Straight line.

“Uh, thank you for talking this out with me, I appreciate it. I’ve had no one to talk to about this because none of my friends know about him and I, and it’s kind of too late for me to drop the bomb now.” The awkwardness begins to trickle in, on your part at least. Club Guy just smiles that smile at you, rather pleased with himself.

“I should have charged you for that.” He shimmies into his skin tight black jeans, eyes crescent in amusement.

“What, the sex or the therapy session?” You joke. It’s sad because he has such potential to be a great fuck buddy, and you 9 months ago would not have hesitated to make him your next booty call. But the truth is, even as you were kissing, fucking someone else, you were imagining Taehyung the whole time.

If love is a sickness, you’re plagued on your deathbed.

Club Guy laughs. “If it doesn’t work out, call me I guess. But I’m rooting for the two of you idiots. You better not fuck this up.” When he slides into his shoes, you realise how much you dread him leaving. Firstly, because finally speaking to someone about all your pent up emotions for Taehyung feels like a weight lifted off your chest. Secondly, because you really don’t want to be left alone right now. You don’t want to agonise over every second that Taehyung isn’t home yet.

Lethargically, you stretch over the covers and roll out of bed, your limbs feeling especially heavy with the looming pressure of what you have to say to Taehyung. “I’ll… walk you out.”

The next series of events happens in shutters.

Mid yawn, as you’re scuttling down the hallway after Club Guy to see him out, the front door swings open. Taehyung walks in in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a miserable expression to begin with. But when his eyes glance up and locks on your male company, his face…

Shatters.

You have never seen Taehyung’s temper explode before. You’ve witnessed his grumpy tantrums, his quiet sulking, but this - a detonation of pure rage, catalysed by shock - runs your blood ice cold.

‘What the fuck?’ His voice is deadly low, eyes flying between the two of you. And instantly, you’re filled with a reciprocating anger. He can’t possibly go off on you right now, he can’t have the fucking nerve. Not when you hadn’t said a word about him and that girl yesterday.

“Holy shit…” From the corner of your eye, Club Guy turns a ghastly sheet of white.

It doesn’t dawn on you until he spits his name out like poison. ‘Park Jimin, what the fuck?’

And sense exits your brain.

You can’t move a muscle if you wanted to, nor utter a sound. You feel like flotsam, swept away by a roaring wave. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Of all people, all people, you slept with Park Jimin. As in Taehyung’s ex-best friend who his girlfriend had cheated on him with, Park Jimin.

“Oh my fucking god. Kim Taehyung…” To his credit, Jimin can at least speak, unlike you. Gone was the lovely, charming guy talking you through your crisis. He brushes his hair back in disbelief. “I- What the fuck… I swear I didn’t know she’s your girl.” You try not to let the words ‘your girl’ sink in too much. Because you were his, even if you weren’t.

“I swear to fucking god. I give you 10 seconds to leave my house before I kill you.” Not only can you not believe your poor luck of managing to bring home Jimin of all people from a random bar, you also cannot believe the fury seething from Taehyung, someone who you no longer recognise.

Jimin does not need to be told twice; he spares you one last glance before dashing out.

After the door slams, there’s just silence. Your eyes fixed on Taehyung’s, mind trying to comprehend how royally you’ve fucked up once again. You’re desperately trying to convince yourself that it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. But the hurt trickling through Taehyung’s angry facade inoculates you with enough guilt to make you nauseous.

“Seriously?” Taehyung is trembling, from rage or heartache you don’t know. “You fucked Jimin?”

“I… I had no idea, I swear, Taehyung.” You want to move towards him but your feet stay planted on the ground. Your own throat is trembling, definitely out of heartache. You can’t imagine the pain tearing through him right now.

Another moment of an agonising silence. Every second you’re just standing there flabbergasted is a fresh stab to your chest. How did you two get to this place?

“So you fucked him? Yes or no?” When his voice cracks, it takes everything in you to keep the tears from springing.

You swallow. “Yes.”

Taehyung shuts his eyes, and it feels like he’s shutting the chapter of his life that is you. The end is looming, you can feel it. You don’t see how you two could possibly recover from this. How could he forgive you?

“Did it not cross your mind that that Jimin you were fucking could be the Jimin who stole my ex-girlfriend? Like the Jimin that led me to move in with you in the first place? Did I seriously not cross your mind even once?” His words are a slap after slap, no, even more physical than a slap.

Did he not cross your mind, he has the audacity to ask. He was the only thing on your mind, that idiot.

“I didn’t know his name, Taehyung.” You try to suppress the surge of injustice you feel. Of course you thought about him. How could he even ask something like that, as if you’ve done this out of malice.

“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shoulders dropping. “I forgot, you fuck guys without learning their names.”

And just like that, the line between sadness and anger is breached.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

“Do you want me to repeat it?”

Somehow, anger hurts more than the guilt you had felt. It manifests as something grotesque festering away in your chest, all the bitterness, the tears, the heartbreak, all condensed into this ugly emotion.

“Taehyung, you went and fucked someone first while I was in the room next door.” His tightly drawn brows soften a little. “I heard everything, every creak of the bed, every moan, every fucking thing. You have no idea how much that killed me, not a single fucking idea.” You feel your face crumpling, eyes stinging, and you hate falling apart like this in front of him, but there’s nothing holding your broken pieces together anymore. “I didn’t say a single word about it, shit, I even let that bitch use my mug while I was dying inside. And now you have the nerve to pin this on me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

You watch it dawn on him, the distraught state of your mind. And you want it to feel like a competition, like ha, you hurt me way more. But it isn’t. There is no winner. There’s just you two, gradually losing each other.

“I was drunk…” He croaks. “And I didn’t know you were home, I thought you went home with Junho.”

“You really think that little of me. Then you don’t know me at all if you think I would’ve done that. But look at yourself, you didn’t text me once that night, just went straight out to the club and fucked some girl. And what about last night? You didn’t come home either.” You hiss, pitch raising.

“I didn’t sleep with her last night. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?”

The truth rams into you no lighter than a train. You curse yourself. You curse him. This spectacular mess is unravelling so devastatingly that you want to scream. You can’t stomach the thought that you were fucking Jimin while he was thinking about you. Your situations mirrored one night after the next.

“And you say you were dying inside, but what about me? Hmm?” He flings his arms in exasperation. “Well what about me? How do you think I felt when I found out you were going on a date with some guy I’ve never heard you mention? How do you think I felt when you left me here all alone after that fight to wonder what the hell you were going to do with him that night? What else could I have done except get so drunk that I didn’t even remember my own name?” Seeing pain splatter across his beautiful features perhaps ruins you more than anything else. But your own pain is ringing.

“You didn’t even text me once! All you needed to do was tell me not to go, and I would have fucking stayed!” You cry, your throat dry and clogged.

“Did you want me to get on my fucking knees and beg? I didn’t have a right to tell you not to go. If you wanted to go, who am I to stop you?” He yells, a sheen now coating over his eyes, much like your own.

“GOD, I didn’t want to go, Taehyung! I don’t like him at all! Junho was nice but my mind wasn’t on him for even one second. I was coming back home to tell you I love you because I can’t stomach being with anyone else. But guess what? You were out pulling someone else because I clearly meant so little to you. Then I had to stay up all night listening to your fucking sex noises. I’m not the one who fucked up first here.”

Taehyung takes a breath to retort, but stops. Nothing but woundedness in his eyes. It’s clear that your words are embedding into him. The I was coming back home to tell you I love you. His expression falls, rapid breathing slows.

You’re looking at each other like you don’t recognise the other. Because it has never been like this between you two before. He has never felt more foreign, distant.

And when a wave of silence to calm you both has passed, he says quietly, “Why did you have to do that to me in the first place? I… I thought it was clear how I felt…”

The thundering tempest of your temper eases completely at the brokenness in his eyes. Acrid taste of regret in your mouth at the words that you hadn’t meant. Taehyung wasn’t the one who fucked up first, you shouldn’t have pulled that whole date thing. If you had just trusted him, and given him time, you would not be here right now.

But look at you two, fighting once again. Calmly, Jimin had said. And even that, you weren’t capable of. This is a childish game, the tossing of blame, and you’re drained. You don’t want to fight anymore. You don’t want to hurt. But you don’t know how to end this without ending everything.

“You really, really hurt me, Taehyung. But I was still willing to let it go. I was waiting for you to come back to tell you that… To tell you how I feel.” Your voice is soft now, diminished to just more than a whisper. You feel so extremely vulnerable, your frame creases inwards.

“You slept with Jimin…” Taehyung breathes, fists slowly unclenching. “Y/N, not just anyone, Jimin. I know I’d be a hypocrite if it were anyone else, but it’s him.”

“I didn’t know it was Jimin.”

“I didn’t know you were home after the date.”

For a good long second, you just stare at each other, chests heaving, throats raw, and you wonder if you are going to kiss and make up right this instant. Because for a moment, it feels like you could. It feels like you could forsake the past and just start anew.

But the window for that opportunity passes by as neither one of you takes a step forward.

You’re going in circles, you know.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Despite everything, this has been the hardest thing for you to say yet. And this time, you let the tears roll down. Your heart is screaming at you because it is on fire, but you persist through it because you know this has to stop and he doesn’t have the heart to say it so it has to be you.

And you just look long and hard at Taehyung, watch his eyes widen, shift, as he registers the finality of this outcome. It has been a wreckage. Only fragments of what once was a beautiful thing is left. You can’t keep hurting each other like this, and he finally knows it.

“What do you mean?” He asks, as if your heart hasn’t broken enough.

You want to fall onto your knees and sob.

“I mean, this needs to end. We’re doing and saying things we don’t mean and causing each other so much pain. If it was meant to work, it would have worked. I don’t want to keep doing this, Taehyung. Let’s stop this before we hurt more.”

Falling. Tears keep falling.

You’re breathing, yet choking on air.

Taehyung’s cheeks are stained, eyes rimmed with red. You have to clamp down on your lips to prevent yourself from crying out loud. When he closes his eyes, streams flow out, and you don’t think you’ve ever experienced greater pain. You want to hold him so badly, so badly. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for everything, and that you’ll always forgive him no matter what he’s done. But you can’t. Because you know things can never return to the way they were. Neither of you will be able to forget what the other’s done, it will live in the back of your minds, eating away at your insecurities.

Your love is tainted. Contaminated. And always will be now.

And even still, the selfish part of you wants him to say something, protest, fight for you. But you know he won’t. Because you know he knows it won’t be the same.

“So this is it? It’s over?” Cracks in his voice, cracks in your hearts.

It’s over.

But you can’t say it, so you just nod. All of this, just gone within days. Was your love so fragile to begin with? You were such a fool to believe that it would be enough.

“You can stay here, I’ll go.” You finally tear your eyes away from him, vision but a white glassy blur. You would rather him stay, it’s the least amount of respect you could offer to show how much he means to you.

And as you’re about to turn away, “You know that I love you, right?”

He says it, the first and last time you’ll hear those three words containing the meaning you’ve been seeking.

The tears don’t feel like they can stop.

“I know. I love you, Taehyung.”

And that has been your problem. You love each other too much but trust yourselves not enough.

A/N: Sorry SORRY!! Don’t hate me… ;----; one part left </3

22/02/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams@camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals@liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow

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antoine-roquentin · 4 years ago

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The popular conception of chivalry, as a moral code guiding the behavior of honorable knights, is flat-out, laughably wrong. That’s a creation of 19th-century authors like Walter Scott, and the popular fantasy authors (basically up until George R.R. Martin) who built on their worldview in the 20th.

In reality, chivalry was all about one particular version of Guys Being Dudes. Chivalry could refer to a few different things, but the most common meaning was simply battlefield deeds, executed with some style. This, what knights referred to as “prowess,” was at the core of the broader ideology of chivalry: raw, bloody, physical performance, violence done effectively and to an agreed-upon aesthetic standard. The second major concern of chivalry, honor, grew directly out of the first. Honor wasn’t an abstract concept to medieval knights; it was a possession, a recognition of their particular status and place in the social hierarchy, which they were well within their rights to violently defend and assert through their prowess. Piety was the icing on the cake, but no knight really doubted that God approved of their actions.

An oral culture, passed around during training sessions and drinking bouts and feasts and military campaigns, produced this culture and inculcated new knights into it. A whole universe of texts, the kinds of things knights read or had read to them, sent the same message, like this 12th-century poem called Girart de Vienne:

When I see the whinnying war-steeds plunge

With worthy knights into a battle’s crush,

And see their spears and cutting blades well struck,

There is nothing on earth I love so much!

These were dudes who loved getting after it, and for them, getting after it meant blood-soaked deeds on the battlefield. It’s not that there was nothing more to it - sure, there were some bits about romance and ladies, debates about religiosity and moral actions, exhortations to do better - but the core was always physical, male violence. And it obviously wasn’t for everyone: Knights were members of a hereditary military aristocracy, and their possession of chivalry was what set them apart from dirty peasants.

Two aspects neatly parallel modern Bro Culture: first, the emphasis on physicality and the body, and how that provided both a sense of the self and secured social status; and second, the restricted, bubble-like world that produced and emphasized it, with its fictional and real heroes, its stories about great deeds, its values, and its models to be emulated. Your average knight would absolutely identify with and appreciate this impossibly toxic meathead sentiment:

Obviously, there are pieces that don’t neatly parallel, the biggest ones being the hereditary and explicitly military nature of chivalry. You don’t have to be a soldier to be a Bro, though it doesn’t hurt. And - much more important - you aren’t born into being a Bro; you become one, by doing worthy deeds of prowess.

That’s a quintessentially American value: the idea that anybody can make something of themselves if they work hard enough, move enough weight, run fast enough, practice enough to shoot a tight grouping, make the right sacrifices. The physical meritocracy (and its potential rewards of fame and fortune) is open to anyone willing to do whatever it takes to climb the ladder. Even the least intellectually gifted meathead can make something of himself if he does the workouts, takes the right gear, and builds his audience on YouTube and Instagram. Don’t forget to like and subscribe, and smash that follow button.

In a moment of stagnant social mobility, rising inequality, and incredible uncertainty around the future, this strongly visual message of self-betterment and improving one’s socioeconomic status through literal sweat can resonate deeply. It’s all within the individual’s control, if they simply work enough - an antidote to all that uncertainty, everything that’s so obviously beyond an individual’s control and reckoning, no matter how misleading and incomplete the formula actually is.

That’s especially appealing to the many millions of American men who don’t have college degrees (many more of them than women, given the gendered trends in undergraduate enrollment) who are effectively locked out of professional-managerial culture and its straightforward path into the comfortable upper-middle class. Accomplishment through physical prowess is thus a means of building both a sense of self and community.

The connections to this particular moment in American culture and history go much deeper than that, though. This whole edifice of Bro Culture grows out of the broader rise of influencers, performative self-branding through social media, and the construction of identity through consumption.

With the right protein powder, shilled by your favorite strongman, you too can deadlift 800 pounds, or at least tell yourself you’ll get there someday. With the right brand of CBD tincture, which sponsors your favorite Crossfit athlete, you won’t feel that burning pain in your rotator cuff after you clean and jerk too much weight with suboptimal technique. By religiously listening to the right Bro-approved entrepreneurship podcast, hosted by some guy who happened to get booked on the Joe Rogan Experience during a slow week, you too can buy a McMansion in an affordable suburb.

Much of what happens in Bro Culture is driven by lifestyle consumption: ads for sunglasses on Barstool Sports’ Pardon My Take podcast, brand partnerships between supplement companies and YouTube stars, tactical holsters for concealed-carry that an ex-Marine with a million Instagram followers wants you to buy. It’s self-actualization through sponsor codes.

The tactical lifestyle craze, a natural outgrowth of this particular slice of Bro Culture, is the logical endpoint of all this. It’s where entrepreneurial late capitalism and influencer trends meet imperial wars, the militarization of the police, and the emergence of Gun Guys as a default protected class within American society. You’re not a Crossfitter anymore; you’re a “tactical athlete,” doing varied types of interval, cardio, and strength training so you can be a more effective soldier or cop or firefighter or whatever, or you just want to feel like you could be one. The physical training is only part of this, since you can prominently declare your tactical affiliations with a variety of lifestyle products, ranging from coffee mugs to American flag stickers for your car to, naturally, firearms....

Just as much as its coffee, whose quality I can’t speak to, Black Rifle Coffee Company is selling the tactical lifestyle. They offer a staggering variety of T-shirts, hoodies, hats, mugs, thermoses, and stickers, many of them prominently branded with the eponymous “black rifle” of the brand. There are a lot of American flags and pieces of law-enforcement and military iconography, signifiers of the in-groups to whom the consumers of BRCC’s products belong, want to belong, or for whom they want to signal their support. BRCC has explicitly labeled itself as a coffee company for conservatives, an active participant in the culture wars. If you don’t like Starbucks and its effete, refugee-supporting, liberal tendencies, buy some Black Rifle product instead. If you like Trump, you’ll be at home with BRCC. Don Jr. endorsed them.

After the picture of Rittenhouse in the Black Rifle Coffee Company shirt appeared, its founder Evan Hafer quickly disavowed the youthful shooter. Even for an explicitly MAGA coffee company, supporting a teenaged AR enthusiast with blood on his hands was a bridge too far. But Rittenhouse had already been shaped by the world BRCC and its fellow-travelers have made. He got the message, loud and clear: You too can become a hero, or at least dress and drink coffee like one, by purchasing the right products, watching the right videos, and following the same Extended Bro Culture influencers. Don’t forget to like and subscribe.

The Veteran-owned piece of BRCC’s appeal isn’t a coincidence. They’re selling a position in the culture wars, a sense of belonging, but also a particular vision of what it means to be American, a man, and an American man. A staggering number of this part of Bro Culture’s key figures are veterans. Jocko Willink, perhaps the best known (and least openly political) of the bunch, was a Navy SEAL officer; he was actually the commanding officer of the famous sniper Chris Kyle during the Battle of Ramadi in 2006.

After retiring, Willink turned his SEAL experience into a career as a leadership consultant, motivational speaker, media personality, and energy drink salesman. His intensity, built on his military service, is legendary: His exhortations to do hard things regularly, to live by a code, and take responsibility for oneself, resonate with millions of people. And Willink is far from the only one to do so, turning overseas service in imperial wars, especially as a special forces operator, into a key component of his entrepreneurial appeal. This isn’t a judgement on his military service; it’s a statement of fact. Being an undeniable badass is a the core part of why Jocko Willink is a quintessential Bro Hero.

Imperial wars overseas always come home eventually, and they do so in complex ways. The fact that millions of people listen to Jocko Willink, buy Black Rifle Coffee Company merchandise, and dabble in more extreme fringes is a product of decades spent elevating not just military service writ large but violent combat overseas against ill-defined Others. For every Jocko Willink, there’s an Eddie Gallagher, the SEAL who was convicted of and then recently pardoned for war crimes after becoming a cause célèbre for large swathes of the online right.

If these are the heroes Bro Culture puts forth - special operators accustomed to high-intensity, high-volume fighting overseas, who then develop enormous media platforms - it’s obvious what message Kyle Rittenhouse and the innumerable police officers, tactical fitness enthusiasts, and more run-of-the-mill viewers and listeners will take. Millions of people listen to Joe Rogan when he talks to Jocko Willink, Tim Kennedy (the Green Beret and MMA fighter and increasingly open right-wing figure), or Cameron Hanes (who advocated for Eddie Gallagher’s release). They’re warriors. Joe Rogan isn’t a soldier, but he’s a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, a former competitive kickboxer, a bowhunter, and a firearms enthusiast. If these are the people at the core of Bro Culture, a culture that directly touches tens of millions of American men, then there are bound to be knock-on effects. If they’re constantly telling their listeners to be ready, to be tactical, to be prepared to fight and to be good at it, that means something.

This is why I think Bro Culture, or at least its extended reaches, deserve more scrutiny and attention. The code of American manhood that’s developing out of this social-media melting pot has some aspects that bear watching: A love of firearms centered on tactical usefulness (for use in what context, exactly?), a vision of muscular physicality, self-defense as a personal obligation, an unquestioning hero-worship of military culture, and far too often, a deep suspicion of people who don’t subscribe to this precise view of being a guy. Support the Troops, and if you don’t, you’re not really a man at all. If cops - quintessential subjects of Bro Culture - are told that they need to be bigger and stronger and quicker on the draw, that they’re basically Troops, and that the targets of violence deserve what they get, what’s the likely outcome of tense interactions between police and the people they’re supposed to serve?

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years ago

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A Long Way Back - Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader

Rating: General

Requested By: Anon

Word Count: ~7,900 total, ~3400 in part 1

Author’s Note: This request asked for current Gerard with a singer who is younger and to be honest, I started this request immediately when I got it, but I’ve been picking it up and putting it down on and off since then. I was inspired by His Smile Will Keep You Safe by @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx and I Know I’ll Lose by @sunsetinmyvein and while this story is nowhere near as long as their stories, I hope that you guys enjoy it regardless. I’ve also thrown together a playlist if you’re interested as well

“We are Garden of Woe and don’t you ever forget it! Thank you Milwaukee!” (YN) shouted as the band hit their final notes and the lights went out. The crowd was cheering and (YN) felt that addicting mix of adrenaline and exhaustion that she always felt after an amazing show.

“That show was sick!” Liam the guitarist raved and (YN) nodded enthusiastically as she took a swig from her water bottle on the way backstage.

“Hey guys, great show as usual,” their manager Clark grinned when they walked in the dressing room. “Can I get your attention for a second?”

(YN) looked at her bandmates, a look of confusion shared amongst them. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t wanna tell you guys before the show and have yall be in your heads, but” he paused. “You’ve been asked to open for My Chemical Romance on their US reunion tour.”

(YN) thought she was about to either faint, puke, or die on the spot. “Clark don’t fuck with us.”

“I’m not fucking with you.”

“Oh my god, this is, oh my god,” Jake the drummer muttered, a far away look in his eyes as Rebecca the bass player just stood there with a shocked look on her face.

(YN) sunk down on the couch, legs unable to support her anymore. “I had just hoped to get tickets to one of those shows,” she said with an astonished laugh, holding her head in her hands.

“Well if you accept, you’re gonna be going to every show, getting paid to be there, and getting more exposure than you ever could dream of,” Clark replied.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say hell yes!” Liam exclaimed, the rest of the band agreeing instantly.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll get in touch with their management tomorrow morning and you better get ready because you’re about to go on a wild ride.”

To (YN) it felt like an instant and an eternity at the same time before Garden of Woe departed for the first stop of the MCR reunion tour. A lot of buzz had been building around their band since it was announced that they, along with Taking Back Sunday for the first half of the tour and Crystal Lake Cemetery for the second half, would be opening the shows.

“Are you so stoked Becs? Are you? Are you?!” Liam shouted, shaking Rebecca’s shoulders excitedly as their bus rolled down the highway.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to barf on you,” Rebecca snapped back.

Everyone’s nerves had been on edge since Clark had told them the news and arguments had been erupting about things like the setlist, or what their merch would look like, and the tension only seemed to grow the closer they got to the start of the tour. Rebecca wouldn't even return (YN)'s calls for a week over a debate about what they should be wearing on stage.

“Oh my god Liam, I say this with all the love in the world, but please shut the fuck up,” (YN) muttered.

Liam, with his endless energy, bounced across the tour bus to where (YN) was sitting and climbed onto her lap. “You! This is literally what you’ve been talking about since you were 16 years old! This is why we formed Garden of Woe, why we’ve been struggling and starving for a decade!”

“I know, but you’re never gonna see the stage if you keep bugging everyone like this,” (YN) retorted to her friend in her lap.

“What are you gonna say when you finally meet them?”

“Will we even meet them?” (YN) asked, trying to sound aloof. She had been trying not to think about actually meeting the band that she had been obsessed with and saved her life when she was a depressed teenager back in 2004. When she and Liam founded Garden of Woe, she modeled her stage presence on Gerard’s after watching hours of live performance videos. When My Chem announced they were getting back together back on Halloween 2019, (YN) cried tears of joy for hours and they did an extra encore of just MCR covers at their show that night.

“We’re gonna be on the road with them for two months, of course we are,” Jake replied.

(YN) groaned. “I can’t deal with this right now,” she grumbled, pushing Liam off her before climbing into her bunk.

A while later Clark was calling her name to come out as they had arrived at the first venue. “Alright, here is the itinerary: you guys have soundcheck at 5:30, doors are at 6:30, you’re on at 7:30. After your set, you should get to the main merch booth to sign things for the fans, but you can watch Taking Back Sunday and My Chem if you’d prefer. Then two hours after My Chem finishes, we load back in and it’s on to the next stop.”

(YN) glanced at her phone, it was just before 2 PM, which meant they had hours before their soundcheck. Hours to build up more nervous energy, to possibly run into My Chem or Taking Back Sunday, another band she’d looked up to for just as long.

The bus rolled to a stop and they grabbed the things they’d need for the show that night and headed inside. There were other big black busses already parked outside and roadies moving things around.

“This is real, this is really real. This is the biggest thing we’ve ever done and we’re really here,” Rebecca said, totally astonished as (YN) linked arms with her.

“I’m really trying not to think about it,” (YN) replied. Even from the back of the stadium they could hear the crowd already waiting out front. When they got to the door, they flashed their badges and were escorted to their dressing room.

“Do we just wait here? Can we go walk around? I wanna go check everything out,” Liam babbled excitedly.

“How much coffee did you drink today, dude?” (YN) asked, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

“None. Come on, let’s get out there and meet our tourmates! Who is with me? (YN), Jake, Becs?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna try to calm down and center myself and not piss off the people who are employing us.”

“I’ll go,” Jake replied.

“Yea me too, get it over with,” (YN) mumbled. She’d met so many people touring and opening for bands she looked up to that it shouldn’t make her nervous, but Gerard, Mikey, Ray and Frank were legendary. The three bandmates started to wander the halls, peeking in doors until they heard people talking.

“Is this happening? Are we about to meet them?” (YN) looked at Liam, her heart hammering.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her elbow and leading the way. “‘Scuse me, sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to introduce ourselves. We are Garden of Woe.”

“Hey, nice to finally meet you guys, I’m Gerard,” Gerard said, getting up to shake their hands. Jake and Liam introduced themselves like normal humans, but (YN) was screaming internally.

“I’m (YN),” she squeaked, and Gerard gave her an amused smile and she was certain her brain melted. Then all the sudden she was introducing herself to Mikey, Frank, and Ray as well and it was as if she had transcended to another plane of existence. She listened as they easily made conversation with Jake and Liam, but she couldn’t put together a coherent thought to join in.

“Are you ok?” she heard someone asking. Shaking her head to pull herself out of her thoughts, she realized it was Gerard.

“Yea, yea, thanks, just kinda overwhelmed by everything that’s going on,” she admitted.

Gerard nodded. “Yea, being back in the tour life has been kinda weird. Overwhelming, like you said.”

“For sure. And I don’t wanna seem like, I dunno, a crazed fan, but I have to tell you, I’ve been listening to you guys since I was 16 when Three Cheers came out. It got me through so much and your performance style inspired me so much and how I perform and yea. Sorry to ramble, I just had to get that off my chest, I won’t bug you about it again,” (YN) said with another shake of her head as she put her hands over her face. She didn’t know why, but tears were stinging at her eyes. “So sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied and he reached out and rubbed her arm. “We saw you guys performing and that’s why we asked you to come out with us. You have a lot of talent.”

“Well thank you, this is literally a dream come true,” (YN) blushed. Receiving a compliment like that from Gerard Way himself was mind blowing.

“My Chem, you’re up for soundcheck,” someone with a headset called from the doorway.

“We’ll see you around,” Gerard waved as they made their way out the door. After the band was gone (YN), Jake, and Liam stood alone in the dressing room silently for a moment.

“Holy fucking hell we just met My Chemical Romance!” Liam shrieked.

“I know!” (YN) shouted in reply, throwing her arms around her friends in a celebratory hug.

"(YN). Earth to (YN)," Liam said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You ready?"

"No, not at all," she replied and Liam could see the fear in her face. It had been a long time since he had seen her that nervous before a performance.

"You got this," he said to (YN). "We all got this, come on!"

Just then the stage lights dimmed and the crowd roared like she'd never heard before. The other three took their places on stage. "Fuck it," she muttered to herself and ran out on stage.

45 minutes later Garden of Woe was taking their bow and hurrying off stage so the roadies could switch out their equipment for Taking Back Sunday’s. The four bandmates were wrapping each other in sweaty hugs and jumping up and down, as the set had gone better than they ever could have hoped. After cleaning themselves up a bit, they went to the merch booth and signed autographs and took photos for a while, but the line cleared out again once Taking Back Sunday went on. After they finished, there wasn't much time before MCR were going to take the stage, so (YN) hurried backstage and found a crate to sit on and watch while the greatest band of their generation took the stage.

The show was absolutely awe inspiring; to watch the way Ray shredded on his guitar, the way Frank and Mikey moved around the stage, but most of all watching Gerard. He was a natural on stage, even after all this time away from it. While she had watched enough interviews on youtube to know that he was soft spoken, the way he turned that off and started to just command the stage and the crowd was incredible. What she couldn’t believe was that no one else was with her watching the show. Did they not realize what an opportunity they were missing she wondered.

"Enjoying the show?" Gerard asked when they came off stage before the encore.

"So much! You're kicking so much ass out there!" She beamed and the guys all laughed in appreciation.

Once the show was over and everyone was cleaned up, the bands all came together to celebrate a little before it was time to reboard the busses. The drinks were flowing for everyone that partook as people talked happily, but (YN) found herself without a place to sit until she decided to crash on Liam's lap.

Ray smiled as he walked over to them. “Hey, how’d the first show go?”

“Amazing!” Liam grinned.

“So amazing, but you guys, holy shit!” (YN) gushed. “I suppose when you’ve played together for so long you don’t just lose that, even after a break.”

"That’s true,” Ray nodded. “How long have you been a band?”

“About ten years,” (YN) replied. “We talked about it in high school, but neither of us could play an instrument, and life was so hard back then. We couldn’t get our shit together until after he graduated from college. It's only really been in the last few years we've been able to find some success with it.”

“So are you two together?" Ray asked, looking between the pair.

"Oh nooo," (YN) laughed. "Liam's practically my brother."

"And I'm gay," Liam interjected.

"And there's that," (YN) nodded.

“Well you guys have a real dynamic that works,” Ray shrugged. The way he treated them as if they were equals to everyone else on the tour was exactly the confidence boost (YN) needed as the tour got started.

The next few days of the tour were very much the same. Rolling into town, hurry up and wait, getting to know the guys in the other bands, and then finally getting on stage. After signing for fans, (YN) would rush backstage to watch MCR perform, and after that everyone would gather again until it was time to load back into the busses to the next town.

Each day was a little less nerve-wracking than the last and (YN) finally felt like she was coming out of her shell. She’d hoped that Rebecca would be her right-hand woman, since there were so few other women out on the tour, but Rebecca had been heading straight to the busses after the shows, instead of hanging out with everyone else.

“Do you have any idea what’s up with Becs?” (YN) asked the other two members of the band after their soundcheck.

“Nope,” Jake replied quickly before heading back behind his kit again.

“Just go talk to her,” Liam suggested.

(YN) grumbled before nodding and heading back to the dressing room. “Hey Becs!” (YN) said as chipperly as she could muster. “Are you gonna hang with us after the show tonight? I miss hanging out with you, and the guys are all super fun to talk to.”

“I dunno, maybe,” she replied, but (YN) couldn’t get a read on her mood.

“What are you gonna wear tonight? I was thinking my Mikey Fuckin Way shirt that I cropped,” (YN) said turning to their wardrobe rack.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Rebecca said before quickly turning and almost running out of the room. Moments later Liam came in.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I have no idea dude, I tried though, I really did.”

Despite the weirdness between Rebecca and the rest of the band, the show went well. (YN) again ducked out early from their signing to catch the MCR show from her favorite spot at the side of the stage. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was imagining things, but it seemed like whenever Gerard looked her way, he’d always smile just at her.

“Still enjoying the show?” Gerard asked when he came off stage before their encore.

“I’ve got years of not seeing you guys live to catch up on, I’m never gonna get sick of it,” she laughed.

Gerard nodded. “I caught your show tonight, you guys are really killin it.”

(YN) could have sworn her soul left her body for a moment. “R-really?”

“Yea, I really-”

“Gee, we’re back on,” Ray said tapping him on the shoulder.

(YN) waved him off as he went back on stage and the crowd roared again. She tried to keep from screaming herself, but for an entirely different reason.

At the end of the show, everyone convened as usual for the post-show celebration. (YN) was glad to find that Rebecca had joined the group, even if she was mostly just talking to Jake. She had meant to talk to her, but got pulled into a conversation with Adam instead.

“Ok, but can you teach me to swing the mic like you do and not kill someone?” (YN) asked with a laugh.

“Sure thing, how ‘bout after your sound check tomorrow?” Adam offered.

“Perfect, can’t wait!” (YN) grinned, but in the corner Rebecca was rolling her eyes.

From the other side of the room Mikey was trying to talk to Gerard, but he was noticeably distracted. Following his brother’s line of sight, realized Gerard was watching (YN)’s animated conversation with Adam. He bumped his shoulder into Gerard’s.

“You really are into (YN) aren’t you?” Mikey asked with a knowing smile and Gerard just shrugged dejectedly. “Why don’t you just ask her out or something?”

“I can’t,” Gerard replied.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why? Why? What good reason do you have?” Mikey argued.

“Because I’m older than her, because I don’t want her to feel obligated to spend time with me just because we’re on this tour together. Because I’m not… I’m not the Gerard Way I used to be.”

"What the fuck does that mean?" Mikey asked sternly.

"I know I'm not a sexy rock star anymore, I'm a divorced dad with grey in his hair and," he sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Gee, you know you're in a better place now in so many ways than you were before. Stop talking yourself out of it.”

Gerard just grumbled in response. He knew his brother was right, he was better off now than he was ten years ago, worlds better than he was even longer ago than that. But he couldn’t help but worry that (YN) wouldn’t be interested in him. At least not the current version of him.

But that didn’t change how he felt about her

The next stop on the tour was Riot Fest, but Garden of Woe would not actually be opening for My Chem and Taking Back Sunday. They had been relegated to one of the smaller side stages earlier in the day. (YN) and Liam were hanging out on the curb outside their bus in the warm, mid September Chicago air when Frank and Gerard came by.

“Hey, when are you guys on today?” Frank asked.

“At 4:30, why?” Liam answered

Frank climbed in between the two and pulled out his phone. “Gerard is always talking about how awesome your show is, so I was gonna promote you guys.”

(YN) looked up at Gerard who smiled shyly. “Well Gerard, why don’t you get in on this too then,” she smiled.

“Sure,” he nodded and sat down next to her as Liam took Frank’s phone and held it out so he could get everyone in the shot.

“Hey guys, we’re at Riot Fest, and before we play tonight, you gotta go check out our friends Garden of Woe," Frank said to the camera.

“4:30 on the Riot Stage,” (YN) added, flashing a peace sign before Liam finished recording. “Thanks guys, we really appreciate it. I don’t know how many people would be stopping by our set without the promo.”

“Well they should be, like I said before, you’re amazing,” Gerard replied as (YN) looked over at him with a soft smile. Over (YN)’s shoulder, Liam and Frank were exchanging knowing looks.

Hours later the band was waiting off stage, a few minutes before they were due to go on for their set.

“Holy shit, I didn’t expect the crowd this big,” Jake said after peaking out.

“I guess Frank’s post worked,” Liam shrugged.

“What post?” Rebecca asked.

“This one,” (YN) replied, pulling out her phone and pulling up the post she’d bookmarked. She let the video play, smiling happily at the four of them on the screen.

“Look at you all cozy with My Chem, what a surprise,” Rebecca deadpanned.

(YN) shot her a confused look and was about to open her mouth when Liam interjected.

“Ha, look at these comments,” Liam said, snatching the phone away. “People are totally shipping you and Gerard, (YN).”

“Shut up, no they aren’t,” she replied, but could feel her cheeks burning red.

“Yea they are, look!” He said pointing them out. (YN) scrolled through and couldn’t help but feel honored that people would think that she and Gerard made a cute couple. She could only imagine what it’d really be like.

“Don’t we have a show to play?” Rebecca asked snidely, snapping her from her thoughts.

“Becs is right, come on let’s get ready.” (YN) nodded, putting her phone away.

The energy of the crowd was great, and the fans that were up front were actually singing along, which brought a smile to (YN)’s face. An even bigger smile crossed her face when she glanced at the side of the stage and saw Gerard and Frank were there watching the show too.

Part 2

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

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diyunho · 4 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

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

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

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

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

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

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

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

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.