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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

two can keep a secret

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: What is the difference between a secret and a lie? Jason Todd is in love. But will his relationship survive when Y/N realizes she doesn’t know him at all?

Word Count: 9,500+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of rape, domestic violence, and murder

She is the first thing he thinks of when he slowly comes to.

Not her face, like some glowing angel that you always see in those stupid movie montages, where the protagonist’s wife or girlfriend tragically died and he’s thinking of her.

No, Jason is thinking about how pissed Y/N’s going to be when he misses date night.

Jason didn’t need to go out to a fancy restaurant or cocktail bar to be content. Doing absolutely nothing with Y/N was more than enough for him. But she deserved more than that – not that she ever said so. Jason was the one who insisted on taking her out every so often. So he sucked it up and did anything to make that woman smile. It didn’t hurt that Y/N was too talented at dolling herself up.

Y/N was probably sitting with her hair curled and her makeup done to perfection (after watching a YouTube tutorial for a look she had been wanting to try for weeks). Or, depending on how much time had passed, she had given up and bitterly changed into her pajamas.

The other unfortunate fact was that Y/N still didn’t know that Jason had a double life. She had zero idea that her boyfriend of a few months was also the infamous Red Hood.

So, yeah, Y/N was going to be pissed, thinking that Jason simply forgot about date night or just completely blew her off.

Just when Jason was fighting the migraine to open his eyes, someone kicked his shins roughly.

“I know you’re awake,” someone sang to him.

Jason blinked and squinted, realizing that his helmet was still intact.

Well, that’s one positive.

He looked at the man standing just a few feet away from him. Decked out in a fancy green suit, horned rimmed glasses, and that stupid little bowler hat.

The Riddler.

Jason always found him to be mostly an inconvenience. But clearly he’d done something to piss off the annoying genius, because this was a lot of effort on his part.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jason growled, knowing his voice sounded even more dangerous with his helmet distorting it.

Riddler smiled and put his arms behind his back. “You have become rather troublesome, Red Hood.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Jason answered with sarcasm.

But Jason hadn’t been interfering with the Riddler for quite some time, so he was still rather confused what was going on.

“Our mutual friend is quite tired of you meddling with his business. Also, it’s not cheap to replace all of his goons you keep murdering.”

Jason tilted his head. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

Riddler narrowed his eyes with slight annoyance. “Why the Clown Prince of Crime, of course.” Jason’s body tensed at the name and the Riddler noticed immediately. “He figured if you came back from the dead once before, there’s a chance you could do it again.”

Then the Riddler stopped his pacing and did a dramatic gesture to himself. “Which is where I come in. You see, he thought it would save him some time and effort to simply hire me.” He moved closer to Jason. “He figured if he couldn’t kill you…maybe you deserve a different punishment.”

Jason audible sighed. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

While it sounded like a joke, there was a truth to the question. Jason stopped fearing death long ago. And once you’ve died and come back to life, there’s nothing really that scared Jason Todd anymore. Which was why he had become the ruthless and merciless antihero of Gotham.

Batman would hurt criminals enough to break them. Red Hood would simply kill them.

Though after fighting his family became too much, Jason finally agreed to stop his massacres. But the criminals of Gotham didn’t need to know that. And Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy how much they shook at the mere sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sure we can figure out how to return some fear into that ice cold heart of yours,” Riddler whispered in Jason’s ear before pressing a button.

A swinging light bulb flashed on.

No, no, no, no. no.

Below the source of the light was Y/N, tied to a chair by her hands and feet. A rag was across her mouth and tied at the back of her head. She was only in her underwear and a baggy t-shirt – Jason’s t-shirt. Further proving that she had been ripped from her bed and brought here against her will.

Jason completely controlled his reaction to seeing his girlfriend being held captive just 20 feet across from him. But in reality, his heart was about explode out of his chest.

Not this. Not her. Anything but her.

“What is this?” Jason asked, trying to sound as devoid of emotion as possible. The less she seemed to mean to him, the less Riddler would want to use her against him.

“I think you know exactly what this is, Red Hood.” Then Riddler practically skipped to Y/N’s side, who looked confused and terrified, clearly having no idea why any of this was happening to her of all people.

“Your quarrel is with me, Riddler. There’s no need to involve an innocent civilian.” Jason’s voice was cool and even.

But he ignored Jason and pulled a pistol out from the back of the waist.

Jason couldn’t remain calm any longer. He started struggling against the ties.

“Don’t worry. The fun has just begun. You get these three riddles right and I won’t hurt her – at least…not yet.”

But Jason was looking at Y/N. She was looking back at him, which did little to reassure her. She didn’t know who he was and his helmet wasn’t designed to comfort people.

“Hey, it’s gonna be OK.” He tried to tell her as softly as he could.

For some reason, she nodded. But Jason knew her well enough to see his words had little impact on her. Tears started streaming down her face and her entire body was shaking as she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to her head.

“Shall we begin?” Riddler asked with a creepily joyful smile.

Jason waited. But as the Riddler was distracted, he was able to maneuver his arms to press the panic button on his wrist to send out a distress signal to the right people. It was his first time using it, always too proud or stubborn to ask for help.

But if Y/N was involved, none of that mattered anymore.

The Riddler’s eerie tone brought him back, “When you have me, you feel like sharing me. But if you do share me, you don’t have me.” He took in a deep breath. “What am I?”

Jason’s chest was heaving with anger. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve stayed away from Y/N. He was a curse, a disease. Anyone that got close to him just ended up in danger. And he should’ve known better than to think he could be happy without consequences.

“Clock’s ticking, Red Hood.” He cocked the gun. “What am I?”

“A secret,” Jason growled.

“Surprise, surprise. There does seem to be some semblance of a brain underneath that stupid helmet of yours.”

Y/N closed her eyes in relief, causing more tears to escape and slide down her cheeks.

“When you have me more, you can see only less. What am I?” The Riddler asked.

Jason thought on the next riddle as he tried to find one of his knives hidden in his sleeve. But even when he grabbed one, it would take far too long to cut through this thick rope that kept him tied down.

“Darkness,” Jason answered confidently.

The Riddler seemed annoyed now. “One more riddle and then we’ll move on to another game. Or maybe we won’t, if you get it wrong.” He shifted so he was directly behind Y/N and facing Jason as he pointed the gun at the back of her head.

“The person who built it, sold it. The person who bought it, never used it. The person who used it, never saw it.” He tilted his head. “What is it?”

Jason finally found the edge of a knife. He subtly started cutting at the ropes on the back of his chair, praying he could buy himself enough time to get him out.

The Riddler lifted the gun to the ceiling and shot it, causing Y/N to jump and let out a yelp.

“I’m waiting!” He snapped at Jason.

“A coffin!” Jason growled. “Put the gun down and let her go. You’ve had your fun.”

The Riddler laughed. “Oh, you think that this was the main attraction?” He put the gun down, but moved to grip Y/N’s chin roughly.

“Secrets, darkness, coffin,” Riddler listed the three answers aloud. Then he turned to Jason. “What do all of them have in common?”

Riddler moved back behind Y/N and leaned down to whisper in her ear. The feeling alone caused a chill to go down her spine. “You’ve been lied to, my dear. The decision to bring you here was not random at all. That I can promise you.”

“Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone,” he sang loudly, his voice echoing in the warehouse. Then he danced back to Y/N and pulled down the rag around her mouth, finally allowing her to speak.

“Red Hood, question for you. How many people have you killed?”

Don’t do this, Jason begged in his mind.

He didn’t answer.

The Riddler didn’t appreciate this and quickly walked to Y/N, smacking her across the face with the back of his hand.

Jason struggled against his restraints.

Riddler whipped back to him. “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” he barked back.

“You don’t know because there’s so many?” Riddler challenged.

“I don’t keep track,” Jason answered quickly, knowing his silence would only cause Y/N more pain.

“More then 10?”

“Yes.”

“More then 50?” Riddler asked with an evil grin.

“Yes.”

Riddler turned to Y/N. “It’s actually 83.”

It was the first Jason had heard the number. But he knew better than to question it.

“You call yourself a hero. But looks to me like you’re just a murderer,” the Riddler cooed with a sneer.

Jason hung his head in shame. “I’ve never called myself a hero.”

Riddler ignored his comment and turned his attention fully to Y/N now. “Now this next one is for you, dear. And it’s a tricky one.” The Riddler took in a deep breath. “I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many…or only just one.”

Y/N swallowed, repeating the words over and over again in her head.

“L-Love,” she finally stuttered out, but seemed sure of her answer.

The Riddler smiled at her response. He turned to Jason. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Red Hood.” Then he shifted his weight. “Or should I say Jason?”

Jason saw the confusion on Y/N’s face from the comment.

“Tell me dear, did you know you were in love with a murderer?”

Y/N was discombobulated by such a question.

But before she could figure it out, the Riddler rushed to Jason and ripped off his helmet. When he saw that Jason was wearing a domino mask underneath, he rolled his eyes. “All you bats and birds are so paranoid!” Then he ripped that off, too.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend.

But Jason didn’t catch it. He was too busy hanging his head, scared to meet her gaze.

“Surprised?” The Riddler asked her with glee.

Her tears started again. But they weren’t just from being scared now. They were tears of betrayal.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry,” the Riddler mocked.

“You did what you wanted. Now let her go,” Jason growled.

He tugged at his ropes, but his knife wasn’t cutting fast enough.

“Let her go?” The Riddler was baffled. “Who said anything about letting her go? I said I wasn’t going to hurt her if you cooperated. But killing her is the only way I can hurt you, Red Hood. Don’t worry, I shall make it quick!”

With that he raised his gun to her head once again. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, truly believing this is how she was going to die.

“NO!” Jason screamed.

But right before pulling the trigger, Riddler’s grip was knocked away by a batarang.

Jason felt sick with relief when he turned to see Batman and Robin making their way to the Riddler.

Riddler was not a fighter. He always made a run for it.

But when he turned to do so, he was met with Nightwing blocking his path.

Jason felt someone drop behind him and realized that Red Robin was getting rid of his restraints.

Riddler looked around him with crazed eyes, realizing he was about to be outnumbered five to one. “This is too many vigilantes for my liking. Time for backup.” He pulled out a button and pressed it before Dick could rip the unknown device from his hands.

An explosion erupted in the warehouse, catching everyone off guard.

Tim had just finally released Jason from his restraints when the impact hit.

Jason saw as Y/N’s chair was knocked off its legs, taking her to the floor with it. Her head slammed against the hard concrete floor.

As soon as the explosion settled, Jason sprinted to her.

When he reached her, she was knocked unconscious. “Y/N! Come on, beautiful. You’re OK. You’re OK.”

But the words were to convince himself. He felt for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when it was still strong.

Ever so carefully, he untied the ropes that held her to the chair. He ripped his jacket off his body and wrapped it around her shoulders. She seemed so small like this – so vulnerable. He’d tried so hard to keep her away from this darkness. And seeing her like this was the horrid reminder for why he’d lied to her about who he was.

His family watched with concern as Jason stood with her limp body in his arms. By some miracle, the blast missed all of them. It was used as more of a distraction than as an attempt to take any of them out.

Jason slowly walked to Bruce.

“Take her. Please.” His eyes desperate at first, but then they darkened. “There’s something I have to do.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We had a deal.”

But he still gently took Y/N out of his arms.

“That was before her,” Jason answered as he took a final glance at Y/N.

“Jason, don’t do it,” Dick urged.

“Keep her safe,” was all Jason said before turning from them and running after the man that had put his love in danger.

“What shall we do with her?” Damian asked coldly as he eyed the young woman he was seeing for the first time.

“We’re taking her back to the manor,” Bruce told his sons.

“Is that wise?” Damian countered.

“He’ll need her. And she’ll need to know everything,” was all Bruce said as he started carrying Y/N to the batmobile.

————————

Y/N wasn’t awoken by people screaming from the streets below or the garbage truck coming too early to throw every neighbor’s trash can around at 5AM. She couldn’t hear the blasting of her window unit air conditioning.

No, instead she heard birds chirping outside and the wind rustling countless trees.

Did she even have a single tree on her block?

She squinted her eyes open and the night came rushing back to her.

Goons storming into her apartment, ripping her from her bed and throwing a bag over her head. Y/N just remembered thinking, “I’m just glad Jason wasn’t here. At least he’s safe.”

But Jason was far from safe. He was Red Hood: the infamous anti-hero that half of Gotham thought was a murderer and the other half swore he was just as much of a hero as the the other masked vigilantes.

How did she not see it sooner?

The random cuts and bruises. Constantly missing dates. Late-night texts when she had already fallen asleep. Always being exhausted when he was present.

But it was easy to ignore all of this because when they were together, things were good – no, things were amazing.

No man had ever made Y/N feel more seen and loved and appreciated. In fact, before him, Y/N had come to terms with being alone for the rest of her life. She made peace with it, had no problem with it.

But then Jason came stumbling into her life. And he didn’t accept Y/N being unloved the way she did. It was the thing that made him get over his own self-hatred and constant need to punish himself. If he wasn’t going to love Y/N for him, then he’d love Y/N because that’s what she deserved.

And Y/N felt that.

But he wasn’t who she thought he was. He had lied to her over and over again. When she was concerned over his injuries, he made up story after story. When she asked where he’d been after skipping a date, he used work as an excuse.

Did Y/N actually know Jason Todd at all?

Or had she only seen what she wanted to see?

Did the man she love even exist?

These were the questions racing through Y/N’s mind as she awoke in a bedroom that she didn’t recognize. Bedroom – if that’s even what she could call it. It felt more like a palace. She’d never slept on softer sheets or a comfier mattress. The room was bigger than her entire apartment. And from what she could see in the ensuite bathroom, it looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

Y/N’s observations paused when she saw Red Hood’s leather jacket tossed on top of the fancy chaise lounge on the other side of the room. No, not Red Hood’s leather jacket. Jason’s. It was the only indication that he had been there.

Am I in Wayne Manor? Y/N asked herself.

At least Jason hadn’t lied about that, explaining his afflicted relationship with his family casually a few times. But in a way that always told Y/N he didn’t want to talk about it in depth.

The leather jacket then caused Y/N to look down at herself. She was wearing a white t-shirt and grey cotton sleep shorts. Clearly they were mens. Someone had changed her while she had been asleep – or…unconscious.

Fuck, her head really hurt.

Having enough of being confused, Y/N slipped out of the bed and decided she was going to hunt down an explanation.

The bedroom was placed in a long hallway. Taking a 50/50 chance, Y/N decided to go right instead of left.

She walked as quietly as possible, still feeling uncomfortable in such surroundings.

After she stepped down the most extravagant staircase she’d ever seen, she heard sounds come from around the corner. It sounded like movement in a kitchen.

When she reached a doorway, she saw an elderly man dressed as a butler. As he was cooking, he caught Y/N’s presence from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned and gave her a comforting smile.

“Ah! Ms. Y/L/N, your timing is impeccable. I was just finishing up breakfast.”

But she remained unsure of the situation.

“Oh, I do apologize. Where are my manners? I am Alfred Pennyworth.” He quickly stepped to her and offered his hand. “I am the butler for the Wayne family.”

“So…this is Wayne Manor?” Y/N asked after awkwardly shaking his hand in the doorway, completely forgetting to share her own name. But he cleary already knew it.

He smiled at her. “Yes, Master Wayne brought you here after last nights…theatrics.” Before either of them could discuss the “theatrics” he slyly mentioned, he pulled out a chair at the table in the kitchen. “Please, sit. You must be famished.”

This man hardly looked threatening, so she decided to follow his instructions.

Alfred quickly placed a large plate with a full English breakfast on it, a mug of steaming coffee, and a glass of water. Then he offered her a bottle of advil.

Y/N looked up at him with a curious glance.

“I can only assume your head is aching quite a bit. From what I was told, you took quite the fall from the explosion.”

At least Y/N knew she hadn’t imagined the nightmare. It was real. She quickly took two of the pills and chugged the glass of water.

Alfred didn’t hover, instead continuing to work on more breakfast.

But Y/N’s breakfast was quickly interrupted when Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen.

He eyed her carefully, hiding his surprise at her being awake. Casually, he went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked her.

Y/N was surprised how genuine his concern sounded.

“Confused,” she blustered out without meaning to.

Bruce smirked. “I meant your head.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Ummm…just a terrible headache. But I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

To her shock, Bruce sat across from her. He drank his coffee as his eyes raced across the tablet in his hand.

Y/N took a few bites of food before she had the courage to ask one of the many questions that were racing around her head.

“Where is Jason?” She asked slowly and carefully.

Alfred seemed to tense at the question and hesitated before saying, “Master Jason thought it best to give you some space.”

Y/N didn’t know what to make of his answer.

Bruce seemed to be studying her.

Y/N wanted to shrink under his scrutiny, but fought the feeling and met his gaze head on, as if challenging him.

“He’s in the cave,” Bruce told her evenly.

It seemed no one was trying to hide their family secrets from Y/N.

“I’d like to see him.”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look and what seemed to be a silent conversation.

After a moment, Bruce stood up. “I’ll take you.”

Y/N jumped out of her seat to follow him.

Next thing she knew, Bruce was taking her through a secret passage and there was a dark and dreary staircase in front of her.

Bruce gestured for her to go forward, silently telling her he wasn’t coming with.

As soon as Y/N started down the cold staircase, a shiver went down her spin. The temperature immediately dropped.

When she reached the bottom, she looked around and found Jason sparring with a man she recognized as Dick Grayson.

Jason did a double take as soon as Y/N took a step away from the staircase.

Dick followed his gaze and his face dropped.

The two men shared a look and their sparring ended.

Dick walked to her and gave Y/N a charming smile as he held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Dick.”

Y/N forced a shy smirk and shook his hand, but said nothing.

Now it was just Jason and Y/N.

Y/N’s arms tightly held herself because of the freezing temperature of the batcave, and because she didn’t know how this conversation was about to end.

“Hi,” Jason said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“How’d you get down here?”

Y/N shrugged. “Bruce.”

Jason looked her up and down before quickly turning and grabbing the sweatshirt he had discarded before working out and sparring.

He handed it to her, making sure not to get too close. “Here. It gets fucking frigid in this stupid cave.”

Y/N quickly put it on. But she didn’t miss how Jason tried to keep his distance.

“I’m not scared of you,” she muttered.

He cocked an eyebrow, but she could still see the hurt in his face. “Really? Because you’re not looking at me like I’m the same person.”

“Because you’re not,” Y/N snapped.

Y/N imagined this conversation would be filled with rage. She thought she’d start yelling at Jason and then she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d tell him how disappointed she was in him, how he was just like every other man who had hurt her. Her hands would be quivering in fists at her side. The anger…it would consume her.

So imagine her surprise when her bottom lip started trembling and tears started streaming down her face. And she could do nothing to stop it.

Little did she know that watching this hurt Jason more than her anger ever could.

He took a step toward her. It was his instinct – an instinct that was so hard to fight in this moment.

“You know…it’s really hard for me to let people in – no, it’s hard for me to let men in. I don’t trust them. I stop doing that a long time ago. But you – fuck – I don’t even know why now. But I did let you in. I really did. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I trusted you. I…I loved you, Jason.”

Jason looked in more pain than ever before. His eyes watered from seeing the woman he loved breaking down like this. And it was no one else’s fault, but his own.

“But you hid this whole part of yourself. You lied to me. Every excuse you made for your bruises and cuts, you were lying. Every time you canceled a date, you were lying. And I’m realizing that you lied to me about your life more than you ever told me the truth.”

She tried to wipe away the tears, but they were coming down too fast.

“Was the Riddler serious?” She accused. “Have you killed all those people?”

“I have.”

Y/N studied him for a second. A part of her hadn’t expected him to admit it. She was waiting for him to give her another lie. After all, it came so naturally to him.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She practically whimpered.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I just…I didn’t know how. I was scared.”

Was there even anything he could say that would make her hate him less?

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. And I should’ve kept you safe. You almost–” He felt sick. “You were almost killed last night. And it was because of me.”

Y/N’s eyes went dark. “Did you kill him? Did you kill the Riddler?”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his hands turned into fists at the mentioning of the criminal’s name. “No, but I should’ve.”

In truth, he almost had. It hadn’t been hard to catch up to the bastard. Jason beat him to in an inch of his death. But not before he confirmed that no one else knew of Y/N’s existence. No, he didn’t kill the Riddler. But he beat him so badly that he would be in the coma for the rest of his days – unable to speak, meaning no one else would ever know about Y/N.

“I don’t do that anymore. Bruce and I…we have a deal.”

“He’s Batman,” she wasn’t asking. “And your brothers…” she didn’t need to finish.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” His head hung low. “I don’t deserve it. And I never deserved you in the first place. I always knew that. It’s probably why it was so hard to tell you. Because I knew the moment I did… you’d see me for the monster I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes were red now and her nose congested.

“You don’t owe me anything. But I just…I need to tell you this before I never see you again,” Jason quickly said, sensing this was their final goodbye. “I love you. I didn’t even think I could love someone the way I love you, Y/N. You…you’ve made me better. And you’re probably the only reason I was able to stop myself from killing that son of a bitch last night.”

It was Y/N’s face Jason saw when he was beating the Riddler. And then he realized, in some twisted way, that such a death would also be on her hands. He could handle having blood on his hands forever. But would never do that to Y/N.

Then Jason’s word turned so, so quiet. “But I also know I can’t ask you to stay after everything I’ve done to you.”

And for a moment, the two of them just stared at one another.

Y/N tried to wipe the last of her tears away once again. “I think I should go,” she mumbled.

“You can’t go back to your apartment. It’s not safe there anymore. Bruce offered to let you stay here for as long as necessary. I’ll leave,” he quickly added. “So you don’t have to worry about being around me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not staying here,” she said with a surprising amount of conviction. “I’ll stay with friends or something. But I don’t want to be here.”

What Y/N meant was that she didn’t want to be surrounded by the secrets Jason had kept from her. She didn’t want to be reminded of how little she actually knew him.

Somehow Jason seemed to realize that.

He took a cautious step toward her. “For what it’s worth, you do know me. I know you think that’s a lie. But no one sees me like you see me, Y/N. No one.” He pointed up. “Not even the fucked up people that call me their family.”

His words struck in a way she wasn’t expecting. But she made sure he didn’t know that and controlled her expression, staying as emotionless as possible.

Jason sighed, knowing this was their end. “Alfred will take you anywhere you want to go.”

He wanted to tell her more. He wanted to ask – no, to beg – to hold her. Just one last time. But he would never ask that of her. How could he?

So he just watched as Y/N slowly turned and made her way back of the stairs.

Jason wanted to memorize her face as if this was the last time he’d lay eyes on her. But he knew himself better than that. He’d make sure she was safe, add her to his patrol as if it was normal addition to his vigilante life. Y/N didn’t deserve to be at risk for the rest of her life because she made the mistake of loving a man like him.

————————

1 MONTH LATER.

————————

Y/N didn’t realize how hard it would be. She thought she could just go back to the life she had before Jason ever fought his way into her heart. But it took her a month to understand that was never going to happen. She’d never be able to just forget him.

She thought anger would take over and make her hate Jason. Hate was always easier than love. And Y/N was banking on that.

But after everything Jason did, Y/N still couldn’t find it in her heart to hate him.

Because, at the end of the day, they still loved each other.

Despite his secrets and his lies, Y/N knew that Jason had been telling the truth about his feelings for her. He really did love her. She had felt it every day. Even at the beginning of their relationship – before they realized what they were feeling was love – Y/N always felt how much Jason cared for her.

That was why all of this was so hard for her.

Take away the lies, the secret vigilante life, the killing. Take it all away. And Y/N knew she had never met another man that made her feel the way Jason did – or…had.

That was really what Y/N had finally realized over the past weeks. She had thought it was betrayal and fear.

No.

She now understood that what she was feeling was a broken heart.

It was a first for her. One had to be in love in order to get their heart broken. And the only man Y/N ever loved was Jason Todd.

As the understanding washed over Y/N, she was staring out the window. She’d made herself a cup of coffee, but had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d let it grow cold. Then she felt a tickling down her cheek and realized that she had started crying.

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the front door of her apartment.

Y/N squinted in suspicion at the sound and sloppily rubbed the tears off her face.

She slowly walked to door, but stopped a few feet away, and just stared at it as her heart rate increased.

After Riddler’s men broke into her home and ripped her from bed, she had been anxious and cautious about any and all unexpected visitors. She hadn’t been sleeping. Either she couldn’t fall asleep or if she did, her night was infested with nightmares.

“Y/N? It’s Dick Grayson,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

She let out a small sigh of relief. How long had she been holding her breath?

There was a part of her that was screaming to still ignore the uninvited guest, despite it being someone she knew. But how well did she actually know Dick Grayson?

Except the other part – the part that could admit she missed Jason – wanted to speak to anyone that was from the part of her life she was trying so hard to forget.

Ever so slowly, she opened the door.

“Hi,” Dick beamed at seeing her appear. His smile and eyes were warm and friendly in a way that none of the other boys were.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a bit of rudeness.

She didn’t appreciate him giving her a scare. Especially because her two best friends that she now lived with were out of town for the weekend.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” he gave her a shy but hopeful grin. Then he held up a tray of coffee and a paper baggie. “I brought you a latte and some doughnuts.”

Y/N eyed him. Her first thought was that maybe something had happened to Jason. But Dick’s delivery proved that wasn’t the case.

Her only invitation to Dick was a widening of the door and making room for him to walk past her.

This seemed to make him happy though.

Y/N directed them to the little breakfast nook that was flooded in the morning light.

She didn’t waste any time. “Did Jason send you here?”

“No, Jason doesn’t know that I’m here,” Dick clarified as he slid one of the lattes to her side of the table.

Her nerves were the only reason she picked it up and started sipping, just trying to give herself something physical to do while Dick stared at her from across the little table.

“Is he OK?” She mumbled without looking at him.

Her pride wanted to her to shut up and not ask. But she couldn’t stop the question from spilling out, even though all evidence pointed to Dick having no bad news to share.

“He’s fine,” Dick quickly assured her. “Well…physically, at least.”

“What are you doing here, Dick?” She repeated her original question.

“It should be Bruce here, really. But he…” His words died out and then he cleared his throat. “Well, these types of things aren’t exactly his strong suit. Tim wanted to come, too. But I didn’t want to…overwhelm you.”

“And what ‘type’ of thing is this exactly?”

Dick took in a deep breath and then leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table.

“You deserve to know the story – the whole story. I’m not here to get you to forgive Jason or to change your mind about leaving him.” He rubbed his face. “But I just want you to know the truth about him before you live with those decisions.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now. She felt sick.

Was she even ready for this conversation?

“So, is that OK?” Dick asked her carefully.

After a moment, Y/N finally nodded her head.

Dick took a deep breath.

He knew where he needed to start. And he wasn’t just about to share Jason’s secrets, he was about to tell Y/N all of their secrets. But it was what needed to be done.

Dick told her about Jason living on the streets, how his dad abused him, and his mother was a drug addict that couldn’t protect her son. Little Jason Todd turned to crime to take care of himself and get enough money to take care of himself and his mom.

Dick smiled as he told her how Jason tried to steel Bruce’s wheels on the batmobile. That was the moment that Bruce knew he couldn’t leave such a desperate child on the streets. Then everything happened so quickly. Next thing Dick knew, Jason had replaced him as Robin and Bruce had a new sidekick.

“I should’ve been there for him more,” Dick confessed. “Jason didn’t just need a home and a parent… he needed a brother, too. And I take responsibility for not really being there for him. If I’m being honest, I was bitter. It was hard for me to see how quickly Bruce could just…”

“Replace you?” Y/N offered softly.

Dick swallowed and nodded.

This was the hard part. Now he had to explain how Jason died, how the Joker tricked a child who was desperate to find the truth about his mother. How a dead boy became a resurrected man.

Dick knew he couldn’t gloss over the gory details. Jason deserved better. He didn’t need to have his secrets protected from the first woman who loved him. He needed to be seen and still loved.

Dick watched as Y/N shifted in her seat, trying her best to compose herself as Dick told her about Jason dying so horribly and then being resurrected. Joker’s maniacal laugh flashed in Y/N’s mind. As Dick spoke, she could almost feel the warmth of the explosion that he’d set for Jason.

It was all so terrible.

How Jason was able to overcome it all left Y/N in awe of him.

“Jason has never really fully been himself since before…everything,” Dick said. “But it wasn’t fair that any of us ever expected that after what happened to him. I know there’s still so much that he’s never told any of us. And I’m not sure he ever will.”

Dick explained Jason’s rebellion from the family and his war with Bruce. Dick was the one that got emotional now, as his eyes glossed over, remembering how angry and ruthless Jason had been.

“Bruce has one rule: no killing.” Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “Jason thought he was being what Gotham needed. He was tired of watching criminal after criminal beat the system and repeatedly get set free. We eventually had to make a deal with him. We couldn’t stand by and let him continue on the way he was.”

Dick gave her a nervous look. “I can only assume that the hardest thing to wrap your mind around is the–”

“Killing,” Y/N quickly interrupted harshly.

Until now, she had remained quiet but engaged. Never interrupting or adding unnecessary responses.

“Yes,” Dick replied before tightening his jaw.

Y/N couldn’t look at him now. “I know–” She had to pause because her voice was shaking so much. “I know he did it to protect people. And I know – in his mind – that they deserved it, because they were bad people.”

“I might not agree with Jason’s views or his past actions. But one thing is for sure: Jason Todd has never killed an innocent.”

“I just don’t know if that’s enough,” Y/N said with teary eyes.

“I understand,” Dick nodded.

There had been a part of her that always knew Jason was fighting demons. But she could’ve never guessed how bad it had truly been for him.

How could he hide all of this from her?

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. After hearing Jason’s life story, how could she? Tears silently ran down her face. She wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of Dick. He had such a calming presence about him.

Dick just let her consume everything he’d spent the past hour telling her. He just wanted to be there for her as she processed it.

So he sat there and let her cry. And eventually she got a hold of herself.

“You’re forgetting the most important part of this story,” Dick told her with a shy smile.

“I am?”

Dick nodded. “You.”

She scoffed at that.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” Dick leaned forward again.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t one to share her emotions and feelings freely. So she wasn’t about to open up to her ex’s older brother, whom she hardly knew.

“He loves you, Y/N.” Dick insisted.

“None of you even knew about me,” Y/N tried to argue.

“That’s not true. Just because he didn’t tell us directly doesn’t mean we didn’t know about you.” Dick smirked. “We’re a nosey bunch. When we noticed a change in him – a good change – we did a little investigating.”

Y/N couldn’t find it in her to tell Dick that Jason made her change for the better too.

So she changed the subject to what was really stopping her from running back into Jason’s arms despite all the lies and secrets.

“How did you get over it?” Her voice was so quite that it was almost a whisper.

“Get over what?” Dick squinted.

“The killing.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Police Officers kill people every day.”

Y/N made a look of disgust. “Law enforcement in this country is corrupt. I figured a man who felt the need to wear a mask and become a vigilante was well aware of that.”

Dick winced. “Why do you think Gotham is so hard to clean up?”

She stayed quiet.

“Soldiers have killed more people on a single tour than Jason has,” Dick continued.

“Soldiers are following orders,” Y/N countered. “Orders from authority whose ethics and motives are often questionable.”

“Exactly.” Dick’s back straightened. “We’ve normalized both of those things. But I can assure you of one thing, Jason has no ulterior motives. There is no systemic prejudice that controls his actions. Just right and wrong, good and evil.”

Then he rubbed his face, wondering if he wanted to say the next part. “When things with Jason were bad – really bad – and I thought I would have to be the one that put him behind bars, the one thing that gave me hope was knowing that Jason had rid the world of evil. That doesn’t mean I condone his actions…but it helps me sleep at night.”

Silence filled the apartment. Y/N was still processing the information. And Dick didn’t want to force her to talk or speak just to fill the silence.

Slowly, Dick rose from his seat.

“I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have,” he told her gently.

There were those classic Wayne manners that both Bruce and Alfred had ingrained in him. It reminded Y/N of Jason. Even though Jason had a dark, sarcastic sense of humor and quite the temper, Y/N couldn’t remember a time when the man didn’t say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ – not to mention all the old-school gentlemanly gestures that always caught her off guard.

Y/N followed Dick to the door.

He hesitated. “Thank you for listening, Y/N.”

She just nodded.

“Like I said when I got here, I’m not telling you what to do. All I ask is that you consider everything you learned.”

She nodded again. “You’re a good brother, Dick.”

He chuckled darkly at that. “Jason would disagree with you on that. I’m lucky if he even calls me his brother most of the time.”

Y/N managed to force a shy smirk on her lips for his benefit.

Then Dick was reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper. He slowly handed it over.

She looked down to see what appeared to be an address. “What’s this?”

“The safe house Jason’s been hiding out in since you last talked.” Then he gave her one final nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

————————————— 3 WEEKS LATER. —————————————

Jason had been on autopilot these past couple of months. He let his work take over his life. To make matters worse, he barely added eating and sleeping to that mix. The only reason he managed to get himself to eat was to keep his strength up… so he could keep working.

Right now was the one of the few times his exhaustion was so heavy that he managed to get a couple hours of sleep.

That is until one of the alarms for his safe house went off.

Someone had triggered the sensor for the floor.

It could easily be a homeless person. It wouldn’t be the first time. But that assumption went on the window when Jason heard a polite knock at his front door.

Completely silent, Jason moved out of bed and grabbed the gun that sat on his nightstand.

Quickly he tiptoed to the door and waited, half expecting someone to start shooting. It wouldn’t have mattered, seeing as the door was made out of bulletproof steel.

Without making a sound, he made his way to the peephole.

When he spotted who was on the other side, his body moved on reflex alone. He instantly put the gun on safety and whipped open the door.

His guest jumped a little in surprise.

“Y/N,” Jason gasped.

Once she got over the scare, she seemed to take in his appearance.

Jason looked awful. There were shadows under his eyes. His hair looked greasy from the lack of washing. And because he was “working” so much, his body was littered in more injuries than usual. He stood completely shirtless in black boxer briefs.

But the only thing Jason was embarrassed about was his autopsy scar that was on full display for her.

Yes, Y/N had seen and felt it. But it was always in the cover of darkness. If they had sex in daylight, Jason always found a way to keep a shirt on. It was always effortless and subtle. Plus Y/N was so preoccupied with the passion between them that she never really considered how self-conscious he was about it.

Once again, Y/N was wondering why she normalized things like that instead of pushing Jason to open up about things he was obviously hiding.

She had assumed they were scars from his childhood. He had told her his dad was abusive and his mom did nothing to protect him. Y/N thought the scars were from an incident – an incident that was too traumatizing for him open up to her about.

But they were autopsy scars… Because Jason had died once.

“Did I wake you?” She asked him gently.

“No,” he quickly lied. Then he shook his head, still processing that she was standing in front of him. “Come in,” he hurriedly added.

She game him a grateful nod and walked past him.

Her eyes quickly took in the safe house. It looked like an industrial loft. But what she was really locking on to was the multiple tables covered in weapons and gear.

After all that time of Jason’s vigilante life being hidden, now it was all completely on display for her to see.

“Are you OK?” Jason quickly asked her.

She nodded.

“How is your new place?” He then asked.

“Fine,” she offered.

“Your roommates are OK?”

She nodded again.

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“Jason,” she said it sternly, in a tone that she knew would make him finally stop with the frantic questions. “I came to talk to you.”

This took him aback.

Then he looked around him. There was a fold out table a few feet away from them.

“Here,” he muttered before rushing forward and moving what appeared to be a dozen knives and multiple guns.

He pulled out one of the chairs and motioned for her to sit.

Then Jason seemed to finally realize his state of undress. “I’ll…just give me a second.”

Y/N would’ve laughed at his adorable franticness. But she was too busy feeling nauseous and anxious.

She turned her back to him changing since the loft style gave little privacy. 30 seconds later, Jason was moving back to the table and sitting across from her in a black hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N gently cleared her throat. Her gaze couldn’t meet Jason’s as she said, “Dick came to see me.”

Jason’s face darkened. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ll ta–”

“No, it’s fine.” Then she shifted in her seat. “He came to…uhh…he came to talk to me about you, actually.”

That wasn’t what Jason was expecting.

“He told me everything,” she stated. “I mean, everything you never did.”

The true meaning of her words slowly washed over Jason.

He leaned back in his chair, his massive form making it squeak.

Y/N took in a shaky breath. “Jason…I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He shifted his weight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N.” He told her quietly.

Usually Jason’s death and resurrection was a joke. He loved making his family cringe, shrink, and become uncomfortable with his dark humor about it. That was just how he’d grown to deal with it all.

But he couldn’t do the same for Y/N.

A few beats of silence passed between them.

“I miss you,” Y/N finally told him.

Jason’s eyes widened at the confession. “I miss you, too.”

Silence again.

“Was I just part of a cover?” She quickly asked him.

“No,” he immediately answered.

“Was our relationship even real?”

“Yes, Y/N. I promise you that it was.”

Y/N bit her lip. She came here with no plan. And now it was starting to feel very real. She knew what she needed to know and she knew what she needed to say. But she wasn’t sure how to get there.

“Do you still love me?” She whispered.

Jason flinched at the question – not because of the answer, but because she felt the need to even ask it.

He nodded.

“After everything that’s happened,” she began, “what would a relationship between us even be, Jason?”

This was not the follow-up question he was expecting.

“What do you want it to be?”

But what he really wanted to say was it could be anything she wanted. He would do absolutely anything to get her back. Anything.

Still, he didn’t want to push her. So he let her take the lead.

“No more lies,” Y/N demanded. Jason opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I know you can’t tell me the details of the nightly occurrences from your…other life.”

“It was to keep you safe,” he tried to explain. “The less you know, the safer you are. No one can try to use you for information.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. “I’m saying no more lies about where you are or why you can’t make something. And no more hiding injuries.”

Jason nodded firmly, trying to mask his eagerness.

“But more importantly…No more lies about your past. Dick may have told me everything he knew. But I know there’s missing parts and it’s only his perspective.” Then she hesitated, “And I’d…I’d like to hear it from you.”

Jason felt sick by the idea. He thought maybe he’d gotten out of such a request because of his nosey brother.

“You might not like what you find…” he warned her.

But Y/N was already shaking her head. “You know me inside and out.”

Jason did a weird half shrug, half nod. “I like to think so.”

“Don’t you think I deserve the same?”

Jason knew he had a point. But he loved everything about her. Y/N’s flaws weren’t even flaws to him. They were just what made her the woman she was. And that so happened to a woman he was deeply in love with.

But his sins? They were what convinced him that he was unlovable – a monster.

“You do,” Jason agreed with a mumble.

Y/N struggled to swallow with how dry her throat had suddenly become. “You had made a deal with your family – a deal you almost broke because of me.”

Jason knew what she was really asking. She didn’t even really know what she wanted.

“You want to know about the people I’ve killed,” he said low and even.

But she didn’t answer.

Jason leaned forward on the table and thought over her request. He rubbed the scruff on his jawline and chin.

“One was a man who was trying to rip down the pants of 5 year old girl in an alley of the Narrows.” His expression and tone was numb as he started listing them. “Another was an abusive husband that pushed his pregnant wife down a flight of stairs, causing her to have a miscarriage and almost die.”

Y/N felt sick as she listened.

“The last person I killed was Gotham’s number one human trafficker. When I asked him – with a gun to his head – how he had such a lack of remorse, he said, ‘These sickos are going to find their fun one place or another, I might as well make a buck off it.’”

Y/N could tell as Jason shared these stories that he felt no remorse for his executions.

“Bruce would tell you that every one deserves a chance to change. Or he’ll tell you that we’re not the law, we’re just enforcing it.” Jason shook his head. “But I’ve seen thousands of rapists, murderers, and – god knows what else – get freed time and time again. They may get locked up for a bit, but most of them find their way back on the streets. The system is broken. I know it. You know it. And Bruce knows it.”

Then his eyes darkened. “And before you ask, I wouldn’t take any of it back. Truthfully, I believe the world is a better place without those fuckers in it.”

As harsh as it sounded, Y/N appreciated the honesty. And perhaps there was a part of her that agreed with him.

Jason was right: she did know the system was broken, just as much as he did. But she wasn’t in a position to execute the same justice as he could.

“Can I ask you something in return?” The softness in his voice surprised Y/N.

She nodded her head.

“That morning at the manor…you said you weren’t scared of me.” He paused. “Were you telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t scared of you – at least, not like you’re implying. I felt–” She searched for the right word. “Defenseless. Because you knew me, but I didn’t know you anymore. Does that make sense?”

Jason nodded. “And what about now? After knowing all I’ve done.”

To his surprise, Y/N reached across the table and gently grabbed one his hands. She held it in her grasp, tracing the lines in his palm. The skin was rough and scarred.

After so long without it, the feeling of her touch caused a shiver to go down Jason’s spine.

Y/N knew these hands had killed dozens of people. But she also knew that they’d been nothing but gentle with her.

“You’ve never hurt me, Jason.”

“I never would,” he answered quietly, almost with a certain desperation.

She nodded, already knowing that.

“No matter what happens with us, I don’t ever want you to be scared of me, Y/N.”

Then she was crying and jumped from her seat. Without even thinking, she was on the other side of the table, throwing herself onto Jason’s lap, and wrapping her arms around him. Jason pulled her even tighter to him, cradling her face to his neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just…I just want you back. OK?”

Y/N pulled away and Jason wiped the tears from her cheeks. She nodded and gave him a teary smile, “OK.”

Their relationship wouldn’t mend itself just like that. They were going to have to work at it. But with all their secrets on the table, they knew what they were fighting. And from now on, they were going to face them together.

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

Yeesh. That one was a lot.

Let me know what you think!

(If you have criticisms about how I wrote Jason, I’d love to hear them, just don’t be a fucking asshole about it. There’s a right way to give feedback and there’s definitely a wrong way.)

#jason todd #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batfam #batman fandom #batman fic

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verycleverboy · 4 years ago

Link

Today in the false reality of the Republican Party

To Matt Masterson, the review of 2020 ballots from Maricopa County, Ariz., that's underway is "performance art" or "a clown show," and definitely "a waste of taxpayer money."

But it's not an audit.

"It's an audit in name only," says Masterson, a former Department of Homeland Security official who helped lead the federal government's election security preparations leading up to November's election. "It's a threat to the overall confidence of democracy, all in pursuit of continuing a narrative that we know to be a lie."

By lie, he means the assertion from former President Donald Trump and some of his allies that election fraud cost him a second term in the White House.

And, Masterson says, the strategy chosen by the Arizona's Republican state Senate leaders is working as intended to undermine confidence in the outcome of last year's vote.

The process is a simple exercise in how disinformation spreads and takes hold in 2021. And experts fear it presents a blueprint for other states and lawmakers to follow, one that is already showing signs of being emulated across the country.

"Now we have a playbook out there," said Masterson, who is currently a policy fellow with the Stanford Internet Observatory, "where if you don't like the results — by the way in an election that wasn't particularly close ... you just claim you didn't lose and in fact the process itself was rigged against you."

(continue reading)

A few quick words to get us up to speed: The 2020 Maricopa County (AZ) election results have already been audited multiple times. Every one of these audits were instigated by the Arizona GOP, and every time the results came back squeaky clean. No irregularities. No

Each of the previous audits were done by-the-book by respected firms, so obviously they couldn’t do that again. For the current ongoing Republican attempt to delegitimize the American system, they hired a firm with no expertise in the field led by a “stop the steal” conspiracy theorist. An on-air host from the ultra-right wing media outlet One America News not only fundraised for the latest “audit”, but organized trips for out-of-state legislators to give this exercise in fraud a veneer of respectability that it absolutely didn’t earn.

Meanwhile, the “process”, such as it is, seems designed with the specific intent of cooking the books. One of the on-the-floor observers shared her horror story with the Washington Post.

I was stunned to see spinning conveyor wheels, whizzing hundreds of ballots past “counters,” who struggled to mark, on a tally sheet, each voter’s selection for the presidential and Senate races. They had only a few seconds to record what they saw. Occasionally, I saw a counter look up, realize they missed a ballot and then grab the wheel to stop it. This process sets them up to make so many mistakes, I kept thinking. Humans are terrible at tedious, repetitive tasks; we’re especially bad at counting. That’s why, in all the other audits I’ve seen, bipartisan teams follow a tallying method that allows for careful review and inspection of each ballot, followed by a verification process. I’d never seen an audit use contraptions to speed things up.

Speed doesn’t necessarily pose a problem if the audit has a process for catching and correcting mistakes. But it didn’t. Each table had three volunteers tallying the ballots, and their tally sheets were considered “done” as long as two of the three tallies matched, and the third was off by no more than two ballots. The volunteers recounted only if their tally sheets had three or more errors — a threshold they stuck to, no matter how many ballots a stack contained, whether 50 or 100. This allowed for a shocking amount of error. Some table managers told the counters to recount when there were too many errors; other table managers just instructed the counters to fix their “math mistakes.” At no point did anyone track how many ballots they were processing at their station, to ensure that none got added or lost during handling.

(full article here)

It’s almost like manufacturing errors is the point of this fiasco, delegitimizing and destabilizing the American system. It’s almost like the Republican party was presented with a stark choice by the very crazy, very violent people who make up the most motivated part of its base: Either your career goes or the electoral process does. Pick one. And united as a body, in lock step all the way down the line, the Republican Party chose the path of personal power and international humiliation over dignity, morality, and democracy. Welcome to the New Cult Of The Lost Cause, just as stupid, hate-filled and built on lies as the old one.

And for those who are brain-broken enough to genuinely believe there’s still a legal route to reinstall Donald Trump, a man whose name will forever be marked as the sorest loser in the history of American politics, Lawrence Norden, director of the Election Reform Program at the Brennan Center for Justice, has an answer for them (via ABC News), one that sadly they’ve willfully ignored over and over again, and will continue to do so.

"We already had the court battles. And in the case of the presidential election, when the totals are certified in Congress it is over. And there is no constitutional route to reverse that."

To which I add:

It’s over. For the love of God, grow up and move the fuck on.

#Arizona #2020 election #goddammit #here we are again #Donald Trump #EndTheGOP

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Text

After the Fall

TW: Brief mentions of blood, amputation, gore, dealing with loss

A/N: A little character study between Lucifer and Mammon that I’ve had bounced around in a notebook for a while. It takes place right after they fall into the Devildom.

Mammon had never seen Lucifer like this before. He mentor- no brother was supposed to be the strongest of them. Yet, Mammon didn’t recognize the man in front of him. Lucifer’s once regal posture was now hunched and broken. The brilliant armor he took so much pride in lay cracked and stained underneath his swaying feet. The luster surrounding their father’s most cherished son was gone. He radiated a bitterness now that had been so unlike him. Mammon wasn’t sure what to do with this new Lucifer in front of him, or the new him.

For the first time in all of his existence, Mammon knew fear. Not just for his brother’s but for himself. New disgusting emotions were swirling deep within, a cesspool of things he was taught to fight against all cementing deep in his gut. “The others,” Lucifer croaks out not even acknowledging Mammon’s presence. His back still to his charge. “How are they?”

Mammon sighs, scratching at the large swatch of bandages wrapped tightly across his bare chest. He felt dampness under his callous fingers. Pulling back he glances at the black sheen coating his fingers. Damn it. They needed to be changed already. He ignores it for now stepping into the room. “That demon bloke got some healers lookin’ after them all. Asmo is still unconscious, an’ there is still no sign of Levi. But that demon’s little lapdog said he will help search- once we are stable.” He looks over Lucifer’s battered back. “Speaking of-” To a casual observer, Lucifer looked collected. The myriad of open wounds and magical burns could have meant nothing to him. It was as if he had just finished a particularly grueling training session. But Mammon knew better than that. Better than anyone. He could see how his brother was slowly unraveling. His knuckles were bone white with the tension they were holding. The blood running down his broken nose and across his trembling lips was in stark contrast to the slowly paling complexion of his skin. His muscles underneath the waxy skin spasm sporadically, writhing in a pain Lucifer could not hide. “Want me to get help?” Mammon asked.

Lucifer clicks his tongue dismissably. He drops heavily to the plush bed of his new gilded cage. He takes special delight in soiling it with his blood and grime. “I don’t need one- leave me.”

Mammon scoffs and ignores his brother’s chilly demand. Swiping up the abandoned tray of medical supply left at the door Mammon takes stock. The tray held some pretty standard gear, not nearly enough to get his elder brother up and running, but it was enough to keep him from bleeding out like the stubborn fool he was. Mammon looks at the tray and stops, something was missing. He glances around, there should have been a set of hemostats here…“Fuck Luci! Were you pulling them out yourself?” He snatches up the tool in horror. The silver tips were caked with dried blood and clumps of feathers rotting feathers.

“What else would I be doing?” Lucifer hisses.

“Dumbass!” Mammon snaps. “Let me patch you up.” Kneeling behind his brother he helps him gently peel off the rest of Lucifer’s tattered gambeson, careful around the open nerves of his coracoid bones. He feels sick looking at the damage. If the fall hadn’t been enough to deal with, the self-inflected wounds were worse. Mammon works in quickly, powering through the sounds of his brother’s shots of pain. He loses track of how many times he apologies while working on his back. He removes bone after bone cooing and clicking in a vain attempt to comfort his elder, afraid he was one wrong move from Lucifer pulling away. But he doesn’t. Lucifer just buries his face in his hands to suffer through it.

Mammon finishes hastily and steps away. It wasn’t a perfect job, but a proper healer could work with it. If Asmo was up he could fix it up in no time. He checks his work carefully, ensuring the soaked packing gauze hadn’t shifted out of the craters left by Lucifers amputated limbs. “There.” Mammon rubs a bandaged shoulder comfortingly. “Let’s get you over to that Barbato’s clown. He should be done with Beel.”

Lucifer stirs at these words. Roused from his stupor slowly turns to his brother. “Look at what I have done,” He finally meets Mammon’s eyes, hands open and bloody. The fresh cuts and burns struggling to heal. “I doomed us all.” His voice cracks dangerously, tears dripping down his beaky nose. “Look at what my pride has wrought.”

Mammon looks on lost and angry. This was wrong, all so so wrong. Lucifer was the level-headed one. Lucifer was the strong, humble elder. So why was he- Mammon. The goof, the failed protege the one wiping at Beel’s tears and keeping Belphie inline while his big brother was holed up in his room? Lucifer was supposed to be their anchor. “What are the rest of us then? Clowns? Mindless little cherubs clutchin’ at your skirt tails?” Mammon asks angrily getting down on the floor to sit beside him.

“I never thought that of you.”

Mammon pats his brother’s knee. “Well, the way you are talkin’ makes it seem like we had no choice in the matter. We all joined you willing...and we all knew the risks.” Mammon trails off looking down at his own slowly leaking wounds. “I can’t speak for the rest of them-” He continues. “But I’d do it again, and I know Lilith would do too.”

Lucifer makes a wounded sound at the mention of their fallen sibling. His jaw clenching alarmingly. He had something to say, but the words didn’t come. Mammon sighed. Even in the celestial realm, Lucifer kept his cards close to his chest. “Right-” Mammon gets to his feet with a groan. “we can’t wallow just yet. Levi is still out there and Asmo needs us.”

Lucifer chuckles. “For once you might have a point.”

“Of course I do! Learned from the best, didn’t I?” Mammon huffs reaching out to help Lucifer off the bed. “Now, think you can listen to me a little bit more and go to a healer? You’ve already bled through my handy work.” Taking the offered hand Lucifer rises, a renewed vigor in his gaze. Mammon was right, scarily enough. There was work to be done and deals to make. Damned or not he was still the head of the family.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #mini fic

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tobinheath · 4 years ago

Text

Leah Williamson and Keira Walsh have shared enough “written in the stars” moments in their 23 years to make them feel that they were fated to be best friends. Since meeting on an England Under-15s camp, their football careers have played out with a striking, almost eerie, similarity. They each play for their childhood clubs — Williamson for Arsenal, Walsh for Manchester City — and have a knack of picking up the same injuries at the same time.

They both received their first senior call-up on the same day in 2017. The 2019 World Cup was their first senior England tournament: they called each other to celebrate even before they called their parents, which resulted in Williamson shrieking “bloody hell — what have we done here?” in tears outside a London branch of Nando’s.

Most memorably, Williamson made her England debut coming on for Walsh, in the final six minutes of a World Cup qualifier against Russia in 2018. “My mum’s just framing my shirt, pestering me for that picture,” Williamson says.

Walsh interrupts, giddily. “I think that’s the only time I’ve actually done a full-teeth smile. I was so buzzing.”

“Yeah,” remembers Williamson, “because I was game faced, and you proper smiled at me and I went…” before jerking her mouth into a tight-lipped, nervous smile, chuckling.

“If it was anyone else,” Walsh picks up, “I’d have been, like: ‘I don’t want to come off’. But as soon as I saw it was Leah, I was buzzing.”

This is life at the top for two of England’s most talented young players: phenomenal success and too many good memories to count.

Today, best friends will turn opponent and they will face each other in the Women’s Super League (WSL) for the first time this season — hosts Manchester City are fourth, four points behind second-placed Arsenal — with Williamson pointing out that in a pre-COVID-19 world, she would have stayed after the match with Walsh’s family in Rochdale, where Walsh’s mother Tracy is “just like my mum”.

Over the hour they spent together on Zoom, they are gloriously good fun: warm, ebullient and habitually careering into laughter. They balance each other out, Walsh says: she is “shy and awkward” — though you would not know it here — and Williamson is the “buffer” in certain situations, and the more “logical” one of the two. Williamson views Walsh as the honest one, sometimes brutally so. “I have to step in sometimes and give it a smile and keep it balanced,” she says. “If I play a game and I’m not actually sure how it went, I would text Keira, because I know I’d get the most honest answer from anybody, even if that means it’s not what I want to hear. I think that is where the respect comes from.”

To track the pair’s football careers has been to often forget how young they are. Walsh made her City debut a few months after her 17th birthday and in November this year, Williamson played her 150th game for Arsenal. It is common for those in women’s football to grow up fast but in conversation, one is reminded of the duo’s gleeful, wonderful youth. There was the time, for instance, they rented electric scooters one afternoon at the World Cup in France to explore with Walsh’s Manchester City team-mate Georgia Stanway. The room-mates — Stanway with Williamson, Walsh with Lucy Bronze — had a group chat titled “The three best friends and Lucy”. Stanway, the youngest England player at the tournament, sped ahead on her scooter and they had to “rein her back in”, Williamson says.

“You were being a bit of a Cautious Claire, weren’t you?” teases Walsh, turning to Williamson, “probably as you should do at a World Cup. I think we were just enjoying being kids, weren’t we? Obviously, we were playing, and the reason we were there was to win, but we have so much free time that we were just enjoying being the younger ones.”

“All the older ones… that’s what they kept saying to us,” says Williamson. “Kaz Carney was like: ‘Make sure you enjoy your time now, because hopefully one day you will be the senior ones and there’ll be a lot more pressure on you. Just have the best time ever, make as many memories as possible. Jill Scott — I mean, she was a bit more wild than we are — said she’s got some of the best memories ever from those early tournaments and she wished she could do it again. I don’t think we wanted to waste a second.”

Do not presume, though, that the pair are anything other than serious competitors. By 20, Walsh had won every domestic title going: the WSL, FA Cup and League Cup. Williamson has won the league once, the FA Cup twice and the League Cup twice, finishing as runner-up in the latter to Walsh’s City in 2019. Walsh, an artful holding midfielder in the mould of Sergio Busquets — she grew up watching clips of him and David Silva with her father — will be among the most important players in the England squad moving forward and Williamson, capped 17 times, is touted as a future England captain.

It has not always been easy, though. An early test came in the form of Williamson’s ankle injury, sustained playing for Arsenal against Walsh’s Blackburn Rovers in the FA Youth Cup final. It was so traumatic Walsh admits there are still occasions she will search for Williamson’s results, see her friend has come off and think, “Please tell me it’s not her ankles again. My mum mentions it to me. She’ll say: ‘Did you see Leah came off?’” She addresses Williamson. “Because I’ve seen you in person do it, I feel like I automatically panic. When I see you at camp two weeks later, you’re like: ‘Maybe I was being a bit soft when I came off — it’s nothing to do with my ankles’. But I know what you’ve been through with them, so it is the first thing I think about.”

Williamson, in her own words, “basically just snapped my ankle and everything in it” after misplanting her foot. Stretcher, gas and air, a wheelchair, a doctor advising her to go straight to hospital. “I’m trying to fight back the tears and she’s nearly crying looking at me as well,” Williamson remembers. She stayed at the game because Arsenal had lost the season prior and she wanted to collect her winner’s medal.

“I think I played most of the game thinking, ‘I just hope she’s OK’,” says Walsh. “The only thing I actually remember from that game — not the goals or anything — was afterwards, I saw Leah on the side in a wheelchair with an Arsenal bobble hat on, having to wheel herself on to get her winner’s medal.”

A few months on from Williamson’s injury, Walsh damaged her ankle ligaments — it was an impact injury, and on her laptop, Williamson has pictures of her and Walsh “in wheelchairs at different times”. Walsh collected her second ankle injury at a training camp in La Manga, by which point Williamson’s ankles had betrayed her again. “We were both sat on the bench laughing because it was just crazy luck that we’d both done it again,” Walsh smiles. “I knew I couldn’t sit there feeling sorry for myself next to you.”

During their separate rehabilitation processes, they maintained the habit of visiting each other as often as they could. Their close friendship meant they were never allowed to share a room on international duty to ensure they didn’t isolate themselves from the rest of the group. Walsh was the class clown and Williamson the captain, meaning that “Leah would always get told off for me. They’d always be like: ‘Leah! You need to tell Keira she needs to be a bit more professional!’”

What it all meant was they had lost time to make up elsewhere. Each Christmas, Walsh would come to London from Rochdale and Williamson’s mother Amanda “would treat us to something from Jack Wills. That was like an annual little thing that we did, because I don’t think that I’d ever heard of Jack Wills, being from the north, until I met all these southerners at camp that used to wear it. I think I actually used to go down to see Amanda more than you, to be honest.”

What did they think of each other when they first met?

“You first,” says Williamson.

“No — you go,” Walsh replies.

“I’m going to big you up here,” Williamson begins. “Keira’s always been… she was always one of the best there, and you always want to be mates with the good ones.”

Walsh returns the favour: “I think I was quite jealous of you when you first came because everyone was like: ‘She’s amazing. I was thinking, I want to be amazing, as well, so I want to be friends with her.”

“That’s good, that we both thought the same thing.”

“There you go, then. That’s why we’re friends.”

“I’d say I’m your fangirl, Keira. I’m your hype man.”

Walsh has always been Williamson’s biggest supporter — “when you scored your first goal for England, I think I was happier for you than I would have been if I’d scored” — but probably has good reason to worry about Williamson calling herself a hype man. Before the World Cup, Williamson visited Cex, the second-hand goods chain, and spent £50 on some DJ decks to master during downtime at the tournament.

“I just looked across the corridor and I was like, ‘What is that noise? I’m sure that’s Leah’s room’,” Walsh recalls. “I opened the door and you had these big headphones on, mixing the decks. I saw Georgia just lying on the bed and I was like, ‘What is going on in here?’ They had the balcony door open and you were like: ‘Wait for the drop. Wait for the drop’. I was like: ‘OK – I’ll wait for the drop. You like your music, you are good with music and you actually might be very good. I trust you’. And the drop just never came.”

Williamson hoots with laughter. “Never came. I thought it would be so much easier than it was. It was so hard.” She shakes her head, jokingly rueful. “Massive flop. Massive flop.”

“I feel like you just try your hand at loads of random stuff,” continues Walsh. “I see you on camp and you’re like: ‘I’m doing the harmonica now’.”

Williamson says she has “found her calling” playing the piano in lockdown, but Walsh is unimpressed. “It’s just you try to give off this cool vibe and I feel like people don’t really know you. It just makes me laugh. What have you got — a lightsaber pen? And Star Wars pyjamas? People would just not think that. When you see the exterior of Leah, you would just think, ‘No – not Star Wars’. She’s done all these photoshoots, she’s dead cool, and then she just whacks out the craziest stuff and just makes me laugh.”

Williamson holds up her hands. “It’s true. I can’t deny it.”

The World Cup was particularly testing for Walsh, for whom fierce social media criticism left her questioning whether she wanted to continue to play football. Walsh has spoken numerous times about the impact on her confidence, but what was it like for Williamson, who did not feature as much as Walsh, to witness? She pauses. “I think it’s hard,” she begins, “because you just feel so powerless when you’re not playing. It’s not even like I can go on the pitch and have a shocker to save her from the criticism,” she laughs. “If I tell Keira she’s great, there’s a slight bit of her that’s… I’m her best mate, so I’m going to try and pick her up as much as possible.

“The main thing, especially from a squad perspective, is that we all know how valuable Keira is to us and how — I’m bigging you up here — she’s the centre of what we’re doing as a team. It just annoys me. I wish I could eradicate all those other people because we, as a team, appreciate her so much. That’s all I ever said to Keira – if anybody was picking a team, you’d be the first name on the teamsheet. But it’s hard to get… like I say, I’m her best mate, so I’m honest with her, but at the same time, she probably needed to hear that a little bit more.”

They didn’t talk about it so much, Walsh says. “Because you weren’t playing, I didn’t want to put that on you because I felt like it would be selfish,” she adds. “I thought, at the time: you know what? We’ll just make the best of it off the pitch, and I think that’s why we had such a good time.” Williamson’s first appearance, from the bench in the round-of-16 match against Cameroon, changed Walsh’s perspective “because I was just so happy for you that I didn’t care what people would say about me at that moment. People could say whatever they wanted because I’ve just played in a World Cup with my best friend. Not many people can say that.”

To be best friends, as professional athletes, is a balancing act: in any other walk of life, they would — could — rage at each other, moan, weep, get angry. As professional footballers, they are wary of distracting the other. “I know what you want to achieve, so my problems taking a back seat is fine with me if I know you’re going on to achieve what you want to achieve,” Walsh tells Williamson.

To Sunday, then, and what will happen when two best friends turn competitors for 90 minutes. Walsh smirks. “I feel like you try and keep a really focused head, and then I’ll just be like…” she cups her hands for a high-pitched whisper and springs up like a Jack in a box. “’Leah!’” Williamson rollicks back with laughter. “Then she’ll turn around and she’ll start laughing, but I do it because I know she’s going to laugh and I know that she’s trying to focus. I feel like I’m a lot more relaxed than you. You’re like, ‘Game face, game head, here we go’, and you just have that annoying friend in the background.”

Stanway is the worst, apparently, to the point where Walsh and Williamson will intervene — Williamson with a stern “we’re not having that today” when Stanway inevitably flattens her early doors. “We always text each other a couple of days, speak to each other earlier on in the week before we play each other,” says Williamson of her and Walsh.

“In the game and stuff, we have our little tiffs, and if I say something and she doesn’t agree with it, we’re both playing for the win, and we both understand that,” Walsh concludes, “but then afterwards, we’re straight over to each other.”

She starts to sign off, but Williamson beats her to it. “See you Sunday,” they chorus, in unison.

#leah williamson #keira walsh #lionesses #arsenal wfc #mcwfc

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randomly-a-fan · 4 years ago

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Father and Son-wise Camping Trip Finale

First Part: [Link]

Second Part: [Link]

Out on the storm, Archie was bawling his eyes out, he didn’t know where to go or want to have anything to do with his dad, since he now realize that his dad expected him to be menacing, but instead, he felt like a failure. Archie knew he can’t stay out in the rain, especially a storm, so he ran to Malon’s club house that her dad repaired to make it more safer and solid. Archie remembered a trunk that had old blankets in it, so he took some out and bundle himself with it. He had like almost ten blankets around him because the blankets were worn out and full of holes, so he needed that many in order to keep warm.

Meanwhile, Jason and Pennywise were still out searching for Archie, Pennywise tried sniffing him out, since it’s one of his powers; to smell prey and scents of his loved ones. But the rain is covering the scents so he couldn’t sniff out. Jason saw muddy footprints, so he followed them with Pennywise coming from behind. “You see Jason, that’s why I was too afraid to tell him about the new baby coming, I was afraid that he’ll think I’m replacing him, which I don’t.” Pennywise explained. Jason did heard him, but he needed to follow the tracks carefully. “You think Archie will somehow forgive me... Even though I don’t know what’s there that requires forgiveness?” Pennywise added and asked. Jason only shrugged to Pennywise’s question as he was trying to follow the tracks, but as the rain falls harder, the footprints in the mud disappears.

Meanwhile, while Archie tries to keep warm, he felt something wet beneath him. The club house was being flooded; the club house was located down the ditch so the wind and storm causing the lake to overflow and caused the flood down the ditches. Archie panicked and decided to get out of harms way, but the door got stuck and sticky from the mud and water that he can’t get out, and the windows were strong so it’s hard for a little boy like Archie to break open. He panicked and banged on the door hard as the water rises. “HELP.” Archie shouted from the top of his lungs.

***

As Jason and Pennywise were about to turn around to walk back to the cabin, Pennywise heard the cry. “Archie!” Pennywise rushed over towards the sound of Archie’s cries, then he saw the flooded house. Pennywise was shocked. “Archie! are you in there?” Pennywise called. “Dad the door is stuck and the water is rising up to my upper-waist!” Archie yelled out. “Stand back son, I’ll get you out!” Pennywise responded. Pennywise uses all of his strength to break the door down, but to no avail. “DAD?” Archie called out. “Hang on son!” Pennywise said in a scared tone.

Jason came down the ditch and into the water, even though he’s afraid of water, but he had to, or else Archie will end up like he did as a child. Not this time. Because of how strong Jason is, he bust through the door with ease. Pennywise shoved Jason out of the way to grab hold of his son. “I got you son!” Pennywise said as he pulled Archie into his grasp. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” Pennywise said in a mad tone.

On the way back to the cabin, Archie spoke. “Dad, I’m--” “NO... not a word!” Pennywise said in a stern tone. “I’m very disappointed with you; I could have lost you if Jason hadn’t faced his fear in going into the flooded water!” Pennywise added. Archie nodded as he deserved to be snapped at.

***

Back at the cabin, Jason brought Archie and Pennywise in. MJ and Malon were relieved that Archie was safe and sound. But MJ noticed that Pennywise was very angry with his son. “Penny, maybe you and Archie would like to have a private discussion in the bathroom as you dry yourselves off.” MJ suggested. Pennywise nodded in agreement and took his son over to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Pennywise was grabbing a towel and dried his son off, then he heard sniffles. “I knew you’re going to catch a cold, after running out in the rain and--” Then he saw Archie was crying. “Oooh... Now son...” Pennywise puts down the towel and wrapped his arms around his crying son. “You want to tell me why you’re so upset that made you run away?” Pennywise asked softly. “You and mommy are going to replace me... with a new baby on the way, you won’t want me anymore...” Archie sniffed. Pennywise chuckled. “Now son, that’s the most silliest thing I’ve ever heard; your mom and I didn’t want to replace you... We love you to bits...” Pennywise explained. “But you said to Jason that you’ve been longing for a child that actually has demon clown powers... since I’m more human...” Archie said. Pennywise looked away with shame before he turned back to face his son again. “That may be true about what I said; but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, you mean the universe to me, power-less or not, you’ll always be my loving son.” Pennywise said before he wiped the tears off his son’s eyes. “You probably didn’t hear this part, but I mention to Jason that your mom and I thought that you needed someone to play with whenever you’re unable to go over to Malon’s place. We want you to have someone to look up to you as ITs big brother.” Pennywise added. “So... you and mom did all this trouble, just for me?” Archie asked. Pennywise smiled with a grin. “If you want to put it that way. We just want you to be happy son; don’t ever worry about not getting the same amount of love, we’ll love you and your little sibling the same... Promise.” Pennywise assured. Archie cling to his dad for the finale hug. “I love you dad...” Archie said with a sniffle. “I love you too son...” Pennywise replied with tears running up his eyes.

***

After the father and son discussion in the bathroom, Aquarius barged in without even knocking, she rushed over to her son and observed him. “Thank goodness you’re alright, MJ told me that you ran out in the storm and your father had to go out there looking for you... There will be some serious talking young man--” “Now now Star-babe, I’ve already settle this with my son, and he knows better than to do that stunt, *to Archie* right son?” Pennywise said. “Right... Because of the circumstances I have caused, you and I will go to the park and hunt for your prey and have a picnic. Sound good?” Archie replied. Pennywise was shocked. “You want to go on a hunt with me?” Pennywise asked in shock. “Well Father’s Day is the time for you to do whatever you want, so yes dad... I want to spend time with you, even if I have to lure children over to you.” Archie answered. Pennywise hugged his son again before they head to Cassandra’s car.

Pennywise first turned towards Malon to speak to her. “I want you to know that you’re spared from my grasp, since you’re friends with my son, that makes you my friend too... at least until my son gets tired of you, then I’ll have someone to target on...” Pennywise said with a wink before he exits. “Don’t worry Malon, you and I will be forever friends.” Archie said as he gave Malon a pinkie-swore.

***

The next day, Pennywise and Archie were at the park. Even though Archie isn’t looking forward into catching his dad’s prey, but his dad made a small exception to let his son play with the kids before he lures them to him.

Afterwards, the two decided to buy an ice cream cone at an ice cream stand. Archie ordered Wild-Blueberry, while Pennywise tries to order Tutti-Frutti. “Sorry sir, that flavor is too soft.” The man said. “The list clearly stated that you have Tutti-Frutti, and if you have Tutti-Frutti, I want Tutti-Frutti, so where’s my Tutti-Fu*kin-Frutti!?” Pennywise ordered with his sharp jaws showing. The man sighed. “...$4.95...” The man said as he gave Pennywise the soft Tutti-Frutti in a bowl. Pennywise turned to his son with a smile. “Best Father’s Day ever son... Thank you.” Pennywise said as he gave his son a rub on his back. “Anything to make you happy dad, Happy Father’s Day.” Archie said as the two of them walk home together.

The End

#IT #IT Chapter 2 #Pennywise #Pennywise the Dancing Clown #Friday the 13th #Jason Voorhees #MJ #Malon #Aquarius #Archie

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frecklef0x · 4 years ago

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Mass Effect 1: Playthrough Masterpost

At last, I have finished Mass Effect 1!

I have heard some mutuals say they wish they could play it again for the first time, and you kind of can--through me! I’ve been posting little “episodes” of live-tweet-stream-of-consciousness as I play, and now I’ve compiled them into one post to make my life easier.

Anyway, here’s the first one, the rest are under the cut. :)

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode one

My ass looks great in this uniform, first of all

Impaled robo zombies, yikes

Cheap shot, Saren, smh. How will I pass my spectre test now?!

Why does he have robot eyes? Is he like, Geth-Turian? Why? Is he a robo zombie also? Was it the beacon???

Cool beacon nightmares, I'm sure this is fine

This Kaiden guy has implants? ORTEGA?!??!?

"Call me princess again and you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor" lol obliterated

The citadel elevators are very realistic, five minutes of tense silence huh

Ya girl got a PROMOTION and a DOPE SQUAD time to catch a TRAITOR

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode two

First things first, gotta go find the blue scientist to join the gang

This galaxy is HUGE! How many of these places will I actually be able to go?!

Only two friends at a time????? D:

Ah, a distress signal, let's see wha--A DESERT CENTIPEDE NOPE ABORT ABORT

Robo aliens? In MY Theronian mining facility? Its more likely than you think

Running over dudes in my Mako is extremely satisfying tbh

*runs over geth troopers* *runs over geth armature* *runs over geth colossus* ... *backs over geth colossus*

Working elevators in the ancient ruins ✔

Oooooooh man hope this nerd is gay

Wrex, a friend of yours? Nope, not a friend, too murdery

"ShAaaAame about the ruins Shep, sOooOo much collatoral damage, SHEP" stfu Council, "ruthless" was in the resume when you promoted us, 10/10 would shoot lasers through archeological digs again

When Kaiden calls us "ma'am" I am, uh, into it

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode three

Time to talk to the gang! Gotta meet the fam proper

Oh dear seems we got a shmee of racism on board, compatriots

Wow Raina, good foot-in-mouth moment with Wrex there huh...sorry about the eventual extinction of your race, lost this round of Pain Olympics

OH SHIT OH SHIT BLUE HOTTIE BIGENDER? THIS IS NOT A DRILL???

“hi I’m Kaiden wanna hear about my last crush ;)” “hi I’m Liara wanna hear about Asari mating rituals? ;)))” damn we really slidin right into the DMs no chill

Garrus: fuck rules and red tape amiright Raina: oh u right ;)

Guess I’ll actually do a mission now LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

Honestly rolling out with Tali and Liara is a mood, squad goals

Raina @ every corporation on Noveria: I would sell you to satan for one(1) corn chip

This reactivation puzzle is some shit

I see some Mistakes were made

We already killing moms at this stage damn BioWare

FUCK FUCK BENEZIA KILLED ME AND I LOST A FUCKTON OF PLAYTIME

THERES LIKE NO AUTOSAVE IN THIS BITCH FUUUUUUUUU

fuck fuck fuck god damn it gotta shoot a bunch of deranged baby bug people again god DAMN IT

Okay we killed Liara’s mom in front of her hope that’s fine

And we let mama bug go free because after talking to Wrex, Raina’s like “this galaxy is a little trigger happy with the genocide, good luck out there bug mama ❤️ be cool please”

I have literally watched the scientist in the hot labs get killed three times now

So far the debreifs with the council have not gone very well

“You let bug mama go?! How many generations until they take over everything???” “My money’s on two :D Place your bets now assholes or stfu :DDD”

Asked Liara if she was okay and she seems pretty Cool With It

I hope to one day return to Noveria and Death Star it into oblivion

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode four

Talked with Tali and this situation with the Geth and the Quarians is giving me an existential crisis

You “inspect” my beautiful ship? You got somethin’ to say about my crew??? Talk shit get hit, bitch I will kill you

Yoooo my old earth gang, yeah what the hell, I’ll help ou—oh nope nvm he’s a xenophobe, you hang him and I’ll shoot his friend in the face, thx for your time

Went to the citadel to finish some assignments, left tasked with twice as many

“dOn’T cUt CoRneRs” fear not dear Kaiden, I have a permit: this piece of paper that says I do what I want

Still with the elevators, I really cannot with this

“You make it all sound so...dangerous...” ;) ;))))))

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode five

Headin’ to Virmire to rendezvous with the Salarian team

A cure for the genophase?!?!?! :D

Oh wait oh no are we for real gonna talk about destroying the cure like Wrex isn’t standing right here omg

SHIT GUYS NO NOT LIKE THIS WREX PLEASE

Phew for a conversation that basically started with guns drawn, it went pretty well... “What Saren has isn’t even a proper cure, he’s just fucking with the Krogans at this point. Are we gonna stand for that? Or are we gonna murder?” “Damn Shep, you right, we gon’ murder”

Okay Ashley, go join the aliens, try not to die

Shadow Team!🎵 tearing through the base 🎶 disabling all the defenses 🎵 (you gotta sing it to the tune of the Trogdor song)

We free the prisoners!!! :)

We shoot the prisoners??? :(

“Raina? How can you shoot them where they stand?” So it’s more merciful to let them explode? NAH FAM

This scientist is responsible for the mind control stuff? For Benezia? Fine I’ll let her go but I hope she explodes

We did not learn our lesson concerning beacons I see

Wait if even Saren is worried about his mind control ship does that mean there are larger forces involved here?

Oh. Oh fuck

Ugh Ashley I EXPLICITLY TOLD YOU NOT TO DIE

(so we really never found any info about that genophase cure huh? disappointing)

Oh Seren, you dumb dumb. You absolute fool. Clown man.

When Raina slings Kaiden over her shoulder to carry him to the ship—mmmmmmmmwoooow I am very bisexual

Bruh Raina takes every council call and she disconnects pissed off every time

WAIT I literally just hung up with the council, ASHLEY is DEAD, and Kaiden needs a DTR RIGHT NOW?!?!? Boy, NO, READ THE ROOM

This has been a stressful day

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode six

Shepard will avoid her feelings and go to Faros instead

Seeing Ashley’s figure greyed out and her locker inaccessible makes me sad

Wrex and Garrus, let’s go shoot some geth 💪

A mind controlling planet—of course!

Shep gets all her renegade points shooting capitalists

Saved, uh, about half the colonists

If I have one more bad acid trip I stg

Oh nope here’s another one

Shep needs a nap

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode seven

Ah, the council. Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.

At least Liara is good at pep talks ;)

Joker, you cockblock

Haha DUDE we airborne, you THOUGHT

Now that I am exiled from the Citadel, guess I’ll run some galactic errands:

o Killed corporate scientists who though we would rescue them lol

o Destroyed a bunch of geth camps helping Tali on her pilgrimage

o Disabled a nuke and killed some pirates

o Shut down some evil Cerberus experiments

o And illegally traded information!

Okay time to get back on track

So we may or may not be flying to our doom

OH GOD LIARA LOVES ME!!! RAINA, YOU DISASTER, YOU DID IT AAAAAH ❤️❤️❤️

frecklef0x plays mass effect: (ME1) episode eight

You know what I love? Being murdered by geth armatures

All these Ilos ruins be looking the same

Security panel is only kinda helpful

Oh, luckily I know Prothean now!

“CANNOT BE STOPPED” wow very encouraging, thanks

After that super motivating message and disabling security, its time to go down, down to goblin town

Vigil? Oh word?

My girlfriend is GEEKING out

I knew something what wrong with that fucking Citadel

Vigil: information is power. Also Vigil: What does it matter why they do what they do? All that matters is you stop them

“non-essential” personnel die first, huh? GROSS, VIGIL (gotta be honest that hits different in 2020)

Garrus gets it, I knew we liked that guy

Okay, find conduit, save galaxy, break millennium-old genocide cyle, nbd

Ugh Mako you gotta do me dirty one last time I see, I hate this thing

THE CONDUIT STRAIGHT YEETED MAKO

The citadel robot says we’re doomed : )

This shootout is SO fun, seriously

Saren get it toGETHER

Renegade Raina can kill with a conversation apparently, well done then

Concentrate on the Sovereign—why am I gonna save a council that hates my guts, sorry, but I have a JOB to DO that you ACTIVELY HINDERED

Great, zombie husk Saren, just what I needed as I mull over the possible consequences of my galaxy-altering decision

GO JOKER GO

Humanity-only council seems…questionable. Raina didn’t love the council but this sits wrong. Couldn’t we just appoint a more diverse council, including a human?

Anderson seems like a good enough dude, so…we’ll see.

TIME FOR WAR BOYS, GODDAMN WHAT A GAME

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fishmongeringstudies · 4 years ago

Text

eighteen ways to forgive yourself and one reason to try

anyone who had the happy misfortune of speaking to me in the last three months has probably, at some point, been treated to my now-established signature monologue about how my skin is clear, my crops are thriving, and the body living in my closet finally rotted away and was picked apart and carried off by ants. many facets of my life in the spring contributed to this impression. i was eating edible things. i was actively meeting people. i was waking up at the crackass of dawn (a/n: seven a.m.) and going for morning runs and drinking strawberry smoothies which cost even more than the disappointingly expensive boost smoothies of my early childhood. most of these things are, i understand, normal. i am under the impression that the average human being often meets other human beings at places with food and spends significant lengths of time conversing with them. but i am not like the other girls. i am not a girl. i am your coffee machine.

the problem with those freaky little before-and-after narratives that started as a trend on instagram and have since been adopted into the way we narrate our lives as a whole is that for the narrative to work, the before and after have to be really, really far away from each other. in order to create this distance, influencers have historically attacked the earth with shovels, construction vehicles, and shaving razors. but apart from the cost of renting a supersized claw machine and subsequently hiring someone to sit in it, one must also ask the question: why are you digging to begin with?

all of which is to say that i'm bored. i'm bored of being a freaky little human being. i no longer care if i go for weeks at a time without talking to anyone, and i fully intend to go for weeks at a time without talking to anyone because priorities shift, and last thursday (arbitrary) a bunch of mine tripped off the edge of the table and fell into the gutter and died. luckily we have a new gutter now and new earth around it, new flowers, new trees. terraforming in animal crossing is a privilege one unlocks after you trick k.k. slider into visiting your island. i have yet to unlock that achievement. for the time being, i am terraforming my soul.

what are this summer's priorities? priority one: not die from heatstroke (hard). priority two: write (less hard). you see this? there are no humans in this floor layout. i am trying to become god.

and that's what was wrong with spring. i thought spring was a step in the right direction, a step into the great unknown of self-care and personal improvement and half-an-hour-long white yoga mom meditation videos with ad breaks every three minutes. but it wasn't any of those things. i just got up one day and started walking in the other direction. around the same stupid houseplant. i have spent my whole life walking around this stupid houseplant.

metaphor: you spend your whole life walking around a houseplant. sometimes you see different parts of it and you think: wow, these are some cool leaves. other times you see wall and wall and wall and you think: wow, this is a wall. what i am trying to say is that life is both the cool leaves and the wall. life is many other things, too, like electric chainsaws and the niagara falls and half-baked cinnamon rolls which make you question the sanctity of life and specifically yours. life is not one photograph taken in front of marina bay sands in which your ass looks delicious and your skin is especially pink. life is falling out of the frame while trying to make your elbow look sexier than it's ever been before and tumbling down the stairs. life is breaking your leg.

in my happy spring monologue i told everyone i was miserable before i got to america, but things had changed and i was better now and would never live like that ever again. i was wrong. i didn't get better and i haven't gotten worse since spring left. i haven't gone anywhere. i'm still here with my fucked-up spine and my fucked-up sense of humor. a recent discovery: sometimes i want to spend every waking hour of my life in the presence of other people and happiness is the small conversations you have while waiting in line in the dining hall and every breath taken in the presence of another is a gift. other times i want to hole myself up in my room and hammer away at a google document until my fingernails fall off for ten weeks. sometimes i am lonely. other times i want to be alone.

before and after. yes and no. lies! social media is full of lies! i know this because i use social media. believe me. trust nothing you read on the internet.

today i wrote some, listened to podcasts some, and spent an ungodly amount of time on one of the same four puzzles i've been putting together and taking apart all summer. i didn't have a particularly enlightening conversation with anyone. fuck, i barely spoke to anyone at all. when i got bored of my puzzle i watched people wade through the sticky wet afternoon from my third-floor window. later on in the evening, two people met each other on the path leading up to my dorm. one of them took out their airpods and slipped them into their pocket, then held up their hand and waved. 'hi,' he probably said. his friend waved back. they paused for half a second to talk, two figures painted gold by a saccharine yellow sun, then gently parted ways.

life is beautiful. but life is beautiful no matter how you choose to live it. there is no way to optimize the human experience because humans have too many bones to keep track of. i am convinced some of mine go missing in the night and return at the crack of dawn (a/n: seven a.m.) before i wake, slipping into my open, snoring mouth and settling themselves back in their sockets. i am convinced that i have done nothing wrong.

spring was nice. i might have made something flower. i might have mowed one or two bodies down with a lawnmower. but this isn't singapore, this is america, and when you live in america, absurd as it may seem, the seasons actually change. spring died; i watched it happen. i was standing there when it took its last breath and the last of my people-loving peace vanished down the drain with it. spring died, and now making plans makes me anxious again. i'm inclined to horrible bouts of groundless negativity and being outside for longer than two hours at a time makes my head hurt. but i haven't taken any steps backwards, and i haven't fallen off a cliff. spring happened; i was there. i haven't lost the triumphs of spontaneity and fearlessness and joy and the long conversations had with people i no longer speak to. after all, i'm still walking around the same stupid houseplant in the same stupid apartment where the blinds in the kitchen are broken and the floorboards on the left side of the hallway creak and the houseplant in front of the speaker is dead but we all pretend it isn't anyway. it doesn't matter if you're standing in the storage room or on the living room balcony, watching people crawl like ants across the street below. it's still the same damn apartment. you're still the same damn clown. and you're killing it, babe, you're the star of the show.

06.07.21

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kitty0boy · 4 years ago

Text

Marichat May Day 7 prompt: Secrets.

I think we can all agree that we were robbed in Shanghai. So I’m rewriting it because I can. This time though, the Shanghai special takes place somewhere in the middle of season 4 (probably after Guiltrip because that’s the episode I just watched) So there’s that.

————————————

Marinette was so excited to go to Shanghai about a day ago. She had taken to reading more about her Chinese heritage and, having learned that her parents wanted to surprise her with a trip to Shanghai, she was ecstatic to go. Her uncle happily provided his home for the visit and, to her great surprise, Adrien had come to Shanghai too. His father had coincidentally had business here.

She had worked hard to get over Adrien and at this point in time, it had nearly worked. She had taken down the pictures and erased his activities on her calendar. Unfortunately, the sight of him still sent her heart racing and made her tongue tied, but she stopped losing her head whenever he was around, which made conversation much easier.

She had strolled around Shanghai earlier in the day. Her uncle was concerned for her safety of course but she promised she would stay on the same street. She had looked in shop windows at the gorgeous antiques, clothes, and even more. Her sketch book was soon filled with new inspiration for her designs. When she turned to head home, she spotted a familiar mop of blonde hair and waved to Adrien. He didn’t seem to notice her though.

All these events felt like they happened years ago now as she stood a top a building with a distraught Fei. The sounds of Chat Noir taking great swings at the akuma rang loudly in her ears. Fei was the only one who could defeat them and she knew it deep down, but she still couldn’t bring herself to.

The next moment, she was falling. The events of a few minutes previous had quickly left her mind. She remembered learning to crawl, and falling off her bike, and drawing her first every design, matching t-shirts that said “Paris’ Greatest Parents”. She remembered capturing Tikki in a glass cup the first time they met, and standing under an umbrella that Adrien was holding. Master Fu was making her the new Guardian and Alya held her when she found out she was Ladybug.

“Marinette!” A desperate cry came from above her and she saw her partner. Was this another flashback? Without control of her body, her hand reached up to touch him, she wanted to hug him and thank him for everything. His hand latched around hers and pulled her flush towards him, then they weren’t falling anymore. She snapped out of it when she felt a shudder come from him. He picked his head up off of her shoulder, his face was stained with dried tears as more threatened to spill

“I finally found you.”

Fei, being fuelled by rage that Marinette had almost been killed, had become a dragon at last and easily defeated the akuma. She bounded towards Chat Noir once the pair of them had reached ground level. In the mouth of the bear form she had taken, was the butterfly. “Excellent job Fei, you really saved us.” Chat sniffed. His eyes were slightly puffy, which could have been from falling head first about 20 feet. “Marinette,” he turned to face her, his eyes watered almost instantly, “I need you to go and hide for now, Hawkmoth was taken by the akuma and I don’t want you to be anywhere near him when he reappears.” Marinette, thinking that it would be better to just follow instructions, began to walk away. Chat caught her hand.

“Just wait for me to come get you alright? I’ll bring you to your u- uh wherever you’re staying.” She looked at him puzzled. “But,” he waved a finger at her. “No buts, I’m making sure you get back safely. And don’t even try to leave without me, I will know.” She nodded and walked away towards a nearby, deserted alleyway.

“Marinette, what’s that on your shoulder?” Tikki flew from her purse. Marinette felt behind her with her arm before her fingers closed around a small disc. She pulled it off.

“That cat put a tracker on me. What a sly little,” Marinette recited but Tikki cut in. “He’s worried Marinette. You heard and saw how he reacted when you were falling.”

“No I didn’t, I just remember one minute I was with Fei, the next me and Chat were dangling from his baton in midair and he was crying.” Tikki smiled. “Yes he was crying, he screamed in terror when he saw you fall. It was quite frightening actually, that’s probably why Fei didn’t say anything.”

Marinette thought about this for a moment before realizing that she had somewhere to be. “We’ve got to go meet Chat and Fei now, there’s an akuma to cleanse and hopefully a Hawkmoth to catch. Tikki, Spots On!”

As she made her way to the alley where Chat thought she was, she couldn’t help feeling satisfied. She sent Chat to get Hawkmoth and although he didn’t catch him, she was still glad to see that the run had calmed him down a little. That was until he realized that Marinette was still alone in that alleyway. She was able to persuade him to wait and calm down before going to get her though, which gave her time to get back to her hiding spot and, with Tikki’s help, put the tracking device back where it had been moments ago.

A soft thump was heard beside her before she was being suffocated under arms that were magically stronger than the average person. “You’re alright, you’re alright.” He chanted over and over again before realizing that Marinette couldn’t breathe. He released her almost immediately and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Marinette who wanted to comfort him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head and his chest. She could hear his heartbeat steadily speed up as he hugged her back and rested his head on hers.

“I was so worried when I found out you were missing. I thought maybe you had lost track of things, being how clumsy you are.” Marinette looked up at him and pouted. How long had he been searching for her exactly? Because it was about 9 pm now and she had started running around with Fei at about noon. He chuckled sadly and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Then you were missing for hours and I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were robbed or kidnapped.” She smiled.

“The first answer was right. Fei stole my purse and I had the location of my uncle’s house on there. So I got scared that the thief might try to rob him later so I chased her down the street and got lost.” He gapped at her. “Are you crazy? You should had gone to your uncles and tried to contact me! That was so reckless and careless and-“

“What like how you throw your life away for Ladybug?” She didn’t have to say this loudly to have an effect. He immediately stopped and stared wide-eyed at her. Against her will, her vision started to blur. “You really need to stop doing that you know. I hate it when you do.” A tear ran down her cheek but Chat brushed it away and held her again. “Well I don’t think I ever want to see you fall off a building again so I’ll try to stop if you do.” She chuckled and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Hey, do you mind if we take a detour home?” He broke the silence a few minutes later and she nodded, allowing him to pick her up and carry her towards a darker part of the city. Unfortunately, Shanghai being as bright as it was, they couldn’t see many stars but all the same, they lay down on a rooftop and tried to find some.

“I like being Chat much better than my civilian life.” The comment came out of nowhere but Marinette still turned to listen.

“One of the many joys of being me, is a tightly packed schedule and endless amounts of responsibility. Many people regard me as this kind of statue that has to stay highly polished at all times. I think I’m too good at leaving that impression on people, my first girlfriend had flat out rejected me when I showed her my silly side. She said I was acting like a clown and that it wasn’t who I really was.” He had never told Ladybug any of this, she hoped that he wouldn’t hit too close to home.

“Sometimes I think that I don’t know who I am anymore. I know that I feel happy being funny and when I protect people, but,” he turned to look at her. His face was soft. “Right now is different.” She was confused. “Different how?” She questioned.

“It’s a good different. I know it’s kind of random but I just wanted you to know that, I feel like myself right now, which isn’t something I get to feel often. So thank you.” He smiled.

She would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t doing backflips right now. “That sounds nice, but, why me? I mean, I’m not really anything special or different. I thought that you would be happiest with Ladybug.” He smiled. “I don’t get to hang out Ladybug very often, and when we do hang out, it’s more of a patrol. Everything is work with her, being with her is easy but we don’t really get the chance to just relax and be in each other’s company like this.” He frowned slightly.

“And don’t say you’re nothing special. I don’t really understand it but you have this magnetism that I can’t explain. I’ve seen it before. People are just naturally attracted towards you, I myself feel more attached to you than any other civilian I’ve met, and yes that includes the other superheroes.”

She gaped at him. She never knew how much influence she had on Chat Noir. I mean they’ve only met a few times. “I just, how? We aren’t around each other often. I mean sure you’ve saved me a number of times but other than that one time, we haven’t spent time together.” He shrugged, “I don’t know either. I just get the feeling that you’re someone who I can be myself with.” She smiled. “Well since we’re sharing secrets I might as well share one of mine.

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, smiling down at her expectantly. “Well, there was a boy.” He tilted his head in confusion. “Was a boy?” She nodded. “I’ve liked him for forever but I could never get the words out. I stammer in front of him so much that he thinks everything I say doesn’t make sense.” He smiled. “Well you make sense to me.” She grinned. “Yes well I’ve been trying to get over him for a while now, but every time I see his face I just melt all over again. Not that I don’t want to love him, because I do. He’s one of the best people I know, but I know he’ll never feel the same.”

Chat looked confused again. “How do you know he won’t feel the same way?” She frowned. “Because I’ve always been just a friend to him. He makes that very clear.” Chat’s eyes went wide, but Marinette didn’t know why. “It wouldn’t happen to be Adrien Agreste would it?” Now it was her turn to go wide eyed. “How did you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh lucky guess I suppose.” A tinge of pink was prominent under his mask. They needed a change of subject. She sat up and put on her best smile.

“Can I draw you?” His ears perked up. “Uh what?” He blushed again. “Can I draw you?” In what seemed to be a great effort, he screwed up his face and looked at her in a teasing sort of way. “Draw me? Or paint me,” he threw an arm over his forehead and posed in a, supposed to be seductive pose. “Like one of your french girls.” He swooned. She burst out laughing which, she noticed, created a sort of twinkle in his eye. “I mean we are french but I meant just draw you. You know, you pose and I draw you. I could even give you a cool outfit to wear.” He stood up and walked around so he was in front of her.

She crossed her legs and rested the sketch book against her knee. “Ok now strike a pose kitty!” He looked suddenly sheepish but posed like a model worthy of a magazine. She went to work drawing him out in a messy sketch that she could tidy up after. They went through a few poses before she stopped him.

“Hmm yes yes these are great model poses. Now how about a different kind of pose.” His face went ridged. She panicked and waves her arms in front of her. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just want to try to express a different part of your personality.” He walked over and sat down in front of her confused.

“A different part of my personality?” She blinked. “Well yeah, you’re not just some perfect statue are you? Your also a silly cat, and a protective superhero, and a caring person, and a flirt.” He blushed then laughed. “Nice way to end it princess.” She crossed her arms. “Well it’s true, you’re a flirty person. You flirt with people all the time, whether it’s on purpose or not.” He blushed. “Do I really flirt with a lot of people.” She nodded.

He fidgeted a little. “Come on Chat, strike a pose, but not one worthy of fashion weekly.” He screwed up his face in contemplation before standing and apparently coming to a decision. “Ok then, how about the cat!” Then he struck a goofy pose. She laughed and he looked crest fallen for a second before she said, “Yes kitty that’s purrfect.” She started sketching away.

Little did she know. Chat Noir was displaying the biggest grin he had ever produced. A smile so bright, it could rival the blinding lights of Shanghai.

——————————

Thanks for reading.

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #ladybug and chat noir #chat noir #cat noir #marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette

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mnictasbcl · 4 years ago

Text

First Day Out

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 3rd: First Vacation @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Vacation, Fluff, Found Family, Plushies

Summary: Hank takes Connor on his first vacation.

(Hint: it’s to do with fish)

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

When Hank suggested some time away from work, Connor was confused. Particularly at the notion of having a ‘well-earned break’.

“I enjoy working.” He replied with a tilt of his head. “The cases lately have been satisfying, if somewhat difficult.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I know you do. But that’s no reason to say you shouldn’t have a break. Ever since the Revolution, you haven’t stopped working.”

“Crime has been particularly busy in Detroit.” Connor answered. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that he wasn’t… well, wasn’t too sure of what to do with himself if he stopped working. Whilst he was a deviant, that didn’t mean he automatically picked up every aspect of being human. His whole life has consisted of missions to complete. “Fowler—”

“Will give you a break, or I’ll make him. Give us a break. There’s tons more cops in the DPD who can pick up our cases for a week or so.”

Connor thought it over. “A break would be… a nice change from working. But what exactly would we do?”

Hank shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe take a vacation. Go someplace. You know what—what about this be your first vacation away? You choose where we go.”

“I’ve never been on a vacation before. I wouldn’t know where to pick.”

“Think it over.” Hank waved his hand dismissively. “You don’t have to decide now. Just… think of things you like, and we’ll work from there.”

_______________

Nothing else was said on the subject of a break for another few days. When it reached the weekend, however, Hank brought it up again, pulling Connor aside from menial tasks around his house and sitting him down with a sheet of paper and a pen.

“So, did you get some ideas?”

Connor blinked, LED whirring as he tried to bring up the list he’d been working on during rest breaks at work.

“I have a few.”

Hank nodded eagerly, patting the paper in front of him. “Go on then, son.”

Connor took a few moments writing down his thoughts in perfect Cyberlife sans. The list was rather short, since whilst he had varying interests, many, like ‘Hank’ and ‘Sumo’ didn’t seem applicable for vacation ideas.

“Alright…” Hank took the list from him when he was finished, looking it over. “Dogs… Fish… Investigation...” He threw Connor a look. “Are you kidding me? No way to that last one. We can’t go back to work as a vacation. Fuckin’ android.” He said the last curse with some affection in his tone.

“Well, for dogs, Sumo looks pretty offended.” The dog in questioned whined. “I also don’t have a clue how that could turn into a vacation other than spoiling him more than you already do… Fish, however,” he scratched his chin, “I think I have something.”

Connor blinked. “…yes, Lieutenant?” When the man didn’t answer, he added, “Hank.”

“It’s a surprise.”

The android frowned. “I’ll be able to tell where our destination is on the journey there—”

Hank groaned. “Well, turn off your GPS thingy when we drive there. I know you’ll love this place.

_______________

The next week at work passed surprisingly quickly. Connor would’ve thought that the curiosity of an unknown in his future would have driven him to distraction, but work was busy as ever. Knowing they were going on break the next week, Fowler seemed to be giving them extra cases, as if to make up for the lost time.

But then, it was over. Sunday morning, and Hank had packed a couple of bags, stuffing them into the car. Sumo was staying over with a neighbour that they trusted, despite the fuss the Saint Bernard had put up about being left behind.

“It will only be a week, Sumo.” Connor had told the dog, hugging him one last time. “Hank says that the place we are going to doesn’t allow dogs.”

Connor himself hadn’t been too impressed to leave their canine companion behind but understood it would be less stressful not to have to worry about leaving the dog in a hotel all day for the week instead.

The car journey was fairly long, but his coins, music, and chatter with Hank managed to fill up the space, and before he knew it, they had arrived at their hotel to drop off the bags.

Connor’s wasn’t too full, as he didn’t think he needed too many changes of clothes (not to mention his wardrobe was still quite sparse). As they made their way back in the car to get to the ‘secret location’, he was wearing his favourite outfit so far: a loose-fitting shirt, some jeans, and Hank’s old DPD hoodie.

Hank had promised that the rest of the week would be spent travelling around various tourist attractions and relaxing, but that their destination today was what he’d promised Connor. Since the next week would involve more people travelling back into the cities after the Revolution, that meant today was the last day things would be less busy, and therefore the optimal day to have fun.

Connor was sat in the back of the car so he ‘wouldn’t peek and ruin the surprise’. Whilst he found the notion of keeping a secret strange, he went along with it, seeing Hank’s excitement over everything and not wanting to ruin it. Besides, the suspense was… invigorating, he supposed.

It was something to do with fish, he knew that much. Connor just hoped they weren’t going to a sushi bar. That definitely wasn’t what he had in mind.

The car juddered to a stop, breaking him out of his thoughts. He waited until Hank had gotten out of the car and pulled open his door before looking up, getting out of his seat. Connor glanced to Hank, seeing the excitement sparking in his eyes, before looking up at where they’d arrived.

An Aquarium.

He smiled. “Thank you, Hank,” he replied, already beginning to mirror the excitement of the other man. He couldn’t help it; he loved fish. Ever since he’d saved the one on his first mission, they held a special place in his heart.

Hank was left hurrying to catch up as Connor made his way quickly into the building. They made quick work of paying for their entrance, and then he was bounding through the doors and up to the nearest display.

Tall glass columns stood in the first, central room, each one with glistening blue waters and fish swimming around in them. Connor stood a respectful distance away from the glass, skin reflecting the bright colours as he stared at the creatures.

Hank came up beside him and smiled when the android began to rattle off the different names of the fish in front of him. Some, he even scanned to give a little backstory on how they’d got to the Aquarium.

It wasn’t long before Connor spotted the next area, running down the hallway and seeing the whole curved ceiling was looking up into the water with fish swimming over the top of them. He grinned upon seeing a large fish overhead, white belly completely on display, and pointed it out to Hank.

Making his way down the hallway, the android then noticed a large wall of fish.

“Look, Hank—it’s a clownfish.”

“Looks like you.” The man replied.

Connor tilted his head. “I’m not orange, Hank.”

“But you are a clown.”

Connor sighed, shaking his head. “The clown fish bears no resemblance to clowns. The Amphiprioninae actually…”

He continued on, looking over at the tank, eyes tracking the movements of the graceful fish, flitting to and fro behind the glass. So immersed was he, that he didn’t notice Hank taking out his phone, snapping a picture of him.

“Glad you’re having fun, Connor.”

_______________

They stopped briefly for a late lunch in the Aquarium’s café. Luckily, it was one of the first places to make accommodations for androids (something Hank had made sure to look up in advance) and thus they didn’t only serve human food, but thirium-based drinks for androids as well.

Connor had been expecting a simple thirium pouch, but the menu was extensive. He decided to try the ‘throsty thirium shake’, despite the (albeit whimsical) error in spelling.

Hank was content with a burger. With salad, of course. Connor gasped in surprise as they delivered his drink to him, seeing how they’d utilised ice and small amounts of water to do up his drink. It was placed in a glass with fish patterns creeping around the sides of it, with a little bendy straw.

“This is… interesting.”

When he attempted to drink it through the bendy straw, he noticed this time when Hank tried to snap a picture of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned, placing the drink back down, attempting to intimidate but failing with the slight blue stain on his lips.

Hank laughed. “Priceless. Don’t mind me, Connor, I’m just getting a picture of your thirsty thrum—”

“Throsty thirium.” He corrected.

Hank only laughed more.

_______________

The rest of the dwindling afternoon was spent travelling around the Aquarium, spotting the different kinds of fishes. When they were all fished-out, Hank made to leave before spotting the gift store.

“Why the hell not.” He shrugged, motioning for Connor to follow him inside. “I could do with a cheesy mug to show off at work.”

Whilst Hank meandered around in search of said mug, Connor contented himself with looking over the fish-themed objects. He chuckled to see the creative things in store, looking from turtle-shaped handbags to Koi earrings.

Before he realised it, he’d found himself in the plushes section. Oh well, they were rather cute. He looked over each one, scanning them to work out what species they were mimicking.

And then, he saw it. A rather quaint little plush, sitting on the middle shelf. It was a Dwarf gourami, with white and orange scales, incredibly similar to the one he’d saved on his first mission.

It wouldn’t hurt to pick it up, he supposed, running his hands over the fabric. It was rather soft, and they’d done the scales in such a way that they felt separate and smooth, overlapping each other.

“Connor?”

He jumped at the sound of Hank’s voice, turning around to look at the Lieutenant, whose gaze travelled down to the fish in his hands.

“I was just about to check out this mug—” he motioned with the mug in his hands, a quick scan showing the text to read ‘You can tune a guitar, but you can’t tuna fish. Unless you play bass.’ “—you want me to get that as well?”

Connor blushed, shaking his head. “No, of course not—I was just… browsing.” Despite his words, he didn’t let go of the fish.

Hank chuckled. “Look, kid, I don’t mind getting it for you. Won’t tell anyone at the station. Promise.”

He glanced down at it, hands running over the scales, the texture pleasing. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt. But—no, he couldn’t ask that of the Lieutenant. He didn’t yet have his own source of income, what with android rights and laws still underway.

In the time he’d been deep in thought over it, Hank had made his way over to him. He glanced at the prices on the wall, and nodded, holding out his hand. “It’s only $4. Really, I don’t mind. It is your vacation; my treat.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you, Hank.”

And so, nothing more was said on the matter. Hank handed the fish in a little bag back to Connor once they were back in the car, making no mention when he took it back out of said bag immediately.

He was glad to see Connor was starting to get things of his own, finally, and even more happy to see the android smiling after their day out.

“So, what are you going to name it?”

“Him.” Connor corrected, before looking down at the fish. His mind flashed back briefly to the Dwarf gourami from his mission, the scan showing up its details, before he placed it carefully back in the water.

“And… Dewey.” He decided with a nod. “Like the fish I saved.”

Hank nodded. “Nice name. Very… fish-y.”

Connor smirked. He held a little tighter to Dewey, eyes feeling a little heavy. Androids didn’t get tired, but deviants had the equivalent of it. It had been a busy few weeks at work, and a fun but tiring day at the Aquarium. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off into stasis.

Hank noticed but didn’t stop to snap a picture of the sweet scene this time. Instead, he smiled, and continued driving. He’d always have this memory, and he’d cherish it. Their first vacation had been perfect.

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #fanfic #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #dbh hank #dbh connor and hank

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misterbitches · 4 years ago

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hi! this is long as shit i’m sorry. i hope it makes sense. i ahve adhd and like 5 million learning disorders so this is just word vomit cos there’s so many words in my brain. my b.

i’ve had such a tough day so thank you for replying and sharing! @yeedak

i was thinking about what i wrote and i meant to clarify that as well. some cases are fine for both parties and it’s not like you weren’t consenting and it seems like you were happy! same with my friend who was dating a 20 yr old. if they’re happy you know i’ll clown on ‘em but yea. so for anyone that sees these posts your relationship with your partner who is older or whatever. i’m some dumb girl on the internet okay. ill side eye older ppl tho

i think a lot of people feel the same way you do now (me included.) it feels really good at the time but alter we can see the dynamics playing out. i’m 29 now and i think aging is just such a huge process. it’s wild how you at 31 are a totally different person, right?

and the US racism is probably some of the worst ever in its iteration because of slavery which started from europe etc but USA is so fucking unique bc of columbus bringing slaves here and displacing indigenous peoples or hispanola and because america is so influential the way it views race, particularly with black people as objects, has so deeply permeated into the current historical psyche globally. it’s fascinating to track how necessary anti blackness is to the flourishing of america but also the world at this point. also want to point out how fuckign scary sinophobia is here especially for covid. one is a straight historical line (black ppl + the US) and the other had to be manufactured and to continue to exploit the non-white americans and keep antiblackness in tact.i could go on about this all day. the pain of this place is immense.yet as bad as it is here, this is still the only place i truly feel safe as a black person. because of the unique experience we have in america and through the diaspora especially because we are veyr much ocncentrated here. it would be nice to like move to norway and have some alleviation financially or get free healthcare it’s just not feasible if no one looks like me. it’s fucking tough.

i hope you don’t hate it here though and people treat you with respect. but as you know being a woman and jewish and an immigrant....shit is tough. the USA is a hellhole. :( america is so deeply tainted and desperately bad because it was founded on strife and blood and there’s no way to reverse that and what this country did in turn when it gained enough power and could capitalize off of the colonial forefathers. this is why we hsould all luv revolution!!!

HOWMEVERRRR

boy oh boy oh BOY OH BOYYYYYYYY. well wlecome to the world of BL lmao especially as an adult with some obviously deep perspective just given your background. it is a fucking mess and it’s a hard mess to like but it pulls you in. i approach it like i do with soap operas since these are essentially telenovelas, you know? just like the drama at a billion. but the tricky part of that is like....what parts of it do we understand for critiquing? because so many of the shows are so bad at being like good pieces of things to look at just production wise and story wise. but i feel like these shows ask us to take them seriously, so why shouldn’t we take the content seriously? and this is being primarily peddled to young girls.

i bring this up often but i read this thing about yaoi and the interest younger women/girls have in BL and its fascination with pederasty essentially. this component i think is key when we talk about who gets affected by these things the most. society in general is bad 4 girls bla bla we know lmao but in “more sexually conservative” societies it may be harder for these girls to feel safe even expressing normal emotions romantically and sexually and particularly with guys. some people hypothesized, and i think i agree with this hypothesis, that they can live through the casualness of BL. they don’t feel threatened because they can put themselves into the shoes of the other character. oftentimes, the more feminine or the younger. this was in conjunction with the age gap aspect (they say pederasty as well because there’s unethical age gaps that r gross and that is indeed what we would at least call a touch of sexual abuse if people dont feel like calling it an obsession with youth and power and uhhh young ppl and perhaps kids) where maybe girls could see themselves in these situations as the person being saved, loved, taken care of, and sadly also sexually active and penetrated.

i think that’s just one aspect of it but i do think there’s validity in who gravitates towards it. i cannot imagine seeing this stuff and not getting enough information as a young kid, i sure as fuck know i didn’t!, and seeing these things and you look at it with 0 critique because you’re young and you may have no interest in it or you simply cannot understand what is wrong. no one is teaching you these things and these shows confirm it. and it is wild how intrinsic patriarchy is to BL although in its existence it also can’t be in line with patriarchy given the nature of two [cis] men!

it begs the question about the replacement aspect. is it just so girls can put themselves in these characters shoes? if so then that means we believe that gender is so interchangeable within our relationships and interactions and that doesn’t seem right. there’s more to lgbtq+ than just existing; it’s finding ways to communicate, finding a family, safety, your people, being a free person. there’s a lot to gain and a lot a lot to lose. and a gay man is also not a woman because those are also two distinct experiences. especially in societies that have a more hidden aspect to sexuality (idk how to word this bc the BL industry would NEVER survive in america but in a way there’s a more “progressive” look at homosexuality but it’s still fucked up because we live in a Society, you know? at the same time look at what we are doing to trans kids. literally waging war so it’s bonkers how we all collectively have some real progress happening but at the same time not at all. the concept of ‘ladyboys’ and the frequency we see trans people in thai shows is wild and something that we absolutely do not see here in the US. still, none of these groups feel safe or are getting better material conditions in either place. we just show the ways we can try and tolerate oppression witout eliminating it imo)

to me it is clear: it’s money. which most things exist to make money so. but also who is the audience for these shows? and they have to market towards them. all that said all hope is not lost there are some decent shows. it’s just like regular media on TV though where it’s so fucking saturated as an industry that it’s literally sifting through garbage. and there are some days when you can handle the trash and others where it really fucking hurts to watch the violence, the rape, the manipulation, the violations, the stupid messaging. i have never seen more people trying to do mental gymnastics and seeing if things were “technically rape” than in teh BL fandom and that is so fucking sad.

i came into these shows at 28 with almost 0 clue of what as media BL was like esp as media that countries can use as soft power with the revenue. but i realize like...i’m 29 now and so many people don’t have a sizeable, though not huge, amount of life experience. and i wonder for people on the internet who are usually searching for something if they spend so much time on it like what a 15 year old girl thinks. what a 20 year old girl thinks.

it is incredibly problematic and so awful but there’s also some rewards. if you haven’t i would definitely watch i told sunsset about you which i don’t think i’m going to finish and i doubt i’ll watch the second installment (watch this be a lie) but when i say some fucking impeccable storytelling and art? phew. now that is a fucking piece of media that works. it takes from moonlight heavily and you can see like...the artistic dedication is there and the story makes its world and sets up its stakes extremely well.

i think because this is marketed towards much younger people too they know they dont have to try as hard. but they SHOULD because then you can have a fucking masterpiece like that. i think even this prolific gay thai filmmaker (who is like solidly against the government) who is so respected (and who i like a lot! if u wanna know i can tell u lmao but the films are very uhhhhhhhh “artsy”) would like i told sunset about you. i wish more people had budget like that and also just cared about the stories. it’s the fucking magic of art to figure out what you can do but there is very little incentive honestly. idk i am very pessimistic. there are days when it’s really a great pick me up and distraction but it is never a place i would love for to feel seen or heard but i’m more of the mind of i never trust the mainstream until they prove me wrong ;)

or i never trust the mainstream and i still buy into it anyway and then cry when i don’t like what i see adn i yell “BOO GET OFF THE STAGE!” when an old man won’t leave a teenager alone

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years ago

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Welcome to Wacky Wally Wackford’s World!

Greetings, I say, greetings demons of all ages! The name’s Wally Wackford, an oh so suave man of business! You may not know me, but surely you’ve seen me…pretty much everywhere. Yes, I’ve never been the type to stay in one place for long. Life can be pretty wild at times. But that’s what makes it oh so fun!

So what’s my story, you say, you say? Well look no further, ‘cause I have a tale to tell.

I’ve been doing freelance work off and on, laboring at one job, moving onto the next. The jobs vary a lot, but I’m a Wally of many trades. (Yes, I’ve been fired many times as well, figuratively and literally…it is Hell after all.) Early on, I found out that living in poverty is never a lot of fun. I quickly learned how to scam other people…and boy did I enjoy it! It was the only way I could inch toward the top, get some power of my own. I’d make a few deals here and there and then when clients got desperate, I’d say something like, “Oh I’m so sorry but there’s an extra fee you have to pay. Forgot to mention that.” Then I’d point to that small scribbled section on the contract I added in moments ago.

“I’m starving, sir!” they’d say. Or, “I left my money at home,” or my favorite: “Shove it up your trickster rear!”

Sometimes they did pay me extra. Other times they didn’t…and those were the ones who soon forgot about everything forever. (chuckles).

Anyway, moving on.

Sometimes when my days got long and hard, I’d go to saloons for a nice bottled drink. The emerald colored Greed Mead is my favorite. Twirling my thin black mustache, I’d wink at some pretty imp gals nearby and say, “Hey there. You’ve been in Hell for a long time. Is that why you’re so hot?”

Most of the time, I’d get a swift punch to the face in response. The glares on their pretty faces, “Take that remark to the Sloth Ring, lazy bootleg fucker.”

So many aggressive people these days. I could tip my black hat to many imps and they’d either fall to my charms or roll their eyes. I was fine with that. There’s not much else to do in Hell then to live your life and amuse yourself with watching others struggle. In fact, pretty much every sin is encouraged, so why not keep going?

After stalking around looking for more people to scam, I came across Loo-Loo Land in the Ring of Greed. I’ve always loved that place, its vibrant atmosphere emitting joyful fun and chaotic flair. I walked on over and asked the vendor, “I say, you have any jobs here?”

“I’ve heard of you, Wacky Wally,” he said at the ticket stand. “You may be a good pick-pocket, but your skills are nothing compared to Mammon. In fact, this whole place is a fucking rip-off of Lucifer’s Lu-Lu Land!”

“All the more reason to love this place!” I exclaimed.

“Robo Fizz is putting on another show at 7pm tomorrow,” said the beefy imp vendor. “Made in Mammon’s factory and modeled after the famous imp Fizzarolli.” He then spoke in a low whisper, “It includes some behind the scenes moments for the VIPs…you know, with tentacles and ‘special features.’”

“Oh that sounds delicious!” I said with a slow grin. “It’d be great to see how his…mechanics work someday…”

The imp vendor rolled his eyes and flinched at my lighthearted comment. Always know what to say to get that grimace reaction.

“Anyway,” said the vendor, “We’re running low on staff, so you can go sell those torches over there.”

The imp pointed to a pink cart with Mammon’s jester face on it. I shrugged and got to work.

I happily rolled my cart around, selling torches wherever I went. I could honestly stare into those mesmerizing green flames all day.

“Torches here!” I drawled in my Foghorn Leghorn southern accent. “66% off when you buy four! Parties, decoration, destruction and more!”

One time on my break, I got to talk to Robo Fizz about money, shows, sex and chaos. We even cracked some jokes together. The robot seemed a little nervous in my presence but then again, he was very unpredictable on a daily basis.

“A duck, a frog, a demon and a skunk go into a bar. The bartender told them that the drinks were one dollar each. How did they pay for them? Answer: The duck had a bill, the frog had a greenback, the demon had a soul…but the skunk only had a scent!”

“Hahahaha!” Robo Fizz laughed, sparks flying near him. “Your jokes are much better than Blitzo’s corny puns!”

“Why thank you,” I replied. “But nothing beats your organ-playing animatronics in your ‘Wonderful World of Evil’ puppet show you did last month.”

Robo Fizz grinned at the compliment. “You do anything else besides selling torches?”

“I scam, I kill, I do a little bit of both. Oh and I’m also a great inventor!”

“How marvelous!” Robo Fizz grinned. “Perhaps if you have enough mayhem in you, you could perform with me at the next Fizzarolli N Friends show!”

“I say, I’d love that! I’m sure your show will be top notch, copyright be dammed…won’t it?”

Robo Fizz smiled widely, hiding a strain. “You bet it will!”

It was during one interesting day when I pushed my cart by a large tent where several Robo Fizz posters were posted. I held up a troch with a hand and called:

“Torches, I say! I say! Get your inconvenient torches here!”

Then before I knew it, the robot and a random imp crashed right into the cart.

“Ow, I say OW!” I cried as the green flames quickly spread around. After getting the flames off me, I ran for the hills out of the burning park. I sat, dejected shortly afterward. So much for that job. Along with figuring out what to do next, I also happened to watch the imp fight off Robo Fizz…and the robot falling into the dragon’s mouth.

How unfortunate.

After helping Robo Fizz from the dragon’s insides, (killing said dragon, pulling out said robot, cleaning and making quick repairs), I inched closer to him and said, “You made some new friends, I say.”

Robo Fizz stood tense with just long wires for his body, a metal skeleton of his previous appearance. “Yes…an old time co-worker of mine. A clown of an imp named Blitzo. He and his sisters were once part of a circus act called “The Amazing Imp Siblings. A bit dowdy if you ask me. ”

Robo Fizz looked around. “Hahahaha! That was some chaotic fun. But now the park is ruined!”

“I say, if I were you,” I told him, “I’d do all I could to get this park repaired and back on track. Costs a whole lotta money. The last thing you need is to have your boss disappointed in you.”

A brief look of fear came on his face. “Oh yes, yes, good idea, Wally.”

“And your friend…whether you upstage him or what, you’d best be sure Blitzo stays out of trouble. I lost my job and almost my life because of that fight!” My yellow eyes shined in a show of sadness.

“I-I will not let master Mammon down…not that I have a choice.”

“Let Asmodeus know what’s up as well.”

Robo Fizz nodded, spun away and laughed. “Time to find that rodeo clown imp!”

0 0 0

Later on after leaving Greed, I got a brilliant idea. It was after I saw some old fashioned 1800s snake man in Pride plow down buildings with a metal bulldozer vehicle. That was it! I could start my own business!

I walked over to 666 News station. “Oh Katie,” I said in my sweetest voice.

“What is it, scum?” she asked, sitting at a mirror and doing her hair. “Can’t you see I’m preparing for a back to back broadcast right now?”

“I was considering doing my very own commercial about me exploiting…erm, employing other demons for my new factory.”

Katie barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that, filthy old man! Now get out of my studio.”

“Very well,” I said. As quiet as a hell mouse, I snatched a camera with an eye at the center and made my way out the door. The rest of the materials I needed came from a nearby junkyard. (Thankfully I avoided the wrath of some hungry kangaroo parasitic queen demon). I was running out of money fast; with no job around the corner, I figured I’d start my own!

Even I don’t really know where I got my inventing skills from. Many say it was my natural trait. Others say I learned from other experts in the trade. After all, one of the quickset ways to a man’s wallet is through the latest technology.

But I, Wally Wackford would not settle for your standard modern devices. No. I preferred to make things…well, wacky.

In no time at all, I had built myself my own mini studio where I could film my commercial! Now, what to call my company? Hmm…

The Onceler One In a Lifetime Opportunity? No, not enough Ws.

Wowing Whimsical Wonderous Wonders? Nah, too many Ws.

Ah…of course! What is a company if you don’t have your name on it?

0 0 0

“Uh huh, keep going, keep going, keep going!” Blitzo insisted at the I.M.P. office.

Moxxie switched the channel again. This time, an imp appeared wearing a large black top hat, a white shirt and pants, gray vest, black bow tie and black boots. He held a cane in his hands and he also had a thin curly mustache. A mischievous grin of sharp teeth appeared on his face.

“I say, I say!” the imp exclaimed, briefly pointing his cane at the camera. “Are you looking to get work making crazy contraptions and goofy gadgets?” “Crazy Contraptions” and “Goofy Gadgets” appeared in bold spiked icons to the imp’s left and right. The imp twirled his cane.

“Well call me at Wacky Wally Wackford’s Wacky Idea ‘Factory!’”

He pulled down another screen. The title appeared in bold red, gray and white letters surrounded by pinkish circles reminiscent of classic cartoons. “Factory” appeared in quotations. Wally Wackford appeared again.

“Where you make the things and I make the money!”

Wally Wackford then got up closer to the camera with a pleading look. “Please, I’m very desperate!”

“Bingo!” Blitzo called, shooting and exploding the TV again.

0 0 0

It was actually really easy to find where Blitzo was and the new sinner inventors. The killing company of imps had me very curious. If they could start a business, why shouldn’t I? And being in the company of amazing inventors…

I could almost see the soul dollar bills floating into my hands.

I snuck up to the building, merged into the floor, eavesdropped on their fascinating conversation…

0 0 0

Crash!

A metal plank crashed into the room from above as Moxxie scurried out of the way. Loopty Goopty strolled down the plank. “Blitz!”

“Loofa!” Blitzo called, saying his name wrong. “We can explain everything. I was…”

Crash!

Millie pulled Moxxie out of the way before another metal plank landed in the spot where he would’ve been. From on the floor, Blitzo’s butt was very much in view. Blitzo glanced down at him and remarked, “Oh chill out Moxxie, if you kiss my ass any harder you’ll go right inside me.”

Moxxie turned beet red in the face and scooted further back. Millie helped him up again.

“Thanks for saving me again,” Moxxie said. “I would’ve foamed at the mouth and maybe died again.”

“Why would you think I would ever ignore you?”

Moxxie shrugged.

Just then, the demonic form of a man rolled down the plank. His body was black and spherical, with a mint green head wearing a black bowler hat on top. He had a large bushy light gray mustache and pince-nez goggles with dark red spirals on the lens like Loopty. His grinning teeth resembled piano keys.

“Lyle Lipton?!” Millie, Moxxie, and Blitzo asked in unison.

“I don’t understand,” said Millie. “We thought you went to Heaven.”

Lyle Lipton chuckled. “Heaven?” He rolled toward Loopty Goopty. “You don’t make millions in technological advances in robotics by not experimenting on the poor!” He laughed.

Loopy Goopty grinned as he unleashed his weapons in front of Lyle Lipton. “Finally! We meet again at last! Now that you’re dead, you have no money to keep from me!”

“Well, I’m a better inventor than you!” Lyle scoffed. “And I’ll make the most money here first!”

“Nonsense you no good son of a bitch!”

“Tie yourself in a knot, loony Loopty!”

“Roll in your grave, fat shit inventor!”

“Two robotic inventors?!” called a nearby voice. A steampunk blimp hovered in the air and a well-dressed snake demon appeared from a hole in his ship.

“Who is that guy?” Lyle Lipton asked.

“I’m the one and only Sir Pentious!” he declared. Several Egg Bois were steering his ship. The eye on his dark top hat peered at the other sinners in curiosity. “With my dominating machines, I aim to take over all of Pentagram City!” Then he muttered, “The repairs were a fucking nightmare to endure.” He glanced at the leftover cracks and holes on the metal sides of his ship.

“Oooh!” Loopty exclaimed in admiration. “I’ve only seen such inventions in old time history books. How long have you been here?”

“Since eighteen eighty eight!”

“Love the loopy numbers!” Loopty grinned, making three small eights with his contraptions. “I’m Loopty Goopty! Lyle is my could’ve been partner in crime but actually rival!”

“When you’re rich as me, who needs a dead partner!” Lyle exclaimed.

“You’re dead too, you know!”

“Where did you cowardly sinners get here?” Sir Pentious asked.

“Well we just got here,” Lyle called. “Experimenting on the poor made us millionaires! Just…be careful when messing with anti-aging machines. Made us both old.”

“A machine that changes one’s age?” Sir Pentious pondered. “That could prove to be ussseful in the future,” he hissed.

“Oh, you should join us, snake man!” Loopy suggested. “Or me, rather.”

Sir Pentious briefly glared. “Hmm. While I’m perfectly capable of spreading my constrictive terror on my own…I suppose having some…lackey sidekicks would suffice.”

“Don’t call us lackeys!” Lyle sneered. “And I’m not working with him!”

“Maybe if we briefly collaborate as a team…”

Lyle grumbled in annoyance.

After a moment, Sir Pentious sighed. “Okay, you may join me, but…”

He spread out his hood, revealing pink eyes. “Don’t even think about crossssing me.” He pulled his hood back. “Now go gather your contraptions and help me manage those scrambled fucking eggs!”

A bunch of eggs in top hats and suits rolled out and jumped on the two inventors, who were stunned.

Loopty then laughed evilly. “Inventors to inventors it is!”

Just then, I popped out of the ground in the room.

“Did someone say, I say inventors?! Name’s Wally Wackford, and I am lookin’ for creative new people to exploit! I mean employ.” I twirled my mustache with an evil grin.

At last, a chance to expand my business of the mass production of robotic Fizzarollis! All of Hell will go crazy when they get a chance to buy all the sex robots, the merchandise, everything...and all to profit ME!

“Everyone, stop fucking up my walls!” Blitzo yelled. “Moxxie’s gonna have to fix all this shit! Satan’s balls! First we deal with Heaven’s table-scraps, now this?”

I smiled. “Well I guess you can say, you say, you have a holey operation here, Blitzo!”

I slapped my knee and laughed at my own joke.

“Get out,” Blitzo muttered.

Soon I doubled down on the floor laughing. “Oh! I said, ‘o’!”

Blitzo yelled, “No, I’m serious, get the fuck out!”

Everyone in the room looked at Blitzo in shock and surprise.

0 0 0

And then, that one other time where I helped host the Harvest Moon Festival Pain Games!

Wally Wackford a.k.a. me…stood on the wooden stage, holding a gray microphone decorated with an eye in the center and small horns on the top. I wore my usual white shirt, vest, white pants and dark boots. I twirled my black cane and tipped my black top hat.

I spoke dramatically through the microphone.

“Welcome, I say welcome all to Wrath Ring’s annual Harvest Moon Festival! To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a here to user in this here Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me and chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“How kind, Wackford.”

Stolas then addressed the audience. “Greetings tiny Wrath Ring imps. I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!”

A crowd of imps glared at him and several boos were heard. Many of these Wrath imps were impoverished farmers who lived on scraps, meat or good crops if they were lucky. The food they worked so hard to produce was consumed by royalty and those in the other Rings. But the reward for their work was being underfed, underpaid and underappreciated instead. The unbalanced cycle had lasted for generations.

I, too, stared at Stolas with a glare in my eyes. That rich royal thinks he can parade around, doing whatever he wants. Well unfortunately for him, I have plans of my own. Once he sees what I’m capable of…

He will know who really rules the roost.

Stolas obliviously continued. “I’m happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest imps to show their skill and dominance.” He did a little wave with his fingers. “Good luck to you all!” He noticed Blitzo in the crowd beside Moxxie and Striker and spoke lower. “Especially that sexy little one there! Yoo-hoo, Blitzy!”

“Oh fuck me,” Blitzo scowled.

A gun went off and the games began.

The first event was the race. Moxxie was instantly trampled by the other racers.

The second event was the high jump. Striker climbed over the high wooden ramp structure with ease and raced after Blitzo who jumped past him. Moxxie struggled to keep his balanced as he reached the top. He slipped down, trying to use his claws to hold on. He fell with a splash in a small puddle…and was promptly chewed on by a monstrous black and white shark with several red eyes.

The third event was an event with rope. Striker grinned as he held a tied up Blitzo. Blitzo’s arms, legs and horns were all tied up. Moxxie gulped as a stronger grinning imp tied him up with ease.

The fourth event was tug of war. The crowd cheered as the two teams pulled hard. Striker, Blitzo and Moxxie were on a team. Moxxie stumbled and fell into nearby water, where the shark attacked him again.

The fifth event was mud wrestling. Blitzo and Striker grinned as they wrestled each other, Striker getting the upper hand as he held Blitzo down, arms locked. Moxxie was instantly crushed in a football hurdle by a group of imps. As they got off of him, Moxxie sat up. And the shark leaped out of the water and over the fence.

“Mother fucker!” Moxxie screamed as the shark crushed him. (Moxxie somehow survived all this.)

I hopped back on stage.

“I say, I say for the first year ever, we have a tie, for the winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games!”

Stolas took the microphone from me again.

“The winners are…Striker, and my darling Blitzy!” Stolas did a one-legged pose as the crowd cheered.

“Just say my name right!” Blitzo complained. He muttered “Fucking dick,” as he and Striker walked onto the stage.

0 0 0

After the event, I noticed that I.M.P. and Stolas had left. After sharing an undiscernible look with Striker, we parted ways.

I soon returned to a special place in Greed, tired but determined. I walked alone down dark hallways, torches burning green flames on either side. I wagged my pointed red tail.

I pushed open the double doors and came across a marvelous sight.

Gold. Heaps of it, just shining brightly all around the vast spacious chamber. Gold pillars held up the cavern-like ceiling, a chandelier made of bones and diamonds hung from above. There were chests of necklaces, precious gems, goblets and weapons of every shape and size. Hanging on a far wall, concealed in shadow were angelic weapons…at least half a dozen.

I stared around in amazement. Even Lucifer would be surprised if he could see this place.

I raced around and tossed the gold coins into the air. In a craze, I rolled around in a nearby pile of green dollar souls. With a grin, I stood up and stared with pride at the grinning face of the jester printed on there.

A face confident in his ability to deceive others, pursue wealth and bask in endless entertainment.

The grinning face was all too familiar…

…because it was my face.

Wally Wackford leaned his head back, mouth open in a high pitched shriek as dark magic flickered around him. The imp form fell and morphed into shadow. In the imp’s place, a large black beast with thick fur, razor sharp claws and red eyes decorating the body. The figure stood up on two powerful furry legs and sat comfortably in a giant golden throne that occupied the center of the chamber. Angular jester clothing of red, gold and purple stripes adorned the wolf body. And finally, a large spiked black crown sat atop the dark loopy jester hat with bells at the ends. A white and gold jester face showed sharp white teeth and glowing yellow eyes. Dark clawed hands juggled fresh demon skulls into the air and popped them into his large mouth. He crunched loudly before swallowing every bit.

My imp disguise was perfect. Literally no one else save for Robo Fizz and a few elites knew who was underneath. And even then, my magic was so powerful it could easily confuse anyone around me.

Being an imp has its advantages; you can travel anywhere and gather information along the way. You can track imps from a killing company and find out where they’ll likely travel to next. You can affiliate yourself with your own robotic creations, some slave imps and succubi…and then in your own form, work with a fellow Deadly Sin on the next stage.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Funny, really. Wally Wackford could easily be a separate being, born into poverty, learning to scam others at an early age and go up from there. I, however, didn’t need to learn anything…deceiving others and attracting material wealth was a natural talent. As was shapeshifting.

Lucifer might not be happy with me coping his idea of a theme park…but business is business…and in Hell, anything goes.

That incompetent prince Stolas would be dead soon enough. No more Goetia showoffs to get in the way of my rule and reputation. At least the prince’s wife was rightfully concerned with maintaining tradition that has existed for centuries. Aside from my dear friend Lucifer, I was, and should be, the most powerful being in Hell. I’ll keep exploiting those I choose because money is money.

Those I.M.P. assassins have no idea who they were dealing with.

I let out a crazed evil laugh, intermingled with a wolf’s howl. With a single touch of my hand, my nearby scepter turned into gold. I admired its shiny flawless sheen. Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Beelzebub and myself…the Seven Deadly Sins…circus-loving rulers of the Overlords and in charge of maintaining chaotic order in our respective Rings.

I, Mammon, had much to do.

#wally wackford #helluvaboss #helluva boss theory #mammon

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malarkay · 4 years ago

Text

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness: Chapter One

Summary: The year: 1982. The place: Brixton, London, England. Piper is a normal 11-year-old kid trying to enjoy the summer holiday with her foster brothers, Aaron and Finn. But when a stranger shows up bearing an acceptance letter to a place called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she’s swept away to a magical world, one that is just beginning to heal from a brutal, decade-long war. There she will make new friends and new enemies. And she just might find herself a part of something bigger than she ever imagined.

Chapter 1:

Minerva studied him with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. "I trust you aren't planning on delivering this letter dressed like that."

Arygyn made a show of looking down at his outfit, a deep aqua robe trimmed in red, with billowy sleeves and metallic gold feathers embroidered around the cuffs and high collar, "Not colourful enough?"

Minerva's stern façade didn't crack. "I see that your time away from us has not granted you any more maturity. Or humility."

"I know how terribly disappointed you'd be if it had," he said, grinning at her.

She went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Given the circumstances of your resignation, I had foolishly assumed you'd be on your best behaviour to prove to the Headmaster that he made the right decision in inviting you back."

"Oh? And what do you know of the 'circumstances of my resignation'?" he asked airily.

"Need I remind you that I am Deputy Headmistress of this school? There aren't many secrets the Headmaster keeps from me. Do you think I don't know what prompted your departure?"

That sobered him up. "Minerva," he began, but she held up a hand.

"What's done is done. We cannot change the past. We can only strive to do better moving forward."

He felt his face flush. He wasn't easily embarrassed, but Minerva McGonagall had always possessed the rare ability to discomfit him, even as children.

"Back to the matter at hand, I took the liberty of choosing a Muggle outfit for you to wear on this assignment." She nodded to the folding screen that blocked off a small corner of her office.

He walked behind the screen to discover a brown tweed suit with a white button-down shirt and matching brown tie.

"Minerva, no!"

His protestation was met with a soft noise of amused satisfaction from her.

Grudgingly, he changed into the suit. Emerging from the privacy of the screen, he frowned at her as she smiled in open amusement now. "I think you forget something," she pointed out, her gaze flicking up to his hair.

He sighed, retrieving his wand from the inner pocket of his jacket and pointing it at his head. "Colovaria!" He looked at the mirror she had hanging on the wall, watching as his hair and beard faded from their glorious green and purple to his natural dirty blond.

"Well, I hope you're happy," he said, carding his fingers through his hair self-consciously.

"Oh, you have no idea," she responded, holding out an envelope sealed with the Hogwarts crest in red wax. "I won't keep you any longer. This letter is already late."

~*~*~

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Aww, c'mon, Piper! They're bullies! They deserve this!"

Piper frowned. Finn, one of her foster brothers, had a point. The gang of older kids had caused them nothing but grief since they'd known them, constantly picking on them for no other reason than the fact that they were younger and smaller than them. And now here they were, clowning around in the corner shop while their bikes laid unlocked and unattended outside. Still….

"I know they're bullies, but we're not thieves."

She looked over to her other foster brother, confident that he would back her up. But he was staring at the bikes with a mischievous gleam in his green eyes. She nudged him with her elbow to get his attention. "Right, Aaron?"

"Let's do this!" Aaron said with finality, and Finn pumped his fist in the air, certain that the matter was settled with Aaron on board with his plan.

"I can't believe you two!" she hissed.

"What's the matter? Do you not know how to ride a bike or something?" Finn challenged.

"Of course I know how to ride a bike! Probably better than you! I…" she stopped abruptly when she noticed his triumphant grin. "Finnegan Fletcher! I will not be goaded into going along with your stupid plan!"

"God, Piper, why do you always have to be such a goody-goody?"

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd stop being such a screw-up!"

He mouthed her words mockingly back at her, and she was about to really lay into him when he suddenly grinned. "Hey Piper, guess what?"

"What?" she spat at him.

"Too late," he said, punctuating his words with a pair of finger guns. She looked to where he was pointing. While they were busy bickering, Aaron had gone and nicked one of the bikes, mounting it. Finn laughed and ran over to do the same, and she had no choice but to follow or be left behind to deal with the consequences.

She glanced through the glass door of the shop as she took a bike, making sure no one had noticed them. Luckily, the two leaders of the gang seemed to be embroiled in an argument of their own, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence. They were a brother-sister duo, a pair of upper-middle-class kids in their late teens who tried to cultivate a working-class punk image but couldn't quite pull it off. Nonetheless, they had managed to amass a following of half a dozen townies who followed them wherever they went. It was their bikes that she and Aaron had been sure to pick. She wasn't sure who Finn's belonged to.

"Let's get out of here before they figure out what's going on," she said.

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

With that, they pedalled like mad all the way home. Between their front garden and their neighbour's was a tall privacy hedge with a large hollow spot in the centre. It had made for a great little secret hideout when they were younger, and it was the perfect place to stash their contraband bicycles now. With the bikes hidden, she began walking up to their house when she spotted the white sedan parked out front and froze in her tracks. "Um, guys, was Ms Davies supposed to visit today?"

"No, she's not supposed to come until Monday," Aaron answered.

"They know about the bikes!" she yelped. She wheeled on Finn and poked him hard in the chest with a finger. "This is all your fault! What if she's here to take us away from the Wrights because of this? We'll be separated and never see each other again!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Aaron cut in, putting a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Piper, calm down! There's no way they know about the bikes. It's only been twenty minutes."

"Well, she's here early for some reason, and that can't be good," Piper said, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

"What if she is here to take one of us away?" Finn asked, sounding worried now. "Not 'cause of the bikes, but just because."

"There's no reason to think that," Aaron said confidently.

"No reason to think that? Mate, when was the last time she ever came for an unscheduled visit?" Finn pointed out.

Aaron opened his mouth to answer, but he must have realized he didn't have a good response because he closed it again.

"Listen, standing here and worrying isn't going to do us any good," Piper decided. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the walkway to the front door before she lost her nerve. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the sight of her foster mother, social worker, and a tall, suited man she had never seen before sitting in the parlour sharing a pot of tea.

"And that," the man said with a dramatic flourish of one hand. "Is how I narrowly avoided getting expelled from H-ah, Saint Cyprian's, myself!" He had a flamboyant, lilting way of speaking that didn't fit his stuffy appearance. She and her brothers stood gaping in the doorway as Agatha Wright and Florence Davies burst into scandalized laughter at his tale.

"Oh my," Agatha said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "Well, I don't expect our Piper will be getting into such mischief. She's never been any trouble."

"Speak of the dickens!" the mysterious man said, eyes falling upon the trio. Putting his teacup down, he stood and swept over to them. "Piper Cochran, I presume?"

She nodded hesitantly, and he gave a bow that was every bit as dramatic as his earlier flourish had been. "I am Professor Skeelur, and I represent Saint Cyprian's School for Gifted Children."

Beside her, Finn giggled and nudged Aaron. "Is it just me, or does that sound like something straight out of the X-Men?"

"You two strapping lads must be Aaron and Finnegan!"

Aaron grinned, and Finn puffed out his chest. No one had ever called them strapping before, certainly not skinny little Finn. "Yes, sir," Aaron answered for them. "If you don't mind my asking, why are you here?"

"I don't mind at all. I am here to offer Ms Cochran here a spot at our school. You see, her excellent marks make her just the kind of pupil we look for."

Piper's eyes lit up. "Really? I've never heard of this school. Is it here in London?"

"Scotland, actually. It's a boarding school."

"Oh," Piper said, her face falling. "Sounds expensive."

Ms Davies spoke up from her spot on the sofa. "The school covers tuition, room, and board. Money's no issue. And should you choose to attend, you'll receive the stipend the Wrights receive for your care during the time school is in session, for school supplies, and anything else you might need while you're away."

Piper looked hopeful, "And I'll get to come back here when school isn't in session?"

"Of course," Agatha said, beckoning her over and pulling her into a hug. "You will always have a place here. You know that."

Professor Skeelur clapped his hands together, bringing their attention back to him. "Now, there are a few details that need to be discussed before Piper makes her decision. Is there somewhere that Ms Davies and I can speak to Piper privately?"

Agatha nodded. "She has her own room; you can speak in there."

Piper led them to her room. The professor shut the door and then, much to her confusion, he pulled a pale, slightly gnarled stick from the inside pocket of his jacket and pointed it at the door. "Sanctum impervius!"

"Now then, we can speak freely," he said, turning to her. "I must confess that I wasn't entirely honest with you back there. There is no Saint Cyprian's. I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Smile, kid! Your life just got a whole lot more interesting! You're a witch."

She frowned.

"Is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not funny." She had actually been stupid enough to believe that she had gotten accepted into a good school. She should have known better.

"Piper," Ms Davies said gently. "It's not a joke."

She scoffed, and the professor – if that's what he really was – added, "And I can prove it."

"What are you going to do? Pull a rabbit out of a hat? Saw Ms Davies in half?" Piper asked sarcastically.

If anything, her mockery just made his grin widen. "You misunderstand. You're not going to be learning parlour tricks. You're going to be learning real magic. Like this! Well, not exactly like this. There aren't many witches and wizards who can do this. But it'll give you an idea."

He stepped back, giving himself room, and then…well, then she couldn't quite believe her eyes. He began to warp and shift until suddenly the man was gone, and in his place was a bird. It had iridescent blue-green feathers, a red underbelly, and a tail over twice its body length. It launched itself into the air and flew around the room.

Ms Davies gasped. Piper could only stare wide-eyed as the bird landed and transformed back into the professor.

"Close your mouth, kid. You'll catch flies," he told her. "Do you believe me now?"

"I'm dreaming," she decided.

Professor Skeelur stepped forward and delivered a sharp pinch to her arm.

"Ow! Why'd you do that?"

"To help you decide if you're dreaming or not. And what d'you know, it looks like you aren't!"

"So, you're really a wizard?"

"Yes."

"And I'm a witch?"

"Yes."

"And is Ms Davies a witch?" She looked curiously at the woman she thought she had known for half her life.

"No," Ms Davies said.

"She's a Muggle."

"Oh no, what's that?" Piper asked, wondering if her social worker would transform into some strange creature now, too.

"I don't have any magic," Ms Davies explained. "But you aren't the first case I've had who ended up being magical, so this didn't come as a complete shock to me. At least, not until he turned into a bird. I haven't seen that before!"

"Does Agatha know?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The fewer Muggles who know about us, the better," Professor Skeelur explained. "We have pretty strict laws against revealing ourselves unnecessarily."

"But what about other people like me? Don't their families know?"

"Well, yes. Most Muggle-born children's immediate families are told."

"Then why can't Agatha, and Robert, and Aaron and Finn know? They're my family."

Professor Skeelur took a moment to consider her words, then shrugged. "Well, if you consider them family, then I suppose you can tell them if you want and if you think they can keep it to themselves. I leave that decision up to you. Oh! I almost forgot."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to her. She looked at the front, finding her name and address written in green ink. Flipping it over, she saw that it was closed with a wax seal. Snapping the seal, she pulled out the letter within. The first sheet of paper was an acceptance letter that rehashed what the professor had already told her. The second page was a list of school supplies she would need.

"Work robes, dragonhide gloves, pewter cauldron, a wand," she read aloud before skimming over the rest of the list, eyebrows raising. "Where am I supposed to get all this?"

"Diagon Alley."

"I don't know where that is."

"Well, of course you don't. That's part of the reason I'm here."

"You'll take me?"

"Yes. This very afternoon if Ms Davies doesn't mind driving us. I'd Apparate us there, but you're new to magic. I don't know how you'd respond, and frankly, I'd rather not have you getting sick on me."

Piper nodded. She didn't want to get sick on him, either.

When Ms Davies agreed, they told Agatha that she had accepted her spot at the school and that they were off to purchase school supplies, and then the three of them piled into Ms Davies' car. She drove them to Charing Cross Road, and the professor led them into and through a dilapidated pub and out into a back alley.

Taking out his wand, he tapped a series of bricks and, to Piper's amazement, the wall rearranged itself into an archway, revealing a whole new world beyond.

"Wow," she breathed.

Their first stop was to Gringotts Wizarding Bank, where Professor Skeelur and Ms Davies helped her set up an account and get her stipend money exchanged into wizarding currency. She tried not to stare too hard at the bankers, who the professor told her were goblins, during the transaction. She didn't want to be rude.

"Where to next?" the professor asked once they left the bank.

"Back near the entrance was a shop with a stack of cauldrons outside. I need one of those."

The professor nodded and led the way to the shop. He ended up negotiating a reasonable price for a display model that had no flaws other than a darker patina that suggested that it had been sitting there for some time.

Next door, they purchased a set of brass scales and a telescope before heading to the apothecary across the street to pick up a set of glass phials.

They passed a shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies that had a large window display showing off brooms, an odd assortment of balls, and protective gear. "What are the brooms for?" she asked.

"Flying, of course."

She stopped walking and stared at him before bursting into laughter. "You're telling me that witches actually do fly around on broomsticks?"

"All the time."

"Why haven't we ever seen any, then?"

"I told you, we're cautious about not revealing magic to Muggles."

They stopped off at the stationary store, where she purchased some quills, ink, and a pack of parchment rolls, along with some notebooks. Next came Flourish & Blotts. Stepping into the store, Piper felt her pulse jump. It was the most glorious bookshop she had ever seen in her life. The store was two stories tall, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves ran along the perimeter of each floor. Smaller bookcases and tables stacked precariously high with books dotted the first floor, and even more books surrounded the checkout counter. The shop was large but was so cluttered that it felt cosy, warm, and inviting.

She slowly worked her way around the shop, perusing the books. There were hardcover and paperback books that were no different from those you'd find in a regular bookshop. But there were also ones bound in what Professor Skeelur claimed was dragon hide, as well as books bound in silk. There were giant books she could barely lift and tiny books with print so small she couldn't read it without a magnifying glass.

Eventually, she came across a section of second-hand textbooks. She carefully selected the best cared for ones she could find. In line at the checkout counter, she picked up a copy of a book called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She flipped through the pages and asked, "Is this a book of fables?"

Professor Skeelur nodded, and Piper added it to her pile. "Aren't you a little old for children's stories?" he joked.

"Well, in the Muggle world, you can actually learn a lot about a culture by reading their fables. I imagine it's the same with the wizarding world. And I want to learn about you. About us."

The professor smiled a genuine smile and excused himself. After a moment, he came back with another book, this one titled Hogwarts: A History. "I think you'll like this one, too. I'll buy it for you."

"You don't have to do that," she told him.

"Of course I don't, kid. I want to. You're welcome."

She grinned as they paid for her books and reluctantly left the shop.

Next, they stopped at the professor's behest at Cranville Quincey's Magical Junk Shop shop. "All this stuff of yours is getting heavy," he complained. "Even split between the three of us. And by the three of us, I mean mostly me. Don't think I haven't noticed that I'm the one doing all the heavy lifting here."

He set down the bags he had been carrying, the ones with her books and cauldron, before searching through the small, cluttered shop. "Luck is on our side today!" he said, as he yanked a battered leather steamer trunk free from where it was wedged between an old wardrobe and an armchair that had seen better days. He checked the price tag and, satisfied with it, paid the shopkeeper and ushered them back outside.

Once out in the light of the sun, the trunk looked even less impressive. It was beyond beat up, with tears in the leather, a sagging lid, and a broken latch.

"Thanks," she said with as much politeness as she could muster.

Professor Skeelur smirked. "Nothing a little spit-shine won't fix."

"Please don't spit on it. It's been through enough."

"Piper!" Ms Davies said reproachfully.

But Professor Skeelur just laughed it off. "Watch and learn, Little Miss Sassy Pants!" He pointed his wand at the trunk and said, "Reparo!"

The trunk began to mend. The tears in the leather closed, the latch realigned itself and firmly reattached to the trunk, and the structural integrity of the lid was restored.

"Wow!"

"Oh, I'm not done." He pointed his wand again. "Installare rotae!"

The trunk rose a few centimetres off the ground. She looked closer and discovered that it was because locking wheels had been added to each corner of the trunk.

"Capacious extremis!" Piper watched but didn't notice anything different about the trunk. She looked at him quizzically. "Extension Charm," he explained. "It gives you more room on the inside. Now then, what's your favourite colour?"

"Blue."

"Colovaria!"

The dull brown leather of the chest transformed into a deep, royal blue that really made the brass fixtures pop.

"Wow…." She was getting a lot of use out of that word today.

"How do you like it now?" he asked smugly.

"I love it!"

"Good. Now pack your things away, and let's continue. We still need your robes and your wand."

They went to a second-hand robe shop next, where she found three sets of school uniforms and work robes in good shape for half the price the professor said Madam Malkin's would cost.

All that was left was her wand. The professor led them to a little shop toward the end of the street. "Ollivander," the professor told her, "is the best wandmaker in all of Britain. If there's one area you don't want to skimp on, it's your wand." Ms Davies elected to stay outside with her trunk so that things wouldn't get too cramped inside.

Ollivander's was a small, dimly lit shop. The air was stuffy and smelt faintly of dust. Shelves lined the wall behind the counter, each one stacked high with long, narrow boxes.

Behind the counter was a man with unruly white hair. Piper assumed he must be Mr Ollivander. He had his back turned as he searched the shelves, running his finger along a row of boxes before choosing one.

Setting it on the counter, he opened the lid, taking out a wand and offering it to the only other customer in the shop, a dark-haired girl her age.

"This one is blackthorn and unicorn hair, 11 inches, fairly flexible. A very loyal combination. Once the wand bonds with its owner, it's very unlikely to be won by another. Good for duelists."

The girl gave the wand a wave. When nothing happened, Mr Ollivander took the wand back, setting it aside with others that formed a small discard pile on the counter.

The man resumed his search of the shelves, choosing another. "Birch and phoenix feather, 12 inches, unyielding. Phoenix feather wands favour your family. Your father and grandmother were both chosen by them. Give it a try."

Piper looked up at Professor Skeelur. She wanted to ask him what the man meant by the wand choosing people, but he had his attention focused elsewhere. She followed his gaze to where a woman stood silently off to the side. She was an older, aristocratic woman dressed in black, Victorian-era clothing. Her long, sleek hair was either pure white or platinum blonde; Piper couldn't tell which. Her eyes were an icy blue and just as cold as she stared back at the professor with a level of antipathy that he matched.

"No?" Ollivander's voice drew her attention back to him and the girl. "Let's try this one. Elm and phoenix feather, 10 inches, pliable."

Again, nothing seemed to happen when the girl waved the wand, and the man added it to the pile of rejected wands.

Ollivander scanned the shelves, stroking his chin. A full minute of silence stretched out before he chose another box.

"Yew and dragon heartstring, 12 inches, rigid."

The girl perked up the moment the wand touched her hand. She raised the wand, and Piper jumped as a shower of silver sparks shot into the air, bathing the room in a ghostly glow before fading.

"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed. "I'll box this up for you."

The woman stepped up to the counter to pay for the wand, and the girl turned, finally noticing that they weren't alone. Casting a surreptitious glance toward the woman, making sure her attention was elsewhere, she walked over to them.

Face to face, Piper was able to get a better look at her. She was of a similar height to Piper with a pale, heart-shaped face and, unusually, deep violet eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked the professor without preamble.

"Hogwarts business."

"Oh," the girl said, disappointment apparent in her tone. "I thought perhaps..." her eyes cut to Piper, and she elected not to finish her sentence. Instead, she studied Piper, eyeing her from head to toe and back again. "You're Muggle-born." It wasn't a question.

Piper nodded. "And you're," she hesitated for just a moment, realizing she wasn't sure of the proper terminology, but took a deep breath and ploughed on ahead anyway. "Witch-born."

Beside her, Professor Skeelur coughed, pressing a fist to his mouth. By the way his eyes sparkled, she could tell his cough was covering laughter.

The girl laughed outright, not bothering to hide her amusement. She stuck out a hand, "I'm Lark Cyclonis."

Before Piper could introduce herself, the woman was at Lark's side, slapping down her offered hand.

"Merlin's beard, Anarchis," Professor Skeelur said heatedly. “Is she not allowed to make new friends?”

"Don't be absurd, Arygyn. Befriend a Muggle-born? Out of the question.”

Piper's jaw tightened. Unlike when Lark had said it, Anarchis' use of the word 'Muggle-born' was filled with disdain. She was no stranger to that tone. She had heard it often enough from people who couldn't keep their opinions to themselves when it came to her living situation or heritage.

Professor Skeelur narrowed his eyes at the woman, and when he spoke, his voice was as cool as hers. "Why don't you just use the word we all know you really want to use?"

Anarchis sneered. "Watch your tongue with me, boy. This is precisely why you are to have nothing to do with this family. I don't need you teaching Larkspur how to be a disrespectful blood traitor."

"Grandmother, please," Lark's voice was tight, her face carefully blank.

"Not another word," Anarchis snapped at her. She handed Lark the bag with her wand before gripping the back of her neck. "Now come along. We still need your books." Without another glance at either Professor Skeelur or herself, the woman marched the girl out of the shop.

Piper crossed her arms as she watched them go. "Good to know I'm not good enough for some people in this world, either," she said, aiming for a light tone, but the lump in her throat got in the way.

"Kid," Professor Skeelur said, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "Anyone here who thinks you're not good enough isn't worth knowing. Now let's get you your wand."

She nodded, giving him a weak smile.

He walked her up to the counter. "Mr Ollivander, this is Piper Cochran. She'll be starting her first year at Hogwarts this fall."

"It's nice to meet you, sir," she greeted him as he peered at her with luminous, silvery eyes. If it weren't for Professor Skeelur and that awful Anarchis woman both having blue eyes, she'd seriously be starting to wonder if odd-coloured eyes were the norm in this strange world.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied. He walked around the counter with a tape measure in hand. "Now, let's see what we're working with."

He released the tape measure, and it went to work on its own. It measured her height, the length of her arms, wrist circumference, palm width, the distance between her eyes, and a dozen other nonsensical measurements. A quill jotted down the information for Ollivander as he asked her about her dominant hand and when, where, and at what time she was born.

By the end of it, she wasn't quite sure if he meant to sell her a wand, tailor her school uniform, or write up her astrological chart.

He walked back around to the other side of the counter and searched the shelves, speaking to her as he went. "Each wand has its own unique personality," he explained. "The different wood types and wand cores have certain characteristics they bring to the table, with each individual tree and creature adding their own flair. Length and flexibility each play their parts. And, of course, the personality of the wizard the wand bonds with is the final ingredient. When you put all those pieces together, you get a wand that is unlike any that has ever existed or will exist again. The choosing of a wand is one of the most important moments in a young witch or wizard's life."

Plucking a box from the shelf, he turned and smiled at her. Opening the box, he offered her the wand within. "Grapevine and dragon heartstring, 11", swishy."

She took the wand and, having watched this process play out with Lark before her, gave it a little wave. Nothing happened, and Ollivander took the wand back, placing it back into the box before setting it aside. "You see, the wand chooses the wizard. If the wand decides you're not a good fit for it, it will refuse to perform for you or will perform poorly. You can use another's wand in a pinch, but neither you nor the wand will reach your full potential that way. Here, my goal is to match you with the perfect wand. I hate wasted potential."

"How will I know if a wand is a perfect match?"

"Oh, it will let you know. Now then, try this one on for size. Alder and unicorn hair, 13 inches, supple."

Again, she tried waving the wand, and again nothing happened. Nothing happened with cedar and unicorn hair or aspen and dragon heartstring, either.

As the pile of discarded wands grew, Piper began to wonder if Professor Skeelur had made a mistake. Maybe there was another Piper Cochran out there somewhere who was the real witch, waiting on a Hogwarts letter that would never come because it had been handed to her imposter, instead.

"Maple and phoenix feather, 12 and a half inches, reasonably supple."

Piper took the wand, and a feeling of warmth spread through her. She waved the wand, and a glowing ball of blue light shot from it, flew around the perimeter of the shop, and right out the window.

Ollivander smiled, "An excellent wand! And an auspicious start to your new life as a witch. Both maple and phoenix feather are highly prized. For a wand of such calibre to choose you tells me that you can achieve greatness. But never rest on your laurels. Maple demands an adventurous and innovative spirit in its owner, or it will languish."

"Really?" Piper breathed. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel better about myself?"

"Why would I do that? I take my craft very seriously. If I believed you to be a mediocre witch in the making, I'd simply say nothing at all," Ollivander said matter-of-factly.

"What about that last wand you sold?"

"Yew and dragon heartstring? Why do you want to know? Taking a shine to wand lore already?"

"Just curious."

"Well, it's a powerful combination."

"More powerful than maple and phoenix feather?"

Ollivander hummed as he mulled the question over. "I would say so, yes. Phoenix feather will excel at any task you put it toward. But it's also stubborn. It makes you earn its excellence. But I find that those who are chosen by it are up to the challenge. Dragon heartstring possesses more brute strength and is easier to work with, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. You're more likely to accidentally blow yourself up with a dragon heartstring wand."

She laughed but stopped when she realized neither Ollivander nor the professor was laughing with her. "You're serious?"

"Quite. There's a reason magic requires so many years of schooling and why underage wizards aren't allowed to use magic outside of school. As for the wood, yew is rare and powerful. Some would say..."

"Dark," Professor Skeelur cut in, and Ollivander frowned.

"Yes, some would say that. Yew's reputation has been unfairly maligned over the centuries. I was going to say that yew is bold. It's attracted to the strong, the resolute. It appreciates a certain level of audacity in its owner. None of those qualities are inherently evil. Does that answer your question?"

"I think so, thank you."

Ollivander smiled again. "If you're still interested in wand lore after your fifth year, come see me. I might be persuaded to offer you a summer apprenticeship."

Grinning, she thanked him again. He packaged up the wand as she counted out the money she owed him. "Your wand registration number is printed on a card inside the wand box. Don't lose it. You may need it someday, especially if you ever plan to travel to the states. They have strict permitting laws over there."

She thanked him for a third time, and Professor Skeelur smirked at her as they left the shop. "Look at you. Your first day in the wizarding world, and you're already getting job offers."

Her smile didn't fade for the rest of the day. This was going to be fun.

~*~*~

A/N: Okay, who made it this far? Really? Great! Scale of 1-10, how interested are you in continuing to read this?

#storm hawks #storm hawks fanfic #storm hawks piper #arygyn the skeelur #cyclonis

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badwithten · 4 years ago

Photo

doesn’t have to be a love story

〉yangyang x fem!reader

〉highschool au

〉word count 3.7k

〉warnings swearing, alcohol, vaping, violence? (not really)

〉yangyang and y/n have been close for a long time but it didn't really make sense. those two didn’t mix, especially if there was no romance involved. this is why their friends found it so hard to believe that this wouldn’t end in a relationship, it won't right?

“Yangyang it's pretty obvious you like her” It's not the first time he's heard those words, and he's certain it won't be the last. I suppose it was strange around here for guys and girls to be friends without a relationship. But that's all it was, only a friendship.

“It's not like that” He groaned and turned his attention to the block of wood he was supposed to be cutting for his hard material class, so far it was not coming along how he wanted. But he didn't feel discouraged, Xiaojuns one was way worse.

“Why don't you just say something?” Xiaojun was pretty reluctant with this whole Y/N and Yangyang thing, convincing himself that they were the end game. But in Yangyangs eyes it just wasn't like that.

You two became friends in your first year of high school after being sat at the same table in math. You found joy in his jokes about the teacher and he thought it was funny he had to help you with your math every five minutes. Admittedly he wasn't the best at it either.

Although the constant comments from his friends regarding the relationship between you two got annoying, he understood where they were coming from. He had never had this close of a bond with a girl before, especially not with a girl and it didn't lead anymore. But you were different. You were kind, funny, you understood him, you listened and even cooked for him when his parents went away for the weekend. Even though he loved his group of friends, they were ‘the boys’. It was difficult talking to them about things, it made it hard to talk about emotions or what he enjoyed in fear of not fitting in. He was probably being ridiculous but either way, it didn't matter, because he had you to express his feelings with anyway.

What Yangyang didn't know was that you were also dealing with similar comments from your friends. They were suspicious about the amount of time you two spent together. Even after you explained to them, several times, that he was just a friend nothing more. They insisted that you make a move. It made sense to them, you were always complaining about being single, how you wanted someone in your life. The way you would describe the person you wanted, someone funny, caring, passionate and stood up for what they believed in. All those things were Yangyang,

But that's not how you saw it, if you and him had gone out, it just wouldn't have worked. The friendship you had was too special to risk that. You will always be grateful for the late nights spent with him, only heading home when your mum calls you telling you she's going to bed.

Maybe it was because you saw a different side of him. Yangyang, the class clown, who ditches class, doesn’t hand in homework and writes rap lyrics on his tests. But the Yangyang you knew was sensitive, he took into consideration his surroundings and how he affected others and despite what many people think, he was intelligent. The conversations you two had under the stars never left your mind.

The sun was too hot for you to be stuck in such an uncomfortable uniform for any longer than you had to, yet Yangyang was nowhere to be seen. You agreed to meet him outside the gym after the last period since that's where his class would be, and he still managed to be late. This isn't surprising, he had PE. Five minutes after the bell goes, he and Ten finally pile out of the gym, the rest of their class nowhere to be seen.

“Hey Y/N” Ten skips over with Yangyang trailing behind. He pulls you into a hug, you watch Yangyang roll his eyes from over Tens shoulder, causing you to laugh. “What's funny?”

Ten pulls away to look at you two but no one makes a move to say anything. “Well have fun on your date you two” Before you can get a word in to defend yourself he leaves, slapping Yangyang on the ass for good measure before dashing towards the front of the school.

“They’re still going on about that?” You and Yangyang finally make your way out the back of the school to start the long journey home.

“Yeah don't worry about it, you know what they're like” You hum in agreement, not wanting to dwell on the awkward subject. Although you were both forced to hear these remarks every day, it was a different story when the other was with you. It just made things weird. Which caused even more confusion, you both strongly denied that you had any feelings, if so why did it make things awkward?

“Why did you get held in any way?”

“Me and Ten kept getting balls stuck in the roof so we had to pack up”

“On accident?”

“Oh yeah definitely on ‘accident’. And you know what Mrs Hooper is like, doesn't like to have fun” You let out a laugh and rub your eyes, you forgot what he was like. You continue walking towards your usual hang out spot, the park down the road from his house. Stopping at the corner store first, getting drinks and chips to snack on.

“These pringles taste like ass” You look down in disbelief at the whole container of BBQ pringles that you had just bought after Yangyangs suggestion. “Why did you tell me to get these?”

“Well I think they're nice” He reaches over the table and snatches the container away from you.

“You baited me into buying you chips!”

“Not my fault you're slow” He gives you a cheeky smile and downs a few pringles followed by his redbull.

“Unbelievable”

“What's your speech on?” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting Yangyang to come whisper such things in your ear.

“I haven't decided yet, I've just been playing the snake game” You look around the room to see where the teacher is, yet you can't see him anywhere, the reason why Yangyang is standing beside you.

“I know I've been watching you” He sits down in the empty chair next to you. “You could always write about me you know?”

“Yangyang, I love you” He leans forward, resting his head on his hand and batters his eyelashes. “But no”

“Tsk your lost” As the teacher walks into the room he quickly stands to head back to his original seat across the class.

“Yangyang, what are you doing out of your seat?” Mr Smith, a usually pretty chill teacher, still didn’t appreciate people mucking around when he's gone.

“Y/N needed help, sir” Your eyes go wide and you stare down Yangyang, he has the biggest smile across his face.

“Why didn't you say so? I'll be there soon Miss L/N '' You turn and mouth to Yangyang.

‘I hate you’

“Aren't you cold?” Yangyang asks, you can hear in his voice that he himself is shivering from the cold, despite the fact he has a jacket on.

“A bit but what am I supposed to do about it?”

“I got an idea” You expect him to offer you his jacket, or maybe his sweatshirt. But instead, you just get pain.

“Ow! Yangyang, did you just punch my leg?” You reach down and rub the spot he just hit, it wasn't that painful but you liked to play it up.

“It'll burn up now, you're welcome” Even though it's pitch black, you just know that he has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“I think I should head home now, we have school tomorrow” You stand up and pat down your slightly damp leggings from the dewy grass. Yangyang also scrambles to his feet.

“Wait if this is because of the punch I’m sorry”

“No, what the, it's just I have to walk home and it's already so dark” You pick up your bag and head towards the footpath out of the park. His house is on the way towards your house so you always end up dropping him home first,

“I don't wanna leave yet, my parents aren't home, it's scary living by yourself” You stop in your tracks, unable to believe what he just said.

“If your parents' aren't home, then why have we been sitting out in the cold for the past 3 hours?” You hear the rustle of his jacket, indicating he simply just shrugged. “Oh my god, Yangyang. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“Yes please,” You don't mind the idea of spending all night with him, especially if it means you don't have to walk all the way home. As you turn into his street you realize you've ever actually been to his house before, despite the countless times he showed up at your door. You were caught slightly off guard at how nice the place was, you don't know what you were expecting but something about Yangyang didn't exactly scream fancy.

“Wow your place is really nice Yangyang” You comment as you take off your shoes at the door, the warmth comforting from the chill you had gotten.

“Thanks” Yangyang heads straight to the kitchen and you follow, unsure what to do with yourself. “Do you want anything to eat? We should probably make tea”

“Well, what is there?” He walks around the counter and opens up the fridge.

“Not a lot” You move around to look over his shoulder and are disappointed at what you see.

“Why is there only grapes?”

“I don't know, grapes are good.” He grabs out the grapes and starts popping them into his mouth, unfazed by the fact that there's there's no real food in his fridge, apart from various condiments.

“How long have you been home alone for?”

“A couple of nights”

“And you've been eating grapes the whole time?” He nods and continues eating. “Should I make some proper food?”

“Yeah, I can't cook”

“Pasta?”

“Yeah but I don't like onion or garlic, or tomatoes really” You sigh and rub your face, this was going to be a long night.

You and Yangyang weren't the best at being organised, meaning you left his house at eight am, it took forty-five minutes to walk to school, and school started at eight-thirty. Luckily for you, you had art first, meaning there was no real pressure to get to school on time. Not so lucky for Yangyang who had studies of society. You get to school and part ways. You know you'll see him throughout the day but your conversations are never as good when other people are around.

You get to the art room and the teacher says good morning, no comment about being late although you know you'll hear all about it from Ten when you see him sitting by himself.

“Morning,” You say as you drop your bag down. “Where's Winwin?”

“Sick apparently” He shrugs and focuses on the work in front of him, carefully shading in the portrait of himself with charcoal. “And someone had to leave me all alone this morning”

“It was fifteen minutes” You roll your eyes and wander off to get your art from the folder up the front, it's not your best piece but it'll get you a pass. A portrait of Harry Styles. “I can't believe they let you do yourself for this”

“Why would I not be allowed to?” You sit down next to him and start working right away.

“The project was a charcoal portrait of someone you look up to or who inspires you”

“Yeah, I look up to myself” You laugh at his confidence, something you wish you had. You can't blame him though, the photo he chose is very flattering. And Ten is talented, it's coming out like a masterpiece.

“You like shit by the way” Ten is known for not holding back his comments, but even then he always catches you off guard.

“Thanks”

“You know what I mean”

“Yeah yeah. I stayed at Yangyangs last night and didn't have any of my stuff” Ten groans and turns in his seat to look at you deeply.

“Y/N this is frustrating. Do you like him or not?”

“We've been over this a hundred times Ten, no I don't like him” Ten Reaches forward and presses the back of his hand onto your cheek.

“Then why is your face heating up?” Your eyes go wide and you rest your head on your arms face down on the desk. You hear Ten laughs as he begins rubbing circles into your back. “You're allowed to have feelings for him you know?”

“But I just don't want to ruin our friendship, he's special to me”

“So you do like him?”

“Ugh, Ten I don't know!” Your voice is louder than expected and the class turns to look at you, embarrassment bubbles up more in your stomach as you stare down at your desk.

“Y/N, Chittaphon. Quiet down.

“Sorry Sir”

“Yangyang, why are you fifteen minutes late to class?”

“Sorry Miss, I had a guest round this morning and lost track of time”

“Ok just make sure you catch up, get Kun to explain the work to you” She sighs and flicks him away with his wrist, he hurriedly moves to the back of the class where Kun is sat, as well as a couple other kids.

“I thought you were home alone, who did you have round?” Yangyang is surprised Kun even heard what he said to the teacher, but apparently, it's one of his many talents.

“Y/N stayed '' He immediately regrets saying anything but he knows he won't be able to lie for long either way.

“How was it?”

“Fine” Kun looks over expecting more of a reply than that. “I don't know man, she made me pasta and we watched a movie. Nothing happened.”

“She made you food? She must be whipped.”

“What?”

“In creative catering, she wouldn't even let me try her icing to see what it was supposed to taste like. Mine ended up being sour.”

“Ok, so she cooked for me? That doesn't mean anything”

“Hmm sure,” Kun turns back to his history assignment.

“Wait tell me what it means”

“God, are you that thick?” When Yangyang just stares at him blankly he drops his head. “She likes you”

“She does?”

ten: did yangyang talk to you this morning

ten: about anything

ten: specifically y/n?

kun: Maybe? Why? Did she talk to you about anything

kun: He just told me she cooked for him

ten: y/n never cooks for anyone

ten: did he not pick up on that?

kun: Ikr

kun: He seemed happy to hear that she likes him

ten: should i tell her that he likes her as well?

kun: Go for it

kun: Nothing will happen otherwise

The next day you managed to get to class on time, although you can't say the same for Yangyang. You walk into a semi-full class and head to the back to join Ten and Lucas, accounting was boring and you never understood anything but Lucas managed to make things bearable. Ten, well he mainly made things worse.

“Y/N, exciting news” Was the first thing said to you by Ten which usually meant it wasn't good news. You groan as you sit down, already feeling defeated.

“What is it?” Lucas seems more excited than you to hear about this.

“Yangyang finally admitted his feelings for Y/N”

“What?” You sit up straight, unable to believe the words you're hearing. Ten has a grin and Lucas is laughing harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. “Are you serious?”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Ughh” You rub your eyes hard enough you're sure that they're red. “I just, I don't know”

“You like him don't you? Isn't this a good thing?” Ten has gotten a bit more serious, not expecting you to be so upset by this news.

“Yes but, I don't know, can we talk about something else please?”

You're also surprised at this news, you never thought you liked Yangyang. In fact, you were so certain you didn't like him. But finding out that maybe you do? It changes everything. Him liking you back only makes things more real. You would think you'd be happy at this news but you don't know. That's the only way to describe things right now. Confused. Yes, you like him, he likes you back. That should be the end of the story. But maybe not. Things are different and you don't know why. It's impossible for you to sleep with all these thoughts rushing. It's even harder for you to go to school without your friends bombarding you with a million questions about Yangyang. You wouldn't mind if it was something else, but you're so unsure of your feelings you don't know how to answer. You're certain Yangyang would have been told you like him as well, Yangyang has more confidence than you and you wouldn't be surprised if he made a move. The thought of him doing so makes you anxious, you don't want him to confess, you don't want to say yes, you don't want it.

Your phone lights up the darkroom. A text from Yangyang, a perfect distraction from your sleepless night.

yangx2: hey

yangx2: wanna go for a walk after school tomorrow?

yangx2: i need to get some supplies for class

y/n: sorry i’m not feeling very well

y/n: idk if i’ll be at school tomorrow

yangx2: damn :/

yangx2: get better soon

yangx2: i have to go with lucas :(

y/n: haha you’ll be fine

You didn't show at school for the rest of the week, being too ‘sick’ to do so. Every time a text would come through from Yangyang asking how things were, the conversation would die as quickly as it started thanks to your dry replies. You didn't know how to feel, didn't know what to do. Ignoring him was the only way for you to process your emotions right now. You just needed time. You couldn't be off of school forever, but thankfully it was over soon. It gave you two weeks to sort your shit out. During those two weeks, Yangyang stopped reaching out. You felt bad for giving him false hope but you knew this was what was best. Well, at least you thought so. Maybe things would have worked out in a different life. But right now, it wasn't the right time.

When school started again you were nervous, it was a fresh start. You hoped time just sorted things out. You walked up to the front of the school where you usually meet with everyone. Ten arrived first, then Xiaojun, Winwin next, Kun and Yangyang arrived together and Lucas was probably off at the skatepark vaping with Hendery. Surprisingly things went well, too well.

Everything was back to normal, almost normal. It wasn't awkward with Yangyang, but things weren't right. And you could tell. You two were not as close, he didn't come to annoy you during English, or invite you to his hard materials class to bully Xiaojun. He wasn't Yangyang around you anymore. You were scared you ruined things but maybe he just needed time as well. You hoped that was all, you didn't want to lose someone like him.

The sleepout at Lucas’ you were all hanging out in a heated up way too quickly, with a mixture of sweaty drunk guys and various flavours of vape clouding the room. You couldn't bear to be in there any longer, deciding to slip out the back and sit on the deck outside. The air was harsh but it was a nice contrast to the hot smoke from the room within. Your cheeks were burning hot so the crisp air made it relaxing. You weren't out there for very long until another person escaped the room as well, Yangyang.

“Hey,” You say as he sits down next to you, it wasn't that you didn't want to see him, but it was the first time you two had been alone for a while, especially since he was a bit tipsy.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, it was just hot in there. Are you ok?”

“I'm great.” He looks at you as smiles brightly and you laugh, you miss seeing his face more often.

“Oh yeah,” You entertain his drunk ways and talk to him like a child. “What's got you in such a good mood?”

“I was talking to Nina on the phone”

“Nina?”

“The girl I like remember, I'm gonna ask her out soon” Your heart sinks and you start to feel sick, although you're not sure if it's from the alcohol or this news. Jealousy spikes within you but you don't know why you have no right to be upset when you pushed him away. You feel stupid for believing that he ever liked you. Ten was just a troll wasn't he? He got you to ghost one of your closest friends who wasn't even interested in you. Thinking back to it, Yangyang always showed signs of liking Nina that he never did to you. Calling her pretty, defending her, buying her food. Yangyang never did that for you despite the fact you were so close. Your heart breaks, even more, knowing you never wanted it in the first place.

“Oh” You try to hide your pain through a smile, he would have been able to pick up if his senses were not blurred.

“Yeah she's great”

“I'm glad to hear that Yangyang, you deserve someone like her in your life”

“Hmm” It turns awkward, you don't know what else to say. Instead, you just stand and head inside. You need another drink to get through the night.

“You ok? I went to look for you at Lucas’ the other night but Ten said you left” Yangyang took you off guard as he pulled up a chair to sit by you in English.

“Oh yeah, I just wasn't feeling well” It wasn't lying, you just didn't say why you didn't say why. If he asks you'll say that you ate something funny. But in reality, you felt awful because of him. You swallow hard and bring yourself to say the next words. “Hows Nina?”

“Oh, I finally did it” His smile is bigger than anything you've ever seen on him, his eyes brighter than ever before. And it suits him. Being happy suits him. You know you'll never be able to bring him that, but Nina can. Nina suits him.

“Congratulations, I'm proud of you Yangyang” It hurts you to say that but you need to. You have to because you can't be angry at him, you can't. You left him. You ghosted him. Even if he didn't like you, it was a shitty thing to do as a friend. You thought you were so lovable that he had to have a crush on you, but in reality, it was nothing more than a friendship. Not everything turns into love, does it?

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innermoonlight-bhe · 4 years ago

Text

Me, again, on Destiel. Please read.

I’ve been having problems all this month. And while I was self-exploring the reasons of my uneasiness, I tracked it back to 15x18. When I first watched the episode I had lots of unresolved feelings. I felt happy and at the same time really distressed. After waiting for two week for the end of Supernatural I thought those feelings would disappear but they just kept on getting stronger. I began feeling stressed and, this last two weeks, feelings just empty. I had no desire to do anythings, like I was lost. Yesterday I realized why and got me sad and mad at the same time. I don’t want to take a lot of time writing this but there are too many emotions and rational thoughts that don’t let me sleep at night.

This is why I want to divide this text into two parts:The first one being the queerbating debate on internet. This includes the normalization of heterosexual relationships, audiences, plots and writing, marketing and advertising, and other things that have to do with t.v. industry. In specific, the rare case of CW and its treatment of the whole Supernatural family. In the second part I would like to focus on my personal experience, which I’m sure is same to most people who were left all alone in this Destiel world of disappointment. This last one you can decide to ignore or share with me. The one that i’m most interested is that you read the first part, even though it can seem a little out of context, since I’ll be referring to another tv shows of the CW.

FIRST PART THEN OF THE DESTIEL OPINION:When I was left so sad after the queerbaiting I began watching a famous soup opera aka telenovela, called Yo soy Betty, la fea. It’s famous worldwide and I felt it like a comfort home after all the Destiel drama. It made me happy because the story plot is only one: the heterosexual couple that falls in love. Of course I’m reducing this too much, but the point is that yesterday, after I finished watching it, I realized that even though the main couple had problems at the end the audience knew they would’ve ended together. It did happen, in the anti-last episode, same as in supernatural and the Cas confession. The two further episodes centered on the happy conclusion on the story. There are clear points to establish:

Point 1: Supernatural was born as a serious mainly centered on two heterosexual man traveling all along a country hunting monsters while looking for a father. Meanwhile a classic telenovela centers on a love couple who fight against everythings to be together; in this case it’s establish since the beginning and no one will except anything else.

Point 2: Meanwhile telenovela’s audiences are destined to be woman, wanting to follow the classic love story; Supernatural was being male focused actually did excepted woman but also men watchers. Supernatural had a largest specter of viewers.

Point 3: Telenovelas are not willing to change the story for the audiences desires. They work with practical and classic formulas that rarely will fail. There’s no necessity to receive a feedback to complete. Supernatural and tv series, on the other hand, actually need the feedback from the viewers because on it depends their permanency on the screen.

Supernatural needed to keep their viewers high so the show could continue. I’m gonna leave the classic telenovela out for a moment. It’s important settling this differences to approximate myself to the basic point of my madness: how unethical is the queerbaiting.The public opinion changes, and The CW having clear this is very know to keep in touch with fans wishes and needs. In the case of Jane the Virgin, a barely combination of the telenovela classic plot but in a tv series way, had a big “change” with one of their main characters: Petra. Her connection with the main character, Jane, was noted and wanted by many of the viewers. But the show’s creator knew that main plot (point 1)was a girl who accidentally gets pregnant and eventually falls in love with the love of her life, Rafael. So the show writers wouldn’t just change this main plot in order to make a couple happen, so instead they gave the public what they wanted by making Petra bisexual and introducing a perfect girl for her, also called Jane, to deliver the wish of fans. This relationship worked purely and on its on. The reactions with Petra bisexuality were low, and they took care of it as if it was something normal and not anything that needed satanizing. No one could be expected to freak, not even Petra’s twins. Even though the first seasons Petra only had male relationships. This is a good thing that The CW did, but they didn’t do this out of the goodness of their heart: they did it for views and for the audience (point 2). Jane the virgin was also planned to have female audiences and to treat serious social issues respecting sexuality and love. This is why it didn’t came as a surprise.

Then why did Destiel couldn’t happen? Because the CV is homophobic? Probably there’s some of this in it, but the reality it’s they weren’t giving up on the part of the audience that is actually homophobic, or that at least won’t feel comfortable watching a heterosexual character discover himself as bi. The thing of the audiences is important because the “ambiguity” in which Cas’ confession was treated worked perfectly for them: it gave exactly the sufficient enough to keep us happy, meaning while keeping the perfect amount of “friendship”. So anyone can take whatever they want for the story. By this part I understand why they wanted to deal with this confession in an ambiguous way: to please everybody. But why did they wanted to please everybody? It wasn’t out of kindness of their heart, it was for views.The whole queerbaiting debate has being on the tables for a long time but we also ignore the unethical implications on it. It has been used by many contemporary media, to hint at something that the producers are not expecting to happen any time. And even though, they keep on teasing us. This is highly unethical because the reason behind them is the accumulation of money. Supernatural survived because of Destiel. I resisted myself to say this because I had respect for the series until I stopped watching around season 10. The story and plots were doom, repetitive and boring at times. We keep watching for the emotions caused by the supernatural family. Not only Destiel but Sam and all of the characters. The original plot explained in the point 1 was lost and blurred, we were far away from that premise and that was why the finale episode feel just bad.

The show had chances to grow without losing the origina plot but also confronting change and accept that sometimes, things must pass and you have to move. Destiel was an important support of the show, the views and year after year renovation of the series. Pointing at the queerbaiting has lost its meaning if we forgot why they do it, why they keep on doing this even though it makes us feel bad. This affects the shows work in perspective because it changes the plot and natural progression of the story. For the queerbaiting, they have scenes that are forgotten next episodes like they never happened. I’m a literature student and the first thing they say to us is that a scene, even a word, should be taken so seriously that it actually work on the long road of the story. In Destiel we have beautiful, all heart breaking scenes of Cas and Dean being romantic, closed, just in love. The Dean’s confession were he admitted to the priest he wanted to experience new things, the Castiel’s love confession, and others are an example of how this scenes have a space in the show but are still isolated from the original story. They don’t play a part in the bigger image. That’s why we don’t see Dean talk to Sam about Cas, this is why they are so many Destiel plots left unsolved. I have a small memory of an old lady assuring Dean that he’s in love, even though we haven’t seen in a long time a female in Dean’s life (Dean, who the first four seasons flirted with e v e r y woman he met. Because producers and writers can let this scenes happen as long as it doesn’t change the main characters. Even, they are willing to let us think that Cas could be bi but Dean isn’t, by not having him say anything after Cas says I love you. And to be honest, we didn’t except much.

We knew that we were clowning and it’s not like we excepted a love making scene from those two. We raised our expectations after 15x18 and not after. A lot of us were waiting on the finale to bring joy even though we never actually imagined it would go canon. 15x18 lifted expectations very few had and that lots, myself for instance, returned to watch after hearing Destiel was semi-canon. It brought back feelings, I got to rewatch supernatural to enter the atmosphere once again... So it was perfect for the CW. On one hand, the biggest queerbaiting on history gave them back for 15x19 and 15x20 all the fandom they had lost for the previous queerbaiting and tiredness of waiting. And also, they keep the antis and the homophobe watching. It was perfectly staged and nothing else was expecting. Something similar happen with Jane the virgin. With the death of Michael (I rather shipped more Jane with Michael) a lot of fans stopped watching. This was planned since the beginning and they actually gave us a fake death and then the real one. I actually stopped watching one season of Jane the virgin after his death because I was devastated, even though since the beginning everything pointed at Jane ending up with Rafael. Her connection with Michael was lovely and pure love. But after killing him off they wrote the relationship of Jafael so perfectly, not rushed or anything: it developed in a way that her relationship with Michael was intact but finished by death. It was a hard punch but at the end we ended up to accept her relationship with Rafael because of the clear progression between the characters. But, at the end of the series, at the last season they decided it was good idea to bring Michael back from the death and have her chose Rafael, after all of the progress It took for her to forget Michael. The changed her and all of the perspective of love changed for the show. It made thing that soul mates don’t exist, that all the love Jane felt for Michael disappear after having a whole season of her suffering for her lost, after she wrote her first book for him. It would’ve been so much better for the story if Michael stayed death.

So the things is it’s not only queerbaiting on homosexual couples, but the whole idea that they need to have a huge audiences watching their last seasons. I returned to watch Jane the virgin excepting for Michael. This awful thing they do. Just for views and gain of capital bothers me and its what makes me angry. In the case of Supernatural it’s also a topic of homophobia and the fear that the homophobia of a few will ruin the views of series finales. An as I considere the unethical implications is why I would love to have them apologize to us. It’s like a person promising the stars and stopping you to move on, while they know nothing will happen. They use us as numbers to gain money and attention. The decision that I and a lot of people took to unfollow all of The CW accounts is no radical. It’s a little if we take into account all of the money they made from the unethical queerbaiting. It causes me a lot of anger and actually feel like a I need an apology because I felt used and dirty. This is the fault of the industry and the CW has a fame of doing so.

PART 2:

This will be little in comparison. Now I want to get to the sad sentimental part. I felt all empty because four years ago that I stopped watching I also stopped talking to the love of my life. Hearing about Destiel had me going back to moments. I even desired to talk to him again to tell him that I wasn’t all wrong. Destiel wasn’t platonic or an illusion. it has clearly staged to makes us think it could happen. It’s not the story of an angel who falls for a human, that gives everything up for him, that loves him. After his confession is the story of unrequited love. Dean never says it back and it’s a feeling that a lot of people have suffered. To love someone and not having them saying them back, of the relationship that never ends but at the end it’s one of the most important. This one I talked about I never dated, I never kissed, but he’s the man i’ve loved the most in my life. Having Castiel saying I love you and never receiving anything back, giving his life and no one saving him, it’s just heartbreaking for all of us who have constantly giving everything without expecting anything in return. At the same time it’s the story of a a couple that never happens but that should have. The same reflexion as always: if it were heterosexual it would’ve happen long time ago. But it also happens in real life, that if time alined, if things were in other way relationships would’ve happen with people in our lives.I had a lot of more feelings for Destiel, but that would be for another time. Right now I just realized why made me, personally, feed angry and sad. I realized I was a Cas to someone else. I realized I was used by a network. The queerbaiting actually has psychology repercussion on us, and it’s something they fail to understand. Accepting that I was affected by a tv show took me a hard time. I didn’t know how to explain to others why this had me absence for week, I thought I was ridiculous and week. I felt bad but know I realized I’m not wrong. It’s not my fault but it’s years of messing with out feelings on purpose. Some day i’ll write an essay on this. I have to much to say but I end it with this:

The media manipulates our emotions and doesn’t take any responsibility whatsoever.

Don’t trust the media.

(Sorry for the bad english, I’m mexican. But at least Destiel is canon in my language).

#destiel #queerbaiting #the cw #jane the virgin #jafael #petra #supernatural #deancas #15x18 #supernaturalfinale #betty la fea #destielcanon #curdueva #Petramos #supernaturalending #theysilencedthem #they silenced us

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