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nightingaelic · 4 years ago

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NV companions reactions to taking the courier’s place in OWB

"Here and now got its ups and downs, but... focusing on the past, like it was any better? That's just Old World Blues." -Blind Diode Jefferson

Arcade Gannon: Being whisked off to a pre-war scientific research haven and adopted by a group of five floating brains in jars was actually a dream Arcade had once, but he was pretty sure it didn't involve losing his own brain along the way. Conversation with the Think Tank would leave him amused at first, but increasingly more horrified as he learned the secrets of Big MT and realized just how much chaos they could create if they weren't busy playing in their Mojave sandbox. The most intriguing part of Big MT for Arcade would, of course, be the Sink. The Biological research station, the light switches, the Sink Central Intelligence Unit and all the others would fascinate him, and he would do his best to figure out their components and try to replicate them in New Vegas for the Followers of the Apocalypse to use. This leads to more than a few circular conversations with Doctor Klein and, once he meets him, Doctor Mobius. I think Mobius' side of the story would leave Arcade depressed about the state of Big MT and the various things roaming its landscape that used to be people. His argument with his own brain, on the other hand, would be worthy of any pre-war sitcom. Though sorely tempted to destroy the Think Tank for good and prevent their wild experimentation ever escaping the crater, I think Arcade would weight the potential good their technology could do much more heavily and convince Doctor Klein to partner with him as a new head researcher.

Craig Boone: Given Boone's hatred for the Legion and their enslavement practices, the Think Tank would seal their doom as soon as they stripped him of his brain and his ability to fight back. And once he found Little Yangtze and its total pacification collars? Oh, it's on. I don't think Boone would be sly about his anger either, but given the Think Tank's flippant attitude toward their lobotomites, they probably wouldn't pick up on just how furious he was until it was too late. There are two things Boone would form attachments to while sneaking around Big MT: Roxie, the ever-loyal cyberdog with a heart of gold, and the Stealth Suit Mk II, which compliments Boone's combat style with minimal commentary. While I don't think Boone would have any strong feelings either way toward Doctor Mobius, I don't think he would kill him unless he had to. Mobius would probably be tickled by his stoic countenance, and would attempt to shower him in Mentats as a way of loosening up. Boone's brain would be a bit like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, reveling in its own sadness for once because Boone always shoved those feelings out of sight and out of mind. Their main argument would be over a compromise to confront that deep sorrow once reunited. When the Think Tank is dead, Boone zaps Roxie and himself back to Nipton, then smashes the Big Mountain Transportalponder! on the nearest rock.

Lily Bowen: I think we could class Lily's reaction to being kidnapped and experimented upon by the Think Tank as utter confusion. She would still be as benevolent as ever, trying her best to soothe the over-inflated egos of the various doctors as they debated what to do with this creature that had thoroughly stumped the Auto-Doc upon recovery, but I think she would start looking for the exit as soon as they suggested a full dissection. Lily's experience in Big MT would be very different from the other companions after that, with the Think Tank sending wave after wave of lobotomites and night stalkers after her in an attempt to regain their new test subject, and Lily beating each attack back with her trusty vertibird blade and the growing pile of new gadgets she accumulated with every location visited. I think Doctor Mobius would watch this play out with interest, and would send a few packs of robo-scorpions to herd her toward the radar fence, then surreptitiously lower the barrier long enough for her to stumble outside. The story of her time in "the Big Empty" would become a fireside hit in Jacobstown, but few would believe that she had actually found the place where all cazadores and night stalkers come from.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul is already missing a few body parts, so what's one more? The old ghoul would be somewhat exasperated at finding himself in another situation of imprisonment and being forced to do work for others, but at least it's not as boring as Black Mountain. Big MT, on the other hand, is a heck of a lot more deadly than the State of Utobitha, but all Raul can do is roll his eyes every time he spots another band of lobotomites chasing him down or robo-scorpions crawling over the horizon. Like Boone, Raul grows fond of Roxie, though his favorite acquisition from Big MT's tech piles would definitely be the proton axe: He just likes the way it looks and feels when he's swinging it around. Confronting Doctor Mobius would come when the old ghoul is reaching the end of his patience with the Think Tank, though he would spare the mad scientist some time to listen to his sad story and ponder the fate of Big MT. I think Raul would be the one most in tune with his disembodied brain, and they would greet each other as old friends that share a rocky history, but have accepted each other's flaws. As for the Think Tank, Raul would leave the decision of what to do with them up to Doctor Mobius: After all, they're not his mess to clean up.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Oh boy. Cass is no one's errand girl, but she's also rather fond of her brain, pickled in liquor though it may be. She would blaze a deadly trail through Big MT, marked by the wrecked bodies of robo-scorpions and Y-17 trauma override harnesses (a personal scourge for the former caravan owner, maybe her teams wouldn't have been killed if she'd just had some goddamned walking suits to do the job) and the never-ending stream of curse words floating on the crater's breeze. The lobotomites would quickly learn to stay out of her way, and every new acquisition for the Think Tank would be tossed unceremoniously on the floor of the sanctum with a clatter. Doctor Dala loves the caravaner, but the others all hate her, and Cass can't help but find the feeling mutual. Doctor Mobius would not be able to sway her from high-tailing it out of Big MT as soon as possible, and like Raul, she would not see the Think Tank's containment as her responsibility. Her brain, on the other hand, would berate her for her internalized guilt and bully her into doing the right thing - which, in her case, is eliminating the Think Tank's threat once and for all.

Veronica Santangelo: The main challenge for the doctors of the Think Tank upon capturing Veronica would be prying her away from their sanctum long enough to set her on the path to retrieving tech for them. Like Arcade, Veronica would be fascinated by the Sink and everything in it, but she would be equally fascinated with the scientists themselves and their varied personalities. She would prod Doctor Klein for details about his work, decode Doctor 8's speech patterns, and roll her tongue around in her mouth for Doctor Dala's recording equipment. Getting her brain back would take a backseat to just wandering Big MT, taking in the crazy inventions from a world long gone and wondering which ones she could bring home to Elder McNamara to show him how remaining set in his ways has put the Brotherhood of Steel on a path to irrelevance. This desire would stay her hand after meeting Doctor Mobius, and would lead her to convince the Think Tank to abandon their escape attempts and return to testing silly hypotheses. Her most important discovery would be the clues left behind by Father Elijah, well on his way to becoming a mad scientist himself, and Christine, hot on his trail for the Brotherhood of Steel. All in all, the experience would leave Veronica hungry for more adventure and send her sprinting toward the Sierra Madre and an uncertain fate.

ED-E: As a robot, the Think Tank would be disappointed with the little intruder and would likely argue about whether to toss it in the scrap pile. Doctor 0 would be absolutely disgusted by the intrusion of Robert House's technology into Big MT, but Doctor Dala would become attached to the eyebot and adopt it, cooing about the elegance of its design while simultaneously bemoaning its lack of biorhythms. ED-E, confused, would humor her for a while before striking out to explore the crater and its many wonders. After its first run-in with lobotomites, the eyebot would flee in fear, straight past the X-42 giant robo-scorpion and into the clutches of Doctor Mobius. The self-proclaimed villain would take pity on the robot and release it outside the radar fence with an escort of robo-scorpions to take home.

Rex: Cyberdogs are a well-known quantity at Big MT, so the new arrival from outside the radar fence is immediately handed over to Doctor Borous for his X-8 project. With a fresh new brain, some grease on his joints, and a competent pack addition named Roxie, Rex is ready to take on any obstacle courses in the X-8 research center. Once the two cyberdogs grow bored of tearing through night stalkers and avoiding Gabe, they make their escape and lope off into the Mojave to have a litter of Boston terrifiers together.

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whatisgoingonpaul · 4 years ago

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Lost boys backstorys

I made a post while ago on my ideas of the boys past but now I want to update it. I just want you to know I’m still a firm Prequel lover/follower however we don’t get much info on the boys Pre 1906, so that’s what this is for! However personally I would have had more Max so this is going to be both pre 1906 but also include relationship with Max a bit.

I am also including my personal ideas on Last names and age. However I am under the idea that they wouldn’t know/take their last name seriously if the did know it cause- ya know. Orphans. This is going to be lengthy and I’m going to pin it, not just because I want it seen but also to remind myself in fic writing (when I don’t follow these ideas in a fic it’s gonna be Marked as Au- as I’ll probably be messing around with a different past.)

I’ll be doing appearance but only physical as there’s some stylistic changes. For clothing? Honestly so thinking workers clothes/cowboy esc

Also! Their stories are all going to kinda intertwine so I’d there’s not enough info under one theirs a solid chance there’ll be more for them under someone else’s!

David Hardy-

Age(as of 1906): 19

Born: 1887

Appearance: Average height, his hair a dirty blond- near reddish and is around shoulder length. Bearded. (Think doc but with slightly updated clothing)

Backstory:

David Is the only of the boys to grow up with at least one of his parents, living with his mother until her death when he was around 7. They lived in a decent, though cramped little space in San Francisco, by the docks. His father worked on and off- a not so stable style ending in him getting involved in not doing saviory things - getting arrested. His mother worked as a washerwoman. David worked the streets awhile, as a young child now left alone, he learned to pickpocket and live off what he could manage. It was around this time he had found Marko- doing the same thing he was - though arguably less effectively do to his more sporadic nature. At around age 10 the two became extremely close and rather inseparable, Marko even looking up to him despite being the older of the pair. However david wasn’t one to living completely criminal like... he did NOT want to be his father, which lead him to not drinking , EVER. (Even as a vampire he still doesn’t do alcohol.) he poked towards more honest work, also forcing Marko into doing the same , which he wasn’t exactly thrilled about- but did anyway. Tried. David did a lot of work on the docks, odd jobs and stuff like that- but it never paid even half as good as nabbing a wallet or cheating at cards. He wouldn’t be his father- he’d be better- better then all the nobody’s. More level headed then Marko though ambitious, big headed and still wildly child like- eventually Paul , Dwayne and Jasper joining the pair. Well now, David had himself a full on gang. Never robbery, not that far. The group pickpocketed , cheated at any sort of game or match, that sort of thing... they were still young after all. Smart enough not to go wild like some famous bandit (Though David will admit to his slight admiration of Billy the kid.). He’s a quick learner, and when he learns something- he learns it well- becomes a damn near expert. When he is good at something he is good at it. He is the leader out of the groups mutual respect towards him , quick thinker. Notable flaws: Huge ego, hopeless romantic.

Marko Connelly-

Age(as of 1906): 20

Born: 1886

Appearance: on the shorter side, golden - darker brown hair in this fluff of ringlets it’s long about just past his shoulder blades and typically tied back. Usually dirty somehow (Think Poli but with longer hair and updated clothing)

Backstory:

Born to a rich family , one of those who moved from east to west and actually did make it big. He was a pretty little thing, more a doll to his mother then particularly a child- only taken from Nanny to be dotted over or photos taken. However around the age of 3 or 4 things had tipped, scandal! Missing. That is what the newspapers said anyway he was found missing- was it that he was given away? Or stolen? He was never particularly a child to be quite or sit still or anything such as that... so who is to say? Marko doesn’t remember a lick of that either way as he was far far to young for it but he does remember being alone. This is how he had grown his attachment to birds, they always stuck around. He grew comfortable with being alone, having himself to depend on, getting good at grabbing what he needs- A mansion is stark contrast to dirty winding alleyways. He was always cursed with his looks- even filth covered at 6 he could make sad eyes and tend to swindle whatever he wanted... but he wasn’t completely quick. He’d get in trouble, his face memorable he could rarely pass the same trick again. At 11 David came across him, the two started working and living together (that is where they could find a place to sleep.) he sort of gained this complex. He felt he owed David , in some strange sense he became attached at the hip- a helper, a second- almost servant like the guy had saved his life and he is now the others. It didn’t help that at a young age, Marko had developed what was come to be understood as a deep crush- at times as teens this was reciprocated. As loyal and loving as he was to the other male he wasn’t nearly as cautious, as rule following... he had come to despise authority, to despise the fancy, the rich all of the crowd. He was never sure why. Even regular work got on his hate list... but he gave in and would try to do a normal amount pf work.. it never really worked as there was something, how he would sass, how he looked or smelled or spoke (neither him nor David really spoke ‘proper’ English - meaning no slang or accent). Around when Paul came things started to shift in the group, more mouths- more work and more thinking. Oh yea David and his thinking. Marko is a bit hostile right off the bat when it comes to people he doesn’t know, eventually he cracks and will be more loyal to you then to anyone you’d ever know. He opened up to Paul, a lot sooner then he would have thought the guy was funny and sweet - lil stupid too. David had this grand idea of a little gang, naturally Marko was all for it because illegal activity is fun- it was like a game to him. A liked stealing from pockets and playing distraction for David, as time grew he began to hate how young and gentle his face appeared to be. He LOATHED absolutely appalled the pity glances he would get, the hand outs the whole “oh you poor fragile little dear 🥺” he hated being babied and still does. He hated the stares he got on the opposite direction ... at first, it was funny, it was nice to be wanted in that sense rather then some baby. However... it grew creepy, it wasn’t women or a fella his age...it was more the gaze of older men. Marko detested it so much- he KNEW he’s seen what some of the guys... even younger then him ended up doing- he could see the occasional look in david’s eye. No he would never really consider....no. Paul was more his shoulder to cry on, someone to go to , to ramble to to speak with and just be with. The two were touchy, always leaning against eachother or grabbing their arms, laughing or sleeping or- eventually it became more then casual, it was serious. The two started ‘dating’ at some point- none of them were ever serious on titles but it was good to put a word to it.

Paul campbell-

Age (as of 1906) : 18

Born: 1888

Appearance: tall and lengthy, he has a mole on his left cheek, he has stubble/shadow opposed to a beard. He’s also usually dirty, dirty blond , long hair think Buffalo bill with volume and his hairline not receding

Backstory:

Grew up in a orphanage, hundreds of kids all stuffed together into a few rooms, often sharing beds and everything else. He was never a still child, he would always figit and move and shift - whenever he’s supposed to be quite or still like lessons or Mass he just couldn’t. This - got him most of the attention from the mistresses and overseers- much more quick to slap then to explain... he was docile , quick to flinch and try and stop. Never worked well. Once you get to 7-8ish you work if not adopted by a decent age. Sweeping, factory work he tried it all. He was particularly desensitized to violence at a extremely young age while working in a textile factory- he’s seen a kids arm come clean off. Terror turns to fascination eventually. At some point he’d stopped returning at night finding David and Marko at 15, he started hanging with them- it was safer in numbers that sort of thing- Paul could read a bit , David could write a bit- the three worked it out together. always so distracted- the others learned right off the bat he wasn’t built for pick pocketing no matter how hard he begged about it. Instead he’d do real jobs- sweeping , fighting, placing crooked bets that sort of thing. He always complains. A massive softie since he was young, Paul can’t quite handle being on his own- he’s used to having at least one other person around him at all times causing him to get quite hooked onto the other boys. He hovers around the same places. He is also a fan of dancing- Paul- is music obsessed the moment he heard the first noise of any sort of music he was hooked. He is one about fun- being restrained from it for so long as a child- always to sit out and watch or to think about whatever he did.. oh. Dancing, drinking, drugs, clubs, all of it is his kind of deal- he would drag the others with him when they had a bit of extra cash to deal with. Dwayne and his brother, when they joined on he was instantly accepting, unlike Marko he didn’t have the deep seeded trust issues, he was immediately touchy and happy to share a joke or a comment no matter the glares. He is the one to get Dwayne to lighten up a little bit, to smile he loves to see that smile :). He got around to dating Marko, when they finally put a label on it he was really giddy about it, making jokes and comments- he adores the little names like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘bo’ - he eventually gets around to just plain ‘sugar’ . Marko is the one who really entertains Paul’s love for dancing, the two of them trying to get the others to do something lighten up- eventually their pawing would bare fruit. Paul makes the best out of the worst situation, even if they end up sleeping on the beach more often then not- he somehow makes it seam alright. Except that one time he had gotten sand in Dwayne’s eye and all hell broke lose. He is the current youngest member of the group after Jaspers passing.

Dwayne Maher

Age (as of 1906) : 22

Born: 1884

Appearance: Tall, muscular , tanned(I will establish this now but Dwayne is Native American.) long Black hair with burnet highlights, reaches half down his back.

Backstory:

Born out more Midwest unlike the others he was not born in San Francisco, eldest son of a decent sized family of four kids. Do to conflict he and his younger brother skipped town, skipped state and fled to California.. better options you know?. He’s strong built, hard working and good with his hands though, rather playful most of the time. He looks after his younger brother closely, when there is work they work the same place, when there is not they both still do the same. Quickly took to David and the gang , having a tight knit bond with each of them. He was sort of the muscle - if there was trouble, he knew how to fight and it would likely work better then the knives the boys carried around or the gun David could barely shoot. It was Paul who got him to open up more, about himself and just to speak in general, he’s much more under his breath and jokingly commenting then he is saying something out loud- however if he dislikes something or thinks it stupid you WILL know it. Like David he carries the occasional thought of caution, however he’s not nearly as quick to worry. Maher is not his actual last name , nor does he ever mention it- he simply uses this one when it’s needed as some sort of identification or document. He’s surprisingly good at money, he ends up counting with David and is better at budgeting no matter how he may want or need something. He doesn’t speak on his past as he tries to make it seam he has little of one, he likes to make things mysterious he finds it amusing.

Jasper Maher-

Age (as of 1906) : 16

Born: 1890

Died: 1906

Appearance: shoulder length black hair, typically tied back and braided , tanned, string bean.

Backstory:

The younger brother of Dwayne who is much much more open on how he grew up, casually mentioning things he learned from his parents of his brother (he doesn’t remember his parents that much.) young hot shot sort of kid who’d much rather have action then he would some serious job, loud, energy filled and one for violence- however he’s surprisingly sweet. He often got himself and his brother into trouble. He was a quick and fast young child who grew surprisingly closest with Marko, the two having a habit for breaking every possible rule they could manage together. Their close friendship lead to Marko naming one of his birds after Jasper long after his passing.

Max-

Unknown age but he is seen as extremely old and powerful

Relationship with the boys:

After finding them he has decided to take them under his metaphorical and physical wing, acting as a sort of guardian. Food, clothing, shelter, he was everything the boys didn’t have and was surprisingly inviting in the beginning. ‘I do this for you, you on occasion do this for me’ sort of deal. He wasn’t a leader so much as he was a usual figure, the boys knew and understood him to be above them... so they followed you know? The whole new vampirism thing and the clueless kids- he had to explain and show nearly everything... especially to David, he wasn’t so much harsh to him as he was strict- more of a lead by example sort. Honestly he was father like in a strange sense- that someone is almost like a parent but very much your boss. See... with Max’s strength, there’s this almost automatic level of control- you can’t say no to him. You literally can’t not do what he asks (some supernatural level messing-). There’s something dark about him, in him that the boys still don’t understand in the 80s- but it scares them. It’s strange, it feels unlike him... he seams just like a Dorky , sweet man until...

Some random thoughts that don’t really fit anything

The boys are explicitly religious, past what you’d hear in passing or remember from growing up. Saying “oh god” and respecting religious officials are about what you’ll get

Whoopsies! This was a extremely long post lmao. Sorry for the long read but I could go on and on about them this was just a small blurb to all of it. If you ever wanna hear more do tell me. Also tell me if I should add tw for anything as I know I got a little dark at some points.

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gunpowdville · 4 years ago

Text

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

#fic #my fic #mechs fic #formatting like this bc there are some people i know who might want to read it who don't like ao3 #drumbot brian #raphaella la cognizi #marius von raum #gunpowder tim #ivy alexandria #my writing #long post #very long post

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mewhiphand · 4 years ago

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Drake analysis for his birthday!

Long post, part 1 of 2! Feel free to share your thoughts!

Drake analysis;

*WARNING : MAJOR spoilers for the Gone series and Monster series, discussions of child abuse, misogynistic mindsets, victim blaming, discussion of torture, sexual assault and rape*

This is a general analysis of Drake's character, focusing mostly on scenes from GONE and HUNGER (where he, arguably, has the most autonomy). If there any specific scenes or books you'd like me to take a look at, please let me know! :)

1| Pre-Coates Drake (overview)

Drake was already showing worrying signs, even before the FAYZ (and before he got sent to Coates); it's mentioned that he found enjoyment in microwaving a puppy and burning frogs. Either this was done covertly until the Holden incident, was done at Coates, or was ignored by his family (likely the former).

This tells us a couple of things:

A. His family may neglect or ignore him (or he ignores them)

Torturing these animals, a strange hobby as it is, does require time and commitment. This distance from his parents during his formative years could create antisocial tendencies and isolation from his 'loved ones'.

B. His sadistic tendencies developed before the death of his father and his mother's remarriage (more on that later).

However, Drake didn't start hurting people until he shot the "neighbour's kid, Holden" who "liked to come over and annoy him".

This short description gives us an insight into Drake's short leash on himself: his temper and impulses are hard to control, and he's aggravated to the point of almost committing murder at a young age (he was 14 in Gone, so this could have been at any age before then) - the book tells us that despite only being shot in the leg by Drake with a .22, "even then, he'd nearly died".

This was the incident that got Drake sent to Coates (a boarding school for mostly "rich", messed-up kids) - this could also clue us into how Drake didn't appear to be legally punished for shooting Holden, as his family might have been well-off (implying they'd rather just buy the victim's silence and ship Drake away rather than deal with his issues on their own, or get a private therapist - or perhaps they believe it's out of their hands?).

However, this is based on assumptions and not solid ground.

2 | Drake and his father.

Drake was taught to shoot by his father, a Highway Patrol lieutenant, using his service pistol. This formed an integral part of who he became, and they now had something in common -

"Don't shoot a person," his father had said. But then he relented, relieved no doubt to find something he could share with his disturbing son."

Despite his father being wary of Drake's early sadistic tendencies, he seemed to be the person that Drake was closest to, and his death affected him majorly. As perhaps the only person who even slightly understood him or sought to find something to do with him, his father's death appeared to be a pivotal moment for Drake - it signalled the end of any sense of a positive male role model in Drake's life, as his mother's next husband was abusive. This would cause him to seek out "strong", violent, dominant men when he was older.

The most likely timeline in my opinion is :

•Drake develops sadistic tendencies

•Drake's father dies

•Drake's mother remarries

•Drake shoots Holden and is sent to Coates

3 | Drake and his stepfather and mother

There is subtextual information that Drake is abused by his stepfather: "the beatings he'd suffered, and the much more numerous beating he had delivered, the pleasure he had found in burning frogs and microwaving a puppy and drawing all those endless loving pictures of weapons, spears, knives, torture devices, all of it, all the hatreds, all the burning lust, all the madness and rage.."

"But he was always a troubled boy. Especially after my son died. The stepfather...young Drake’s stepfather..." - Drake Merwin Sr to Connie temple

To digress :

This small passage in Plague and Sr's speech in Light gives us leagues of information.

Drake is drawn to things that cause pain, he's sickly fascinated with all kinds of weapons, "torture devices" (cleverly hinted at in Hunger, when he's watching Saw II), and the true depth of his emotions are revealed - along with a great deal of self-awareness.

Drake doesn't lack emotion - he's incredibly emotional. The things he does feel (rage, lust, joy) seem to be felt deeper, as if his lack of empathy amplifies the rest of his spectrum of emotions. Drake is also aware of what he feels - the "burning lust" mentioned is especially important to understanding Drake - the misogynistic hatred of Astrid and Diana stems from his apparent inability to distinguish between sexual attraction and causing pain (again, his sadistic desires)

The two are one, in Drake's mind.

[More on that later*]

But where did the misogynist mindset come from in the first place?

The answer lies in Drake's home life following the death of his father.

Drake's mother remarried - but his stepfather was an abusive man, leading to an incredibly toxic relationship. Drake, in his youth, already having the urge to hurt and kill, was exposed to that kind of extreme violence. Drake's stepfather beat his mother in front of him, and because his mother seemingly took actions to antagonise him enough to beat her, Drake (with the mindset of a child, who may have already seen it as a betrayal by his mother to remarry after his father's death)

concluded that she did it deliberately because she liked it.

This misconstruction and victim-blaming set in place a cycle of violence that would form Drake's victim-perpetrator mindset. [*]

It could also imply that Drake's mother's actions of irritating his stepfather directly impacted Drake himself: his stepfather took out his anger on his stepson, and beat Drake too.

This could stand to reason as another explanation why Drake's hatred of women developed - lacking positive female role models and maternal figures in his life led to distance from women, and led him to think that all women were intrinsically weak, irritating and masochistic in their desires.

(This would establish a sadistic-masochistic dynamic that Drake believed all woman [for some, like Astrid, secretly] wanted / partook in, and fuel the idea that women were weak and cowardly as his mother failed to protect him from her husband's violence.)

With a stunted, childish psyche, Drake lost sight of the real issue - the fact that his stepfather was abusive - and directed his anger at someone "safe" and "easy" to hate- his mother, whom he victim-blamed.

We can infer that Drake's childhood was filled with uncertainty and violence, and therefore he sought out control as a way to find a sense of stability in his life, and linked violence with strength and power - therefore, he won't recognise any authority that doesn't use violence as the main way to achieve its aims (hence why he's so gleeful when Caine "is lowered to his level" by using violence, and Drake himself only exercises power through shows of violence and using fear as a means of control - he has no sense of loyalty)

The build-up of resentment at his mother would explode, but not at its original target - at Drake's two known objects of sexual attraction in the FAYZ, Astrid and Diana [who will be addressed separately, as their treatments differ in some aspects. In this post I believe I'll only be addressing Diana, but if you want the full Astrid post comment I guess!]

4| Drake and Diana

Drake fears humiliation - mainly, from the female population. In Gone, Drake comments on this :

"He felt a moment of panic then...He would look like a fool if he didn't get [Astrid]."

"Drake cursed and, again, for just a moment, felt the almost desperate fear of failing Caine. He wasn't worried what Caine would do to him - after all, Caine needed him- but he knew if he failed to carry out Caine's orders, Diana would laugh."

What Drake hates about Diana here is her ability to make him feel humiliated, weak, powerless, a failure - everything he's bound to have felt in his childhood when he couldn't protect his mother or himself against his stepfather. He craves the feeling of power over others, and loathes the feeling of helplessness. We can see that he's aware that Caine uses him and needs him to act as a threat, and he accepts this for now, with the ultimate goal of overthrowing him, but his real fear is being publicly seen as weak and being laughed at, which drives him to do anything to succeed in Caine's eyes and, in his own words, "wipe the smirk off Diana's face"

"Drake had made time to check out Diana's psych file the day after the FAYZ came. But her file had been missing by then. In its place she had left Drake's file lying open on the doc's desk and drawn a little smiley face beside the word "sadist".

Drake had already hated her. But after that, hating Diana had become a full-time occupation."

Diana humiliates Drake, and gains power over him by knowing information about his mental state. Drake, who had the same idea to gain power over Diana, is infuriated and his hatred of her, once a burning ember, is now a raging volcano. We can see that Drake doesn't fear that Diana will hurt him psychically, but emotionally by provoking and humiliating him.

"To Drake's disgust, Caine accepted Diana's back-talk."

Diana has power over Caine that Drake can't hope to accomplish, due to the fact that Caine is attracted to her. Caine's desire of Diana outweighs any loyalty or comradeship he has with Drake. Diana also uses Caine's want for her as a failsafe protection against Drake.

Drake's misogyny shines through here: he sees the fact that Diana is manipulating Caine, and sees how he tolerates it. Drake realises that Diana can get away with much more than Drake himself can - she has more power over Caine than Drake does. And this power, in Drake's eyes, isn't "earned" as it wasn't gained through violence.

Drake disregards any kind of power that isn't earned through pain - this also shows in his hatred of freaks, who he sees as not having "earned" the right to be powerful, and explains his glee at, yes,suffering the pain of his arm being burnt off, but it being replaced by something that enables him to cause pain to others - like a reward for enduring the pain. Drake wants his suffering to mean something, and to gain something from it. Drake wants to be important.

"Go ahead, raise a hand against me, Drake," Diana taunted. "Caine would kill you."

We see another example where Diana uses the threat of Caine to keep Drake in line.

Diana is described as attractive throughout the books by varying characters, and so we infer that Drake finds her attractive, but in his twisted, misognyistic mindset, this is translated to violence. Additionally, he already disliked her so his hatred for Diana is stronger than for any other girl in the FAYZ (even Astrid).

5| Drake and Caine

The foreshadowing of Drake's betrayal

We've established that Drake lacks any sense of loyalty and trust due to a lack of these in his own childhood. Drake also only sees respect as being earned by shows of violence and dominance.

Drake, lacking positive male role models, appears to latch on to Caine, the "most ruthless" of all the boys at Coates, and the most powerful (in a literal sense, with his telekinesis). Caine is mentioned to do small favours for Drake (but, crucially, plays Drake and Diana off against each other [*]), and seemingly gains Drake's initial respect.

Drake, however, seeks to usurp Caine (due to his hatred of freaks, and needing to have a sense of superiority. He also sees Caine as weak and below him for bowing to Diana's demands due to Caine being attracted to her.)

When the Coates trio is first introduced together, in Gone, - "Drake Merwin stood smirking, arms across his chest, on Caine's left, and Diana Ladris watched the crowd from Caine's right"

I'm perhaps guilty of looking too much into this initial description, but I find it interesting - despite being Caine's "right-hand man" and even Drake taunts Diana that he and Caine are "like brothers" (Hunger), Drake stands on his left and Diana on his right.

While this also serves to cement (haha) Caine's role as the 'Fearless Leader', it could also foreshadow Drake's betrayal later in Hunger, and his need to "run the show".

Drake, the Judas figure to Caine's christ [maybe a post on this at some point?*], stands on his left. It also marks Diana as the loyal follower, the one to stay with Caine until the end.

The decimation of Drake and Caine's relations ship culminates in the final events of HUNGER, when Drake almost kills Diana and Caine throws Drake down the mineshaft in revenge and anger.

This marks a shift to Drake's character - he's no longer under Caine's control - but emphasises that his loyalty is now fully to the Gaiaphage, whom he worships for giving him power over others [!!] (the whip hand, which grants him the ability to hurt and kill others, and in LIES, immorality)

We can see that what Drake actually craves is, in GONE: to run things himself, a personal anarchist dream where he can hurt anyone he wants, (and yet he needs a strong male figure behind the scenes to give him motivation), or the illusion of control, found in causing others pain, as he lacks the mental stability and leadership needed to be in control, and he lacks long-term goals beyond revenge and fulfilling his sadistic desires, and is rudderless without a leader (as seen in Monster, where he is "mindlessly killing, torturing and raping anyone he comes across" until he is sought out by Tom Peaks, who gives him motivation)

This is supported by Peaks' comment on this in VILLAIN -

"But along with the sneers, he sensed that Drake was looking for leadership. Drake had no plan, never would have any plan, beyond his next murder."

Drake and his hatred of freaks, and how this impacts his relationship with Caine -

"Drake hated the power. There was only one reason why Caine and not Drake was running the show: Caine's powers."

"But Caine understood that the kids with powers had to be controlled. And once Caine and Diana had all the freaks under control, what was to stop Drake from using his own nine millimetres of magic to take it all for himself?"

Drake always planned to usurp Caine, as he thinks he's too influenced by Diana and due to his hatred of freaks. Drake hates anyone having power over him, and Caine's abilities give him a unique advantage, which Drake loathes.

Caine and Drake - altercations before the betrayal and what they show

"She was your mother and she gave you up and kept Sam?" Drake said, laughing in his enjoyment of Caine's humiliation.

Drake's sadism shines through and he turns entirely reckless in tormenting Caine, his desire to see Caine humiliated outweighing any fear he has of him. For Drake, fulfilling these sadistic urges take precedence over everything - even fear, pain, rage. We can see that he seems to not know when to stop, or chooses to push people past their limits anyways.

Caine responds in physical violence, the language Drake seems to understand - "Something slammed Drake's chest. It was like being hit by a truck. He was lifted off his feet and thrown against the wall."

Drake refuses to be humiliated (in front of Diana, curiously) - "He made himself shake it off. He wanted to jump up and go for Caine, finish him quick before the freak could hit him again. But Caine was there, looming over him, face red, teeth bared, looking like a mad dog."

"Remember who's the boss, Drake," Caine said, his voice low, guttural, like it was coming from an animal."

"Drake nodded, beaten. For now."

This small passage gives us a lot of messages about Drake. He wants to appear strong and vicious, but plays it smart and backs down to avoid the risk of Caine actually killing him. Drake and Caine's dynamic is, crucially, a power struggle at its heart.

However, Drake doesn't give up - he's admirably resilient and persistent in chasing his goals of revenge, and "winning" the power struggle against Caine. He does, at least in GONE, possess a good amount of intelligence and foresight.

Caine (and Diana) being aware of Drake's psychopathy

Caine :

"Drake is a violent, disturbed boy." - Caine to Sam, the gym scene in GONE.

Caine knows of Drake's afflictions, but keeps him around as a lackey to do his dirty work. He also considers himself morally superior to Drake - he remarks that at least he doesn't "get off" on what he does.

Hypocritically, Caine does not see his own actions as being just as damaging, but this is due to his overinflated ego and delusions of grandeur - he believes the ends he wants justifies the means he uses.

Diana :

"Drake is sick in the head. I'm not saying that just to scare you, I'm saying it because it's true...Drake is flat out sick in the head. He could kill her, Sam" - Diana to Sam, the gym scene in GONE.

"Well, that's why we keep Drake around. He enjoys hurting people." - Diana to Astrid, classroom scene in GONE.

Diana shares a similar opinion to Caine - he's mentally unhinged, but Diana recognises the threat he poses to both her and to Caine, and wants him gone.

6| Drake and dominance & submission

"Drake moved past Diana and kicked Sam onto his back, legs twisted beneath him. Drake stood over him and pushed the end of his hat against Sam's Adam's apple. The same move he had used on Orc the night before."

We see that Drake is physically strong, despite his unassuming stature - he's described as "lean". He has been in enough fights and has enough experience to take down people at least "fifty pounds" heavier than him (Orc). He also puts these people into humiliating, submissive positions where they have no choice but to capitulate to his demands.

He speaks to Astrid in LIGHT about this -

"Are you as clueless as the rest of them, Astrid? It’s simple. Here it is, here’s the answer, Astrid the Genius: it’s fun to hurt people. It’s such…it’s such joy, Astrid. Such joy realizing that all the power is yours, and all the fear and pain is right there, in your victim. Come on, smart girl, you know what it’s called. You know the word for it. Come on, say it.’ He cupped his hand to his ear, waiting for the word.

'Evil,’ Astrid said.

Drake laughed, threw up his hand wide, and nodded his head. 'Evil! There you go. Good for you. Evil. It’s in all of us. You know that, too. It was in you. I saw it in your eyes as you looked down on me in that cooler. Evil, hah. We all want to have someone powerless beneath us while we stand over them.’ His voice had grown husky. 'We all want that. We all want that.’

One thing that stands out about Drake's character is that he likes to believe that everyone, at some level, has the same desires he does: Drake is just "strong" enough to act on them.

Drake likes to antagonise people to 'bring them down to his level'.

In this speech, Drake reveals a lot about himself.

"it's fun to hurt people" ,in particular, keys us in to the fact that Drake is self-aware, and making Astrid call him "evil" is part of this: Drake knows what he's doing is morally wrong. Drake wants people to think that he is evil, that he's ruthless, that he's nothing but a sadistic murderer, because he doesn't want to reveal his true vulnerability and helplessness.

He calls out the hypocrisy of Astrid for seemingly reveling in his pain and still condemning him for the desires over which he has no control. [This is not to say that I believe he is right for acting on them; the urges he can't control, but he can control his actions]. This is Drake's make me your villain speech. His final cry for help, in a way.

He wants everyone to be like him. He wants to not be judged, he aches for the confirmation that he is not alone in wanting power and vengeance and pain.

"We all want to have someone powerless beneath us while we stand over them." - Drake's experience of the roles being reversed, and the victim-perpetrator cycle show through here. Drake seeks power because he was denied it.

It is paradoxical in that, arguably, he wouldn't be like this if people hadn't punished him for things he couldn't control (involuntary sadistic impulses), and it is sad that we realise he could have been so much more, had circumstances been different.

Drake is a dark mirror of every dark thought we ever have. He, horrifyingly so, reflects the human urge to inflict pain as revenge. Drake's story is a cautionary tale. Many can relate to his harsh childhood, and Drake reminds us that no matter how much pain is inflicted on us, we bear the weight of not continuing that cycle onto others. That is the curse of being good. That is the curse of being human. That is the curse of empathy.

Crucifixion - in MONSTER, it is revealed that Drake has been 'alive' for years, and we find out in VILLAIN that he resides in a cave in the desert along with 3 bodies - 2 female, one male, people he recently tortured. He crucified them with "railroad spikes" and left them to hang from the bones of their wrists. We can see that Drake leaves them in humiliating positions deliberately - "The only thing better would be to have Sam nailed to the opposite wall, forced to watch it all. To see Astrid degraded as Sam watched? He could not imagine anything better."

This is an example of his psychosexual development being warped - he associates sex with violence and power. He tortures and degrades his victims as a way to fulfil his sexual and sadistic urges.

7| Drake and Orc as foils

Drake and Orc first oppose each other in the early chapters of GONE - Drake is given power over Orc by Caine - "Drake and his people, including Captain Orc.."

This establishes a hierarchy within the "sherrifs". Drake leads them, but ultimately defers to Caine - (and, he is given power over others at Caine's will.)

Orc, like Drake, had a traumatic childhood and was abused by his father, and his "dumb dishrag" mother does nothing to stop it (she herself is abused by her husband, and rebukes Charles for wanting to kill his father.)

Both Orc and Drake blame their mothers for failing to stop the abuse of their husbands (and their father and step-father in Drake's case).

This is an interesting comparison, as it cements (haha) both Orc and Drake as bullies with short tempers who need to have control, each with a shrewd, conniving friend who effectively "leads" them.

Also, for the most part in the books, they're the only characters with physical mutations (both resulting from physical injury!) and turn their backs on the shrewd friend at some point (Drake and Caine becoming enemies, Orc finding faith and becoming distanced from Howard's crimes).

The fight between them at the start of GONE is a clever foreshadow to their battle at the end of GONE (and, of course, their long-lasting rivalry) and provides a comparison between the two.

They butt heads when Orc is ordered to defer to Drake when Caine is giving out roles, and Caine handles it by crushing a boy with a cross - but no physical altercation happens until Orc punishes Bette for "doing magic tricks".

The anti-freak agenda (ironic, considering they both end up gaining mutations, at similar points too!) of both Drake and Orc is pointed out, but Orc is almost painted as a "lesser evil" - as if Orc may be a garden-variety bully, but Drake is pure, distilled essence of evil.

"Orc...went for Drake like a linebacker. Drake stepped aside, nimble as a matador."

"Drake hit Orc in the ribs with a short, sharp forward thrust of the bat. Then again in the kidneys and again in the side of the head. Each blow was measured, accurate, effective."

Drake is the quick and nimble to Orc's sluggishness, the playfulness to Orc's sullen demeanour. He is "lean" where Orc is "wide" - their battle at the end is described as "their quick-and-slow, nimble-and-heavy, sharp-and-dull battle".

This is a perfectly well written description in my opinion - succinct, and perfectly accurate of them.

The main differences, however, are their personal views on their mutations, and their arcs.

Orc thinks he's a monster - he knows he is physically repulsive, and detests himself. He feels immense guilt over the pain he caused, and seeks to redeem himself through finding faith and asking for forgiveness from God.

Drake, in contrast, adores the power that his mutation gives him. He even describes himself as "Jesus with a whip". His mutation, in Drake's eyes, gives him control over others and he relishes in this.

Drake feels no remorse over the pain he causes, and doesn't desire redemption.

His God-figure is the Gaiaphage, whom he eventually betrays as he desires personal revenge on Astrid and Diana and cannot cope with Gaia being female due to his misogynistic views.

However, Drake and Orc share an interesting scene in Plague with Astrid - Orc seeks out Astrid with the intent to hurt her (it is implied to be sexual violence) and is interrupted by Drake arriving at Coates with his army of bugs. Drake picks up on Orc's intentions.

Drake confesses to Orc that he had the same idea.

"You think she'll give you a big, wet kiss on your gravel face?" He peered closer at Orc as if looking inside him. "Nah, Orc, the only way you get Astrid is the same way I get her. And that's what you were thinking, isn't it?"

#drake merwin #caine soren #gone series #fayz #the gone series #diana ladris #michael grant #sam temple #astrid ellison

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oloreaa · 4 years ago

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2020 WRAP UP!

Okay here we are!! Hopefully I have not missed anyone because I truly dont mean to "snub" anyone, so here is a list of people who I feel very thankful for knowing this year, where I started out on tumblr, you have been truly bright presences and I love you very very much.

First off here are some people I don't know very well (or at all, but I admire their work) but I think have excellent vibes and I would love to get to know better/let them know that I appreciate them very very much:

@maxlordd @ollypopp @opheliaelysia @honeymandos @concussed-to-pieces @pikemoreno @huliabitch @mitchi-c @hansoulo @browneyes-djarin @cinewhore @max--phillips @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @dishonouringmycow @keeper0fthestars @dadolorian @dindjarindiaries @cobbvader @leo-moon @justrunamok @frannyzooey @miranhas-art @keethus-arts @hdlynn @zeldasayer @qveenbvtch @softpedropascal @marvel-and-mischief @datmando @stubbychaos @di-kut @themangolorian @vercopaanir @mcfreakin-bxtch

and so, so many more that I cannot think of right now (and tumblr doesnt let me tag more than 50 people)

And for those I know a bit better, under the cut❤:

@binggrae-banana-milk : You're the first person I really talked to on tumblr, and I cherish every single one of our interactions so much. The one time where we had watched Revenge of the Sith together and had a full on BLAST, it was incredibly fun and every time we just kind of scream at each other in dms it's so funny, how we both are freaking out simultaneously!! Also before you I never really keysmashed and now it's a part of my vocabulary lmao, ily!!!

@mndalorians : Cass. Oh, my dear Cass. Listen, you have brightened up my year by SO MUCH. I don't even want to know how many tens of thousands of words our chat consists of dhdhdh, from discovering cultural differences with each other, to yelling about the same stuff, to planning fics and telling each other of our ideas. We share a brain cell and we are literally the embodiment of Zwei Dumme, ein Gedanke. If I'm glad for anything in this year, it's starting to talk to you. You're literally one of my closest friends and I never hesitate in hitting you up, from absolute crack to heartbreak, you have the range, darling. I love you so much, you don't even know❤

@agirllovespancakes : Iris baby, oh my god. I don't even know where to start. The way how we just started talking without even KNOWING how we started talking is the funniest thing, EVER. This friendship came out of fucking NOWHERE and I am so glad for this. I can always count of you to stand by my side in so many things, and you're the other chaotic one in Tender Roasting, I adore you. The way we just go "kskssksks" and "dhddhdhdhd" at each other for literally hours because we are just losing it over each other is amazing. Ich hab dich so lieb!!!

@adikaofmandalore : Holy shit, Adi, the only thing I can think of now is that you literally deserve everything good and sweet in this world. You're one of the kindest souls on here, and I've never met anyone who is as sweet as you. I don't even know how you are real. Everytime we talk I'm literally smiling so bright, your enthusiasm for Ven is unparalleled and the way we just go bonkers at each other with ideas?? You're so supportive?? And your razor sharp wit and sarcasm is AMAZING to witness in action. Your writing is incredible and incredibly underrated and your stubbornness is admirable. You manage to power though Everything and that's so impressive. I love you very much!!!

@teaofpeach : lee babe DAMN I've never met anyone who is as funny as you. Like whenever we are talking it's just, it ends with me cackling and having the biggest smile on my face because you made me laugh so much. Such a bright presence on my dash and your TAGS are always sending me. So witty and smart and your vocabulary is unparalleled. Filthy hoe but I love you for it. You taught me so much tumblr lingo just by texting me and I always feel Educated afterwards dhdhdhd I love you so much and I trust you with every single one of my attempts at Spiciness

@mandolovian : DEV BABY my love from tomorrow🥺🥺 the time difference of HELL had never stopped us from being hoe af in the dms lmao, I vividly remember one of our first convos spiralling into thots SO FUCKING FAST that was the funniest shit ever. It's always fascinating to see what you do on the other side of the planet and I admire you so much. Like, you TRULY have big brain. How do you remember so much??? Like all these conditions and facts and like WOAH I just feel like a plankton next to you💀💀💀💀 ily SO MUCH

@goldafterglow : iris babe omg okay first of all you're the prettiest bitch I've ever seen, such a nice presence overall, you have GALAXY BRAIN, your writing style is so smooth and full of descriptions that are so amazing to read, like its. Amazing. You have unfortunately witnessed several times where I typed faster than my brain would proceed and I ended up saying the DUMBEST shit and you make fun of me because of it. Like bro I dont even mind bc any interaction with you is worth it🥺🥺🥺🥺

@chibi-liz05 : Liz oh my gosh I just love you so much. We don't talk as frequently anymore but you just have a place in my heart, you're incredibly supportive of everything and you're always there for me, no matter for what, offering thoughts and conversation about everything. You're such an absolute sweetheart and a sunshine person and I just adore your positive attitude and the way you talk, you're literally the sweetest. I love you very very much and consider this me giving you the biggest forehead kiss

@pisss-offf-ghostt : you're one of the first ones who read my fics when I first started out, and your continued support for everything I write is absolutely AMAZING. Like I enjoy every single one of our conversations and discussions, and I feel completely safe to hit you up for anything, no matter what. You're an incredibly kind and hardworking person and your heart is just so big, I cannot even comprehend it. It's amazing how much you care, how you interact with people on here, and I care for you SO MUCH. Love you🥺❤❤

@maybege : you're literally the KINDEST PERSON around?? And we are weirdly connected through cosmic forces whenever it has something to do about Lebkuchenherzen lmao, its uncanny. We have started out in fics in such a similar way it still makes me chuckle, like we experienced the same amount of cringe lmaooo, and now you're just here, blessing us every day with your amazing content, being the most organised person I know, and just an absolute SWEETHEART. everytime we write I have such a big smile on my face, and you BET we would have found each other irl if it wasnt for Corona🤡🤡

@kiwi-the-first : oh kiwi you're such a nice and thoughtful person, whenever I feel down youre the first one to send asks and nice messages and cute photos to make me smile and that is absolutely adorable of you🥺🥺 you're such a vocal and passionate character and its absolutely amazing to see you in action, how you go all caps screaming in the dms. You have a special part in my heart and its just so nice to be able to talk to you

@corvueros : MEG we are literally sharing one (1) brain cell and they are oscillating between "horny", "yelling at each other in all caps" and "oh my god that's such a good idea" 💀💀💀 whenever we talk I have the biggest smile on my face and I absolutely ADORE you, you're the absolute best. Such a sweet and thoughtful and excited person who can spew the filthiest thots in a manner of 0.1 seconds. You're such a bright person and I could not imagine not being able to talk to you bc you're so supportive and just the literal BEST, I LOVE YOU BITCH, I AM NEVER GONNA STOP LOVING YOU, BITCH

@blacksquadron-rougetwo : okay Hailee you have absolutely excellent vibes. Like you're always so bright and sunshiny and just so damn fucking gorgeous I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU. Filthy and tender at the same time, the QUEEN of soft horny fics like woah, and the way you talk is just so wonderful to witness. Your reaction pics are always on point and no matter what the topic is our convos always end up in all caps screaming at each other how unfairly hot the character of the week is lmao. You're such a sweet being and I am grateful for you!!

@over300books : holy shit Estela I have not known you well for a long time but you're such an incredibly supportive person with the funniest of commentary, everything you write makes me smile, ESPECIALLY all those comments in the docs!! I completely trust you with all the writings I manage to finish and everytime you help me with it you make me see my work with new eyes. You're just so damn amazing and sweet and super cheery I just love you so much. I am so grateful that we are friends and I am SO PROUD of you for finishing your degree!! Like girl WHOOOO!!!

@anxiety-riddled-mando : listen not only are you an absolutely fantastic writer, you're such an amazing person and someone who just screams "safe" at me. Like I completely trust you with my thoughts and even if we are not talking directly very often (our communication is more reblogging and telling each other in the tags how much we love them lmao) I just absolutely adore you and I just am so incredibly thankful that we stumbled across each other!!! You're such a bright presence on tumblr and every single one of your works is so incredibly amazing!!

Aaaand that's a wrap!! Thank you so much for making my year brighter, I love every single one of you so so so so so much. Happy new years!!

Love, Rea

#new years wrap up #oloreaa talks #i love u very very much #❤❤❤❤❤

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vislorrturlough · 4 years ago

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Scaramouche!

"Of course, this assumption of responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically, culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."

- Paulo Friere

For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.

When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.

“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”

The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.

“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.

“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”

He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.

Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”

Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.

Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning.

“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”

“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.

“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”

Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”

He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”

She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”

“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”

Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.

—

Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself.

Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.

Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music.

Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.

The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.

Loki bumped into someone.

“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”

She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”

He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”

“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.

He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.

The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”

“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”

“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”

Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”

“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”

She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”

“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”

She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.

“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”

Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.

She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”

“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”

They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist.

“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”

“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.

Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”

“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”

“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”

“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.

They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.

“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.”

Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.

Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons.

1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.

2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.

He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door.

“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.

He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.

He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.

“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”

“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”

“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”

“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”

“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”

Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”

“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”

Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.

“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”

“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”

“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”

“As if she’d sleep with you.”

“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”

“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”

“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”

“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.

“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”

“Which she can’t.”

“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”

He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.

Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s.

“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?”

“Ew,” she called back. “No.”

He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.

He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”

“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”

“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”

“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”

“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV.

“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”

“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”

“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”

“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”

“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”

He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.

Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.

He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.

“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.

“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”

Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”

“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”

Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”

Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”

Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him.

He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.

“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.

In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”

In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.

“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”

Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.

“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”

Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”

It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.

It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened.

Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”

“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”

Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.

“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”

“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”

“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”

Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”

The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.

She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”

She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.

With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.

“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”

She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”

“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.

“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”

“In English?”

The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”

“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”

“You aren’t busy anymore.”

He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”

“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”

“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”

“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”

“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”

“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”

“Hey, fuck you-”

She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).

But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems

Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.

Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying.

Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.

He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.

Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.

He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts.

Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.

Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.

Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.

Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.

Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.

He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.

Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!

His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.

He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.

Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.

“...What the fuck? Loki?”

He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.

Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.

“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.

He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”

Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.

If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”

A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”

Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.

“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”

“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”

Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.

“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”

“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”

“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I’ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”

Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.

—

Received FRI 2:08

Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what

Verity: im assuming ur working

Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!

Received FRI 11:02

Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok?

Verity: call me if you get the chance ok

Received MON 15:47

Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried

Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious

Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed

Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace

Received WED 23:21

Verity: please call i’m worried

Verity: please

Received THU 18:54

Verity: you’re a fucking idiot

Verity: I hate you

Received THU 19:02

Verity: i didn’t mean that

Verity: sorry.

Verity: please do call. please

Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?

All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.

Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest.

But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.

There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.

Huh.

He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.

The lights switched on. “Loki?”

He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.

Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.

She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”

By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.

“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Wherever you want to?”

He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.

“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”

Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.

“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”

He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”

“Would you?” she asked.

A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”

She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.

Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”

He squinted at her in confusion.

“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.

“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”

He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.

“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”

His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.

No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.

“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.

“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”

“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.

“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”

“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”

“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”

“Everything I am is just a mask. A mask that you put on me!”

“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”

“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.

“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”

“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”

He paused, and stared her down.

“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”

Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.

“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him.

Loki smiled. “Naturally,”

Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?”

“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”

“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”

Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”

Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.

Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.

He looked back at Heimdall.

“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”

With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.

#this is nothing #really its just an attempt to see if i can write something 5k+#so its not good #but hey #loki #loki agent of asgard #agent of asgard #verity lewis #loki fic

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darknessisafriend · 5 years ago

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Adopting a pet with Multi-Joaquin!characters Headcanons

Hello everyone !!!

So, I’m trying a new thing, making HC with most of Joaquin characters because I realized a lot of you liked several of his characters and might enjoy same HC for different characters (Here we have Commodus, Arthur/Joker, Joe, Charlie, Max California, Bruno, Abbe, Doc Sportello and Freddie Quell!)

Tell me if you liked it and would like more!

You can request ! and also ask for some characters to be added like Bobby, Willy, Leonard, Abe Lucas, Theodore, etc ENJOY!

Commodus

- You had found an abandoned dog as you went for a walk in the city. Alone, in a corner of a dirty alley, undernourished. It looked at the crowd of people with sad eyes, hoping someone would notice them.

- You had approached the poor animal, who instantly came to you, wagging its tail in excitement, happily accepting your caress on its head. You ordered to one of your servants to go get a piece of meat at a nearby butcher to feed the dog, it was a male, with a golden fur, which was quite tarnished by the dirt.

- You couldn’t resist, this dog was way too affectionate for you to leave it alone in the streets; you had to bring it home. It happily followed you to the palace thankful for the food you had fed him. You instantly went to Commodus to tell him, you wondered how he would react. He was sitting at his study, reading papers of the Senate.

- His eyes lit up as he saw you arrive, then he noticed the golden animal walking by your side.

- “Y/N what is that?” he asked you, although he had an idea of what was your intent. But he didn’t want it, it was dirty and probably carrying diseases.

- “That is our new companion. I couldn’t leave him alone, he’s really sweet.” You explained smiling as you looked at the animal, who happily wagged its tail in return. Commodus wasn’t so surprised after all, he knew you were a woman of compassion and love; the only one who loved him.

- He wasn’t fond of the dog at all, but the Emperor would do anything to keep you happy and pleased. He sighed; he didn’t have the choice but accept “Keep it then. But don’t expect me to take care of it.” He said nonchalantly, but his heart fluttered as a big happy smile formed on your lips, and you took his face between your hands to kiss him.

- But Commodus wasn’t as insensitive to the animal as he expressed; in fact, he was rather intrigued, he had a horse and truly cared about him, he wondered if it could be the same with the dog “The dog of the Emperor cannot stay filthy like this, have him washed and properly fed” He told you looking back at his papers, you hide a smile, you knew Commodus was going to care for him as much as you.

- As you had dinner, the dog would go sit at Commodus’s feet, lifting his ears each time your lover would take a piece of food, you couldn’t help but laugh, and Commodus found it funny too, grinning as he slowly put the food in his mouth on purpose. Then, he wouldn’t be able to resist and give a piece of meat to the dog.

- As Commodus got attached to him, your dog would often accompany him to the Senate, and lie down at his feet, and when the Emperor would get angry at someone in particular, your dog would even bark at the Senator, and in return Commodus would appease him, by caressing his head “Good dog.” He would compliment, smirking defiantly at the Senator.

- Commodus would even train him; in no time, your dog became very obedient. Commodus had even spent time to train him to be your guard dog and protect you when Commodus wasn’t by your side.

- In the end, Commodus truly enjoyed his presence, it was soothing him when you couldn’t. And Commodus often found himself petting him. You would even find your lover in the gardens playing with your dog, laughing, of course you would join them, glad that your dog brought even more light in the Emperor’s dark mind.

Arthur/Joker

- Both Arthur and Joker, would bring you a dog as gift. They knew how much you loved animals and dreamt of having one.

- Arthur went to a shelter and had found this little old dog abandoned by his family, he wished he could have gotten you a young puppy in a shop but it was cheaper for him to get a dog at an animal shelter and Arthur knew he was making a good action, to make another being happy.

- Arthur felt his heart melt as he showed you the little animal in his arms, you squealed in happiness, caressing the doggy’s head while it gave you excited licks on your cheek. But before you could take the dog in your arms you made sure to thank Artie, giving him a big kiss, burying your fingers in his long locks. He moaned in surprised, he was so happy you liked his gift, he had been so nervous about it.

- Arthur constantly watches over the little dog, he’s fascinated. He loves how the animal constantly ask for his attention while you’re away from home. This beautiful being noticed him and enjoys his care.

- However, Arthur often worries about the affection you give to your dog, you constantly pet him, talk to him and make sure he’s okay. Arthur worried that all your attention might travel to the dog and that you forget about him.

- But he doesn’t say anything because he sees your smile and how happy the animal makes you feel.

- Of course, you notice it. You knew how Arthur behaved when he was upset, how he threw you sad looks as you kissed and petted your dog. So, you took your dog in your arms and sat on Arthur’s lap, setting the dog between the two of you; you encircled your arms around Arthur’s neck, gently caressing his dark locks, and leaning forward to tenderly kiss his lips “I love you Artie.” You assured him between kisses, he exhaled in relief, caressing your back.

- To this, your dog happily wagged its tail, making the both of you laugh “He needs love too, I think the both of us have enough love to share it with another being.”

- Of course, the dog would sleep in your bed, Arthur and you too to be honest, couldn’t resist to the pleading of the dog at the feet of the bed. So, Arthur, would get up and pick up the animal in his arms, he knew that with age the dog couldn’t climb on the bed by itself. Your dog would then happily curve into a ball between the two of you.

- Arthur loves walking your dog with you, holding your hand; he felt so much like a thing any other normal couple did.

- As for Joker, he went through all the pet shops of Gotham to find the perfect puppy for you. He wants the cutest for his girlfriend.

- He would enter your flat, you would be reading on the sofa, he wears a proud smile. The puppy is in a box behind the door. Your face lit up when you saw him, you quickly got up and encircling your arms around his neck, he passionately captures your lips, he’s excited to see your reaction, his heart his racing like the ghost fear of Arthur rushing back in him.

- “Close your eyes, baby.” He’d purr against your lips. You didn’t expect a surprise but what could you say, Joker was unpredictable. You closed your eyes eagerly. Joker briefly detailed your beautiful face, smiling tenderly. Then, he hurried to get the puppy out of the box.

- “Open your arms, careful it’s heavy and fragile.” He’d precise, holding the small animal in his arms. You briefly frowned when you felt what was in your arms and you quickly realized it was moving, you instantly opened your eyes and you felt tears come into your eyes as you looked at the cute puppy who rested its front paws on your chest so that it could lick your face.

- Joker is not very interested in having a pet, but he enjoys your happiness with a puppy. He had to admit the little creature was touching, maybe it was how innocent and pure it was in this cruel and dark world.

- He still leaves you the task to take the puppy on a walk. He has no time for this kind of activities, what would people say?

- But one thing he likes to do is bath the puppy. Joker enjoys taking care of those under his protection and that included your little animal. He’d take off his waistcoat, and roll up his sleeves, he looked particularly sexy like that. You’d lean against the doorframe to watch them.

- You love how he would constantly talk to your puppy in high-pitched voice, exciting your dog even more. You would laugh openly when the animal would shake himself and splash water on Joker and in return your lover would also splash him.

- Joker would also get jealous of your dog very easily. He’d get even more physical with you “I’d like to be petted too…” he’d purr into your ear, nibbling your ear lobe.

- It was quite funny, how your puppy would keep seeking Joker attention, running around him, trying to chew his shoes; when you’d be watching TV, if you weren’t the first by Joker’s side, the puppy would take your place, laying down on Joker lap, he would sigh in annoyance but somehow couldn’t get mad at the animal “No, that’s Y/N place…”and you found it so cute that you would just snuggle against the clown , kissing his cheek and caressing your puppy’s head.

- He would groan when the puppy would jump on your bed, “aww little baby come here!!” you would say softened by the little fur ball, but he wouldn’t say anything else because you wouldn’t mind the puppy that night; Joker might end up sulking because the dog separates you from him but you would always find a way to snuggle against him during the night and he’d forget about his frustration.

Bruno Weiss

- You were coming back from dinner out with Bruno, he was your dearest friend, but you had stronger feelings for him, however you ignored if he would reciprocate them the way you would. The both of you were tipsy on your way back, you lived in a building a few blocks away from him and as usual he would insist on escorting safely home.

- The both of you were giggling, holding onto each other, and by the corner of a dark alley you spotted a box, whining sounds coming out of it “Are you hearing this?” you asked Bruno who stopped and listened closely, then he approached the box. “Oh, that’s puppy’s, abandoned. For free.” He described

- To this you furrowed your brows in pity and came to see the animals, your state of drunkenness didn’t help but you found them beyond beauty, you had to save at least one “Bruno we can’t leave them here!” you exclaimed, struggling to keep your balance as you wanted to take them in your arms.

- “No, what are you going to do with them? You-you’re not in the state for puppy’s…” he mumbled, putting his arm behind your back to guide away and bring you to your apartment, you weakly protested, fatigue and alcohol getting the best of you. The last thing you remembered was you tumbling in your bed…

- In the morning, you were awakened by wet licks on your face, a soft fur tickling your nose. You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light and groaning at the headache you had. But you realized what was before you, a little grey puppy. It took you a few seconds to remember the past night but how did the puppy end here? Bruno didn’t want to…

- You got up and found him asleep on your sofa still fully clothes and with another puppy curved into a ball between his arms; you bit your lower lip at this cute scene. The third one was running around in your living room.

- In fact, right after putting you in your home, Bruno couldn’t bring himself to let the puppy’s alone and went back to pick them up and found himself at your flat once again. He had seen the look on your face, he figured out you would like this.

- And Bruno is a compassionate man, he doesn’t especially show it but deep down he is and tries to help as much as he can. Even if his own personal interest often influences his decisions. And here it was no exception to the rule, he felt pity for the puppy but he knew it might also help him to seduce you; he had fell in love with you the moment he had met you, but could never bring himself to tell you; you were a fine woman and he was…a scoundrel, nothing to New York’s society.

- You decided to gently wake him up, your hand gently tracing his features. And he would wake up rapidly, not used to be touched with affection, he would realize what he had done the past night, and feel quite embarrassed, what was he going to do with those three puppies?

- Then, he saw the happy look on your face as you kissed the puppy that had woke you up. He would instantly relax, and look at you tenderly, glad he didn’t make a mistake.

- “You know what? I think I might keep this one.” He would say about the puppy on his lap, that would surely make you fall for him “For the other one, I think Rosie was looking to get a pet…”

- And he was right, you already felt deep affection for him before but now you were completely in love with him, Bruno adopting a dog and if you two lived together at some point, you’d have two pets! You instantly leaned forward cupping his face, as you placed your lips on his “Thank you Bruno, it makes me so happy.”

- After this gift from Bruno, you finally started dating him and now you lived together. Bruno wouldn’t pay too much attention to his dog, he had many other things to do, he was a busy man. But the puppy would do anything to get Bruno’s attention including chewing his shoes but that truly angered your boyfriend, he had to always to be dressed perfectly, now he had to buy new shoes again!

- But as soon as he raises his voice on the puppy, he stops, the look it is giving him, he feels bad now and sighs, crouching down at the level of the animal “Listen buddy, you can’t do that. Don’t eat my shoes. If you behave well, I will…hum…pet you?” he offered, unsure at how he was trying to talk to an animal. But somehow the puppy seemed to understand.

- You had understood Bruno wasn’t really an animal person, that he just did all of this for you. But since his little talk with the puppy, it really behave well, and Bruno had no choice but reward him, and as days passed he got used to it, talking more to his dog, often petting him, sometimes without realizing it; for example, in the morning as he drank his coffee and read the journal, his hand would absently caress the fur of the little being.

- You would smile softened by how your boyfriend grew closer to the puppy. And when Bruno knows that you have noticed, he had to admit he didn’t expect too “I guess that little bastard isn’t so bad after all.” A small smile appearing on his lips.

- Even if Bruno enjoys his company now, there are rules, and it’s out of question for his dog and yours to sleep in the bedroom with you. Bruno wants to be alone with you, his own privileged time, where you have eyes for nothing else but him.

Charlie

- It was during a mission at some rich man’s house. At the entrance was cat, a mom with her kittens, you crouched down and Eli too, the kittens letting themselves get petted. “Would you like one? My wife doesn’t want to keep all of them.” Had offered the man.

- “No, we’re not interested.” Objected Charlie before you could say anything else “C’mon Y/N let’s go.” He added this time more gently, your boyfriend could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. You gave a last look to the kittens, you wanted to have one so bad…

- You would have a few days of riding until you reached home; so that night you camped by the forest; the air was a bit chilly. You and the brothers were gathered around the fire, Charlie kept looking at you, usually you would always snuggle against him “Are you mad at me about the cats?” he finally asked in disbelief, he hated waiting without any clues of what was going on.

- “No, I’m just okay, ain’t that cold.” you answered looking at the flames of the campfire. Charlie grumbled in return, he, on the other side, was freezing and wanted your warmth. But that’s when he heard it, a meowing, he lifted his head, then it happened again, it was coming from you. And when he met your eyes, he noticed how wide they were, your lips pinched in anticipation.

- “Y/N…” he started his tone coming out as a warning, Charlie was a smart man and he had understood your secret, but he hated that you hid it from him, you always shared everything with him just like he did with you.

- Your heart was racing, you hoped he wouldn’t get mad, he never did with you but maybe this…You opened your coat, and the little head of a kitten popped out, it was snuggled against you, keeping you warm but now it was asking for food.

- Charlie would be very annoyed “Now that you have it, what are you going to do with it huh? It can’t run next to the horses, and I doubt a cat can ride a horse.” He bickered, that’s what really bothered him, the animal was going to be a burden for them.

- But you would tell him otherwise, you didn’t plan on carrying the cat everywhere you went, you would kept it at the home you shared with Charlie, which was next to their mother’s; and when you wouldn’t be home, she could be watching over it “You know Charlie I think mama would enjoy some company.” Supported you Eli; Charlie groaned in return, and went to sleep, sulking. You slept on your own side, you shook your head, he could be so childish sometimes.

- However, you knew it wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t stay mad at you, and the next morning, he would have forgiven you already.

- And you were right, the next morning, he was gently waking you up, his thumb caressing your face. He had made breakfast and hoped you had forgiven him. In fact, you were never mad at him for a start, you were the one hiding the kitten from him and he was the one who decided to sleep separately from you.

- He looked at the little animal snuggled against you “What’s its name?” he asked, and you were surprised by his question, because you didn’t even think about getting a name for the kitty, with the tip of his index he caressed the animals head who in return leaned into his touch; “it’s a female.” You replied, indirectly offering him to name the kitty, he seemed to think for a bit “What about Missy?” he offered looking at you for approval, scratching his beard, unsure; you smiled, it was perfect, you straightened up and captured his lips, his hand came up to cup your cheek, he had missed you last night.

- He would even give a bit of his breakfast to the kitty “That doesn’t mean I like it.” He still added going back to his grumpy self.

- As you rode your horse, the cat would stay in your coat, only her head out, looking curiously at the horse. Charlie would often look at her, amused by this little being in your arms.

- When Missy noticed how close you were to Charlie, constantly kissing him, sleeping in his arms at night, she would choose him as a second resting place, she understood how your man behaved and took things slowly, until she finally managed to curve into a ball, sleeping between his crossed legged. Without noticing, Charlie’s hand would wander to caress the little animal, and you realized he wouldn’t dare to move and wake up the kitten.

- “Don’t say it.” He would grumble, he doesn’t want to appear to have some sort weakness; you hid your smile, he was adorable.

- Once home, Charlie becomes even more affective with the cat, and at night if she was still outside, he would look for her, worried something might have happened to your cat.

- He enjoyed playing with her, picking up a long blade of grass, laughing as the animal jumped on it, getting all excited and crazy.

- In the end, even if he would never say it out loud, he enjoyed her presence, it was soothing; and actually made him think about having a child with you.

Joe

- You had decided to get a dog to Joe. You were worried for him when he had to stay at home alone. He was often subject to anxiety, dissociation or even self-harm, even if since he was with you, it happened a lot less. You had made some research and had found out about the beneficial effect of an animal for people suffering from PTSD. You had made your decision and found an association providing assistance dogs especially for people suffering from PTSD.

- Of course, for this you had to talk to Joe about it, there was a whole process to go through before getting this kind of dog. And as soon as Joe came home, you discussed about it.

- Joe was actually quite open to the idea of getting an animal, he was a bit uncomfortable at the idea of the whole application process, so you went to get your laptop, sitting next to him and showing all the information’s you had gathered about it and how the beneficiaries had their life improved. And it reassured him, it seemed these types of dogs could understand how he felt and help him when you weren’t there to soothe him.

- When Joe finally met the service dog, it was like the connection instantly established between the two of them, Joe’s eyes lit up, he was looking at the animal with interest and the dog came towards him and your boyfriend caressed its head, a small smile forming on his lips.

- Joe’s mental health improved faster since the dog had entered your couple, it reassured you to have someone caring for your boyfriend and Joe enjoyed the company while you were away, his dog would keep him calm, grounded; Joe wouldn’t withdraw into himself so much anymore.

- Joe would have something to make him maintain his life while you’re not there, he had to feed the dog and Joe would then eat at the same time, often giving a bit of the food he had prepared to his companion.

- He had to go out, to walk the dog or for bathroom breaks, it was good for Joe and he found himself a lot more in the present time.

- And when Joe, would dissociate, his mind wandering in dark places. You had seen it a few times, his dog named Porter would feel it a few seconds before it happened and would give your boyfriend a headbutt or nudge his arm with his muzzle making Joe snap back to reality. Enabling you to come by his side and soothe his anxiety.

- And when you were home, Joe would offer you to join him for a walk outside with Porter. Your boyfriend would be a lot more relaxed outside even in crowed places, with you and his dog he felt safe and in peace. He’d feel proud to go out with you like any other couple and enjoy it, entwinning his fingers with yours and holding Porter’s leash in the other hand.

- You never thought Joe would become crazy in love with his dog. He would go in front of the house to play fetching with him, cuddle with him on the sofa and even cook food especially for his dog. You were happy to see Joe so present, active and creative.

- “You should have seen what he did yesterday, he’s a really clever boy.” Said Joe with soft smile, throwing a glance at his dog; that was something he said regularly, you chuckled at how proud he seemed of his companion.

- His dog often slept into the bedroom with the both of you but thankfully always stayed on the floor at the feet of the bed, on his own cushion. You could say the three of you formed a nice little family now.

- Of course, Joe didn’t forget about you, you were still his number one love. He had seen how a little jealous you seemed sometimes “Sometimes I wonder who you love more…” you tease him playfully, and in return he would instantly capture your lips, making you feel how much he loved you, how much he needed you “You’re my everything Y/N.” he would say and that would be the only thing you needed to hear; after all, there were things that only you could give to Joe.

Max California

- That day you were hanging around with Max arm in arm, it was a really sunny day, and Max looked gorgeous as usual, his wayfarer sunglasses on, his skin tight t-shirt and pants, people even turning around to look at him and maybe to look at you too, you weren’t as confident about your body as Max was.

- Max brought his face closer to yours, planting a suave kiss on your jaw “damn you’re so exciting today babe…” he purred close your ear, you bit your lower lip, ‘horny’ was probably Max second name “You should see yourself, way hotter…” you replied on a flirty tone, he chuckled “hmmmm I doubt that, you’re the only one turning me on so quickly…” gosh he could be the end of you when he was like this.

- On your way, your flirting was distracted by a pet shop specialized in exotic pets, you both stopped to look at the store front “Dope!” exclaimed Max amazed by all the different kinds of pets in there. You decided to go inside, there was so many animals, but a specific specie caught Max eyes, and yours.

- “Look at those rats! There cool…” he started, his eyes never leaving the little creatures who looked at him with interest. “What do you think of adopting them?” you suggested already knowing how he would respond.

- He would look at you with pure joy and excitement “Are you kidding?” then he would realize you were serious and laugh “Oh yes! Thank you, baby.” He would beam peppering your lips with kisses.

- Max couldn’t choose only two rats, there were all so beautiful, with different colors, ears, some even had red eyes, they all looked so cool! So, you ended up adopting six of them for Max greatest pleasure, you wouldn’t mind, those small animals weren’t cumbersome. Max chose a big cage, and tons of accessories, he wanted them all cozy.

- Max would spoil them in various treats and often took them out so they could run around in the apartment. You had to admit they were very interesting animals and clever.

- As you watched Max play with his guitar for you, the rats snuggle against you in your shirt, they also wanted too with your boyfriend, but his shirts were way too tight for them.

- So , you decided to buy him a black cardigan that perfectly matched his style, he wore it all the time, not only because the rats could snuggle against him now but also because you had offered it to him; this way it was like you were always with him.

- He would always bring one of them to work, it made his day seem less long and boring. The little rat would wander at his feet, nap on the books under the counter, climb along his leg to finally settle himself on his shoulder.

- That really fitted Max style, and together you would sometimes spend the whole afternoon playing with them and teaching them little tricks and often you would end up with Max on top of you giggling as he trailed kisses down your neck.

Abbe

- You found the mother cat in the barn of the domain of the Asylum, she had just given birth to four kittens but she was exhausted, you could see by the way she breathed and she was lying down, she might not make it through the next days you thought. You had to do something, maybe there was a way to strengthen her.

- You instantly went to get the Abbe to tell him and show him, you knew he was a man full of compassion and since you were having a secret affair with him you also knew he would do everything he could to save the cat and her kittens.

- “She is very weak. All we can do is bring her food and pray that she gets better.” Declared the Abbe caressing her head, as you met his eyes, you understood he had little hope, he was used to sickness and death and easily recognized when someone was reaching the end of their life.

- And he was right, despite your constant care and his visits, the mother died a few days afterwards. He felt your sadness as you announced him that she had died, so he buried her in a quiet part of the garden, this brave animal deserved respect for giving life.

- He would offer to keep the kittens, “With your help I think we might have a chance to save them.” He would tell you with an optimistic smile, you were relieved, often in this type of situation, owners would end the life of the kittens, but not your Abbe; you wrapped your arms around his neck, the both of you were safe in the barn, and you gently placed your lips upon his, he leaned into your touch; to him it was natural, no need to thank him but to you it was important, even if you knew of his goodness.

- “We can put them in my office, close the fire of the chimney. They need to be warm.” He would say, it had happened to him a few times to have to care for an orphan baby until nuns would take them, so he knew a few things about taking care of a newborn. You would go in your room to get some warm clothes to wrap them in.

- The Abbe would make sure you get more free time to take care of the kittens. You needed to get milk from the goats of the domain and mix it with egg yolks, the mixture had to be nutritious for their first weeks of life. When the time to feed them came, your lover would often join you, it was quite challenging to feed the little babies, because they wouldn’t feel their mother’s warmth but after a few days they would accept; you would smile as you watched the Abbe holding the tiny being in his hand, securely against his chest, softy speaking to the animal to get it used to his voice.

- When the hardest part was done and that the kittens started walking and wander around, you and the Abbe were relieved, you were sure they would survive now. But now you had to be careful they wouldn’t escape of the Abbe’s office, it was dangerous for them, maybe when they will be fully grown up, they will be able to interact with some patients.

- The Abbe loved the cats, when you entered his office, you would always find one of them sitting on his lap, the others close to him, he would even tolerate them messing around on his desk, he made him laugh and it brough even more life in this place.

- The only inconvenient was that his cassock was constantly covered in cat hair. Which in return was the occasion for you to touch him, to the others you were simply helping the Abbe to get rid of the cats hair but for the two of you (and secretly the Marquis who found it obvious) it was the occasion be close to each other in public. Your lover would watch you tenderly as your hand traveled on his body brushing off the cat’s hair on the fabric. And if you were lucky enough to have no one looking in your direction, the Abbe would quickly lean forward and give you a peck on the lips as a thank you before walking away as if nothing happened, but the smile on his lips would take time to go away.

- The Abbe would then bring them to his most calm patients, as a reward for their good behavior and for some he realized how much of a good effect they had on his mentally patients, soothing them, bringing them back to reality.

- The nights were you would join the Abbe in his room, all the cats would greet you, rubbing against your legs and as you slept in your lover’s arm, you would soon be joined by the kittens, curving into a ball at the end of the bed, on your belly or even on the Abbe’s face which made you laugh every time as he would wake up lacking air and cats hair in his mouth. But he wouldn’t be angry, not annoyed in the slightest, he would miss them if they weren’t there.

Doc Sportello

- Doc didn’t adopt a cat, the cat had adopted him, a vagabond cat. It was as simple as that, one morning you had found the cat in the apartment in Doc’s arms while you didn’t remember having an animal in the apartment the night before.

- It wasn’t the first time you saw this cat, he was often in the neighborhood, and sometimes at Doc’s window, looking at Doc getting high, and your boyfriend looking at him “What’s going on buddy?” would ask Doc, blowing out smoke, in the end they could stay a fairly good amount of time staring at each other. It really made you laugh; you were a light and occasional weed smoker compared to Doc and that made you realize he should really slow down his consumption.

- As the cat spent more and more time home with the both of you, Doc started to carry on a more decent life, he had to take care of the animal and he really took the task at heart; after all the PI was an animal lover and made sure the cat had everything.

- Of course, he bought catnip, cause Doc…you had laughed in disbelief as he brought it home “C’mon he’ll feel good and it’s not bad for his health.” Would assure you Doc, you had to admit it was really funny to watch the cat get all crazy and obsessed by the plant.

- Doc was really cuddly with his cat, all the time petting him. And would even try to find him a female, he didn’t want his cat to stay alone all his life, although you were quite sure that with all the time the cat spent outside he was probably having fun with cat ladies.

- The cat would sleep with you and Doc, you didn’t even talk about it, it was obvious for the both of you, he’d be way more comfortable on the bed and you enjoyed cuddling the cat as soon as he jumped onto the bed “Really?” exclaimed Doc with a hint of jealousy, like he was of better company than a cat right?

- Of course, you would instantly reassure him, passing your fingers through his dark locks, kissing his lips “You’re irreplaceable Doc, but sometimes I enjoy Buddy’s calmness.” You would add, you knew he was going to react to your words, first he really felt moved by the affection you had for him then “Wait what do you mean calmness? I’m a chill dude” the confused face he had made you chuckle “Oh that you are but you have to admit you’re a bit all over the place sometimes…” you insinuated with an amused grin, he seemed to think for a bit “Maybe?” he finally admitted making you laugh even more before you kissed him once again “But don’t change Doc, I love you.” You assured him and when he realized you were just teasing him; you would end up going all the way with your boyfriend.

Freddie Quell

- You had been dating Freddie for few months now, you saw each other almost everyday and you were seriously thinking of moving in with him. Deep down Freddie wanted to, but there was still this fear of commitment maybe that prevented him from asking you.

- You had decided to adopt a dog, you wanted to have some company when you were alone and somehow you thought it might please your boyfriend.

- At first Freddie seems uncertain, he doesn’t know what to think about this decision you made.

- When Freddie spends time with you, your dog would be curious about your man, so silent, contemplative; so it tries to get Freddie’s attention nudging his hand with its muzzle, Freddie would frown at the contact, wondering why the animal was doing this to him. You would smile “I think it would like you to caress its head.” You clarified softly, so slowly Freddie did it, a smile forming on his lips as the dog enjoyed his care.

- You would teach Freddie how to take care properly of your dog, especially during the day when you were in university. You had noticed that your boyfriend wanted to spend time with your dog while you were away from his arms. He would listen attentively to your instructions and strictly apply them; he wouldn’t want you to be mad at him.

- For once he would be the one guiding another being on ‘how to behave’, he had sense of responsibility and autonomy, somehow it helped him for his daily life, he was more able to make his own decisions, and he enjoyed it, he felt closer to what society expected of him.

- Another thing is that Freddie often felt lonely even if he never admitted it, and to watch after your dog, would give him some company, he could talk to the dog, feeling better as he voiced out loud his many thoughts.

- Somehow it was as if your dog understood everything of Freddie even his deepest emotions and that really surprised your boyfriend, most humans didn’t understand him but this dog was, strange…you felt relieved at this, at least when Freddie didn’t feel like sharing his pain, your dog still soothed him.

- Freddie always had a strong childish side and naturally he would play a lot with your dog in the park and at home too, you laughed watching them play, Freddie giggling with happiness, you would end up joining them.

- Your dog would also help him in public; with you already Freddie felt less anxious, but your dog helped him to interact with people who would usually look at him a strange way. The people would be attracted by the dog and start a conversation with Freddie, often talking about their own dog, it would greatly help Freddie to the point he would often meet the same people at the park, enjoying a nice conversation with them as your dog played with the others.

- It also made his relationship with you easier, meaning how to accept affection and care from you but also how to care for you in other ways than sex. You would really see maturity build within Freddie and he would feel better and he would start to understand his place in the world, by your side.

Tell me if you liked this concept and if you’d like more Multi-Joaquin characters Headcanons! And you can ask for some characters to be added like Bobby, Willy, Leonard, Abe Lucas or Theodore or others

Tag list: @hopelessdisasterr @skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @beautifulyoungprospect @stellargirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @niniitah-ah @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy @spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane @legojorny @lemondedeniname @hvproductions @syvellsworld @charlie-sisters @papercut-paranoia @jokerflecker @cigznvalentines @help-i-am-obssessed @arthurfleckjoker2019 @theartistdetective @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @fleckcmscott @obssessedandthirsty @ridiculousnerd @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @welcometomyhiddlesfandom @sanguinandoscrivo @valentina15 @phoenixbaby88 @captain-el-writes @thedamchii @ninathefandomcollector @kiddastle @lovesickforjoaqvin @joaquins-angel

@alexsportello

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pixieminutes · 5 years ago

Text

Adoration | HJS

genre: slight angst, fluff

members: han jisung x reader, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, bang chan, hwang hyunjin

warnings: drug use, cigarette use, swearing

Y/N의 일요일 [아침 9:00]

“y/n, could you go and get some more milk?” mina asked, looking in the fridge.

“we just got some though?” you said, going to your bedroom doorway.

the curtains in the living room had been opened by mina for her early morning yoga, letting the natural light stream through your apartment. the smell of your lemonbalm oil diffuser left your room and dispursed into the living room, mina smiling and following the smell with her nose.

“no i mean flavoured,” she said, “and while you’re at it could you pick us up some breakfast?”

“ready made pancakes?” you said, pulling on your shoes.

she clicked her fingers, winking at you, “you know it. call me immediately if anything happens!”

you hummed in response, taking in a deep breath as you left your apartment, looking around at the big open sky. it was light blue, a slight haze of white and yellow clouds strewn across the bottom, near where the sun was rising up.

“pancakes, check,” you mumbled, throwing the pancakes into the basket you picked up on the way in. making your way over to the fridge you smiled upon seeing all the flavours of milk, “aha! mina’s gonna be so happ—”

a hand reached in front of you and grabbed all of the bottles of strawberry milk. mina’s favourite.

“um, excuse me, you can’t just—“ you stopped as the boy turned around, “jisung?”

(Y/N와/과 지성의 일요일 [아침 9:16] ?)

“y/n,” jisung said, looking guiltily at all the bottles of milk in his arms before looking back to you, “i’m sorry.”

“why do you need that many?” you giggled.

“my roomate, hyunjin. he– he works his way through it,” jisung said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“oh,” you nodded, “well could i just have one? maybe? it’s for my roommate.”

“well there’s other milk,” jisung said, nodding to the fridge.

“yeah but,” you stopped, hesitating, “that’s her favourite.”

jisung sighed, “well, i don’t—”

“and why don’t you have a basket? you’re such an idiot sometimes,” you said, shaking your head as you took the pancakes out of your basket and put all of the bottles of milk that were in jisung’s arms into it, not without taking one first, of course.

jisung smiled at you slightly, watching as you got one of each flavour and walked over to the counter to pay.

you and jisung had met years ago, though the interaction was short. and ever since then, you’d run into the boy several times on several different occasions. the most recent: he’d saved you from a man who definitely had bad intentions.

though when most people looked at the two of you, they thought it was the most unlikely friendship. jisung with his long blonde hair, always wearing black clothes, tattoos up his neck (and a few dotted around his arms), and a lip ring, compared to, well, you.

but you liked having jisung as a friend. even short moments spent with him made you feel protected.

“just these please,” you smiled, before picking up a bag of mini cookies from the front of the counter and placing them on the top.

“₩15,000 please,” the worker said, placing all your items in a bag as you reached into your pocket to get your purse.

“oh my god,” you whispered, “i- i’m so sorry i—”

“we’ll take these as well,” jisung said, putting a few bottles of strawberry milk on the top, along with a pack of cigarettes.

“jisung,” you whined.

jisung shrugged, getting out his wallet and trying to hide a sigh as he handed over his last two ₩10,000 bills.

the worker nodded, adding the items onto the bill and taking jisung’s money. you both bowed, taking your items and leaving the shop.

you laughed, linking your arm with his, “come on, come back to my place and i’ll give you the money.”

he looked back to you, staring at him with big hopeful eyes, and he sighed, nodding, “i suppose i should walk you home anyway, right?”

“it’s not night time, you don’t need to. we’re doing this for you,” you said.

“hmm,” jisung said unconvincingly, laughing afterwards.

“mina!” you exclaimed, “i’m home!”

jisung’s head almost hurt as he walked in. there was so much sunlight streaming through the open windows. there were plants all decoratively laid about, letting in a fresh flow of oxygen. the small of frying bacon and sickly sweet vanilla flavoured coffee filled the apartment.

“i’ll get your money, okay?” you smiled at jisung, “take a seat!”

jisung took off his mucky doc marten boots, walking into your living room. there was a yoga mat on the floor and the sofas were made. jisung’s didn’t even have cushions.

“here. ₩25,000,” you nodded, handing jisung the money.

“n-no, y/n it was ₩15,000.”

“yeah, but you gave the man ₩20,000—”

“and recieved ₩5,000 back, please, y/n—”

“just take it! jisung you saved my life. oh! i know, me and mina should take you and your friends out for dinner!”

“n-no, you don’t wanna do that,” jisung said, shaking his head in slightly panic, “i should be going. th-thank you for this. bye.”

you turned to mina, noting her wide eyes as jisung scuttled out your apartment.

“what was that about? he never acts like that,” you chuckled, turning to mina with a shrug.

“y/n. that’s han jisung.”

you arched an eyebrow, nodding. you knew that already.

“he lives downtown. is he the boy you always talk about? who lives with seven other boys?”

you nodded.

“none of them have an education, y/n. they’re known as stray kids.”

“stray kids? seriously?” you said, rolling your eyes at the name.

mina bit her lip, “i heard their parents kicked them out and in retaliation they take their anger out on people.”

“but i know jisung. he’s lovely!”

“he’s still a stray kid, y/n,” mina sighed, “come on, let’s eat.”

지성의 일요일 [오후 16:07]

“minho, are you up yet?” jisung asked, walking into one of the only two bedrooms that were shared among eight boys.

minho groaned as jisung rolled his eyes, climbing in the bed beside his friend.

“i saw you last night,” minho said, his voice raspy as he squinted against the light.

the curtains hung up over the window was an old sheet, red wine and vomit stains all over it. but when shopping, the boys had found you had to pay a lot for curtains, and decided this to be the best option, even if it didn’t really do it’s job.

“saw me doing what?” jisung asked, looking to minho with furrowed eyebrows.

“you were with some girl,” minho said, rubbing his face, “i mean, i think it was you. i was surprised, but it looked a lot like you. want one?”

minho reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a cigarette and a lighter, propping the cigarette in his mouth. he covered it over with his hand and lit it with only one flick.

“nah,” jisung smiled as he rembered the walk the two of you had taken last night after jisung had saved you from that man, he beat him up as well, not that you’d been there for that, “i– i don’t feel well.”

minho shrugged, climbing out the bed and stretching his arms up, “suit yourself.”

jisung sighed, getting up and laying on the sofa in the middle of the living room. ‘sofa’. it was an old one, the actual sofa cushions replaced with one child’s mattress.

“changbin?” jisung said, “can i ask you something?”

the older male was using a rundown weight machine that stayed in the middle of the living room. it was a bit inconvenient, but it kept changbin fit, and they’d managed to buy it for only ₩3000.

changbin grunted as he stopped exercising, “what?”

“what do you think of people who live uptown?” jisung asked.

changbin shrugged, grabbing a towel off the side and wiping down his sweat, “depends. my family live up there so i know some dicks, but others are alright.”

“they’re all posh,” felix sighed, kicking jisung’s legs out the way and sitting on the sofa, his bowl of honey nut cornflakes spilling over the side.

“but... how would they feel about us?” jisung asked carefully.

“jisung they hate us, you know that,” changbin sighed, “why are you so fascinated with them suddenly, anyway? you hate them the most.”

jisung sighed, shaking his head as he went into the bedroom again, “minho, chuck me one.”

minho rolled his eyes.

“i just bought some more! give me one.”

minho chucked jisung the packet of cigarettes without a word, jisung lighting the tobacco and going coming back into the living room.

“i’m gonna do something,” jisung nodded, “with my life.”

“finally,” chan chuckled, “join our college.”

“jisung wouldn’t survive,” changbin said, rolling his eyes.

“i will!” jisung exclaimed, “i fucking will. i am over this shit! why am i like this?! why can’t i be more like her?!”

“who?” chan asked.

“jisung you sound like you’re down to get drunk, want to come with me tonight?” minho called.

“yes.”

“no,” chan said, “whoever you’re talking about, whatever has inspired you to do something with your life, you can’t start that plan by getting shit faced off stolen money.”

jisung dug into his wallet and pulled out the money you gave him this morning.

he sighed, chan was right. and after seeing you two days in a row he was reminded how much he really, really loved spending time with you.

“i have to go somewhere,” jisung said hurriedly, putting his wallet back in his pocket and running out the apartment, cigarette balancing in the corner of his mouth.

“guys i dropped my sandwiches off the balcony, do you think jisung will be able to throw them up?” hyunjin asked, a blunt in his hand.

changbin smacked him round the head, “jisung’s not going anywhere.”

“yes i am!”

“fucking sleep on it, dickwad!”

지성과 Y/N의 월요일 [아침 11:21]

“jisung! oh my god, i’m so glad you’re here, i was so worried when you ran off yesterday!” you exclaimed, “i thought i scared you or something.”

jisung laughed nervously, “i mean, o-of course not!”

“you alright? you don’t look well,” you said, putting the back of your hand to jisung’s head.

he scrunched up his face, removing your hand, “y/n, i’m fine.”

you smiled, rolling your eyes as you let him in your apartment.

“ji, have you been smoking again?” you asked as he took off his jacket.

“i- n– well– i—”

you glared at him and he sighed, “i had one on the way over.”

“come on, let’s go into my room,” you said, nodding your head in the direction of the room, “so why did you come back?”

“i just– i wanted to take you up on that offer of dinner,” jisung nodded, “i think that’d be nice. and we’ve known each other long enough time that i think it’s right you meet some of the most important people in my life.”

“that’s alright. but, jisung,” you laughed, “we’ve known each other for a long time, and i barely know anything about you.”

“well... where to start? um, my name’s han jisung. born 14th september, 2000.”

you smiled, “y/n y/l/n. born y/b/d.”

jisung paused for a moment before sighing, “i live downtown with seven of my friends. i don’t have a job, i dropped out of high school, i do... um, how to put this... criminal things.”

you looked at jisung for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“i’m serious, y/n.”

“i know you are! that’s the worst part! jisung, you really shouldn’t advertise that!” you laughed, before eventually pulling yourself together, “but, thank you for being honest.”

jisung shrugged, “you deserve to know.”

you smiled, “well, i do have a job, i work in a dog café down the road. not much, but i can pay rent each month so it’s alright. i live with mina, she’s studying physical and mental health at university at the moment.”

jisung nodded, “i see. very different to my friends. just yesterday hyunjin got high and threw 12 sandwiches off the balcony.”

you laughed, “is that why he needed so much milk as well?”

“uh, maybe?” jisung chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

the boy sat in front of you was different to how you’d ever seen him. you’d known jisung for a long time, but never spent enough time with him for it to come to anything. but seeing him for the past three days straight, it was life-changing in a strange kind of way.

Y/N과(와) 지성의 화요일 [아침 00:20]

“oh, mina’s just texted me,” you said, sitting up from jisung’s arms, “she’s coming home now.”

“oop, the club?” jisung laughed.

you rolled your eyes, “it’s showing so clearly that you do not know mina. absolutely not, she’s been at the library, lost track of time while studying.”

“i didn’t tell you but changbin and chan are actually studying,” jisung said, watching you walk to the kitchen, bending down to look in the fridge.

“oh, really? at uni?”

jisung shook his head, “the college downtown. they’re doing art and hoping to open their own tattoo parlor.”

“good for them!” you exclaimed, finally pulling out two bottles of beer and walking back to the sofa where you and jisung had migrated to in order to watch netflix, “what do you want to do?”

jisung rolled his eyes, “how am i supposed to know?”

you chuckled, taking a swig of beer, “do you not have a dream?”

jisung shook his head, “not one.”

“how do you get up in the morning?” you said, a clearly judging tone in your voice.

jisung rolled his eyes, “fine, what’s yours?”

“to find my soulmate,” you said, “i’m allergic to dogs. i’m only working in that place because everyone likes dogs.”

jisung’s mouth dropped open slightly, “y/n, are you kidding me? there are cat people, hamster people, horse people and you choose the animal you’re allergic to?! are you alright? how do you not die everyday?!”

you laughed, “i have meds that i take everyday before work. i’m fine, really. and i’ve tried working at stables, and cat cafés and i don’t think they have hamster cafés. but dogs just... like me? i guess? so i feel connected to them.”

jisung chuckled, shaking his head, “unbelievable.”

“so what do you do with your unemployed time?” you said, putting your beer on the table and bringing your knees up to your chest.

“i told you.”

“criminal things?” you asked, rolling your eyes, “go on then, scare me, like what?”

jisung sighed, “like... drugs, violence. to get money i steal.”

you furrowed your eyebrows slightly, noticing jisung’s figure shrink inwards as his gaze fell to the floor. this wasn’t normal, jisung was such a confident person all the time.

“ji,” you breathed, “i don’t mind. i mean, i’m not encouraging it, but i’m not going anywhere. it’s clear you just have no other options.”

“but what if i do? but i don’t even know because i’m spending all my time being a fucking idiot and beating up dicks i see on the street,” jisung sighed, bringing his, now watery, eyeline back up to you.

“can i have a couple requests?”

jisung looked up to you, confused, but hummed for you to continue.

“please stop doing drugs,” you whispered, “and don’t beat up somebody unless you’re 100% sure that they don’t have any weapons on them.”

a tear spilled from jisung’s eye as he nodded, “i promise.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his shaking body, holding him to your chest.

“shall we go to bed?” you whispered, burying your face in his hair.

he nodded, letting you help him up and lead him into your room.

“i– i don’t have any clothes,” jisung sniffed.

“you could borrow a hoodie? i stole one from my dad when i was younger,” you said, heading to your wardrobe, “and just... stay in your pants, i don’t mind.”

jisung chuckled, taking the hoodie from you and thanking you quietly.

you climbed into your double bed, squeezing up to the wall and sitting so that you weren’t looking at jisung, before patting the bed next to you.

“let’s sleep,” you said, a smile on your face.

jisung smiled too, climbing in beside you.

“thank you,” he whispered, turning to face you as you closed your eyes.

you whined slightly, fumbling your hand around before you found jisung’s, taking it in yours and intertwining them, holding them against your stomach.

“don’t thank me, ji. i’m just being nice,” you said, “that says to me that everyone else in your life has been a dick.”

he laughed dryly, “you wouldn’t be wrong.”

you sighed, turning onto your side and cuddling jisung close to your body, “then that’s behind you now. i’ll be there for you in future, okay?”

jisung’s eyes welled with tears again. why were you doing this? this feeling of comfort, of love. he adored it, he couldn’t help but want more and more of it, but at the same time, it terrifyed him. what if you left? then what? no more comfort? no more pain?

“okay?” you urged, “because i want to be there. for you.”

jisung took a shaky breath, breathing in your sweet scent. why was he like this? why couldn’t he trust anyone?

“okay,” jisung said, repositioning so he was mire comfortable against your chest, “i love you, y/n.”

your heart pounded, butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach. do you think he could feel that?! he was pressed against your chest, after all. no, no, it’s fine. he didn’t mean it like that anyway! or... no. can’t be.

you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “i love you too, ji. i just wish i found you sooner.”

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #han jisung scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #han jisung imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #han jisung fluff #jisung fluff #kpop #jyp #jyp entertainment

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kadavernagh · 5 years ago

Text

Avulsion Pt. 2 || Solo

TIMING: This morning, following Avulsion Pt. 1 LOCATION: The Common

Nudge.

Tap.

Push.

There was pressure against her back, against her wings, and they rustled in complaint. Regan stretched out, the pain of her tired muscles rousing her. Just a little.

“Abel, stop. We talked about this. Don’t touch the--” Wait. Abel? No. The horror of reality came rubberbanding back, and she was fully awake. She was five inches tall. And had just spent the night sleeping in the grass under a park bench. So who was-- Regan shot up, straining against the pain as her wings snapped tightly against her back. She stared up at an enormous hand, fingers crowding her, trying to nudge and poke at her again. They were dirty, with a sticky sheen to them, and Regan’s slow heart hammered frantically in her chest. Adrenaline surged. Her lungs filled. She scrambled backwards, further under the bench, and the hand tapped around in exploration, seeking her out. “Get back!” Regan yelled, because that had worked so effectively with the squirrel. “I scream impossibly loud!”

Hands. Hands were attached to people. Well, usually. She’d found plenty of hands that weren’t, over the years, but this one clearly was. Regan sidestepped the fingers and tried to peek out past the digits to see who they were attached to.

A child. Kneeling, with eyes as bright as new pennies as she got a better view of Regan. Her giant mouth widened, and Regan stared up at teeth that seemed as big as her head -- with a dark gap where a deciduous tooth had been recently lost. The child had a spatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose and both cheeks, and Regan could smell her shampoo. She aimed her bright saucer eyes at Regan and the smile didn’t leave her face as the hand reached back out to grab her. Regan jumped away again, crawling back under the bench where even tiny fingers couldn’t reach. “I told you to stay away,” Regan said, voice shaky to her own ears, “I’m not a bug. Or a doll. Or whatever you think I--”

The hand retreated. Regan watched the kneeling girl stand up and run over somewhere. Not far. She could still see the girl’s feet as she bounced on them in excitement.

“MOM!” The child shouted in a tone so loud that Regan thought she might have sustained hearing damage. “Mom, come look, there’s a fairy!”

Regan’s chest thumped again, and she pushed herself as close to the far leg of the bench as she could.

“Ashlee, there’s no such thing. Do you want your cookie?”

“No, mom, I wanna show you the fairy.”

“Here’s your cookie.”

That was close. Too close. She’d almost been grabbed by some child and--

The hand was back. Regan clung to the leg of the chair, trying to shrink into herself. If needed, she could make a run for it past the back of the bench, but she wasn’t convinced she could get very far, not right now. But instead of patting around for her, the hand -- there was something in the fingers. Regan gave it a hard look, and her nose answered the question: it was a small piece of cookie. “Fairy, where are you?” The shrill voice asked, as Regan caught those huge, shiny eyes peeking under the bench. They lit up when they landed on Regan, and the fingers pushed the cookie closer to her. She couldn’t help it; her stomach grumbled again, irritated at not being fed in… well, two days, she thought.

“My momma doesn’t believe in fairies, you know, but I dressed up as Tinkerbell for Halloween and I have TWO fairy shirts. One has glitter.”

Slowly, cautiously, Regan approached the hand. She reached out. Hesitated. She decided to make a grab for it, and used all of her might to break off a smaller piece of the cookie, devouring it greedily. Not exactly the nutrition her body probably needed right now, but it filled her stomach, made it stop chewing through itself.

“What’s your name, fairy? I’m Ashlee. With two e’s, ‘cause e is better than y. That’s what mom says.”

Regan moved back toward the leg of the bench, staying back. Not answering. Not moving. She bit back the instinct to respond, that same discomfort on her tongue that forced the truth out of her mouth. She was never good with children, or even adolescents and subadults, and now this one had taken a keen interest in her. And was massive.

“Do you talk, fairy? Most people can’t hear Tinkerbell ‘cause she’s so tiny, but Peter Pan understands her and they’re best best friends, like me and Maddy. Do you have a best friend? Do you wanna be friends?” Ashlee pushed another small bit of cookie closer to Regan, and her stomach lurched when she remembered just how grimy the child’s hands were. She had eaten out of them. But the thought of Nadia was worse. She was probably right there with Kaden, searching frantically. Regan wasn’t sure what she had done to earn Nadia’s friendship, but she was certainly the closest Regan had ever had to be a best friend. Queenie had always been a best… something else.

She sighed and looked up at Ashlee’s bright eyes. There was no way out of this without saying anything, was there? She didn’t suppose the girl’s mom would come hollering after her right now.

Regan stayed toward the back, but called out. “I’m not a fairy, first of all.” Bishop’s voice rang through her head. Crush that little girl’s dreams, why don’t you, Doc? Ashlee’s eyes grew wide.

“Your mother is right; fairies do not exist. I’m human, like you, and I’m a doctor. A doctor who is... unsure about a lot of things right now, and doesn’t know whether to question her education or her sanity. But I’ve sustained some injuries. Can you text someone for me?” She looked up, hopeful.

But Ashlee glanced around, like she was about to whisper a secret. “My mom says I can’t have a phone until I’m as old as Max, but that’s never gonna happen ‘cause he has a birthday every year too. She thinks I don’t know that ‘cause I’m six and a half.”

Regan pressed her hand to her forehead and groaned, both at the situation and the flare of pain as her palm made contact with the burn. Pressure filled her lungs, which caused a crest of pain, and the scream seemed to slink back, as if it knew Regan’s body couldn’t handle it right now. “Then can you-- I need help. Please. Can I talk to your mother?”

As if on cue, her mom’s voice shouted in an annoyed whiplash.

“Come on, Ashlee. Leave whatever bug is down there alone. Don’t make me say it again.”

“But mom, it’s a fairy! A real life fairy! A doctor fairy, like in--”

“Ashlee, we’re leaving.”

“Sorry. My mom says I gotta go.” Ashlee whispered to her, leaving the rest of her cookie under the bench, before abandoning the bench, too.

“Not a fairy,” Regan grumbled, even as she was alone again.

She stared at the cookie, covered in child-hand-grime and dirt. A six -- no, six and a half year old -- child just left her a cookie under a bench. Because she was five inches tall and mistaken for a fairy. Because impossible things upon impossible things kept happening.

I would be fascinated to hear your expert medical opinion on this, Bishop had said. Regan didn’t have one, not this time. Her medical opinions had failed her, her expertise had failed her, and somehow, like a shared secret, others in town seemed less disturbed and surprised by all of this. They always did. All of them. Kaden, Nadia, Bishop. Even her old boss, who’d ousted her from Augusta after likely being involved in an attempt on her life, all to stifle information, part of this big secret, this language she didn’t understand. Things were accepted without question, hand waved with supernatural non-explanations, and everyone thought she was the insane one for relying on facts and medical expertise.

But she was the one who was five inches tall, under a bench, torn up, with wings. Whether it was denial that got her here or her righteous, stubborn, but ultimately often correct nature, this was the result.

Desperation made you blind, she thought once more.

Maybe that was a good thing for her.

She was about to break off a piece -- at least a piece not contacting the ground -- when she heard a shout.

The word sent a shockwave through her tiny system.

“Poutine! Hot poutine! Get your Canadian snacks!”

Regan perked up, and her wings gave a small flutter. Kaden. He wasn’t selling poutine in the Common, of course (probably), but she imagined him scouring every inch of grass looking for her and getting in an argument with this Poutine Man. Maybe he was nearby. And maybe the poutine would draw his attention. He would be out searching. All night and day, he would be out. Probably with Bishop. And Blanche. And Nadia. They were all looking for her, and here she was, giving up.

She peered out from underneath the bench and saw cart wheels rolling down the path, heard the voice shouting from even closer. “Poutine! Come and get your poutine!”

It wasn’t some sign from the universe, and certainly not from some greater power, but she would take the reminder for what it was.

She steeled herself for the pulsing pain as she stretched out, wings spread as a test. Everything still throbbed, but the Poutine Man, of all the damn things in this horrible town, so prone to misery, tightened her focus. Or, at least made her not want to lie in the dirt waiting to die.

“Okay,” Regan said aloud, a hard edge of determination crystallizing in her voice, “Find Kaden. Or fly home. Whichever comes first. All without being eaten by a bird, chased by a squirrel, or mistaken for a toy.” Her feet left the ground as the wings whirred behind her; it hurt, but not as much as staying here. Find Kaden. Fly home. No more things will break. But first, the raccoon carcass.

#wickedswriting #solo

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writingawaymylife · 5 years ago

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Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1

I’m back! And this time with an entirely new obsession.

Death Stranding has become one of my favorite games at the moment, and I’m really loving (most) of the characters. Higgs is probably my favorite, just because he is so, personally, fascinating. He is also voiced by Troy Baker, who, if you don’t know, if an exceptionally talented voice actor who played Joel in The Last of Us.

I got this entire story from an ask that @dirty-higgs-confessions had gotten a week or so back, it was meant to be more a humorous idea, but I’ve always loved my angst.

Also! Please help me out with this! If there’s something that seems off (especially with Higgs’ character), go ahead and tell me! I really want to write him properly, and while I’m going to be writing a lot for him because of that, any help is always appreciated :)

Please Enjoy - Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1

Warnings - Swearing, Higgs

Words - 3461 (10 google doc pages)

The Death Stranding left most people with a type of pain indescribable. Everything that kept people going in life - everything that people held dear - was ripped away in the blink of an eye. Snap. Boom. Explosion after explosion decimated the world to nothing but a foreign wasteland. Warping it into some alien planet and forcing the people inhabiting it to adapt without a moments notice. Then, before anyone could even begin to unwrap the baggage they were given, humanity began to tear at the seams. People became distant, cold - hiding away from the world that had turned its back on them as well.

The people that were born after the Stranding? They didn’t have it any better either. Parents who were unable to deal with their own mental health, weren’t able to give their children what they needed to flourish. The people who tried to keep everything together and tied with a neat bow crumbled as well, until only a few scrambled to keep the pieces in the same box.

Vulnerability had become a weakness. Caring for people risked more weight to be added to one’s shoulders. Emotions were buried somewhere deep and desolate, covered in chains and locks. Sealed shut in a place no one would be able to reach.

In the end, feeling nothing was easier than the dawning realization that followed when coming to the sudden, and harsh, realization that everything was eventually going to crumble to dust.

It was bleak, depressing, but to most of all, it was the only way to survive.

Emotions were unreliable. They didn’t help people to survive. If anything - they were the reason for countless, and avoidable, deaths. Sentiment and heroism only served to cloud their judgment, and left them vulnerable to more pain than what they had already experienced - more than ever they needed or deserved.

(Y/N) was taught this as soon as they could understand words, the ideologies were pounded into their mind until it became a mantra they repeated over and over again, often when even the mere thought of becoming something more than a passerby - a stranger to all - crossed their minds.

Though it was lonely it was also safe. They had learned the repercussions of having connections long ago.

That’s why when Higgs came into their life, they had tried to damnedest to not let the craving for the attention, for that bloody connection, get in the way of the logical choice. He was nothing more than another passerby, bound to leave one way or another.

The occurrence of their connection was unplanned - just a mere result. (Y/N) had just very thoroughly taught a camp of Homo Demens that they weren’t one to be fucked with. No one was dead, but to say (Y/N) went easy on them would be a laughable. Higgs had appeared, ready to make an example of them, when, for some peculiar reason he couldn’t quite point out if asked, he had changed his mind.

They were entertaining, didn’t blink an eye when he tried to scare them, only gave him a blank stare before continuing to walk passed him. Whatever threats he threw their way, (Y/N) would just clench their jaw and continue on with whatever they were doing. They hadn’t even blinked an eye when he summoned some BTs, only a tilt of the head before looking him dead in the eye and challenging him.

“Do it.” They had said it casually, as if they weren’t asking him to feed them to BTs. As if they weren’t asking him to do the one thing everybody fears the most.

From then on he made it his mission to bother them, drive them up the wall whenever he decided he was bored and needed some sustenance. (Y/N) had almost throttled him for the number of times he had said just the right nerve to get them furious. Higgs seemed to enjoy the red hot rage he initiated whenever he spoke.

They danced around each other, thinly veiled threats and insults thrown both ways at every possibly turn.

Neither knew when those insults slowly became warm and endearing, - hell, (Y/N) didn’t know how Stalker, a nickname they gave him after he found them for the fifteenth time that month, stopped being thrown in hopes of him leave them alone.

Soon those dances - those shared moments and conversations turned into something more. Something that became convoluted yet oh so simple as the months rolled by.

If (Y/N) had to pin the true emergence of these feelings, or whatever they thought they were, to one time, it would be when he appeared in their shelter. Zapping in without a moments notice, leaning against the kitchen island with his hands gripping the countertop. He looked weary. Shoulders didn’t hold nearly as much of the strength and arrogant cockiness that they always held. The bags under his eyes seemed darker, heavier. The smile on his face, one that made (Y/N) to feel far too many emotions for them to process, was fleeting and distant. He looked like a ghost of his true self.

His teases didn’t hold nearly as much mirth to them, either He looked… conflicted. Like something dark and heavy was weighing on his mind, encircling it in a cloud he just couldn’t shake off. Hell, even when he called them “darlin’”, it seemed to come out with less of an expectation for some threat or insult to be thrown back, and more… (Y/N) stopped that train of thought before it could go any further.

“The fuck are you doing here, Stalker?” Their words came out harsh, but more out of playing the act than actually trying to be hostile. Higgs gave a soft, flat chuckle and a shake of his head. He gave a quick grin, though forced, and throw a jab their way, again, forcefully.

“Oh, nothing really,” He started, hands falling from the counter and sliding into his pockets. “Just came to see how my favourite ball of joy was doing, Darlin’.” He gave a quick wink, but it only took a few seconds before (Y/N) could see the smile was growing heavy on him. They would have thrown something back had it not been for the way his eyes left theirs to navigate the house. It was if he knew that they could sense something was wrong, and couldn’t bare to see the realization kick into their eyes.

There was silence for a few minutes. Not tense, but definitely not comfortable either. (Y/N) realized he wasn’t going to explain why he was actually here, not anytime soon. It was a mystery, just like the rest of him. An enigma that (Y/N) had a hard time not finding fascinating. They always wondered what thoughts went trailing through his head. What he was thinking in those moments when the two talked.

What he was thinking when he decided to cause tragedy after tragedy.

There was a tinge of frustration in their chest when they realized that he was just going to stay quiet. At this point, however, they knew they shouldn’t have been surprised. Higgs had a near phobia of vulnerability, a fear that they couldn’t blame him for having. Not when they felt the exact same way. He was definitely not going to be telling them anything even relatively emotional anytime soon, not without prying his walls open with selfish claws. Though (Y/N) wanted to ask, it was obvious that interrogating wasn’t going to do anything other than push him away.

On top of it all, for some reason, a part of them would much rather have been welcomed a look inside his mind on his own time. Given a key to roam the wings of his mind instead of forcing themselves in. He was a strong man, no doubt. But they could tell that he could breakdown so easily if someone was given the right route to the safe where he kept his emotions.

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile as they walked past him into the kitchen. They made sure to give his shoulder to lightest of nudges with theirs. “How about a drink?”

Things changed after that. Though, not entirely for the worse.

Including the numerous times he would blip into their life on the road, there were the nights when he would appear in (Y/N)’s bunker. Often in an array of different moods, sometimes he would be like the first time he came, and other times seemed to be because he actually just… missed them - though both knew he would never say that.

It turned into a schedule eventually. Every second weekend, if not every single one, for a night of just talking. Discussing anything that came to mind and sharing stupid stories and theories. (Y/N) would be lying if they said that those nights weren’t their favourite. It made their weeks just a little more tolerable.

Now, (Y/N) was never one for believing in permanent bonds with people. People came and went - that was that. They had learned enough about that from their times out in this nearly dystopian world. But with each time they talked to Higgs, the strand between them seemed to grow stronger. Intertwining and making it more difficult for them to be apart the longer they were together.

Though neither of the two admitted it, though neither believed the other truly felt the same, the connection they had created seemed unbreakable.

Then…

Then everything came crashing down.

Quick and harsh. A whirlwind of events that had everything (Y/N) had built with Higgs slowly fall apart.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t “deal” with me anymore!?” (Y/N)’s voice rang out through the shelter. Arms opened in exasperation, eyes wide with confusion and thinly veiled fear.

“Exactly what it means, Darlin’.” His mask was on. Voice muffled from the thick plastic and chiralium mask. They couldn’t remember the last time he wore that around them, or bring up anytime when he wore it inside (Y/N)’s bunker. “I’ve got more important problems.” His shoulders moved up in a jagged shrug. It felt so casual, as if he hadn’t just broken their heart in seconds like it was nothing.

As if everything the two had built was nothing.

As if (Y/N) was nothing.

Finally, the emotions were coming to the surface. Among the toxic brew of shock, anger, resentment, and fear, there was this sickening - overwhelmingly painful emergence of fucking love. Strong and potent and they were amazed this was the first time they had genuinely, truly noticed it.

“So-so what? You’re just going to act like we don’t have anything between us? Like this was nothing more than a way to pass the fucking time!?” (Y/N)’s voice was getting louder, and it took everything in them to not let that crack at the end become something worse. They were not going to meltdown now.

There was a thick silence in the air, and (Y/N) could have sworn his shoulders tensed just slightly before he straightened to his full height and took a step forward, menacingly, as if hoping to intimidate the only person who had never once been scared of him.

“Oh?” His head tilted and the chuckle he let out was most definitely condescending. (Y/N) could almost feel the kind of grin he had on his face. The one he used just before he said something stupid. “And just what did you think this was?” He was mocking them now. A deep, resounding chuckle filled the new found emptiness as he shook his head. “You didn’t truly think that I, Higgs, the particle of God that permeates all of existence would feel sentiment towards you? A half-decent porter with attachment issues?”

There was no way to stop the shuddering breath that escaped after that.

“... Fuck…” (Y/N) hissed under their breath, cursing the tears that were slipping from their traitors of eyes. They looked down, unable to look at that mask anymore, and pinched the bridge of their nose. They hoped this wasn’t true. That Higgs was panicking and running away or-or trying to protect them in some pathetic and dreadful way.

It was all too much to handle, and the pain growing in their chest turned into what they imagined placing hot coal on top of their heart would feel like. Boiling the blood in their veins as they looked up with what must have been the sourest look they had given him.

There was no way they were going to let him treat them like this, no way they were going to believe these disgusting lies when the past two months had been something utterly different from any other time in their relationship. They took a step forward, looking up at him with a jutted chin and clenched jaw, challenging him.

“So. What now? Are you going to kill me?” (Y/N) took another shaky step forward. “Let my body rot and necrotize? Cause a voidout because that’s what fucking terrorists do?”

Higgs froze at that. Shoulders tightening up yet again, like iron coils twisting just before they were about to snap.

The question hung in the air.

“If I’m of no use to you anymore, it would only make sense, wouldn’t it?”

(Y/N) was about to let a small laugh out, a sigh of relief, after he didn’t reply. They opened their mouth, about to explain to him just what he did and how stupid it was for him to push away the only person who cared so much for him, but he jumped before they could. Black specks chiralium hanging in the air. A second later the sound of him jumping back into existence appeared. He was behind them now, threateningly close as an arm wrapped around their waist and pressed them against him. His breath ghosted their neck as he let out a breathy chuckle. His composure was back and in full force, and for once - just this once, (Y/N) felt a cold shiver run up their spine.

“You would like to think that, wouldn’t you, Darlin’? His arm tightened as if showing that it would be so easy to end them right then and there. “But… here’s the thing, Sugar. Those DOOMs that you’ve been trying to keep quiet this entire time? They’ll come in handy one day. And when they do, I’ll be right there to use them up.”

Then…

Then he disappeared.

(Y/N) stood in that spot for what felt like hours. Flatlined, numb.

It took weeks before they were able to get out of the shelter.

“Thank you. So much.” The Engineers’ hologram gave a kind smile and a wave. Checking over the body achingly heavy supplies (Y/N) had just lugged all the way from the Distribution Center South of Lake Knot City. They were just appreciative of the truck they had gotten. It would have never been capable of doing so with out it, admittedly. They were no Sam Porter - though, at this point, that man was most definitely not human.

“No problem, man. Just doing my job.” (Y/N) tried to sound nice, giving a tight smile before he fizzled out of existence and (Y/N)’s rating came up. In all honesty, however, their mind was elsewhere. Thinking of someone who for the past month continued to find his way into their train of thoughts.

Higgs

(Y/N) missed him so much. It felt like another part of their heart had been torn off. It should have been just another name to add to the list of people they lost, should have just given them another reason why you never get attached. What shouldn’t have been happening was the bone marrow deep aching like a part of them had been torn away from them. It brought back painful memories, ones they had sealed in a part of their mind, buried in the deepest grave possible.

It was an ache that almost made them concerned enough to go to a doctor. Deep and hallow, and there was no fucking way to ignore it. Booze, cigarettes, weed - whatever they could get their hands on, the feelings wouldn’t go away. It was so stupid to fall down that hole when (Y/N) and Higgs hadn’t even been a thing - hell, they hadn’t even discussed if they were friends or not.

The self pity and debilitating heartbreak lasted three or so weeks before (Y/N) forced themselves into a shower. Shucking on clean clothing and the white porter suit and getting back to doing orders again.

It felt nice. Being clear-headed (to some degree) and having fresh air to help them think more level headedly (just barely). But even thinking his name caused a lump in their throat.

They should have been relieved to have him gone. He was a fucking terrorist. He killed people just to make a stupid statement. He didn’t even blink while doing so either, just did it. Along with that? If someone found out (Y/N) had known him, and willingly hung out with him, and had not said anything to authorities, (Y/N) would have been in a world of trouble.

Even with all this, they couldn’t help but still miss him and his stupid smile. It almost disgusted them, to care about someone like that, though emotions honestly had a mind of their own, it was still something (Y/N) should have controlled, just like they had with everyone else.

They kicked a rock on their way back to the truck. Head shaking and staring up at the clear blue sky with a harsh and resentful glare.

“Common, (Y/N). Out of anyone you’ve gotten attached to, the terrorist - a bloody monster - shouldn’t be one of them. He’s hurt people, he’s probably continuing to hurt people as you give yourself this pathetic pep talk!” They didn’t even realize they had finished the sentence with a yell as they jumped into their black truck. They looked up at the rearview window, into their own eyes with the same cold glare. “You really are a fool, you know that? How about next time you go fuck a MULE?” A groan left their lips as tears started prickling at their eyes, and eventually, they had to look away, proceeding to lightly bump their forehead against the steering wheel as light sobs racked their bodies.

They really did love him… There was no other way to look at this. (Y/N) loved him with their entire being, and there was no way to get rid of these emotions.

That night, as (Y/N) fell asleep in their disheveled bed without even trying to get their clothes off, they had their first dream in months.

It started black. Pitch black with no sound, no anything. But (Y/N) knew they were conscious to some degree. Floating in a void that brought back memories they didn’t want to think about.

The sounds appeared first. Soft waves crashing against the sand followed by the crying of seagulls and the distant rumbling of a storm. Next was a smell. Ozone with a hint of rotting corpses and the churning saltiness of a polluted sea.

After the gag reflex disappears, sight brought all the puzzle pieces together.

(Y/N) was on the Beach. Or, at least a Beach.

Beached Whales littered the Beach ahead of them, and when squinting and peaking through them, (Y/N) could see the ocean licking at the sand.

Awe.

That’s what they felt. Incomprehensible awe at the sight before them. It was all so real. Vivid and hauntingly beautiful. (Y/N) didn’t know whether to be scared or excited over the prospect of actually seeing this.

The anxiety seemed to rear its head quite quickly afterwards. The tiny voice in the back of their head tried to explain that this might very well be theirs. That they had died for some reason. And with that came the panic of realizing that they would then be necrotizing - that they would cause a voidout.

A hand landing softly on their shoulder, eliciting indignant squawk that (Y/N) would have been more than embarrassed at, had they not just been scared out of their skin and clean pants.

“What the fuck?” The shout stopped when they turned around. Ending with a gasp as they took a quick step back and looked over the person in front of them.

What the fuck indeed.

There was a silence in the air for a second, before the woman gave a soft, comforting smile.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. I just came to talk.”

#death stranding #death stranding higgs #higgs monaghan #higgs x reader

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anna-mator · 5 years ago

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How to Draw a Toon - (In-Progress) Fandom: Warner Bros, Looney Tunes, Disney, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Rating: M Categories: M/M Relationships: (eventual) Bugs/Daffy Warnings: Language, moderate violence, cartoon violence, racism, Additional tags: friends to lovers, mystery, adventure

Somewhere in Toon Town, a rabbit sat uncomfortably in the only library in town. He was pouring over autobiographies of other Toons. Each chapter of every book began the same: humble beginnings with a chance of stardom. Most were poor, some were sheltered… every single one was literally drawn into their lives. Their family, their class, their religion, their politics; it seemed to be all predetermined. Whether it was intentional from the creator, or heavily influenced, he still wasn’t sure.

“Bugs?” A small voice spoke.

Bugs Bunny jolted, placing his hands over the piles of books he collected on instinct. He quickly regained his posture and settled his eyes on a soft-colored and familiar face. “Belle?” He asked, shocked.

Belle was hovering over him slightly with a few books in hand. “It is you… Did you need any help, Bugs?” She asked politely.

“Oh ehh… nah.” Bugs said, trying to keep some of the books from her view. “I’m all good here. Say ehhh… shouldn’t you be at like…. Disneyland or somethin’?” he asked.

At that, Belle laughed slightly. “Oh Bugs… just because I’m a Disney princess doesn’t mean they keep us all holed up in their theme parks. Plus, with all of the royalty checks, I don’t really need a job. I volunteer here.”

“Ah. I see. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Not at all…” Belle said, then looked curiously at Bugs’ pile of books. “It looks like you’re about to check out the entirety of the Autobiography section.” She chuckled.

“Ahaha… just about.” Bugs said, suddenly feeling slightly nervous about her nosiness.

“All of them are Toons, too…”

Just then, Bugs had an idea. “Ah!” He exclaimed before he stood up and gently turned her away from his pile of books, “Actually, I’ve been watchin’ some kids recently and wouldn’t ya know it, I can hardly put ‘em to bed. If you could find me the very best fairy-tale book you can think of, I would be foreva in your debt.”

“Uh, sure.” Belle said with a weary tone.

Bugs didn’t like the sound of her voice. Once he believed Belle was out of earshot, he scrambled to gather his haphazard notes and supplies. “I gotta get outta here.” He said from under his strained breath.

When Bugs placed things away, he turned tail to find the closest exit. The rabbit managed to slip through a back door completely unnoticed. He found his car and sped off in a hurry. This kind of prodding had consequences. He had heard rumors of Toons going missing over stuff like this. Luckily, Bugs was smarter than that.

In truth, Bugs trusted no Toon nor Human with the kind of information he was gathering. It was starting to weigh on his conscience, and even take a blow to his general health. Typically, when a Toon became stressed it visibly showed. Bugs was no exception.

Which was why an hour later, with no one else to turn to, Steven Spielberg took a look at Bugs and simply said, “God you’re a mess.” He commented once he approached the Toon rabbit.

“Thanks, Doc.” Bugs said with a slight roll to his eyes. “You looked in the mirror lately, yourself?” He japed, commenting on the distracting and ugly anti-paparazzi gear Steven had on.

Deciding to ignore the comment, “Please tell me it’s not…” Steven asked, as he brought his shades onto the brim of his baseball hat.

“It’s not the kids. I can take care of ‘em jus’ fine.” Bugs shot Steven down immediately.

They walked down the sunny L.A. street, headed towards Griffith Park. They were both well aware it was the entrance to Toon Town. Still, the park itself was the only place that provided Bugs with any comfort.

“So… what did you bring me out here for?” Steven asked.

It took every ounce of energy Bugs had not to just start spouting out every tiny piece of information he had been gathering for the past six months. Instead, he took a breath and exhaled softly. “I’m over eighty years-old, mac. I’ve been repainted a dozen times and there’s no end in sight.”

Immediately, Steven knew exactly what Bugs was dealing with. It was obviously some kind of mid-life crisis, but a Toon equivalent. “Go on…” He prompted.

“So a few months ago, I got ta thinkin’... What else am I gonna do with my life? I can’t be slingin’ dynamite foreva. I already toured the world when I was younger… but I never learned anything!” Bugs cried out, “Sure the occasional script had some kind of historical tidbit, or a line from another language, but I still felt… uneducated.”

Steven was already connecting certain dots in his head, leading up to what Bugs wanted to say. Because of it, a small smile was beginning to inch onto his face. However, he continued to let the Toon speak.

“Then I realized… what if it ain’t just me? And as it turns out--”

“Eighty-seven percent of Toons are uneducated.” Steven finished and the smile vanished, ”And the number keeps growing every year. There isn’t a single school in Toon Town. If Toons want an education, they acquire it themselves or through scholarships the studios award.”

Bugs and Steven stopped and looked at one another. “I came to you nearly a decade ago... “ Steven started, feeling slightly irritated at Bugs.

Immediately Bugs cringed, “I know, I know!” he shouted, starting to move away from him. While he wanted to tell Steven more about his findings about Toon education, he decided to keep his mouth shut. Paranoia struck him again.

Still, Steven gave a small chase. “I asked repeatedly if you wanted to make Acme Loo into a real school, and you said there was no need. I gave you my pitch all those years ago, now give me yours.” He said in a harsh tone.

Bugs tugged on his ears before looking at Steven in the eyes again. “People love me, Toons idolize me… but for what? Bein’ the lucky one? Always comin’ out on top? What good is that when you can’t protect the ones you care about? I just… I want to give somethin’ back’.”

After hearing that, Steven was more than pleased. He gave a nod to Bugs, “Alright, I’ll help you. We’ll make Acme Loo.”

“Thanks, Doc.” There was still so much on Bugs’ mind, but he tucked it away for later. Right now, he allowed himself to relax and feel good about these life-changing decisions.

A year passes, and somewhere along the coast of Central America there was a lowly island on the horizon. With a closer look, anyone could see the stark-white mansion that stood nearly three stories tall.

Even as a young Toon, Daffy Duck had pictured his retirement from his acting career very vividly. He dreamed about being alone on a private island, with an enormous mansion and every luxury he could possibly think of. And wouldn’t you know it, after nearly a decade of work, few movies and a couple of reboots, Daffy had that private island. Staying there continued to be a blessing for many, many years. With the royalty checks and occasional paychecks from public appearances rolling in, he was able to upkeep the mansion very well.

Daffy’s desire for attention was somewhat satiated by social media. He had a big presence online and made sure everyone knew it. From when he woke up to when he was preparing for bed, he would cross post about every detail onto every feed. People ate it up, as they were fascinated by his lifestyle. While he wasn’t the richest duck in the world, he was certainly one of the most popular. At least, he was in his mind.

As Daffy was tweeting about his incredible breakfast one morning, he noticed one of his butlers carrying in some mail. “What’s the big idea? Checks go straight to my financial adviser, and fan mail without any valuables inside are shredded! You all know the deal!” Daffy barked. To his knowledge, he hadn’t been expecting anything either. Still, the butler came to his side and silently handed him a letter.

Before he could protest further, the Butler turned away. Daffy simply huffed to himself and opened the letter. He took his time to read it, just to make sure he was reading it correctly. Once he had finished he slammed the letter onto the counter top, and ran up the stairs towards his room in seconds flat.

He pressed his help buzzer multiple times and shouted into the speaker, “I need to pack, now! Book me a flight to L.A.! Let’s go people!”

It was time to move back to Los Angeles.

The next day, Bugs Bunny got out of his Oober (Toon Town’s Uber equivalent), adjusting his suit as he looked on towards his greatest accomplishment. A stairway from the curb stood Acme Looniversity. Despite seeing the building many times over the course of its production, Bugs still couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with pride at the sight of the finished school.

And there, in front of the entrance, he saw a huge crowd gather. This wasn’t even taking into account for all of the cameras and people lined up along the sidewalk. Not even the Toons who were celebrating in the streets. The crowd split like a wave as Bugs approached the doorway of the school, finding it partially blocked by a stage with a ceremonial ribbon. Bugs could tell it was painted because of how large and neat the bow in the middle of it looked.

As he approached he saw the only human at the event (besides a few brave reporters) Steven Spielberg, sitting beside the podium on stage next to three empty seats. Bugs’ felt slightly saddened by the sight of the empty chairs, still Bugs shared a smile with Steven before he approached the podium. A deafening silence went over the crowd, with all eyes on the Toon rabbit.

“My fellow Toons,” Bugs began, “For too long, we’ve been deprived of our own education. More than 87% of Toons have never stepped foot in a school that wasn’t a painted set. After learnin’ that, we decided that wasn’t fair.”

The crowd cheered and clapped for Bugs. Over the crowd he continued, “Our newcomers should know our history! They should know our culture!” He paused slightly to wait for the crowd’s enthusiasm to die down, “And they should know their limits.”

Bugs felt his stomach twist, “Too many Toons have been lost simply because they didn’t know how to survive their next fall durin’ a stunt. We owe it to them to inform newcomers of the risks. No one on Earth can do what we do, and we need to learn to do it right.”

Gesturing to the building behind him, “Now, thanks to Warner Brothers studios and Steven Spielberg, Acme Looniversity ain’t just a fantasy we all saw on TV all those years ago. It’s here for everyone!”

The crowd once again burst into applause and cheers. Bugs looked out into the crowd, noticing a slight disturbance that was making its way to the stage. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Daffy Duck emerged from the crowd and began to crawl his way onto the stage, rather than using the stairs on the side.

Immediately, Daffy wormed his way in front of Bugs in order to speak into the microphone. “Helloooo, Toon Town!!” He shouted. The only sound he was met with was the sound of crickets. “As the Master of Deception, I just wanted to say what an honor it is to have been recruited by my longtime co-Star, Bugs, to teach at this wonderful place of edumication.”

Bugs saw the shifty eyes from the crowd when Daffy had mentioned his unofficial title. “Eeeh… We’re still workin’ on the curriculum.” He said, addressing the crowd. Then he turned to Daffy, knowing exactly how to derail him from hogging the spotlight. “Hey Daff, ol’ pal, wouldja wanna join me in the honors of cuttin’ the ribbon?”

Daffy’s head whirled around as he gave out a gasp, “Really? You’d let me cut the ribbon?” He asked.

“Togetha, yeah. It feels only right.” Bugs said, just to butter him up even more.

The two of them were approached by a Toon who held out comically huge a pair of golden scissors. They took the scissors, holding them open above the ribbon for a little longer so photos could be taken. After a minute, they looked at each other and cut the ceremonial ribbon. Daffy and Bugs posed briefly with the scissors that were nearly the same height as them.

Once they were done posing, Daffy turned to look for the first camera he could find. For Bugs, he turned to Steven and gave him his hand. “Thank you… So much. For everything.”

Steven shook his hand, “Anytime, Bugs. I have a lot of faith in you.” Then he gave a slight nod towards Daffy, “You sure about hiring Daffy, though?” He asked.

Bugs looked over and watched as Daffy chatted up the remaining reporters. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in the years we've worked together, it’s that I know how he ticks.”

“Well, it’s your call. It is your school, after all.” Steven said with a shrug.

“I’m gonna go check on ‘im. I’ll be seein’ ya, Steven.” Bugs said before slipping away.

Bugs hovered over Daffy’s shoulder while he spoke to a reporter. “And that’s when I told my buddy Bugs, the only way we’re going to reach today's Toon youth is through education! And what better teachers than the oldest Toons out there?” He said.

When he heard that, Bugs rolled his eyes. Of course Daffy would lie and make this his idea. Bugs decided to butt in. “We’re opening our gates to humans, as well.” He told them.

At that, more reporters surrounded them. A chorus of questions were being launched at Daffy and Bugs. While Daffy shied away, Bugs lifted his hands to quiet the small crowd. “I wanna stress this; Acme Loo is gonna be the only school to focus on the importance of learning about Toons. As citizens and as a species. So we ain’t gonna turn away humans who wanna learn more about us.” Bugs said.

A reporter’s voice spoke up, “Who else do you have in place as teachers? Any word about Mickey Mouse?” they asked.

“That hack—?” Daffy said before Bugs pinched his beak.

“Mickey sent us his best wishes, but regrettably makes no plans of joinin’ the staff.” Bugs said with a shrug.

Daffy rolled his eyes when he felt Bugs let go of his beak.

“As for the rest of the staff, we’re still lookin’. So if any Toon wants to come forward and apply, they’re free to do so on our website.”

“When does class begin? And what’s the class size going to look like?” The same reporter asked.

“We’re startin’ in the next coupla months, just in time for the school year. Dependin’ on how many teachers we get, we’re gonna be expecting anywhere between 500 to 900. Applications for students will also be online.”

“900?!” Daffy exclaimed. Just how was he going to teach to a class of 900?

Bugs sighed a little, knowing Daffy had misinterpreted his information. He turned to talk to him, “900 altogetha, Daff. We’re lookin’ at a class of 40 for each homeroom.”

“Oh.” Daffy said softly.

Then Bugs turned to the cameras, “No more questions now. Thank you!” He said and waved them away.

Disappointed, Daffy watched the reporters shuffle along and pack away their equipment. He had truly missed being in the limelight. Then a tap on his shoulder brought him out of his daydream-like state. “Huh?” He asked as he turned towards Bugs again.

“Ehh… Daff?”

“Yeah?”

Bugs sat there like he was fighting to say something. “I’ll uh… I’ll see you later. We’ll have to look over that curriculum of yours, before school starts.” He finally said.

“...Yeah sure.” Daffy said. After looking at Bugs more he noticed something was off, “You should get yourself a new paint job. You look awful.”

Bugs deflated angrily at the comment before rolling his eyes and turning away. He knew that, in Daffy’s twisted way, that he was concerned for his health. So he let the comment slide off of his back. The truth was, Bugs had never let go of his Toon research; and the paranoia had set in so much that it was starting to alter his appearance. He hoped that the success of Acme Loo would be both a distraction and a resource at his own disposal.

Later, after numerous phone calls and even a couple of live interviews, Bugs managed to find his way home. He paid and tipped his Oober as much as he was allotted, due to the fact that they had to travel out of Toon Town during rush hour. As Bugs approached the steps of his white porch, he loosened his bow tie and unlocked the door.

Bugs threw his keys on a stand next to the door, just before closing and locking it behind himself. Just as he was about to call out for someone, his long ears perked at the sound of rattling glass and plastic coming from the kitchen. Immediately, Bugs’ eyes darted towards a lowly baseball bat sitting in his umbrella holder in the foyer.

Quickly and quietly, Bugs’ removed his black blazer and rolled up his dress shirt sleeves. All the while his mind was racing: Where had he slipped up? Who was onto him? What kind of force would be pitted against him? All these questions burned inside him while he picked up the bat and held it tight and high. With as much stealth as possible, he rounded the kitchen corner. As he suspected, the figure hidden partially inside of his fridge wasn’t any of the kids.

The fridge began to close and the figure swerved around to meet Bugs. Several plastic containers dropped to the kitchen floor as they exclaimed, “Bugs?!”

Bugs brought down the bat, stopping it only inches away from Daffy’s beak. “Daffy?!” He exclaimed.

“What the hell, Bugs? Is that any way to welcome an old friend into your household?” Daffy barked while pushing the bat away from his face.

Only a few seconds later, Bugs and Daffy heard a stampede of footsteps coming from upstairs. Settling on the staircase, three Toons looked down on Bugs and Daffy. “Well what’d ya know, the old Duck has decided to grace us with his presence.” The tallest smiled.

“Daffy, darling!! We had no idea you were in town.” The smallest chimed with an obnoxious accent of some kind.

“Really? I mean, he tweeted out his entire trip…” The middle one said in a thick Liverpool accent.

Daffy looked on in surprise and awe. “The Warner’s?! What are you three hooligans doing here?” He asked with a wide smile.

Bugs put down the bat, leaning it against the staircase, and turned towards Daffy. “They’re stayin’ with me.” He said simply.

Sure enough, the three siblings of undetermined origins ran down the steps and gave Daffy a group hug. “You three look a little different than I remember…” he said, looking over Yakko, Wakko and Dot.

Yakko peeled away first, “Haven’t ya heard? We got a reboot comin’ in! Two whole seasons, so far.”

“You don’t say? An’ they gave you a repaint jus’ for that? Your designs were fine before.” Daffy said, a little confused.

“It’s standard now. Nothin’ we could really do about it.” Wakko said as he pulled away with a slight shrug.

Dot continued to cling to Daffy, looking up at him with her glossy black eyes. “You don’t think we look ugly, do you?” She asked, her lips trembling.

“Ugly?! Nonsense!!” Daffy exclaimed, picking up Dot into his arms and holding her tight. “You three are the sharpest lookin’ Toons I know. Anyone who says otherwise is blind.”

Bugs looked curiously at the way Daffy was interacting with the three. He didn’t remember them being particularly close, but he assumed that was simply the effect the three had on adults and Toons alike. Still, he was certainly enjoying seeing this other side of Daffy.

“Alright, you three.” Bugs finally interrupted, “How’s about givin’ Daff and I some space?” He asked.

“Yeah yeah…” Yakko said before turning back up the stairs.

“See ya later, Daffy!” Wakko waved and followed the oldest.

“Always nice to see you, Daff.” Dot said when Daffy put her down so she could follow her siblings.

Once the three were out of sight Daffy turned to Bugs, “Now, I know it might not be the most convenient thing for you at this time…” He explained, “But I’m certainly not the richest Duck in the world. I had to sell all eight of my estates to get that private island.”

Bugs move towards the kitchen and began to clean up Daffy’s initial mess. He already knew what Daffy was about to ask, and he already knew his answer. Still, he let his friend speak.

“Each estate had to go, including the two I had in L.A.! Honestly, the price for rent in this forsaken city is so damn high, I really don’t know how you do it!”

“You can stay.”

Daffy gasped and looked deeply offended, “You would throw out your own flesh and blood onto the street? I thought I knew you better, Bugs Bunny!”

“Ehh… we ain’t related, but you can still stay wit us.” He tried again.

Daffy started to walk towards the door with a dramatic flair, “Fine! I know when I’m not wanted—” He stopped as soon as he draped himself on the corner of the closest wall, “Wait… what? You’ll let me stay?” He asked, bewildered.

“Of course I will, Daff. We’ll be able to look over your curriculum togetha, you’ll be able to do some shoppin’ for the house, maybe a few chores and you’ll be able to watch the kids…” Bugs said, closing the fridge door to get a better look at Daffy.

At that, Daffy looked even more surprised. “Watch those kids? Chores? Me?” He asked.

“Well yeah! What? You’d think I’d let you stay out of the goodness of my heart?” Bugs asked, leaning on the island counter.

“Well… Yeah!” Daffy exclaimed, manhandling the other side of the counter. Here he thought he could take advantage of Bugs’ feelings of existentialism and sudden generosity to fully weasel his way into staying with Bugs with zero obligations. But apparently this rabbit had other plans for him.

Bugs simply laughed in Daffy’s face. “Ahaha, oh that’s rich, Duck.” he laughed. Then there was a slight pause, “When are you gonna realize, we ain’t so different? You and I…”

Daffy and Bugs sat in silence for a little bit. Something about Bugs’ smug look made Daffy’s face feel warmer than usual underneath his feathers. He shook his head wildly. “Nope. I don’t see it.”

At that, Bugs simply rolled his eyes. “We can split chores in the mornin’... right now I just want to hit da hay.” He said, peeling himself off of the counter and moving to unbutton his dress shirt.

While Bugs navigated past the living room, Daffy gave a slight chase. “Wait, wait. I just gotta know one more thing,” then a slight pause, “okay a couple of things.”

A small sigh came from Bugs, then he decided to plop down onto the living room sofa. “Alright. A coupla questions.” He said, putting his feet up.

Daffy sat in a recliner adjacent to Bugs. “How’d you end up with the Warners?” He asked, his voice a little hushed in case they were being heard.

“...I was visiting the new set last year.” Bugs began to explain, “Steven told me that he was concerned about rumors that the Warners were livin’ in their trailer. No one was allowed to go near it. They even wrote up a contract about it, saying they’d leave the show if anyone on staff visited it. Because I wasn’t in the show, I could see the trailer for myself.”

The memory was still vivid in Bugs’ mind. A little more than a year ago, Bugs shared a weary glance with Steven before he slipped off the set. With the Warners busy in a scene, Bugs was able to make it to the trailer. And with a copy of the trailer key given to him by Steven, he pried it open.

The mess the three had accumulated was even taller than Bugs’ ears. He honestly didn’t know how anyone could navigate the trailer, let alone three Toons. Even as he was inside, he made an attempt to clean what he could. Still, it was a horrible mess.

After doing what he could, Bugs waited outside the trailer until the Warners began to approach it. Yakko was the first to catch eyes with Bugs, before rolling them. “God damn it…” Yakko groaned, seeing the look of disapproval spread across the rabbit’s face.

“Y’all really live in dere?” Bugs asked.

It was Wakko’s turn to be angry, “Yeah! What’s it to ya?” he barked.

“Guys, I’m jus’ concerned. A lot of the staff are concerned. Steven was even worried!” Bugs exclaimed, watching them weave around him and head into the trailer.

“Yeah? Well we don’t need your pity.” Dot snapped.

Bugs stopped the door from being slammed in his face with full force. The trailer door swung open and Bugs stepped inside once more. “Fine then. Lemme give you a place to stay. Eva since you were created, I’ve always told you guys you were welcome at my house!” He said.

“We’ve been fine on our own, Bugs. Didn’t need your help then, don’t need it now.” Yakko said. “Any day now, the show will air, we’ll get another wave of royalty checks and we’ll be livin’ it up in a mansion down the street from yours.”

“Those checks will only stretch so far. You already know this.” Bugs warned.

“Blah blah blah I learned my lesson. Like I said, I don’t need to stay at yours. I’m comfortable here.” To make his point, Yakko cleared off some space on the couch (which also acted as their bed) in the trailer and found his ideal position.

Immediately Bugs read this type of prideful attitude. He also knew where Yakko’s weak points were. “If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for your siblings.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bugs saw Dot and Wakko perk up and look over at Yakko silently. Yakko sat up from the couch slowly and looked at Bugs with a hardened expression. “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve, rabbit.”

“And you’ve got a whole lotta attitude, kid.” Bugs snapped back.

And with that, Bugs took them in. Presently, he looked at Daffy across the way and gave a slight shrug. “I’ve always seen a lot of myself in Yakko. Scrappy, independent and plenty mature for his age. It took him the longest to adjust here and for me to adjust to him, honestly. That boy doesn’t let me lift a finger for ‘im. His siblings? Sure. When it comes to him? No way, no how.”

“Interesting.” Daffy finally said.

Feeling exhausted, “Any otha questions?” Bugs asked.

“Yes! Where do I sleep?”

Bugs got up from the couch and beckoned Daffy to follow him. Down the hall there were three doors. On the left side there was a white door with a gold star labeled Bugs Bunny in black lettering. Though, something told Daffy that it wasn’t his original master bedroom. The middle door was left open, so Bugs pushed in further and flipped on a light to reveal a bathroom. “Here’s the bathroom…” he announced, then pushed open the door on the right side of the hallway. “And here’s your room. G’night, Daff…”

Before Daffy could say anything else, Bugs slipped away into his bedroom and shut the door. “Night.” Daffy said more to himself. He maneuvered himself inside the bedroom and pulled out a suitcase from his Toon space. He flicked on the light and looked around, the decor was still predominantly white with the same hardwood floor that echoed through the house.

Daffy placed his suitcase on a chair sitting across from the bed and launched himself directly onto the comfortable mattress. It was something akin to a bed from a five-star hotel: soft as a cloud. It didn’t take long for Daffy to fall into a deep sleep.

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NEXT CHAPTER >>

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It was a struggle but I’m happy with it and I can’t wait to continue. <3333

#looney tunes #baffy #my fanfiction #htdat

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leanarg · 5 years ago

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Practice Challenge II

((Hi again! So, these are 3 fics in one post! Including my first two rps with @ladyreggiewright (our very first one after ages not doing this so asdfghk) and with @wylan-caldwell I had so much fun doing both, so thank you, guys! <3 Thanks for reading too, hope you enjoy them as much as I stuggled writing them ;P Google Docs link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ARTjqveFJ1njDc2LL0PU4C0ShN2jlO9JC1Imt9MDTh8/edit?usp=sharing ))

A CHANGE OF LUCK

“Alright, y’all ready?” Rita said with a loud voice vibrating with nervousness. “The speeches are over. In the next block, Prince Arin will be picking the names.” That was her fifth lap around the entertainment office floor and she just couldn’t stop repeating what Vandy Post had already announced before each round of commercials. I knew she was trying to act authoritative, but seeing her in this state was always amusing.

It wasn’t unusual that the building was bursting with energy this late at night. The pre-press team always stayed working on putting together the bulldog broadsheets content and adding the last details, then sent the whole thing before the deadline to the press team operating on the last floor, where they were all in charge of the printing process. I would dare to say there was activity in this place 24/7. But this particular night, we were focused on The Report. The streets looked almost empty from up here, everyone was at home in front of their TV waiting for the names of the lucky girls randomly picked by a drawing of names out of different crystal boxes. 35 provinces, 35 boxes, 35 names.

My attention had been focused on Arin’s stern expression. His life was about to be decided by fate, or as many people want to call it, destiny. I wonder what was he thinking, standing there expressionless, willing to uphold his duty.

Is he excited? Is he nervous? Is he wishing he could run away from that room and leave all this tradition behind?

My name was inside of one of the boxes, so I should had been even more anxious and edgy than Rita herself, but, after the PET Gala fiasco, where: I hadn’t gotten the clues I was so close to getting, I hadn’t finished the job I was supposed to be doing and my one month salary had been reduced to half; I was certain that whoever was in charge of my luck was not very fond of me.

“They are back!” Rita shouted as soon as Arin’s face reappeared. Everyone in the room fell silent. I scoffed a laugh when I noticed them unconsciously leaning slightly towards the big tv, but I ended up doing the same after adjusting my glasses. One by one the basic information of the selected were being transcribed from the screen to our devices as Arin picked out their papers.

<< “From Allens, Idalia Moretti, from Angeles, Emily Rose White,... from Honduragua, Callia Adair…” >>

My fingers were moving fast across my cellphone’s keyboard. These were the girls we would be hearing a lot about from now on and I needed to know everything about them.

<< “From Labrador, Lea…” >>

I froze. My head felt dizzy trying to take in what I had just heard. For the shortest of seconds, everyone’s eyes were on me. I could hear Rita’s voice instructing them to get back to work and maybe someone else was now in charge of The Globe’s blog but at that moment I couldn’t care less about that.

It’s really happening... I made it to the selection!

Finally, I could stand up. I was feeling so much energy inside me that I wanted to run. Suddenly, the lift made a sound and my dad came quickly out of it and … wait, my mom is here? She was carrying my sleepy little brother, Dean.

I could read the shock on my parents’ faces.“I’m in!!” I said a little too loud but since Mr. Grant was there no one dared to complain. My dad let out a short laugh before extending his arms for an embrace. “Congratulations, Rosie, I knew it would happen, didn’t I tell you V?” He said to my mom. “Grants always get what they want.”

Ugh, I wish. But I wasn’t going to argue with him right now, so I just offered him a wink.

As soon as my father let go, my mom surrounded me with her free arm. “So how does it feel to be a lady, huh? We have to celebrate this!”

“Well, do ladies feel hungry this late? Cause I wasn’t feeling it a moment ago.” “Yes, let’s leave these guys to work in peace.” my dad said suddenly remembering where we were. After clearing his throat as if that simple gesture was a switch between the dad and the boss, he talked with Rita to make sure someone had replaced me updating the blog, then he congratulated everyone for their dedication and finally wished them good night. “I just hope you are paying me the full day,” I said to my dad as we all headed outside.

“I mean, are you working right now?” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly.

I sighed “I guess Grants can’t always get what they want after all.” And I meant it in more than one way.

The next week ran fast. My father and I agreed that I had to keep going to the office as usual, but it wasn’t easy to balance my work and my phone ringing every 5 minutes. More than once I had to ride home in the middle of the day because someone was waiting for me at home.

First, a man with a very peculiar face came to do some kind of interrogation, which was understandable until we got to the most uncomfortable, personal ones. I almost spit my coffee laughing until I realized he had no intention to leave until he got every answer to each one of the questions on his list.

Like him, I received a tailor and a doctor; but it wasn’t until the press started to ask for interviews when I realized my life had made a turn of 360 degrees.

The thing I lamented the most about this odd schedule was that I couldn’t travel to the provinces to interview some of the selected as we had planned, but I did take advantage of every opportunity I had to do deep research about them.

Some of the names or last names could be found on old newspaper editions, there were tragedies, accomplishments, unfortunate events… I smiled to myself, while I made annotations on my journal, fascinated by all the different interesting lives that were about to gather under the same roof. And I guess somehow that included mine.

The farewell party organized by Labrador’s Mayor seemed more like a political campaign than a real party. I might have fallen asleep during his speech if I hadn’t been texting Harris for the 40th time that week.

The last time I knew something about him was the night of the announcement when he sent me a simple “Congratulations, Lady Lea.” Then as the photographer, he had to go with Rea to the half-tour over the country to cover the selected interviews.

“How dare you not be here when you are needed,... you lucky mooncalf.”

I looked up to see the crowd from my place on the big platform set in the middle of the Amberly park. It hadn’t been a very good idea, because there were grey clouds gathering over us and the sun was partially covered by them already.

Someone forgot to check the weather section today.

But the trees surrounding us were decorated with purple and green metallic balloons -the colors of our province- and there were several signs with good wishes so I appreciated the effort.

Everyone was here; The Globe employees that didn’t like me at all, my family on the first row, my college best friend, Liv had made space on her busy schedule to come to the event, even my grandmother had sent his chauffeur with presents. That was her way to show support and I honestly didn’t have any complaints. After the Mayor’s speech, the great boss Maxwell Loyd took the microphone to speak, I rolled my eyes, not caring about the people in front of me. He didn’t waste this opportunity to promote himself and flatter me. I mean, if he really had thought all that about me I would have had a promotion and a raise already, instead I just got ridiculous instructions and a handshake.

When they both finally finished, the rain had started to pour, plus it was almost time for me to leave for the airport. I buttoned my coat before taking my place behind the microphone to start talking, but the eyes of the lady in charge of my schedule forced me to skip until the end of the speech I had prepared the night before. Every time I was going to make it sound deep and sentimental she made a sign for me to hurry.

“I appreciate your support… I will do my best… thank you for coming.”

Were the only complete sentences I managed to say under such pressure. There was clapping and cheering afterwards, but there was after the previous boring speeches as well, so I didn’t get too excited about that.

“Have a good time, my Lea.” My mother said after kissing my brow. I could smell her sweet perfume that I was going to miss. “I will, mom. Take care, I’m only leaving cause I know you are going to be in charge.” I side eyed the two men of the house. Then I kissed my little brother and messed his blond hair. “Bye bye little toad.” He just babbled something and waved his little hand.

“So, Lady Grant. What do you expect from Prince Arin? Do you secretly plan to drink all the coffee from the Angele’s Palace? Rumor has it your father won’t let you marry until you turn 48 years old do you think Your Highness would wait for you that long?” “Wow, Mr. Grant you ask pretty basic questions, I have been asked the same ones all week.” He gave me a big tight hug and I ignored the wool of his coat feeling itchy on my cheek. “I’m very proud of you Leana, and of course I’m not talking about this selection situation… I’m sorry about-” I stopped him not wanting to have our little disagreements as today’s last memory. And I also hoped I could change his mind by the time I returned home. “We can talk about that when I come back, dad.” He nodded. “I’m starting to feel bad for our dear Prince Arin.” I scoffed a laugh.

“Lady Grant, we are past the established hours already.” I heard a lady behind me.

I turned to my friend Liv with an apologetic expression but she just smiled and waved. “I will text you… Bye! The rain started to fall harder but I had read the weather section on the paper this morning so I was properly dressed with boots and a coat over my white shirt and black pants.

I walked towards a guard who was holding an opened umbrella to cover us with it. He opened the door of the car. Then he offered to take my bag for me, but I had packed some of my old journals in there among my personal things. “Thank you… What’s your name?” “Finn Ray, my lady.” He answered confused. “I will keep this here with me, Finn.” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone before entering the car. I guessed he was new at guarding selected, because I noticed him turning to look at the woman in charge of the schedule. She nodded once at him and joined me inside the limousine.

By the time we got to the airport I had learned that our chauffeur was called Alan Cobb, he had been working for the palace for 3 years on special occasions. He had three kids and his wife was expecting a baby girl.

The strict lady was Miss Ramirez, she was happily single, obviously tardiness was her biggest pet peeve and she had worked there for 6 years already, but she enjoyed her job and had never thought of doing anything else, although I didn’t quite understand exactly which was her role in the royal offices of Labrador.

She left me at the boarding door after wishing me luck.

The flight to Angeles was long. I shared a plane with 3 others selected, that seemed pretty decent at first sight.

We had a polite introduction conversation before we took off, but then everyone focused on her own thing; Jen Li, -the Yale law student from Waverly- took advantage of the 8 hours flight to sleep. Alana Hansen looked out from the window almost the whole time lost in her thoughts, and based on the green tone on Regina Wright’s face I guessed she was a risky company for the moment.

I remembered I had read about her parents' unfortunate plane accident in an old newspaper, they used to be famous politicians and she was an apple that had fallen close to the tree. Hopefully not too close.

So, considering my options I prefer to write in my journals during the whole trip.

As soon as we arrived we were hurried to a room for makeovers. For me it felt more like a day in the salon, nothing drastic was made, just a few lights on my hair, perfect makeup and a stunning blue dress with matching elegant pump heels shoes.

They did insisted on giving me contact lenses, since I had forgotten to pack mine, so after a long argument with the stylist, Mariel, I decided to wear the contacts and let him enjoy “his creation”.

In the end, despite the little changes, when he showed me my reflection in the mirror, I had to recognize I was content with the upgraded version of me.

ESSENTIAL RESEARCH

The tour around the palace was quite short considering its size. I was almost sure that it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, but the curiosity to see my new room, made me settle with the basic information,

I took a glance down at the little map on my hand. Eloise Hall room 28, second floor. As I headed to the stairs, the decorations and fancy details surrounding me were impossible to ignore. With every step you could find paintings by famous old artists -my mother admired- hanging on the walls, expensive vases and beautiful furniture.

Looking around I spotted one of the selected quickly scribbling some notes in a notebook. As I got closer I noticed she was my plane mate, Regina Wright. Her green tone had disappeared or maybe covered with makeup and she looked much more secure now that we were down here on earth soil.

I laughed a little bit inside walking by her side “Hope whatever you are writing is worth a bump on your head.”

“I hope so too” She said absentmindedly, not looking up from her notebook. After some seconds she took a short look at me, flipped through her notebook and quickly closed it before I could react and lean discreetly to read what she was working on.

Okay, now I’m curious.

“Excuse me, hi. Leana is it?” She gave me a polite smile.

“Yes, feeling better... Regina..? I asked faking ignorance.

She looked at me as she didn’t know why I was asking her that but then just answered, “Splendid. But please, call me Reggie.”

We continue walking up the stairs towards the second floor, while we shook hands,

“I'm Leana Grant but you can call me Lea or Lee” I said touching the arc of my glasses I had put back on as soon as I left the makeover room.

She nodded. “Alright, Lea. Journalist, correct?” She made her pen click as if she was going to start writing again. I frowned, puzzled. “You too?”

She chuckled at the question as if I should already know who she was. And the truth was, I did.

“No,” she finally said, opening her notebook again, adding something, then she continued. “So, what brings you here?”

I was sure Reggie had many qualities but subtlety wasn’t one of them.

I pressed my lips together, thinking about my motives, which one of them should I tell her? I’m here as an inside informant for The Globe; or, I’m here to live and learn about this whole selection phenomenon… I didn’t even know which one was the right answer. “... just figured I couldn't miss this whole thing, you know.”

Half- truths are always safe.

“Are you here for politics?” I added before she could even think about my answer.

She looked pleasantly surprised by my question, clearing her throat. “Yes, that is one of the reasons.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did your research.”

I guess it was my turn to feel recognized, but unlike her I didn’t want to be so obvious, so I shrugged. “Your name rang a bell.”

She looked at me suspiciously, lifting her chin, a slight movement I didn’t quite understand. “Is that so? That's good, I suppose. Best to be prepared.”

“Maybe you are right, I guess you actually did your research. What do you have about me?” I asked directly now, pointing at her notebook casually.

She remained serious. “Oh, just the usual. Occupation, caste, age. Name, obviously. There's 35 of us after all. Would be a shame to get anyone mixed up.”

“Well, now most of us are threes and the twos are pretty well known.”

“Yes well, obviously. Was to be expected. It's still an appropriate mix.”

Her statement made me remember her parents somehow, obviously she had their school but I wonder how much she agreed with them. “That’s... a word to describe it, yes.” I answered incredulous, “So where are you staying?” I asked, as I noticed I have already found my room.

We discovered we were room neighbors which I decided was very convenient for me. I liked people who have answers to my questions.

She was concerned about my acoustic guitar hobby and I assured her I hadn’t brought mine with me. “The music room will do.” And she assured me her studying was going to be silent.

The conversation continued but my curiosity was already unbearable, so I opened the door of my room to check it out. I didn’t want to be rude so I invited Reggie inside as we talked.

“What are you working on?” I stepped inside

She followed. “Political Science Major.”

I gave her a glance to let her know that was not the answer I was looking for.

She blinked with realization. “Oh, I see I misunderstood. Well, actually I was just writing a paper on the pros and cons of capitalism and if our country should focus more on it like we did when we were still called the 'United States'” She air quoted the name.

I looked around my room considering her answer. Suddenly my eyes met with three maids standing in line in the middle of the room. When they saw us they made a courtesy and I nodded at them as a greeting, hoping we can have proper introductions later.

“Hmm the lesser of evils... but the United States not exactly an example to be followed.” I said to Reggie.

“Exactly.” She said. I noticed her writing a mark in her notebook.

“A-are you like grading me?” I dared to ask what I had suspected since the beginning, but I didn’t want to believe. It was shocking at first but after the third mark it became amusing.

“Who else do you have in there?” I asked curiously before running next to her to peek at her notebook. She closed it again. When I looked at her she smiled at me awkwardly “No, of course not. Just remembered something.” Her notebook was behind her back, now out of my reach. She straightened her shoulders before adding, “Well, thank you kindly for your invitation, glad to have met you…”

I stayed there confused, Had I gotten it wrong? Or was I right and she didn’t want me to know? Anyway, I should have said nothing. “Alright ... glad to meet you too, see you around.” I said worried that she might be uncomfortable now.

She nodded as she headed to the door. One of the maids hurried to hold the door for her.

I frowned concerned, I couldn’t just lose a source like her. “Wait for me tomorrow, I think we can walk to the dining room together.”

She turned to give me a frown, seemingly confused by my suggestion. “But I already know where it-” then she smiled. “I will.”

As soon as Reggie left I took out the journal from the pocket of my dress and tossed on the pretty desk by a large window where I peered at the view of the Angeles city.

FOR THE RECORD.

After introductions my maids brought me dinner up to my room. So while I was eating the best creamy mustard chicken I ever had, we had a little chat.

Among other things we talked about I expressed my surprise when I didn’t see any Royals when we arrived. Liberty, Camila and confirmed the Schreaves didn’t plan to meet any selected tonight, we would have to wait until morning. Queen Anjeli and Princess Ayesha had to leave the palace to attend important matters and Wylan Caldwell in spite of not being a selected was currently living in the Palace. Back in Labrador, I managed between college, work and extra work to fill my schedule, my mother never liked me being out of the house so late at night or sometimes not being able to have a complete breakfast in the morning, I enjoyed being busy and drive my Vespa from one place to another, but it was hard for me to admit that one of the reasons I liked my life that way was that besides when I was concentrated writing notes on my iTypewriter; I was not good at being alone with my thoughts. That’s why when I was a child my mother bought me a ukulele to play when I was feeling anxious, which gave excellent results. Later when I entered college I took a short guitar course with the same purpose.

Therefore, later that afternoon, when my maids went back to their chores, leaving me alone I decided to leave my room to check out the music room, as I promised Reggie I would do.

It took me some minutes to find the right door downstairs but my memory had never failed me and it wasn’t going to start now.

I opened the third door in the west hall and peeked inside. I felt relieved when I saw the big piano in the last corner and dared to walk inside. Besides the piano, there were several instruments resting on their stands spread around the room, most of them to play classical music, but luckily, an acoustic guitar was among them. I was going to pick it up to test it when I spotted shelves full of old vinyl records.

I walked towards the vinyl record player, it had a beautiful vintage look, it’s big horn imitated the ancient gramophones used during the Victorian years, but I suspected to be a more recent model.

I noticed someone had left a classic record on, I wonder which one of the Royals had been listening to it as I moved the tonearm onto the outer edge of the disk, the little diamond tip to touch the groove.

I guess I still remember how to use one of this.

I stretched my arm and pulled one of the discs from the upper shelf, the others came down with it and << "KNEEE-KNEEE!!" >>

The blaring sound of violins vibrated around the room making me wince for the annoying sound filling my ears.

“Damn!” I covered my ears while trying to find a way to turn the bloody record player off before my head exploded. Overwhelmed by the sound I went on my knees and stretched my hand behind the furniture looking desperately for the plug, but before I could find any the music stopped.

I stood up still touching my ears

Have I gone deaf?

“I take you didn’t mean to do that.” I heard someone say behind me.

Okay, I haven’t

I turned around to find a guy eyeing me warily, from the corner of my eye I noticed a laptop and a couple of heavy leather books that weren't on the table before.

“I was considering turning it on but it made the decision for me,” I said without explaining.

At that moment, a couple of guards came into the room alarmed. They scanned the room quickly before looking at us puzzled.

Wylan followed my gaze and turned to them, slightly. “Just a mishap. We’re fine.” He acknowledged with a wave of his hand. I let out a sigh of relief as they left the room to return to their posts.

“First time using a record player?” He asked to continue teasing

I gave him a deadpan look. “Ha-ha I take that the last person who played it had some hearing problems.” Before I crouched to pick up the rest of the vinyl records still scattered on the carpeted floor, I noticed a smile tugging at his lips that didn’t last.

In a minute he was bending in front of me to help. “You picked some good ones.”

Suddenly we looked at each other for a second, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his for a second trying to figure any sign of sarcasm in them, and he just had the word “awkward” written all over his face. Obviously I was making him feel uncomfortable.

I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so busy trying to read him.

“I like classics- acoustic to be precise.” I finally said with a shrug. “Do you own any of these?”

“This John Mayer one is mine. I have some other ones too. They’re over there.” He gestured to the rack behind me, then stood up with the vinyls he helped pick up.

I raised my eyebrow and nodded approvingly. “You have some taste, I will give you that.” I looked up at him, waiting for him to offer his hand for me to help me stand, but apparently living in a castle was no guarantee of anything, so I just stood up slowly, brushing my dress.

“Some were gifts I grew to love.” He acknowledged, holding the vinyls out for me. “I’d recommend keeping the volume down before you turn it on next time.”

I took the discs to put them back in its place on the shelves “Well, you should put a sign somewhere,” I joked, a bit annoyed by his recommendation.

I adjusted my glasses and stayed standing there, admiring the vinyl records once more. My curious mind wondered about the Prince. “Which ones are Arin’s?”

“I’m not sure. He might not own any.” I caught him glancing at his things he had left on the table before back to me. “Might be a good question to ask him yourself.”

Or you’re just evading the question. But fortunately, one of the things my job had teached me was to have thick skin so I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

“You really don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?” I asked with an amusing tone.

He let out a small sigh, relenting a bit. “He likes The Killers. There’s probably a vinyl or two of those in here if you really need a good conversation starter.”

I faked a grimace “ugh! that piece of information should’ve hurt…” I said mockingly before adding. “I guess some advice for tomorrow’s interview is completely out of the table.”

“Depends on what advice you’re looking for,” he let out, surprising me.

I started to walk around the room still looking at him, considering my answer. “I don’t know, you are his friend... knowing a little bit about his personality would help,” I said casually, as if I didn’t already have thousands of questions listed in my head.

But somehow he knew I did. “I’ll answer one question you have. Just one.”

“So generous …” I said more to myself than to him. My hand went unconsciously inside the pocket on my dress and my fingers touched my journal inside of it, purely out of habit. Of course, I wasn’t going to take it out so I crossed my hands in front of me as I resumed my walking around the room.

“Okay…” In my mind I was looking for a single question that could indirectly tell me things about Arins personality … and why not about Mr. Uncomfortable himself too.

“How do you start getting along back in college, like how did you become friends?”

Suddenly he let out a laugh, startling me. I frowned at first, but then I decided it wasn’t so bad, it picked my curiousness further.

I looked at him genuinely amused and he begined, “We were both going for runs and without knowing, I drifted a little too close. I was listening to music and not paying attention. His bodyguard sort of…” He paused to bring his fist to his neck simulating a punch. “And took me down.” I could see he was amused, for real.

I laughed picturing the scene on my mind, considering all his previous teasing and had to admit it was a little bit entertaining to do so. “Ouch! His bodyguard does look ... fierce.” I commented remembering the man’s complexion I had seen several times on TV.

I wait for him to continue before asking, “what happened next? What did Arin say?”

His smile was more like a ghost on his face now, not physically there but somehow still present. “He apologized. After that we found out we shared a couple classes together and I offered to help him study for exams.”

“That’s an epic story… I bet it left you marked for some days.” I made a grimace, touching my neck, imagining the pain.

“Swallowing hurt, to say the least,” he said, remembering. After a minute, he combed a hand through his hair. “ Did that satisfy your question?”

“Hmm yeah, it was good, for now” I answered scoffing a laugh. The truth was I didn’t expect to enjoy his story that much, but I just couldn’t settle with only one question, but it wasn’t convenient to push more questions on him now.

Fortunately he didn’t refuse, he just rolled his eyes at me, amused. “Alright, well I have to get back to work. At least try to not deafen the entire palace again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” I let out, finally taking the acoustic guitar from its stand, while he turned to gather his things.

“Reassuring.” He gave me a side glance and started walking out the room, he offered a two fingered salute before disappearing behind the opened door.

After a second, while looking down at the guitar already in place on my lap, I compelled, “Wylan... thanks!”

“You're welcome.”

I heard him say from the hallway just before I started strumming the guitar strings, hoping its sound was enough to help me survive the first night.

#OC 6 #PC part 2 #Reggie Wright #Wylan Caldwell #((thanks again to Cassey for reading and giving me some perspective ))

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lblwlw · 5 years ago

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Hello!

First post here, but I have a long history with tumblr. Tumblr has always sort of been a place for me to escape because few of my friends ever had my URL/followed me. This time it’s a little more important.

CW: Brief mentions of sexual occurrences with men, brief talk of depression, nothing too serious or graphic

TLDR; I’ve suppressed my gayness on accident for basically my whole life, identified as bi, married a man, realized I’m gay, am now figuring out my life.

Warning, this is a LONG post.

I have always been been fascinated with sexuality, more specifically same sex relationships. I was always interested in the idea of being in a same sex relationship but told myself, “no, that’s not me”. Eventually in middle school I played with the idea of being bisexual when I learned what that meant. I said, perfect. I can tell my internet friends I like girls, too, but I won’t have to tell anyone else and I can just worry about boys then at school and for my parents. I had a few crushes on boys, but the thought of actually dating them terrified me and so I very rarely did more than think about them a lot and just tell my friends that I was “too ugly” or whatever else, or “too awkward.” What they didn’t know was that through MySpace I met a girl and had a huge crush on her. We talked a lot and we said we were dating. I never really told anyone. That eventually fizzled out.

Over time I got bullied a couple times because classmates found my MySpace and found that I identified as bi. I quickly learned it was something I didn’t want to talk about. I dealt with a lot of anxiety and depression throughout all of school. In high school I steadily crushed on one boy almost all four years, but looking back I think I really just enjoyed and wanted to be his friend. Or I just kind of picked him as the one I liked the most so I had a crush to be a normal girl. I dated two boys the entirety of high school, the first one I broke up with because once he finally asked me out (after I “liked him”) and we did relationship things, like kissing, I was not all about it. It didn’t feel right. I thought, maybe I just didn’t like him. Next boyfriend, I wasn’t entirely objected to kissing him but it wasn’t my favorite. It got more frustrating when he wanted to do more. I wasn’t so opposed to him touching me, but when it came to touching him I was like “this ain’t it”. I stayed with him anyway, hoping I would “get over it” until he broke up with me. I wonder now if he could tell I wasn’t into it.

There was actually a time in which I thought, maybe I should date girls? One of my friends was dating a girl, and I thought that was wonderful. I went to her to tell her that I had been thinking maybe I’d rather date girls. I totally blocked this conversation out of my head until recently.

Once I was done with high school I was discouraged but tried to date a few different guys. None of them went that fantastically. If I met them online, I usually came up with a reason we couldn’t meet. “Maybe this just won’t work” It was fun to talk and flirt but when it came down to bringing it into real life I’d panic because that meant kissing a guy again, and possibly having sex. It made me totally uncomfortable. Finally I said, “I wish I was just into girls, ugh.” Remembered that I was, and that I should try it finally. I matched with this sweet girl that was about a year younger than me. She seemed so put together and so kind. We went on a few dates, getting ramen, fancy cupcakes, riding on a trolly in the city, etc. I remember when I got to kiss her in public and I was SO pumped to be seen doing that! Another time, I believe I drove her home but we parked away from her house and made out in my car. I still remember so much of it vividly.

Eventually I realized that if I was seriously dating her, she would want it to be known. I’d have to face my fears and tell my family. For some reason, this absolutely terrified me. It shouldn’t have but it did. I thought through my options, and decided I should just find a nice guy that will love me and spend my life with me so I don’t have to do this anymore. I did the unspeakable act of basically just ghosting her and pursued a guy from work who, realistically, kind of freaked me out. Thanks to good old compulsive heterosexuality, I read this as my attraction to him. Thankfully, he was pretty easily attracted to me. I recall early in the relationship wishing I hadn’t done that awful thing to that girl, and that I wish I was still dating a girl. Nothing was technically wrong with my relationship that I had now, but something felt off. Like I was missing something. I tucked that away somewhere in my head and enjoyed building an amazing friendship with this man. I did love him, and I still do. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, we have a lot of shared interests and he’s taught me so much intentionally and unintentionally.

We got married last year and while I felt grateful I had this amazing person beside me, I remember a part of me wondering if this was right for me. I had this weird little empty pocket somewhere in my heart. That I had given up my young adulthood maybe, and that I could have experienced being with... a woman, for real. I thought, I wish I could have met my husband later in life, maybe. Maybe then I’d have gotten my desires for women out of the way and then been with him forever. Because I do love him, he’s a good person and deserves to be loved. I enjoyed the wedding as a big party that I got to have with my family, but I just remember wondering where that extreme excitement was that everyone always described. Was I broken?

Now over a year later, I was sitting at home one day feeling lost and depressed. I had been on TikTok and saw all these young people having fun and I wished that I had spent more time trying to have fun in the past, before I got married. I thought, I could do it now, but what if something happened and I somehow I fell for one of these girls while being with my husband? Wait... why would I even think that? I started to really analyze this thought. I thought, if I was bi like I had always identified, why could I not be happy with my husband? Well, I was, but something was missing. This thought popped into my head: Oh no. What if I am gay?

What?! Why would I think that? That’s crazy. I would have known as a kid like everyone says. Right? That’s how that works. I chalked this up to feeling like I was missing out and tried to stop thinking about it. It was hard not to, though. And so I googled one morning while out listening to the birds, after escaping bed before my husband rose to avoid his intimacy: “lesbian married to a man”

This article came up about a woman who had been married to a man for many years and they had kids. She started to question herself, and her attraction to him. I don’t remember all of it but I remember getting really uncomfortable but also having this weird sense of calm. That finally, I felt like I identified with something. I wasn’t really sure though. I sent a message to the lady who wrote the article. She replied a week later telling me that she had a podcast called Lesbian Chronicles. I said, okay, I need to listen to this. I listened to about two episodes or so when they mentioned this thing called “The Master Doc” and the reddit sub called Late Bloomer Lesbians. I was like “Holy crap, a community??”

I logged onto reddit for the first time ever. I saw all these women posting in similar situations to me. I found “The Master Doc” and “Straight women don’t say...”

It was like a light bulb went off. Oh my god, everything makes sense! Maybe I’m NOT broken! I remembered all the women that I had crushes on. All the times I thought about women but told myself I was just “weird” and tried not to think about it. I always thought, no I can’t be gay because I wasn’t sure of it as a kid. Now I realized that women especially are fed a straight narrative. It’s “normal” to not be attracted to men the way they are to you. It’s normal to not totally enjoy sex with men... When I learned that we’ve been told this, and it isn’t really true... I wanted to cry. Now I was in the biggest “pickle” ever. I have this man who loves me, who I said vows to swearing I loved him the same forever. Did I just accept who I was and what I did and live with it? Did I break up with him? That seemed to harsh. I heard a lot of women in the same position say they spoke to a therapist. I immediately googled therapists in my area that specialized in LGBTQ+ issues, sent an email ASAP, and felt a little bit of relief. I knew this was real because after years of playing with the idea of seeing a therapist, this came so naturally when I needed help with this.

Now I am here. I feel very confident that I am gay, and my dad knows now. I tried to bring it up with my husband but it didn’t go very well. He currently thinks that maybe I’m just a sad bisexual who hasn’t been able to express her bi-ness. I am at a point a conversation needs to happen again. I told myself when my lesbian flag and pin came in the mail, I would talk to him again. It’s being delivered today. I am terrified, to say the least. It feels so wrong to “betray” this man who has dedicated to much time and work to giving us as good a life as he can. But I need to live my truth. It will come. I’m low-key excited for it. I hope maybe this helps someone going through the same thing.

-Anonymous Married Lesbian

#lesbian #married to a man #wlw #late blooming lesbian #late bloomer #gay #pride

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sciencespies · 5 years ago

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This Climate Detective Reconstructs What the Ocean Was Like Millions of Years Ago

https://sciencespies.com/nature/this-climate-detective-reconstructs-what-the-ocean-was-like-millions-of-years-ago/

This Climate Detective Reconstructs What the Ocean Was Like Millions of Years Ago

Smithsonian Voices National Museum of Natural History

Get to Know the Scientist Reconstructing Past Ocean Temperatures

June 8th, 2020, 6:00AM / BY

Juliana Olsson

As the ocean continues to warm, scientists look to the past for answers on how to manage today’s environmental problems. (Sophie McCoy/NOAA)

Brian Huber has always been curious about the past. As a child finding arrowheads on his family’s farm, he’d wonder who made the arrowhead, what the landscape looked like at the time, and what the arrow’s target was. So, when a college a professor introduced him to paleontology, he was hooked.

Now a curator at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, Dr. Huber uses fossils to discover clues about past environments and how organisms lived. As part of the Meet a SI-entist series, Huber tells us more about his “climate detective” work reconstructing past ocean temperatures, and what makes him optimistic for the future.

What do you do at the Smithsonian?

I study microscopic fossils called foraminifera, which are single-celled organisms with distinctive shells. Their fossil record goes back at least 540 million years ago to the early Cambrian period, but they still live in the ocean today. Most of my research focuses on foraminifera that lived during the Cretaceous (145–66 million years ago). I look at the evolution and extinction of different species of foraminifera and analyze the chemistry of their shells to reconstruct ocean temperatures throughout Earth’s history.

Foraminifera are great “thermometers” for the ocean. The chemical makeup of their shells relates directly to the water temperature. Different species float near the surface and live on the ocean bottom, so you can get the whole range of the ocean’s temperature. These are three views of the same 91-million-year-old specimen, Marginotruncana sigali. (Brian Huber, Smithsonian)

How has your work changed since COVID?

Usually, I’m busy participating in committees, mentoring interns and post-docs and involved with lots of projects—all of which take time away from research. But right now, my calendar has really cleared! Working from home has allowed me to focus on finishing up projects that have been on the back burner, like getting through a backlog of data that I haven’t had time to write up for publication. I’m currently writing a paper revising a lot of different species of foraminifera in a group that’s been poorly defined for decades. We’re naming several new species and genera.

What excites you about working at the Smithsonian?

I love the opportunity to pursue research questions using the museum’s collections and specimens I collected through my own field work. I also like helping build exhibits like the Ocean Hall and Fossil Hall and educating the public. And I really enjoy working with my colleagues, they’re a great group of very talented, enthusiastic and motivated people.

The team behind the National Museum of Natural History’s Sant Ocean Hall reunited for lunch 10 years after the exhibition’s opening. Left to right: Jill Johnson (Exhibit Developer), Brian Huber (Curator of Foraminifera), Carole Baldwin (Curator of Fishes) and Mike Vecchione (NOAA cephalopod biologist). (Brian Huber, Smithsonian)

Today is World Ocean Day and the first anniversary of the opening of the National Fossil Hall. How does knowing about the ocean’s past change the way you think about its current state and its future?

The past is a framework for understanding how the natural system works today. The ocean sediment cores I’ve studied show that temperatures were very warm during the Cretaceous because of major volcanic activity that produced a lot of carbon dioxide.

CO2 is a greenhouse gas. It’s a blanket that’s kept the Earth warm for millions of years. But the rate that we are burning and releasing it into the atmosphere now is much faster than anything that’s happened before. We’ve burned 370 billion tons of CO2 since the 1850s, and half of that just since the 1970s.

We know from the past that the Earth and life are resilient. So, something will survive; the question is what. The biggest concern is how rapidly the ocean has changed, especially in the past few decades. People used to think of the ocean as too vast to be affected by what we do on land—that it would always be a reliable food source. Now, we realize that coral reefs worldwide are in peril, many fish species have been over-harvested and even accidental bycatch has caused drastic reductions among some marine life.

How do you find optimism for the future in all this adversity?

What’s amazing about humans is we seem to get ourselves out of many of the fixes that we put ourselves into. We engineer things to solve problems. The hope is that we can use technology to find a way to put the genie back in the bottle and to live lives comfortably but in a way that’s more environmentally sound.

I’m optimistic because technology and engineering keep improving the tools we use to solve questions from the past. As we learn more about the past, we better understand how Earth’s climate-ocean system worked and why some extinctions occurred, which can show us how to manage our current global environmental problems.

Another thing that gives me hope is the increasing amount of international collaboration in science. When we work together, we get multiple perspectives which helps us understand the world better. There’s a lot of exciting science going on, and the hope is that the public finds out about it and realizes how important science is in our lives—that you can’t ignore science.

Huber (left) with international colleagues from the 2009 Tanzania Drilling Project. (Brian Huber, Smithsonian)

What are you most proud of accomplishing so far in your career?

At a pretty early stage of my career, I found evidence for extremely warm temperatures around Antarctica during the Cretaceous. My argument was dismissed as too unlikely to have been real, but over my career, more fossil and chemical evidence have shown that there actually was a time when Antarctica was covered by forests and temperatures remained above freezing even during months of polar darkness.

So, it’s been my quest to build out the ocean’s temperature history further and further back into the Cretaceous. Answering that question has taken me to all kinds of places, including an ocean drill ship to get sediment cores to help construct ocean temperature records. In 2017, I was Co-Chief Scientist on a two-month-long ocean drilling expedition with 30 scientists from 15 different countries, and I’m excited to continue working on deep-sea samples that will reveal previously unknown details of Earth’s past. The amount of really incredible science that has come out of that International Ocean Discovery Program is just amazing, and I have especially enjoyed the collaborations and friendships that last long after people sail together. It’s like my experience being one of the lead curators on the museum’s Sant Ocean Hall—our core exhibit team still gets together once or twice a year.

Huber aboard the research ship JOIDES Resolution discussing drilling results at the core sample table during an International Ocean Discovery Program expedition in 2017. (Brian Huber, Smithsonian)

What advice would you give to the next generation of scientists?

Find something that excites you. What makes you curious? Maybe you’re more analytical or you like solving puzzles, using statistics or math. Just find something you’re interested in to motivate you.

Be open to asking questions and following up. Talk to the professor after class and say, “I wasn’t sure about this, can you explain more?” or “I’ve been wondering about this, I’m really excited about this, what can I do to find out more?” These days there’s so much online, there are all kinds of ways to dive in.

Finally, getting your research out there is really important—not just publishing, but also going to meetings and interacting with people in and outside your field. One of the most gratifying things in my career has been seeing how paleontology went from a pretty narrowly focused science to one that is really collaborative. Be open to collaboration because you’re not going to solve problems by yourself, there’s a lot of different angles that these things need to be tackled from.

Meet a SI-entist: The Smithsonian is so much more than its world-renowned exhibits and artifacts. It is a hub of scientific exploration for hundreds of researchers from around the world. Once a month, we’ll introduce you to a Smithsonian Institution scientist (or SI-entist) and the fascinating work they do behind the scenes at the National Museum of Natural History.

Related stories: Meet the Scientist Studying How Organisms Become Fossils Get to Know the Scientist Studying Ancient Pathogens at the Smithsonian Leading Scientists Convene to Chart 500M Years of Global Climate Change Here’s How Scientists Reconstruct Earth’s Past Climates

Juliana Olsson is an exhibit writer and editor at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History. Her favorite aspect of the job is getting to share her passion for the natural world with museum visitors (and occasionally getting to go on fossil digs and try out virtual reality headsets). Her least favorite part of the job is battling writer’s block. Before joining the Office of Exhibits, she received her Master of Arts in Museum Studies from Johns Hopkins University.